Chapter 16 Unwitting Spellcasters #2
Early the next morning, Elizabeth and Mr Darcy found themselves in his coach to London, with instructions to call upon Madam Matilda Muttersworth on Whitechapel Road. Their driver seemed to shudder when he heard the address, but he still conveyed them there.
Shortly after they set out, Elizabeth turned towards Mr Darcy. “May I ask you something? You said that you have ‘forgot how to use your magic.’ Was there a time when you could do so?”
Mr Darcy looked out of the carriage window, his brows creased. “I do not recall anything about magic. I was not even aware of its existence until yesterday morning. But somehow, everyone seems to believe I am one of the most powerful mages in Britain.”
“I have had a similar experience. It is as if the world has developed a history that we are an integral part of but has neglected to inform us of it.”
“I thought I might be going mad. In fact, I have not yet discounted the possibility.” He offered her a hint of a smile. “But if I am indeed Tom of Bedlam, I am glad that I have found my Mad Maudlin.”
Elizabeth thought about the song to which Mr Darcy alluded.
Would she walk ten thousand miles barefoot just to see Mr Darcy?
Of course not, but just as Tom of Bedlam and Mad Maudlin had naught but each other, she felt that Mr Darcy might be her one constant in a world becoming increasingly topsy-turvy.
After hours in the carriage, they arrived in London.
Darcy knew there were impoverished districts that should be avoided at all costs.
Whitechapel was one of them. The address they sought turned out to be a dilapidated building that looked as if it might fall to the ground but for the other buildings it leant against. The moment Darcy and Miss Bennet alighted in front of Number 6 Half Moon Alley, they were confronted by a group of urchins.
“What ’ave we ’ere?” one of them called out.
“Supper. And tomorrow’s breakfast. That’s what we ’ave.”
“Right you are! Grab the lady!”
Darcy thought, Begone! There was a flash of light, and an intense force emanated from him, knocking the miscreants to the ground.
A door opened. “You there. Come! Both of you!” beckoned a woman’s voice from within.
Darcy and Elizabeth hurried through the door into a darkened corridor. The woman closed and bolted the door and turned to them.
“What be a lady and a gentleman like you doin’ in this part o’ London?”
“We are here to speak with Madam Matilda Muttersworth.”
The woman’s features were severe, but her appearance commanded respect more than fear. “That’d be me. And who’re you?”
“I am Fitzwilliam Darcy, and this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
As soon as Elizabeth thought, I wonder what she would look like under better light, the oil lamps flared to life, revealing the grey hair and wrinkled face of an old woman.
“Ah. I received an express this morning that said you’d be comin’. Miss—Elizabeth, is it?—Don’t be usin’ your magic indiscriminately ’ere. It attracts unwanted attention.”
“I do not know…that is, I seem to have forgotten how to control it.”
Madam Muttersworth raised one eyebrow, suggesting that she appraised them and found them wanting. “Come with me.”
Madam Muttersworth led them to a parlour lit by an oil lamp, which provided a modicum of illumination. The furnishings were mismatched and well-worn but appeared clean and well-cared for. She brought them tea made from a collection of herbs. The taste was odd, but not unpleasant.
“The express said there’s somethin’ wrong with your memories. You’ve forgot how to use your magic?”
“It would seem to be so,” replied Elizabeth. “It is as if we are in some sort of dream in which magic is real, and we are able to use it, but know nothing of it.”
“It’s not a dream, dearie. Though those boys in the street’ll be wishin’ they was dreamin’.”
“Can you help us?” asked Mr Darcy.
“I’m sure I can. But we’ll have to move up your wedding date.”
Mr Darcy and Elizabeth looked at each other, eyes wide. “Our wedding date?” they both replied in unison.
“Of course. I could reinitiate each of your magic separately, but reinitiating can cause your magic to go a new direction. The two of you must work together to fight the French, and that won’t work if your magic deviates.
Seein’ as you’re to wed anyway, the best way to be sure your magic remains compatible is to entwine it.
“And the only way to do that is to get married. When you consummate your union, your magic becomes permanently entwined. As soon as that happens, I can restore both of your memories together.”
Elizabeth was horrified. Mr Darcy was handsome, but… A flood of thoughts suddenly came unbidden into her mind and she turned scarlet. “Surely there must be some other way!”
“None that doesn’t involve a scandal,” interjected Madam Muttersworth. “You’ll need a licence, of course. You can take care of that tomorrow, and then you can wed the next morning. But you’d best be gone in the meantime. Now, send up a burst of magical light to summon your coachman.”
Mr Darcy lifted his hands in confusion. “I do not know how to do that.”
“Right. ’Course you don’t. I’ll do it for you.”
Madam Muttersworth opened a window, and a beam of light radiated from her hand. A few minutes later, the coach pulled up in front of the door.
“Come back in three days, after your wedding night,” said Madam Muttersworth as Mr Darcy handed Elizabeth into the coach.
After an awkward silence that lasted several minutes, Mr Darcy turned to her. “While it is indeed true that I wish to marry you someday, this is not at all how I wish for it to happen.”
“Mr Darcy, that is kind of you to dissemble. But I know that is a falsehood. You yourself once said that I was not even tolerable enough to tempt you to dance,” Elizabeth said, her humour having deserted her, “and when you look at me, I see judgement, not love. I am flattered that you wish to marry me someday, but in all candour, I do not wish to marry you. I appreciate your wealth and status, and I understand that you are accustomed to attaining whatever you want. But I have always hoped to marry for love.”
Mr Darcy opened his mouth as if to protest. Instead, he said, “There does not appear to be any other choice. Is there some way that I might win your good opinion by degrees, and perhaps someday your love?”
A thousand thoughts collided in Elizabeth’s head. At one time, she had said that Mr Darcy was the last man in the world that she could be prevailed upon to marry. Yet now, when she thought of her future self, the man who was consistently by her side was Mr Darcy.
There is a chasm between the present and a future in which I am to marry this man.
Mr Darcy had asked how he might cross that chasm.
She did not know how that might be possible, nor was she certain that she wished for him to cross it.
But she was equally uncertain that she did not wish for him to cross it.
She said aloud, “Short of releasing us from our current predicament, I cannot think of one.”
“I am afraid that I do not see a way to do that other than by marriage to you. If we do not do this, we would be hazards to those around us for the rest of our lives.”
“If we do marry, sir, I am afraid that we may be hazards to each other even afterwards. You must understand that every woman fears marrying a man who would beat her or force her to do things against her will. The thought of marrying a man I barely know who has magical powers is terrifying.” She fought to hold back tears as she uttered these words, but after a moment, her eyes betrayed her and the battle was lost.
Mr Darcy took her hands in his. At once, a faint glow emanated from him, enveloping Elizabeth. She immediately felt safe and calm.
“Miss Bennet, please know that I would never do anything to hurt you, nor would I ever force you to do anything if you did not wish it.”
Elizabeth found her voice, though she trembled. “All couples argue. I do believe that you would never wish to harm me, but I do not know that I can trust you when you are angry, particularly with magic that you cannot control.”
“I have never in my life harmed anyone out of anger. I may speak cross words, but my actions have always remained under good regulation. Even if I were angry, I cannot imagine ever hurting you, magically or otherwise.”
“I must take you at your word, Mr Darcy, and I suppose we must marry in order to protect others from this magical affliction that we seem to both have. While you are procuring the licence and having settlement papers drawn up, may I visit with my aunt and uncle Gardiner?”
“This is your uncle who is in trade? In Cheapside?”
“Yes, the same.”
Mr Darcy hesitated. “I do not see any harm in it. The ton will think that I am madly in love with you to marry so quickly, and the fact that you have relations in trade will be all over the gossip sheets by tomorrow.”
When Elizabeth arrived at her aunt and uncle’s residence, her aunt Gardiner embraced her. “Lizzy, it is so good to see you, though not necessarily under the present circumstances.”
“I do not have the pleasure of understanding you, Aunt Gardiner.”
“The security of Britain depends upon your recovering your magic and connecting it with Mr Darcy’s as soon as may be. This has become much more urgent in recent days—your uncle will explain when he arrives.”
“How is it that you know about my predicament?”
“Surely you remember that your uncle has worked in the Magical Division under the Secretary at War for many years, and I have assisted him.”
“This is all so confusing! Perhaps I have some sort of amnesia? I have not only… forgotten… my magic, but it is as if I never knew that magic even existed.” Elizabeth burst into tears. “What if I never recover my memory? What if our poor soldiers are slaughtered because I am unable to help them?”
“Do not be upset, Lizzy. Madam Muttersworth is one of the best physiomagickers in all of Britain. If anyone can recover your memory and your magic, it is she.”
“She said that I must marry Mr Darcy.”