self-pity by the appearance of his beloved, who doffed her apron and demanded that he take her for an airing.
“For I am tired of wees and poohs,” she declared as they left the house in the direction of Mary’s favourite glade, which happened to be Elizabeth’s favourite as well.
“Infantile talk is depressing,” he said.
“So is human waste,” she answered tartly, and ground her teeth. “I find myself more attuned to the prospect of educating them in literacy and numeracy than in weeing and washing. How can they shun anything as delightful as water?”
“You find it delightful because your nurse gave you your first bath before you could remember,” he said, spirits soaring just to be with her.
“They must commence their schooling as soon as possible. I believe that there is a warehouse in Manchester that sells desks, slates, slate pencils, chalk, blackboards, copy-books and the like.” She stuck out her chin and looked militant. “Now that I don’t have to pay to have my book published, I have plenty of money-yes, I have abandoned all thought of writing a book. I’ll crawl before I can walk, and what better place to crawl in than a schoolroom? One of the most disgraceful aspects of childhood at Longbourn was Papa’s reluctance to see us well- educated. So we went to the Meryton school to learn reading, writing and arithmetic, but after that we were not given a governess. Had we, then Kitty and Lydia might not have turned out so wild, or I so narrow. The daughters of gentlemen
Head whirling, Angus fixed on the most pertinent fact among these confidences. “May I ask you a question, Mary?”
“Of course you may.”
“Pay for your publication? Is that what you were planning to do when you finished your book?”
“Yes. I knew it was going to cost many thousands-almost all that I had, in fact.”
“Mary, you silly chicken! First of all, if a publisher knows you are determined to pay to have a book published, then he will take you for every penny you have. But you must
A delicious pinkness had suffused her cheeks; she hung her head, apparently willing to be apostrophised as a silly chicken. “I wanted it published,” she said gruffly.
“And nearly got yourself murdered! I could shake you!”
“Pray do not be angry!”
He waved his hands about wildly. “No, I am not angry! Well, a wee bit-but only a wee bit. Och, Mary, you would drive a sane and sober man to madness and the bottle!”
The sight of Angus in such straits was quite fascinating, but it also caused her to experience a sudden empty panic in her middle regions-what if one day she angered him so much he walked away? She gulped, backed away from the thought. “Would you be able to drive me into Manchester for the schoolroom needs?” she asked.
“Of course, but not tomorrow. In case you had forgotten, we bury poor Ned Skinner Darcy tomorrow.”
“No, I had not forgotten,” she said, voice low. “Oh, and we made Fitz and Charlie laugh!”
“And thereby did them a very good turn. Death is always in our midst, Mary, you know that. Anything that lightens grief, even for a moment, is a blessing. While Ned has lain waiting for the vindication he couldn’t have in life, you and your sisters have dealt with those he saved. He could not do aught else than applaud your kindness and hard work. In one way, they are
“Yes, you are right.”
They walked on in silence as far as the glade, where the sun, directly overhead, turned the water in the little brook to solid gold save for the diamonds of its tumbles.
Mary gasped. “Angus, I have just thought of something!”
“What?” he asked warily.
“Father Dominus told me that he had a hoard of bars of gold. I know the caves have collapsed, but do you think you could look for the gold? Imagine how many orphanages it would build.”
“Not as many as you think,” he said prosaically. “Besides, the old villain must have stolen it from the government. Gold is marked on each ingot-that’s the proper name for a bar of gold-with the brand of its owner, and that owner is almost inevitably the government.”
“No, he said he melted it down from coins and jewellery that had been entrusted to him by some far bigger villain. He melted it down and poured it into ingots himself. More than that I do not know, save that it definitely was acquired by nefarious means.”
“I think he was bamming you.”
“He said each ingot weighed ten pounds.”
“Which, being gold, isn’t very big in size. Gold is hugely heavy, Mary. Ten pounds of it would be nowhere near the size of a house brick, I assure you.”
“Please, Angus, please! Promise me that you’ll look!”
How could he refuse? “Very well, I promise. But don’t hope, Mary. Charlie, Fitz and I are going back to see if there’s been a fresh subsidence, and to look at the hill itself. If we find any gold, rest assured that we’ll claim it on behalf of the Children of Jesus. Who, I suspect, would be entitled to a large percentage of any treasure-trove. If, that is, it can be proven that the real owner is not the government.”
Her face took on a martial expression. “Oh, no, the children cannot have it! They’d spend it on the wrong things, like any poor people gifted with unexpected fortune. It will build orphanages.” Her chest heaved on an ecstatic sigh. “Just fancy, Angus! Perhaps my incarceration had a divine purpose-to unearth ill-gotten gold and set it to work on gifting the poor with the things that really matter-health and education.”
“She is determined,” Angus said to Fitz after Ned Skinner Darcy was laid in his resting place.
“If such a treasure exists, Angus, Father Dominus didn’t earn it from selling a cure for impotence, no matter how successful it was. The gold may be ill-gotten, but from where or from whom? The government does ship consignments of gold coins around the country, but none has been plundered that I or any other MP remembers. Which is why I doubt the story. Except that I know of one man who might have amassed so much, and all of it ill- gotten. A man long dead who, as far as I know, had no association with Father Dominus. Yet it’s true that when that man died, his ill-gotten gains could not be found anywhere, apart from precious stones prised out of jewellery.”
Fitz’s face bore a look that forbade questions-a pity. Who did Fitz know had that kind of mentality? For he spoke as if he had known the man personally. As many layers as French pastry, that was Fitz. Who had changed radically, but for the better.
When he informed Angus that he would refuse the prime ministership, Angus was staggered.
“Fitz, you wanted it heart and soul!” he cried.
“Yes, but that was before all this. Some secrets I will carry to my grave, though I’ve come to love and esteem you greatly over this summer, and hope that we’ll be brothers-in-law. We Darcys have been pristine of reputation, and we’ll go on being pristine. Were I prime minister, I might be tempted to use my powers in unscrupulous ways. Well, I don’t choose to walk down that road. I’ll refuse to contend for the post, and so I have written to the men supporting my candidacy. I’m sorry if I’ve misled you, my dear Angus, but I’ve misled no one more than I have myself.”
“Yes, I understand, Fitz.”
That had been several days ago. Now it was gold, thanks to Mary, in her element driving back and forth to Macclesfield after teachers and nursemaids.
Now that they knew about the existence of the waterfall, which Fitz remembered seeing when out hunting deer, it was easier to understand how Father Dominus had kept the Children of Jesus away from prying eyes. Hardly one in a thousand Englishmen could swim, so pools and waterfalls were phenomena to be admired at a distance, even by poets, writers, painters and other peculiar folk.
Charlie was too slight to ride Jupiter, so his father had taken the animal, which accepted him with pleasure. Probably, Charlie thought, Ned and Papa shared some smell, or sat in the saddle the same way despite the weight
