Chapter 10 #2
When he put it like that it sounded quite ridiculous, but what else could she do?
To stay here, in his bed chamber, in his house, was tantamount to a compromise.
If discovered, they would have to marry and she’d already turned down one proposal this week.
She wasn’t prepared to accept another high-handed one no matter how well he looked in just his breeches.
“What else would you suggest, Mr. Darcy. There is no way we can explain how I ended up here.” On the word ‘here’, she waved her arm around.
How had she ended up here? Papa told her Miatharans could transport from one area to another, but he’d also said it took great practice.
Just like speaking into another’s thoughts.
And what of Mr. Darcy? He hadn’t batted an eyelid at her sudden appearance.
In fact, he behaved as if this type of occurrence was common.
She assessed him closely, her eyes narrowing.
“What are you thinking about, Miss Elizabeth? You have the fiercest expression on your face.”
“I’m thinking you know more about this than you’re letting on. In fact, I think you are very aware of how I ended up here.”
An expression, maybe guilt, maybe evasiveness, crossed his face, slipping away as fast as it arrived leaving his usual stoic facade.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you are talking about. This must be of your own doing, or have you hired a gypsy to give you a travel potion so you could come and tempt me in my own bed chamber.”
“You are lying,” she said decisively.
“And you know this because...?” His voice trailed off in an arrogant manner and it lit a fire in her belly.
“Because I can see it on your face, like a scroll. Every vile word written plain as day. Lies, lies, lies.” She approached and lifted herself onto her tip toes, holding his eyes captive with hers.
“They say the eyes are the windows to a person’s soul.
Yours are empty. You are toying with things you don’t understand and I don’t have to stay and listen to you.
” She swiveled and faced the opposite direction. Three doors stood before her.
“What are you waiting for, then. Leave if you must, but you will not leave unscathed.”
“I would, if you would kindly direct me to which door leads from your room.”
At that, he laughed out loud, his laughter deep and rich.
It poured through her blood like a fast-moving river, making her body heat and ache as never before.
What was this man doing to her? Mayhap he was the one who hired a gypsy.
No - she shook her head. Somehow, she’d managed to transport herself into his bedchamber and she was the only one who could get herself home.
All she needed was some peace and quiet so she could concentrate.
The heat from the palm of his hand on her forearm broke her out of her thoughts.
“Miss Elizabeth. Even if you did manage to leave my room unseen, you still have to negotiate your way past numerous servants and once outside find a conveyance to take you to Meryton. I’m afraid you are stuck here with me for the interim.”
She went to push him off her arm and just as quick, drew back her hand as if bitten.
Sharp pain burned across her wrist and before she could think, do, or say anything Mr. Darcy had caught her hand in his and stared down at a shimmering scroll etched on the inside of her wrist. The script, though elegant, was not known to her.
“You are Miatharan!”
“No.” Her reply was instinctive, protecting her father’s secret. She raised her gaze to Mr. Darcy and realized he still held onto her hand and on his wrist the same etching had been burned into the skin although his script held some differences.
“That’s an impossibility.”
“Are you sure?”
“No,” he sighed out. “There are stories told, where in rare cases a Miatharan will bond with a human. Most of it is folklore and not backed up by actual facts and historical records.”
“All fairy tales have some origin in truth.”
“Aye.”
“You know what this is?” she finally asked.
He glanced at her wrist and then back at his own.
“Our magical names are etched into our skin.”
“It doesn’t look like Darcy to me.” She peered down at her wrist.
“That is because it is my Miatharan name.”
“What does mine say?”
He looked at it and a frown creased his brow. “It’s not Miatharan. The script is similar, yet different to my native tongue. Regardless, you must be magical and of noble blood.”
She decided to share with Darcy part of her family history as there was now nothing to hide.
He knew she was Miatharan, although what the marking on their wrists had to with that remained a mystery.
Unless all Miatharans when touched were gifted with a mark.
She stifled a laugh. She wouldn’t want to meet many more.
Her arms were not as long and lanky as Mr. Darcy’s, so her list of Miatharans would need to be very short indeed.
“And what makes you laugh, Elizabeth.”
“I’ve not given you leave to call me by my given name.
” She pulled her hand from his. Good heavens.
How many more times was she going to have to say that?
Patiently, he held her gaze and waited for an answer.
“I was thinking I didn’t want to meet many more Miatharans if a brand accompanied the introduction. ”
A ghost of a smile crossed his handsome face. She gave a start. He truly was handsome, and well built, with a good head of hair. Not like her cousin. If she had to marry, Mr. Darcy definitely had an advantage over Mr. Collins. She leaned in and sniffed. And he smelled good, too.
“Miss Elizabeth, did you just sniff me?”
“No.”
That pesky eyebrow raised again.
“Very well, yes.”
Hmmmm... was all he said. As though remembering his manners, he indicated with a wave of his unscathed hand for her to take a seat by the fireplace.
The situation had gone past bizarre and she was almost afraid of what might come next.
Maybe a Puck like faerie who’d appear and reverse all the chaos he’d created.
She sat and settled her skirts around her.
There would be no reversing this sequence of events.
Only marching forward one minute at a time.
Gingerly, she rested her wrist on her lap.
“Would you like a salve for your wrist, Miss Elizabeth?”
“Can’t you wave a magic wand, or your hand and magically make it disappear.
“It does not work that way.” He smiled. “Somethings aren’t fixed by magic as they are magic themselves. This calls for good old salve made by human hands.”
“You would have to summon a servant for that Mr. Darcy and I think we both agree to keep this... incident from becoming public.”
“I’m afraid it’s going to become public sooner than you realize.”
“Why is that?”
“Have you no curiosity as to why such a mark appeared on your wrist when you touched my hand?”
“I assumed all Miatharans receive this when they come into contact with one of their own.”
“Have you ever touched your father’s hand?”
“Of course, what a silly question...” She trailed off as understanding dawned. “Am I to assume this mark carries some significance?”
“Yes.”
“Dare I ask what it constitutes?”
“We are soul mates, Elizabeth.” He held up his hand to forestall her chastising him for not using her proper name. “We must marry now; it is our destiny.”
“But...” she stuttered out. “I don’t want to marry you.”
There. She’d said it. Now what?
He paused for a brief moment and then continued to the chair opposite her and sat.
“It’s not as simple as wanting. We must.”
Was no man going to take no for an answer?
She huffed out a breath in frustration. In two days, she’d had as many men tell her she would marry them.
And in two days she’d declined. At this rate, she’d go through all the eligible men of England in a year.
Against her better judgment she felt the glimmer of a smile curve her lip.
“What amuses you, Miss Elizabeth.”
“I wonder if any more men will tell me I must marry, even though I’ve said no. It’s become quite tedious and I’d rather not progress past two, for the interim.”
“You’ve had more than one marriage proposal?
“No,” she shook her head. “I’ve only had one marriage proposal and I told him to find someone else.”
“You have not told me to find someone else.”
“How vain you are, Mr. Darcy. You are not the first gentleman who sought my hand.”
“Who?” He jumped to his feet. “Wickham?” He paced to the window and back. “I’ll kill that bas? My apologies, Madam,” he said and retook his seat. “Then who?”
“Although ‘tis none of your business, it was Mr. Collins.”
“Ah... the gossip was accurate.”
She sighed. “Yes. Although I did my best to dissuade him, he was quite obstinate. At least he was until I told him to desist and find another woman to marry.”
She glanced up at him when he chuckled softly.
“Did you happen to wave your hand when you said that?”
“As a matter of fact, I did.”
He nodded at her words. “Then, be assured. He’ll not ask you again.”
“Did I bespell him?”
“It’s not like casting a spell, that requires careful wording and focused thought. No, it acts more like a suggestion and he’ll find his own way.”
She thought that was good, although she had no idea who Mr. Collins would seek to marry with such little time left before he had to return to Hunsford.
“So, why did you say you received only one marriage proposal when I sit before you after asking for your hand.”
“You, Mr. Darcy, did not ask for my hand. You simply said we must marry. There is a difference.” She narrowed her eyes and glared at him.
His eyes widened in surprise. Apparently not many people took the great master of Pemberley to task. She glanced down at the shining mark on her wrist. It no longer burned as before, but how in the world was she going to keep this hidden. She couldn’t wear gloves all day, every day.
“I notice you admiring your soul mark.”