she hidden them? The crib quilt came to mind again. Mrs. Tilney could not have sewn the ivories themselves into it — they were too large to go unnoticed — but had she secreted within the stitches some key to their whereabouts?
“I should like to take a closer look at the quilt Helen Tilney made,” she said.
They hid the strongbox in a secure location and went to the nursery. All was prepared for the imminently anticipated new Darcy, and Elizabeth realized that she had very little time remaining in which to contemplate such matters as ivories and letter locks. Tiny caps and tinier fingers, hungry cries and toothless smiles would soon consume her attention. She still contemplated the birth itself with apprehension, but the discovery of Lady Anne’s strongbox lent her courage. Surely they would find a way to open it and access the Madonna and Child statuette before she was brought to bed. If they were also to solve the Northanger puzzle and clear the Darcy name before the birth, however, they would have to do so quickly.
She looked toward the windows for the quilt, but it no longer hung between them. It was on the floor.
Torn into countless pieces.
Elizabeth suspected herself to be the first creature who had ever dared to trifle with so much dignified impertinence.
The quilt was mutilated, the blocks torn apart, the top ripped from its backing. Whoever had visited destruction upon it had done a thorough job of profaning a gift whose stitches had bound together the fabric of two women’s lives. And an equally effective job of robbing the quilt of any clue it might have held.
The sight sickened Elizabeth. Her stomach weakened; a low pain began in her back and radiated to her abdomen. She sank into a nearby rocking chair.
Darcy observed her with concern. “Has your leg fallen numb again?”
She shook her head. “I shall be fine in a moment.” She looked at him in astonishment. “Who—”
“I do not know, but I intend to find out. Unlike the garden vandalism, this offense must have been committed by someone within the house, and no one will rest tonight until my questions have been answered.”
When she recovered from the shock, Darcy escorted her back to her dressing room. He ordered her some tea and sat with her awhile after Jenny brought it. Then he departed to begin his interrogation.
Elizabeth tried to distract herself by returning to the strongbox and its letter lock, but it could not hold her attention. She found herself repeating failed combinations as the image of Helen Tilney’s destroyed handiwork continually intruded into her thoughts. The remains of the lovingly created baby quilt kept calling to mind another innocent victim of violence, the child she had read about yesterday in the Prioress’s Tale. She shuddered again as she had upon reading it — what a dark story to be told by a character who wore a brooch inscribed with “Love conquers all.” Or whatever the Latin words were that Georgiana had read aloud.
She paused.
She scooped up the lockbox.
The large tome of Chaucer’s complete works remained in her morning room. She found the chamber blessedly free of Lady Catherine, her mother, or anyone else who might have considered herself at liberty to make use of it. The book lay where she had left it, its massive weight apparently having rendered it immune from the susceptibility of other written material at Pemberley to disappear and reappear at unpredictable intervals. She set Lady Anne’s box on the desk, went to the book, and rapidly flipped pages until she found what she sought.
She rotated the rings of the lock. A-M-O-R.
It opened.
Her heart pounding, she removed the lock from the hasp and lifted the lid. Velvet cushions surrounded a small cylindrical object covered in a soiled, tattered scrap of fabric. She held her breath as she reached inside and carefully lifted the treasure from its cradle. Slowly, she unwrapped the fragile mantle to reveal the Madonna and Child.
She released her breath. The statuette was exquisite, reflecting at once its medieval origins and an ageless veneration for its subject. The ivory captured the Christ child as a boy of perhaps two, offering Mary an apple as she held him. Her face reflected serenity Elizabeth wished she could borrow, and indeed, gazing upon the figurine, she felt a sense of calm envelop her.
Until a jarring voice shattered it.
“I see you have recovered my statue for me.”
She turned so quickly that she almost dropped the ivory. Not trusting herself to keep a firm grasp on the statuette, she set it back in the cushioned box. She then walked toward Lady Catherine so that she blocked Darcy’s aunt from the prize.
“It is not your ivory. Your mother gave it to Lady Anne, who in turn passed it to me.”
“Insolent, grasping upstart! How dare you claim my mother’s heirloom as your own? Your pretension exceeds all bounds of tolerance.”
“And your selfishness surpasses even that of which I had thought you capable.”
“Hand over my ivory or I shall take it for myself.”
Elizabeth had done with her ladyship’s riding roughshod over everyone in her path. Physical discomfort and the day’s events had also rendered her cross in general. Women with swollen ankles should not be provoked.
“Attempt to seize it, and I shall have you arrested for theft.”
Lady Catherine tried to circumvent her, but Elizabeth advanced, her enlarged abdomen leading the charge. Her ladyship retreated, backing through the room’s main doorway and into the chamber beyond. Apparently, having achieved the size of a house held its advantages.
Darcy’s aunt regarded her icily. “You shall regret this, Mrs. Darcy.”
A noise behind Elizabeth momentarily drew her attention. In the pier glass beyond Lady Catherine, she saw Jenny enter the morning room to perform her daily duties. Elizabeth returned her gaze to Darcy’s aunt and lowered her voice.
“I doubt it.”
Her ladyship’s own gaze swept over Elizabeth derisively. “I thank heaven my sister did not live to see what an unworthy creature has assumed her place at Pemberley. She would despise you.”
“I doubt that, too.”
Lady Catherine raised her chin, cast a final, dismissive glance at Elizabeth, and marched off. Elizabeth watched her go until she disappeared from view. Then she went back into the morning room to retrieve the statuette.
Jenny was gone.
So was the ivory.
This seems to me the best plan, and the maid will be most conveniently near.
Elizabeth peered into the box twice — thrice — as if repeatedly looking where the ivory ought to have been
