Chapter Nine #2
Mr. Darcy appeared deep in thought. “A family of mages who can open portals with ease and appear to have great power…..One would think there would be a record of such a family.”
“Surely they have been concealing the ability?”
“No doubt, but perhaps there have been stories, rumors, unexplained phenomena. I find it difficult to believe they have hidden the truth completely.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I do not remember reading of any such thing in my recent research.”
“Nor I. However, there might be something at my aunt’s estate of Rosings Park.
Her late husband, Lewis de Bourgh, kept extensive records about every magical family.
He was particularly interested in how magical traits might be inherited from father to son.
” He sighed heavily. “I owe my aunt a visit anyway.”
Elizabeth was obscurely saddened that he would be leaving Hertfordshire. But surely it is for the best, she told herself. Continued proximity could lead to another incident like the one at the Netherfield ball. “How long will it take you to examine those records?”
“It could be weeks. The library is extensive and not well organized.”
“Perhaps Mr. Bingley could assist you? Or your aunt?”
He grimaced. “I would prefer not to involve anyone else in the research at this moment. If the mage we seek learns that we are searching magical genealogies, he might suspect something and take action.”
“Indeed.”
He stopped and turned to her. “But perhaps you can accompany me and help!”
“I beg your pardon?” Elizabeth gasped. What kind of game was he playing?
He rubbed his forehead tiredly. “I apologize. I did not mean for that to sound— but, will you do me the honor of accompanying me to Rosings? Then we might reduce the amount of time required for the research.”
She sighed impatiently. “What excuse could we possibly give for haring off to Kent together?”
Only now did he appear to consider the impropriety of what he suggested.
“We would need a plausible reason for you to accompany me…” he mused.
They had reached the bottom of the hill, turning on the road to trudge back toward Longbourn.
“Mr. Collins has already expressed an interest in having you visit Rosings Park,” he said slowly.
“I could suggest to Mr. Collins that my aunt should evaluate you as a potential wife—and offer him the use of my carriage.”
Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. “I do not wish to raise my cousin’s hopes. I would never consent to marry him.”
“You need have no concerns on that score. There is no way my aunt will approve of you.”
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him.
“I mean that as the sincerest compliment,” Darcy hastened to add. “My aunt disapproves of nearly anyone who offers her an opinion contrary to her own.”
“Well, I am quite capable of being contrary.”
Mr. Darcy’s lips twitched. “I am certain you will have no difficulty offending her.”
“If a trip to Kent convinces Mr. Collins that I am not the right wife for him, then you will be doing me a great service. An excellent scheme, Mr. Darcy.” Her voice sounded tired and hoarse even to her own ears.
They trudged along the road in silence for a while.
Cold nipped at her fingers and the tip of her nose.
“The goblin spoke of their realm as a real place—quite different from ours but still a home with families and children,” she said finally.
“Yes.”
“Now I am even more troubled that portals rip goblins from their lives, bringing them into this alien place.”
“The Convocation already tries to stop goblin summonings,” Darcy said. “But it cannot stop random goblin appearances. They are panicked and strike out at every human they encounter.”
“What if there were a way to return them to their world without killing them?”
“That is a fine thought, but opening a portal is not an easy process. It would be nearly impossible to do so in the middle of a goblin attack.”
Elizabeth pursed her lips, considering this. “Perhaps I might find something of use in your aunt’s library.”
“That is…an excellent idea,” Darcy said.
Was that a compliment? Elizabeth was too tired to puzzle it out. They spoke little more and soon reached Longbourn.
***
Darcy readied himself for bed. He was exhausted after that evening’s activities and disturbed by the goblin’s revelations. Tomorrow would be another draining day as he arranged a hasty trip to Kent.
And yet he could not sleep.
But what kept him awake was Elizabeth.
His interest in her was verging on the obsessive.
He should keep his distance. Yes, they were attempting to solve the mystery of the goblin attacks together, but if Darcy was truthful with himself (as was his habit), he could muddle through on his own at Rosings.
Yet practically the first thing he had done upon suggesting the scheme had been to invite Elizabeth—for the simple reason that he was not ready to be parted from her.
I am a fool. The more time they spent together, the more accustomed he would grow to her presence, and the more difficult it would be when they inevitably separated. Still, he could not help but delay the pain and revel in the joy that Elizabeth gave him.
Being in love with Elizabeth was simultaneously the best and the worst sensation in the world.
Discourse with her was effortless; even when they were disagreeing, he understood her as he had never understood anyone else.
At times the sheer pleasure of her company made him giddy; he had restrained himself from babbling to Bingley about her many perfections.
But at the same time, he was tortured by the knowledge that she could never be his.
Still, he was happy that he had met her.
She is who I have been waiting for all my life—without knowing it.
The irony was blinding.
Only recently had he realized how grievously he and the rest of the panel had erred in refusing her petition for the Academy.
She might be the most powerful and talented mage I have ever encountered.
Her spell crafter abilities alone would have made her famous in the Convocation, eventually eclipsing any lingering stigma over a female mage.
And fame could have obscured her family’s low connections.
Then Darcy might have made an offer for her hand with little social consequence.
And he would never have agreed to marry Caroline.
If he had insisted that the panel test her abilities to consider her application…he would not now be trapped by the promises enshrined in the betrothal contract.
He had no choice other than to keep his word.
Jilting a well-connected fiancée would make him a social pariah and would hurt Georgiana’s chances of making a good match.
And yet when he saw his future spooling out before him—with Caroline by his side and Elizabeth gone from his life—he was faintly nauseous.
How long before Caroline started treating Darcy the way she treated her brother? For all her defiance of Convocation tradition, Elizabeth treated everyone with respect— even her wayward younger sisters.
Eventually he and Caroline might live apart as many couples did—with Caroline ensconced in a London townhouse and Darcy occupying Pemberley.
But initially…well, there was the begetting of an heir to consider.
He would need to bring Caroline to his bed frequently enough that Pemberley would possess an heir and a spare.
Would Caroline expect him to pretend a passion for her that he did not experience?
He hoped she would be content with the Darcy fortune and without any crumbs of affection from Darcy’s plate, but if she longed for more, his life could be miserable.
How did I come to this pass? Promising marriage to Caroline had presented itself as the logical choice.
Although, truthfully, Darcy had given it little consideration.
His father had been dying, and it made his father happy.
Giving up on sleep, Darcy swept out of bed and stalked toward the window. He drew back the heavy curtains and stared out at Longbourn’s gardens, illuminated by a bare hint of moonlight. Rationally, marrying Caroline was the best choice. Yet Darcy had never felt less like behaving rationally.
Poets would say the heart did not listen to reason—which Darcy had always considered a metaphor. He was not pleased to discover how wrong he was. Everything about his position in life argued against forming an attachment to Elizabeth, and yet that was nothing compared to the clamoring of his heart.
How will I survive the rest of my life without Elizabeth in it?
He sat on the bed and watched the sun rise, but no answers occurred to him.