Chapter Three
The servants had removed Elizabeth’s father to a small parlor, and the local healer, Mr. Mayne, had immediately started a healing spell.
She could sense the etheric flow that Mr. Mayne drew upon to bathe the wound in healing energy.
Her father shifted uneasily on the fainting couch, conscious but apparently experiencing some pain.
It had been blessedly quiet in the sickroom…
and then the rest of the Bennet family arrived.
Her mother’s voice echoed through the halls long before she entered the room.
“Goblins at balls! What shall we do now? I don’t know when my nerves have ever been in such an agitated state!
I experience such flutterings in my chest!
” Jane murmured reassuring words, but her mother continued to exclaim.
As they entered the parlor, her mother was leaning heavily on Jane’s arm.
“We all could have been murdered—eaten! Right there on the dance floor. What is the world coming to?”
And then Mrs. Bennet laid eyes on her husband. “Oh! Mr. Bennet! I knew it!” she shrieked. “I knew you would attempt to fight the goblin!”
Her husband winced at something Mr. Mayne did. “I made no attempt to fight him, my dear. He simply thought I would make a tasty morsel.”
“You were bitten?” Mrs. Bennet cried. “Oh, my nerves!” She collapsed in a heap of petticoats just inside the doorway.
Elizabeth’s father groaned. “You are not in danger of being tossed into the hedgerows yet, Fanny.” Elizabeth could hear the pain in his voice. “Jane, would you find a chair for your mother? And, Mary, perhaps a vinaigrette?”
Jane lowered their mother into a chair in the furthest corner from their father while Mary pulled a vinaigrette from her reticule.
Kitty and Lydia did not enter the room, preferring to gossip in the hallway with anyone who passed by.
For a brief moment all was calm as Mr. Mayne turned his attention to healing their father’s thigh wound.
Then Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy appeared at the door. Elizabeth suppressed a groan. She was exhausted and had no energy to handle Mr. Darcy’s skepticism. “Bingley took a blow to the head,” he said to Mr. Mayne. “I would appreciate it if you would examine him when you are finished with Mr. Bennet.”
“Certainly,” Mr. Mayne said. “Please have a seat.” The two men arranged themselves on one of the room’s settees.
Not one to let her husband’s grave injury interfere with promising marital prospects, Mrs. Bennet was immediately on her feet, welcoming Mr. Bingley to the sickroom as if it were her own home. But Jane regarded Mr. Bingley with great concern. “Oh no! Have you been injured?”
“A trifling blow to the head. Darcy is just being cautious,” he assured her. “Are you unharmed?” He peered at her anxiously.
Jane blushed. “Quite well. I-I remained in the ballroom where it was safe.”
“I would hardly say ‘safe’!” their mother declared. “Why, the goblin could have attacked at any moment. We were all terrified for our lives!”
“Mama,” Elizabeth said. “The goblin never went near the ballroom. The paladins made sure of that.”
Their mother turned admiring eyes on Mr. Bingley. “You are such a hero!” she gushed. “Fighting a goblin! I don’t know what we would have done if you had not been here!”
Now Mr. Bingley blushed. “I played a small part. Mr. Darcy actually slew the creature, and we profited from Miss Elizabeth’s help as well.”
Mrs. Bennet whirled on her second-eldest daughter. “You fought the goblin?” She would have been less horrified if Elizabeth had shot the king.
“Yes, Mama. I just—”
“In front of everyone? Out in the open?”
“Yes, but it was magic. Not murder.”
“You should leave such things to real mages.”
Elizabeth struggled not to let her exasperation show. “It was a rather large goblin.”
Her mother drew herself up to her full height. “I do not care what size it was, you should have fainted. That is what well-bred young ladies do.”
“Miss Elizabeth’s help was to our advantage as we faced the goblin,” Mr. Darcy said as though it pained him to admit it.
Mary cleared her throat. Oh no. Elizabeth knew what was coming.
“Actually, the creatures we call goblins come from several different species that all inhabit one world. Hobgoblins and hogboons are true goblins. But kobolds and tengu are their own species. And trow are more closely related to trolls. In Britain we use goblin as a broad term, but it is not accurate. In Italy they call them—”
“Thank you, Mary,” Elizabeth said. “I am certain that the paladins knew that already.”
“How did you develop such an advanced spell?” Mr. Darcy asked Elizabeth hastily, apparently to forestall additional lecturing.
Elizabeth ignored her mother’s glare. “My father taught me basic magical principles.”
“I had no sons, you see,” her father said jovially from the fainting couch where Mr. Mayne was bandaging his leg. “I needed to teach someone all that I had learned.” He did not mean anything by the joke, but it still rankled.
Intent upon controlling the discourse, Elizabeth’s mother spoke to Mr. Bingley.
“Jane is exceedingly appreciative of your efforts to keep her safe,” she said.
As if Mr. Bingley had no thought in his head other than protecting Jane.
Elizabeth was tempted to laugh. “Of course, Jane does not possess an ounce of magical ability beyond ordinary household magic.” She shot Elizabeth a sidelong glance.
“I was pleased to be of service,” Mr. Bingley said.
Mr. Darcy regarded Elizabeth with great intensity. “I did not know you are a spell crafter,” he said. As if I should have reported that to the Convocation? Elizabeth said nothing in response. “How many spells have you created?”
“I have never counted,” she replied.
“Are they all modifications of existing spells, or do you create some whole cloth—”
An elegantly dressed woman in a turban appeared in the doorway, interrupting Mr. Darcy without any regard for the ongoing conversation. “Fitzwilliam, I am a little faint after all this excitement. Could you order the carriage?”
Mr. Darcy may have grimaced, but perhaps it was a trick of the light.
“Certainly, in a moment. Miss Bingley, I would like to introduce you to the Bennet family.” He gestured to each person in turn.
“Mr. and Mrs. Bennet. Miss Jane Bennet. Miss Elizabeth Bennet. And Miss Mary Bennet.” The ladies bobbed curtsies to each other.
Miss Bingley took in the bloodstains and torn hem on Elizabeth’s dress with a disdainful sneer.
“Miss Bingley,” Mr. Darcy announced to the Bennets, “is Mr. Bingley’s sister.” After a brief silence, Miss Bingley cleared her throat loudly. “She is also my betrothed,” he added hastily.
“Oh, how lovely!” Elizabeth’s mother exclaimed. “When will the wedding be?”
Miss Bingley shot a baleful glance at Mr. Darcy while he stared at the opposite wall. “We have not yet fixed a date.”
As Miss Bingley complained about the inconveniences of goblin attacks, Elizabeth marveled at her. Mr. Darcy was planning to marry that woman—with her expression of perpetual disapproval? Why?
The paladin was quite handsome, with broad shoulders and a shock of inky black hair that fell over his forehead. His fortune and the standing of his family would mean that many women would be happy to wed him. Why had he settled for a woman who appeared to eat lemons for lunch?
Upon reflection, however, Elizabeth considered that perhaps it would be an agreeable match. She imagined them inhabiting stiff-backed chairs in a well-appointed drawing room as they disapproved of their shared acquaintances.
“Miss Elizabeth helped us fight the goblin,” Mr. Bingley informed his sister.
Miss Bingley’s head turned slowly toward Elizabeth. “Extraordinary. I cannot imagine what would possess a lady to partake in such a dangerous and unsavory activity.”
Elizabeth found her face heating, but she still met the other woman’s gaze. “Imminent death is a great motivator.”
Miss Bingley pursed her lips, clearly believing that discussions of death did not belong in a sickroom. “Assisting paladins with fighting a goblin? How singular.”
“Her assistance was very beneficial,” Mr. Bingley said stoutly. Elizabeth decided on the spot that he was worthy of courting her sister.
Miss Bingley rolled her eyes, but then Jane loudly inquired of Mr. Bingley what he thought of Hertfordshire weather and they launched into a falsely animated discussion that forestalled other unpleasantness.
Soon Mr. Mayne pronounced her father well enough to return home. Elizabeth had never been so pleased to quit a room.
***
The next day, Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy appeared at Longbourn to inquire about her father’s health.
Elizabeth was pleased to report that he was recovering, although the healer desired him to rest in bed.
Upon hearing this news, Mr. Bingley immediately invited Jane for a walk.
Elizabeth volunteered to accompany them as did Mr. Darcy; she managed not to groan audibly.
Since the weather continued warm, Jane suggested a walk through Longbourn’s extensive gardens, her father’s pride and joy.
Conversation with Mr. Darcy was likely to be torturous, but Elizabeth’s father always said good breeding meant that “you must learn to be polite to all manner of vexing people.” In that spirit, she attempted to regard the walk as an opportunity to practice those skills.