lizabeth had just been deserted by her husband again. She was getting a bit used to it now, but still wanted to be able to spend more time with him than his current responsibilities allowed. She had managed to abduct him for a few hours this morning and they had both greatly enjoyed their private time together. They had returned to their home from London only a week before after a long absence, as a result, Mr. Darcy had a great deal of work to do around the estate, reordering that which had become disordered while he was away. But this morning he had given his wife several hours of his ever-precious time.
They had been wandering around the house together; the late spring weather being too inclement for them to make their favorite tour of the estate's grounds. Elizabeth still did not know all that she wanted to know about the house and her husband's family, and she took the morning's opportunity to question her husband about every detail. They had ended their tour in the family portrait gallery, when Mr. Darcy had been called away by his steward to see to some problems on the estate farms.
The gallery was a long, brightly-lit room which ran down the full length of the house. Windows lined one side of the corridor and paintings lined the other. After her husband had left her, Elizabeth returned to the end of the corridor and slowly looked at one picture then the next. At each one she would refresh her memory about the identity and history of the face that looked back at her. They were not in any particular order, and the recent mingled with the distant past.
...Frances Darcy had been only fifteen when she had married the owner of Pemberley late in the Seventeenth Century. She had an odd face, Elizabeth thought, as she examined the painting. Frances' mouth was lower on one side, and she did not seem to have any eyebrows.....
....Charles Darcy, the current Mr. Darcy's grandfather, had inherited Pemberley very late in life after a series of tragedies killed his two brothers and one of his nephews. Elizabeth could see some faint resemblance to the man's grandson....
....Peter and Marianne Darcy had thirteen children, five of whom lived to adulthood. Elizabeth was always sad when she looked at the painting of the husband, wife and ten children. How hard it must have been to lose so many....
....Ephram Darcy had lived through one of the most turbulent times in English history--the reigns of King Henry VIII and Queen Mary....
Here Elizabeth stopped and looked over the whole of the painting. The earlier works were not up to the quality of this one. Ephram Darcy's picture was an excellent example of the painter's artistry. The depth and accuracy of the depiction, as well as the colors and the light coming from the paint, made it a joy to look at. The painting was not simply a portrait--a face with nothing else in the picture, but was a painting with a complete background. The picture consisted of Ephram Darcy seated in a chair in front of a window. He was dressed fairly simply, or as simply as the mid-Sixteenth Century would allow, and his clothes were mostly black; his face was care-worn and looked tired. The corner of a table was visible in front of him to his left upon which sat a thick, closed book. To his right there was a darkly-paneled wall. Elizabeth recognised the room Ephram was sitting in; it was her husband's office. Pemberley had undergone many renovations over the years and had at least one major fire, but the part of the house the painting was taken in had remained mostly unchanged.
As she examined the room in the painting, one part of it caught her attention. In the paneling on the left side of the picture there was an open door, and beyond the door there was nothing but darkness. This puzzled her greatly, because in her husband's room there was no such door. Elizabeth moved to one side to try to see the painting in different lighting, because she thought she saw.....
And there it was.
In the darkness of that open door, a bit wavy in the paint, but definitely there, there was a faint, Christian cross. Elizabeth took a step to one side, but the cross disappeared; it reappeared when she stepped back. It was painted with a slightly different color of black paint and made to be only barely visible and only from certain angles and lighting.
How odd, it is. Why is there a door there at all? and why is there a cross painted in the darkness? Has the door and the cross gone unnoticed all of these years? Elizabeth wondered. She took one more, long look at the painting and at Ephram, then headed for her husband's first-floor office.
Elizabeth knew that Darcy would be away from the house for most of the rest of the day, so she walked straight into his room without bothering to knock. She headed directly for the mystery wall and began to rap her knuckles against it, trying to determine if the wall was hollow. It did not appear to be. She knocked in different places all over the wall, but the sounds were all the same and seemed solid. Next she went into the room on the other side of the wall, a blue sitting room that Elizabeth favored in the mornings, and knocked on its wall, but with the same results.
After puzzling over the dilemma for a few minutes, she had an idea. She walked over and stepped off the length from the mystery wall to the door of the sitting room, measuring the distance with her stride.
"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. Fifteen paces," Elizabeth said softly to herself.
She then went into the hallway and paced off the fifteen steps again, this time from the door of the sitting room back towards her husband's room. After reaching fifteen, she restarted her count, puzzling a footman who was passing by, but he went by unnoticed by his Mistress. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. Fifteen again."
Entering her husband's room, she began again, measuring from the door to the wall, "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve. Twelve? Only twelve? That means the wall is three paces thick." She paced off three steps and found that the wall was almost as wide as her fully-outstretched hands. There was more than just a wall there. There must be. She went back to the area on the wall where the painting of Ephram showed a door.
"What do you have behind here, Ephram?" she mused aloud. She knocked at it again, but there was no sign of a door. "It must be here."
She went over to her husband's desk and sat down. She stared at the wall for a long time, almost willing herself to see to the other side. As she sat, she was trying to convince herself not to do what she had in mind. She had discovered a puzzle, and there was nothing Elizabeth Bennet Darcy liked more than a good puzzle. Adding to the excitement was the fact that this particular puzzle was almost three centuries old. Before she gave in to her impulse, she thought she should learn a bit more about the room and Ephram Darcy, and so went in search of Mrs. Reynolds.
The housekeeper was easily found in her office, looking over the household accounts, and she was pleased that her Mistress had come down to see her. Mrs. Darcy had always met with her housekeeper in her own office upstairs, and had never before come into Mrs. Reynolds' territory.
"Good morning, Ma'am. Would you care for some tea?" Mrs. Reynolds asked after Mrs. Darcy came into the room and sat down. Mrs. Reynolds was on her own ground and was the hostess here, and she was determined to impress her relatively-new mistress.
"That would be lovely Mrs. Reynolds. Thank you."
Mrs. Reynolds poured out and waited for Mrs. Darcy to explain what had brought her where she had never come before. It was obvious that Mrs. Darcy had something in mind, but Mrs. Reynolds was patient.
After much of her tea was gone, Elizabeth finally spoke, "You know a great deal about the history of this house and the Darcy family, do you not, Mrs. Reynolds?"
"I believe I do, Ma'am. Is there something you wish to know?"
"Hmmm." Elizabeth paused. "When was the back part of the house built, the part with the nice little blue sitting room and Mr. Darcy's office?"
"It is well over two centuries old, I believe, maybe three. Let me think....Yes, I believe that was built back during the reign of King Henry VII. It must have been the end of the Fifteenth Century. That is the oldest surviving part of the house. As you know a fire about one-hundred years ago destroyed much of the rest from that time, but that wing survived, and the new parts of the house were built on to the old."
"Yes, that is what I thought." Elizabeth paused again. "I believe, at that time the house was owned by Ephram Darcy, who died in 1501, was it? leaving the house and the estate to his son, who was also called Ephram? Is that right, Mrs. Reynolds?"
"Yes Ma'am, that is right. The two Ephrams were both very successful at Pemberley and the estate grew and prospered at that time. The new house was built, of course, replacing an old fortress or castle, several of the churches in the area were funded by one Ephram or the other, and the first estate school was begun for the children of the tenants during the younger Ephram's ownership. I suppose he was quite ahead of his time with the school. Even the name 'Pemberley' dates from the time of the first Ephram who named his house after the nearby river."
"I see. You said that they built churches? During the reign of King Henry VIII, that could have been a dangerous endeavour. Do you know how they managed through those times?"
"Not much is really known, but I once heard that the younger Ephram, after his wife had died, became an ordained Catholic priest. That would have been a very bad time to do such a thing, so I do doubt the rumor. I suppose he did the same as other men in that time--blew with the winds of the day. The younger-Ephram's son, Thomas Darcy, was also something of a scholar and a noted, lay, church reformer, so perhaps the son's enthusiasm might have helped if the father was recalcitrant."
"Indeed. But then how would Thomas have survived Queen Mary's reign?"
"I believe that was fairly simple, he left the country and lived in exile in Denmark until Queen Elizabeth ascended the throne and it was safe to return. He even found his wife there, you know."
"Having him away must have been hard on both Thomas and his father. These churches that were built, would they have been Anglican or Catholic?"
"I do not know, Ma'am, except to say that they still exist and that they were built at a time when a Catholic church would not be entirely welcome."
"But Ephram might have been, secretly, a priest?"
"That is the rumor, Ma'am, but I can not say that it is true."
"From what you know of him, would he have been the sort to have a priest-hole somewhere on the estate, and would he have helped the Catholic clergy escape persecution?"
"He might have done. He was a kind man, from all accounts, and whether he was Anglican or Catholic, he certainly would have wanted to help people avoid execution."
"Except when helping people avoid execution was considered treason, I suppose. Have you ever looked at the portrait of him in the gallery?"
"Yes Ma'am, I have." Mrs. Reynolds was beginning to wonder where these questions were heading. They did not seem random, or a search for general information about the family, but very particular--and peculiar.
"Did you ever notice anything unusual about it?"
"Not that I recall, Ma'am."
"Would you humor me, Mrs. Reynolds, and come take another look at it?"
"Of course, Ma'am." Mrs. Reynolds' own curiosity was beginning to become aroused, and she willingly left her accounts for the bright gallery.
"Take a good look at it, Mrs. Reynolds," Mrs. Darcy said when they reached the picture. "Do you see anything odd?"
"No, Ma'am. I do not believe I do."
"Do you recognise the room?"
"Aye, it is the master's office."
"But is it the same as Mr. Darcy's office?"
"Is it not?" Mrs. Reynolds enquired as she took a more detailed look at the painting. "The door."
"Yes, Mrs. Reynolds. The door. The door that there is no sign of in this house, either from the sitting room or from my husband's office. But do you see anything in the door's opening?"
"I do not, Ma'am."
Elizabeth took a closer look at the painting again, and then had Mrs. Reynolds move slightly, so that the light would be right. "Now look into the darkness of the opening. Do you see it?"
"I might." Mrs. Reynolds moved closer to the picture. "It looks like a cross."
"Yes, it does, does it not? So, we have a painting of a door that does not seem to exist, and through the door there is a cross which is obviously meant to be both visible and hidden. It is curious, is it not?"
"It probably is what you asked about downstairs, Ma'am, a priest-hole."
"But why then would it be in the painting? The picture was made in 1538, during the dissolution of the monasteries. Why would Ephram advertise that he was hiding away clergy during such a violent and dangerous time? He might wish to help the priests, but why endanger himself further by having himself painted with his priest-hole? And, besides, since when did priest-holes have obvious doors. They were meant to be hidden and secret, not out in the open."
"I do not know. Maybe he was an ordained priest and he wanted his painting to reflect that?"
"It could be allegorical, yes. The door and the cross could be symbolic of his faith or his ordination, both hidden and closed off from the world. But it can not be purely allegorical, because the priest-hole is real, Mrs. Reynolds."
"Is it?"
"Come and see for yourself," Mrs. Darcy said as she directed Mrs. Reynolds to Mr. Darcy's office. There she had Mrs. Reynolds pace off the walls of the sitting room, the hallway, and the office with the same results.
Once Mrs. Reynolds had determined the thickness of the wall, Mrs. Darcy held her hands apart, as she had done by herself earlier, "The wall is about this thick, Mrs. Reynolds, so there is something between these two rooms, but what? Is it just a priest hole? That brings me back to my earlier points about the painting: why advertise the fact that you have a priest-hole by having your picture taken with it, and why have a priest-hole with an obvious door to it?"
"I admit it is very curious, Mrs. Darcy. Quite a puzzle."
"It is a puzzle I am determined to solve, Mrs. Reynolds." The impulse to act on this discovery was stronger now than it had been before Elizabeth had ventured into Mrs. Reynolds' office. The history that the housekeeper related had only whetted Elizabeth's curiosity even more. "How hard, do you think, would it be to carefully remove this paneling, so that it could be put back up again?"
"Remove the paneling? Surely you are not thinking...." Mrs. Reynolds broke off, knowing exactly what her mistress was thinking. "Would it not be better to await Mr. Darcy's return, Ma'am, and see what he says about it? This is his office, after all."
"Yes, Mrs. Reynolds, it probably would be better to wait, but this is my discovery, and I am determined to get to the bottom of it. I simply could not get through this day without knowing. Could you? Besides, if Mr. Darcy had made this discovery himself, you can rest assured that he would not wait, and would probably not even take any care with tearing off the panels."
"He always was a curious boy, Ma'am."
"So how could he fault me for doing something that he would do himself, if given half a chance? Can it be done, Mrs. Reynolds? Can the paneling be removed carefully?"
"I doubt that it could be taken down and put back up before the Master returns, Ma'am," Mrs. Reynolds said, surprising herself on how quickly Mrs. Darcy had managed to get her to follow along with this. But it was exciting to think that they could be opening a wall that has been closed for nearly three-hundred years.
"I shall deal with Mr. Darcy, Mrs. Reynolds. Will you go an find Saunders and tell him what I would like done?"
"Are you certain, Mrs. Darcy? It could be nothing more than an empty room."
"I know it could, but I must know, one way or the other. Will you get the carpenter?"
"Yes Ma'am."
"Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds," Mrs. Darcy said with a gleam in her eye. Elizabeth waited as patiently as she could for the return of Mrs. Reynolds with the carpenter, but it was a long wait, and she found herself pacing along the mystery wall. Is Mrs. Reynolds right? she asked herself. Should I wait for Darcy? If there is something behind here, I am sure he would like to be here when it is opened. But her curiosity and impulsiveness were both too strong; Elizabeth Darcy simply could not wait that long.
After about twenty minutes, Mrs. Reynolds returned with Saunders the carpenter, and his thirteen-year-old apprentice, Billy. Saunders was taken aback by the request. The Mistress of the house wanted to tear apart the wall in the Master's office? It sounded absurd to him, and he nearly refused to do it. Taking orders from the lady of the house on such a matter was bad enough, but it was also likely that the Master would disapprove. It took much cajoling by Mrs. Darcy--and much batting of the eyelashes on her very fine eyes--before she could convince him.
Conquered by the charm of Mrs. Darcy, Saunders laid out a tarpaulin on the floor to protect the parquet, then examined the wall closely. He had Billy hand him a small lever and he began to try to fit it under the moldings. After a few minutes work, one molding was loosened enough that it could be removed without undue damage. When it was free, he handed it to Billy, then began to work on removing another strip; he told Billy to start on another. Within half an hour, there was nothing left but the large wood panels themselves. There were two of them, one on the upper half of the wall, and the other on the lower. Saunders decided to take the top one off first. It was hard work, but Saunders knew that any damage would be covered by the moldings, so he could afford to be a bit rough. He got the lever in and managed to get part of the panel away from the wall. He then worked his way across the top of the wood and down each side. He loosened the bottom of the panel and told Billy to take hold of one side and help pull it off the wall. But the wood proved far too heavy for the thirteen-year-old, and a rather large footman was sent for.
The wait for the man to arrive was short, but excruciating to all in the room. The panel was almost off. If they pulled one side away, they would be able to see behind, but Saunders guarded it and would not let anyone take a peek. When the footman arrived, everyone in the room seemed to hold their breath. Saunders took hold of one side, and the footman the other. They pulled hard; this time, the panel came away. It was heavy and the two men struggled with it. When they moved it aside, Elizabeth broke into a broad smile.
There was a door.
It was rough-hewn with wood that seemed weathered and grey. It looked heavy and was held together by iron bars and iron nails. It looked nothing like the finely crafted door in the painting, but it was really there.
Saunders moved more quickly when removing the lower panel, and it was taken away in about five minutes. Now all the door could be seen. It did not seem to have a handle, but there was a hole where one should be.
"We need a door knob, along with the bar that fits through the door, Ma'am," Saunders said to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth nodded to the footman, dismissing him, before returning her attention to Saunders, "Would the handle on the door to this room work? We could replace it later."
"Aye, that should work. Billy, take that door knob off and bring it here. And be sure you do not shut us in!"
Billy soon presented his master with the knob--just the knob.
"What am I supposed to do with this, boy? Hit you on the head with it? I need the part that goes through the door too!" Saunders admonished, and Billy was back in a flash with the missing part.
Saunders placed it in the hole, and it seemed to fit just right. He began to turn it, when Mrs. Darcy stopped him.
"Please, Mr. Saunders, let me," she said. She had gotten them to this point and she was not going to let someone else see inside before she did.
Elizabeth paused for a moment before turning the handle, trying to use her will to effect the contents of the unknown space. She swung the door aside, and it creaked loudly on its old hinges. Elizabeth's eyes opened wide when she saw what was inside the mystery wall.
The wall was not empty, quite the opposite, in fact. In the very front were shelves that were packed with objects, most of which were wrapped in fabric, and all of which were covered in a thick layer of dust. Behind the shelves there seemed to be more shelves, and they went off to the left as well. The area seemed to be filled from wall to wall and floor to ceiling.
"What do you think they are, Ma'am?" Mrs. Reynolds asked, glad that she would not need to explain to Mr. Darcy her part in opening up an empty wall.
"There is only one way to find out," Elizabeth said as she took out one of the objects. She put it down on her husband's desk and pulled off the fabric wrapping.
"It is gold!" Saunders shouted out.
"It is a communion plate, I think," Elizabeth said more calmly, though her heart was racing. "It has some writing on it, unfortunately it is in Latin, and I never learned, but this here looks like 'Iasu Christi', Jesus Christ." Elizabeth looked at the plate in wonder. It was beautiful, large, heavy, and, as Saunders had pointed out, was gold. It had an intricate engraving of a lamb in the center, above the lamb was a papal crook and a cross, and around the edge was some sort of an inscription which she could not make out. This one piece alone made tearing apart the wall worth the effort, she thought. It was exquisite.
"Mr. Saunders, will you bring in the work table from the sitting room. I think we will need more space to lay everything out," Elizabeth said after she had turned away from the plate.
"Mrs. Reynolds, would you help me remove the items from the shelves? Let us see what else there is."
"Yes Ma'am."
The two women began to remove the items and place them on the tables and desk in the room. After they had cleared the first set of shelves, they had Saunders and Billy begin dismantling them, so that the next part of the space could be reached.
Mrs. Reynolds and Elizabeth had simply taken the items out of the mystery room, but had left them wrapped. Both knew that it was not a good idea to show Saunders or Billy any more than was necessary, and knew that once the two men were dismissed it would only be minutes before the whole house knew that a treasure had been found.
While the men were making a racket removing the shelves, Elizabeth pulled Mrs. Reynolds aside and said quietly, "Mrs. Reynolds, perhaps you should send someone for Mr. Darcy. I think it would be wise to have him here."
"I believe you are right, Ma'am. We would not want the news of this to spread too quickly or get out of hand. I also have some things to attend to, if you can spare me."
Elizabeth nodded, and Mrs. Reynolds went to send a messenger to find the Master.
After Mrs. Reynolds had gone, Elizabeth could not resist opening another of the parcels. She knew which one she wanted to see. She had removed it from the shelves herself and placed it before the chair of the desk. She now went over and sat down and examined the object. It was wrapped in leather, but she could tell what it was from the feel. She pulled aside the covering and found what she expected. It was a book, but more than a book.
It was a Bible.
Hand written and illuminated by hand. It must have taken years to make and was very old. Elizabeth opened it and found the most beautiful pictures painted in bright blues, reds, greens, and flecked out with gold leaf. She turned to the start of the Gospel of Luke, her favorite Gospel, and saw a glorious picture of the Virgin Mary holding Jesus; both had halos drawn in gold, and Mary's face was serene as it gazed on her child. Elizabeth gently turned the vellum pages absorbing the beauty of the book. Near the back she found a few pieces of paper folded and tucked inside.
She pulled them out and opened them.
"Ephram," she said softly.
"I beg your pardon, Ma'am?" Saunders asked, thinking she had spoken to him.
"Oh, I am sorry, I had not realised that I spoke."
"Yes, Ma'am."
Elizabeth returned to the letter. The words were archaic and the script full of embellishments, but she could make out the meaning:
The Fifteenth Day of March
In the Year of Our Lord
Fifteen Hundred and Thirty-EightMy world has gone mad. I sit here in the peace of this house, and shudder to think of the pain, the desecration, and the slaughter of these times. I have done what I could to lessen the severity of the evils that are loose upon the land, Lord God, Our Holy Savior, knows how I have tried, but to what end? The blackness continues to spread--a blackness in which all light must be hidden away.
This room is filled with sacred objects that are consecrated to God, and yet the politics of these times says they must be destroyed. What does God care for such politics? Is a painting of Christ in his Passion any less sacred because it once hung in a Catholic monastery? Does it stir the soul any less because of supposed papist connections?
No. That can not be.
So much has been destroyed that my heart is sick to think on it. But these things, these few things, I pray, will survive. I can do this much for My Lord.
I know that the Holy Truth will survive; God, Our Father and Our Salvation, will not abandon us, even if we abandon Him.
God, protect this land and carry us through the darkness. Amen.
Ephram Darcy
Elizabeth read over the letter many times, and it touched her more deeply each time.
The other pages included with the letter were an inventory of the items which laid about her, still hidden under cloth and dust. The list included monstrances, communion plates and cups, Bibles, and books of ancient learning, paintings, statues, and reliquaries. Elizabeth knew that she had found one of the greatest collections ancient, holy objects in England, and one of the greatest collections of old English art. So much had been destroyed three centuries earlier, that English art was still suffering to catch up to the rest of Europe. But here was a treasure trove in paint, stone, and gold. She gazed about her in awe.
Meanwhile, Mr. Darcy had received the enigmatic request to return to the house, though he had much work to take care of and did not appreciate the distraction, he quickly returned to Pemberley. Upon arrival, he asked a servant where he could find his wife and headed to his office. While opening the door he said, "Elizabeth, I am very busy today, can not this wait...." He trailed off as he saw the confusion of objects scattered around his room. Elizabeth looked up from the letter and Bible with a sad, yet triumphant look in her eyes.
Darcy was speechless as he surveyed the room. A few items had been unwrapped or were not wrapped to begin with; the communion plate, the bible, a monstrance, paintings, and many of the books laid open in the room. He saw where the paneling had been removed and the door opened; he saw the remains of the shelving on the floor of the secret room. He wandered around examining the dust-laden treasure, and the hidden room. He went to the desk and pulled the Bible towards him. He too opened to the Gospel of Luke and was stunned by the beautiful illumination.
He had only been away from the house for a few hours, but during that time his wife had made a stunning discovery. He turned to her and asked, "How did you know?"
"The painting of Ephram up in the gallery showed the door, and when I examined this room and the one next to it, I knew there was a hidden room here. I know I should have waited for you before opening it, but my curiosity got the better of me.
"Here, you should read this," she said, holding out the letter to him.
He read it and looked up at his wife.
She said, "I asked Mrs. Reynolds about Ephram Darcy. She told me that it is rumored he became a priest. Do you know any more about him? Did you have any idea what he had hidden away?"
"No. I know little of him; I had heard the rumors that he entered the priesthood, but I know nothing that confirms it. I had also never heard anything about him hiding a cache of Catholic art. He must have been an interesting man."
"Indeed. I wish I could know him."
"Well, my dear, shall we take a look at everything?" said Mr. Darcy eagerly. Mrs. Reynolds was right; he had always been a curious boy.
"Then you are not angry with me for tearing apart your room."
"A little," he said with a gleam in his eye. "Shall we?"
And with that, they slowly and methodically made their way through the items, cross-referencing everything with the list. It took them hours to look through it all.
When each item had been uncovered and cleaned up a little, Darcy and his wife surveyed the room.
"What shall we do with it all?" Elizabeth asked.
"I have been thinking about that. Perhaps a few of the finest items could go to the Archbishop of Canterbury; he went to school with my father, and the two of them were close friends. He could see to it that they return to their proper use, and it would be an honor for them to be used in one of England's great cathedrals. I suppose I will also consult with him about the rest."
"Good. Now, what shall we do with it at present? I had Saunders and Billy help to take the paneling off, and they saw some of the items, so by now the whole estate, if not all of Derbyshire, knows about this."
"I will need to have some footmen stand guard, I suppose. I shall arrange it, my dear."
A short time later Mr. and Mrs. Darcy went to prepare for dinner. Along the way to their rooms, they passed through the gallery so Elizabeth could show Darcy the painting. He was amazed that he had never noticed the door or the cross, and a little jealous that his wife had found it instead. It was he who noticed that the book on the table in front of Ephram Darcy was the same Bible they had been examining downstairs.
"Congratulations, Mrs. Darcy. You would have made an excellent treasure hunter. A regular Cortez," he said as he gave his wife a kiss on the cheek.
"Well now, I wonder what else I can find laying about the place," she said with a laugh.
Over the next few months many of the items were dispersed. The Archbishop made a special trip to Pemberley in order to see the collection and was overjoyed when Darcy asked him to take some of the finest items. In time, they would become part of the traditions of the church; a communion cup from the collection was used at Queen Victoria's christening, and in many subsequent royal baptisms. After the Archbishop had taken his pick, many of the remaining objects were given to the local parishes for use in their services and to display in the churches.
However, some of the items, especially those which could play no role in church services, remained at Pemberley, to delight and inspire generations of Darcys. The library, which was already the envy of many, was enriched still further by the addition of many of the books, and Darcy saw to it that they were translated and published, so that more people could make use of them. The Great Bible, as it became known in the family, was placed on a stand in a position of honor in the library. In later years a special case would be made to house it, with carefully controlled temperature and humidity, but the Bible would always be taken out on special occasions--baptisms, weddings, and funerals.
Finally, the finest parlour in the house became the home of the remaining paintings and statues--with Ephram Darcy's painting placed in a position of honor beside the chimneypiece, and Elizabeth The Treasure Hunter's portrait hanging on the other side.
The End