Chapter 16 Unwitting Spellcasters #3
“Why yes, your marriage has been planned since you began working together. Do you not even remember that?”
“No, I do not. I do not want to marry Mr Darcy. Or at least I am not sure whether I do. Oh, Aunt, I do not know what I am to do! I suppose that I must marry Mr Darcy. Perhaps if I am lucky, I shall grow to like, and possibly even love him.”
“Not only must you marry Mr Darcy, but you must lie with him. You must let him come to you, for the act of coupling with intent will bind your magic to one another, entwining it and making it tenfold more powerful. The very survival of Britain depends upon your doing this, but you will also find that your happiness and contentment depend upon it just as much.”
“Aunt, the thought of subjecting myself to such an act terrifies me!”
“It is not like that, Lizzy. The physical act is but a small part. When you join with one another, your love and desire will grow with each day, and before you know it, you will no longer know where your body ends and your heart begins. It is one of the most beautiful acts in all the world.”
At her aunt’s words, Elizabeth’s magic stirred.
It permeated as warmth, emanating from her heart and suffusing her entire body.
Even her most intimate place was not spared, as thoughts of the tall, handsome, enigmatic man entered her mind and refused to leave.
It is as if my magic and my body have accepted Mr Darcy’s proposal, but my mind refuses to follow!
“I know of women who do not love their husbands,” Elizabeth said. “Their marriage is one of fear and domination. What if my marriage is like theirs?”
“It shall not be. Remember that I grew up in Lambton, not five miles from Pemberley. Whilst I was not of a station to be acquainted with the family, the love that old Mr Darcy and his wife shared was well known, and their children grew up in a household filled with their love. The Darcys were everything kind and gentle, and they brought out the best in everyone around them. I should expect your Mr Darcy to be the most loving of husbands, and that as his wife, you will be loved, cherished, and cared for.”
“I am still frightened, but if you believe that Mr Darcy will be a kind and affectionate husband, I shall be brave.”
Across Town, Darcy called upon his uncle, the Earl of Matlock. “Darcy! So good of you to visit. The boys at the Magical Division have told me that I am to wish you joy.”
“How did you…?” he stammered.
“Madam Muttersworth works for us. She sent word the moment you left.”
The earl placed a hand on Darcy’s shoulder and guided him down the corridor. “Come into my study for a glass of brandy.”
When they were comfortably seated in Matlock’s study, the earl began.
“Darcy, this is indeed quite serious. We received word that the situation on the continent is becoming dire. The city of Valencia is under siege. The Marquess of Wellington has had to withdraw his troops, and the French mages are gaining the upper hand. If our soldiers do not receive magical aid soon, the entire war could be lost. This is the worst possible time for you to develop amnesia.”
“Had I the choice,” Darcy replied sardonically, “I am sure I would have avoided the situation entirely.”
The earl was not amused. “Yes, well, you must entwine your magic with Miss Bennet’s as soon as you possibly can, and Madam Muttersworth must repair your memories immediately afterwards.”
Darcy reddened. “Um…that is why I have come. I know that I must…um…couple with Miss Bennet…but she has said that she does not wish to marry me. Can magic entwine if only one partner is willing?”
“No, it cannot. But once you are married, Miss Bennet cannot refuse your advances. This has been the law for centuries. She will be willing because, as your wife, that is her duty. Moreover, magic wants to entwine. Magic needs to entwine. Magic knows our hearts long before our minds are ready to listen. Its pull is irresistible. Your magic and hers will create that desire in her, as magic seeks out other magic. You need only initiate the act. Her magic will be her guide; it will teach her mind and body how to respond.”
But Elizabeth must come to me willingly or not at all. Every part of him wanted, needed Miss Elizabeth Bennet. But he needed her to want him as much as he wanted her.
Elizabeth and Mr Darcy met later that afternoon, after he had procured the licence.
They walked along Bond Street, on the pretence of shopping for a new bonnet for Elizabeth.
For the most part, they proceeded in awkward silence, thinking of the conversations they had just had with their relations, each casting sidelong glances at the other, wondering whether their thoughts were theirs alone.
Finally, Elizabeth said, “I must own that I am frightened. There is so much that depends on us. I fear I shall not be up to the task.”
“It is a daunting responsibility. Our actions will have consequences—for Britain, for my cousin Richard, and for us. It is as if we have been thrust into a story that is not our own, and we are flailing.”
“Indeed, Mr Darcy. The characters in a story have little choice about how their tale unfolds. And so it would seem with us.”
That night, Elizabeth’s mind brimmed with thoughts of Mr Darcy, of her anticipated wedding night, and of the great responsibility that both of them had but neither understood.
These thoughts were both pleasant and terrifying.
After an hour of lying awake in her bedchamber, she slipped on a gown and went to the library.
She retrieved a book, Winter Storms by D. C. Williams.
Storms. That expresses my feelings exactly.
She took some comfort in the first line: It is a truth universally acknowledged that trust is fertile soil in which affection may grow…