Chapter Thirteen
Elizabeth’s jaw dropped open. “He is using spells to influence the way people think about him?”
Darcy imagined the implications, each one more horrifying than the next.
“Even a single suasion spell demands a great deal of energy. Winning the election would mean influencing dozens of mages. It would require enormous reserves of energy, but the deaths of multiple goblin children might supply that.”
Elizabeth pressed her hand to her mouth. “He killed goblin children so he can steal votes? That is…monstrous.”
“Customarily with suasion, you only nudge a person’s thoughts and sentiments in a particular direction. They retain free will and remain unaware that their mind has been tampered with.”
“Still, the implications…”
Darcy nodded grimly. “It is a heinous act that could provoke war or ruin countries in the wrong hands. All versions of the suasion spell were supposedly destroyed when the Convocation outlawed it, but some copies probably remain.”
“How can such a man be stopped?”
Darcy doubted the man’s ambitions were limited to becoming the archmage.
He probably wanted to use the power and authority of the office for other purposes.
Whatever those plans were, they were unlikely to be in the best interests of the country.
A few minutes ago, Darcy had longed for the trip to last forever; now he wished the dragon could fly faster.
The damage Hurst could do with a suasion spell…
“However much power the man has, it is not unlimited,” she said gently. “He cannot control everyone or everything. We can enlist the aid of others to help stop him.” Darcy must have appeared stricken indeed if she felt the need to comfort him.
“The Convocation can stop him,” Darcy said. “I have no doubt of that. But we will need incontrovertible evidence. Otherwise it will appear that we are only trying to help my uncle’s cause.”
“Is anyone else vying for the position?” Elizabeth inquired.
“No. My uncle has actually been quite popular. I would have said that Hurst had no chance of winning the position….” Suasion was all too plausible.
Rather than cultivate friends and demonstrate leadership, Hurst preferred to satisfy his ambitions by bespelling people.
The man was nothing if not indolent. Hurst’s father had been conniving and ambitious; Darcy had believed the son was different, but perhaps not.
“Miss Bingley is frequently in Mr. Hurst’s company,” Elizabeth said in a neutral tone.
“Yes…I am concerned about her well-being,” Darcy said. “Although he has no reason to do her harm.”
“Perhaps she has observed something of interest.”
He could only imagine Caroline’s reaction if she learned what Darcy suspected of her brother-in-law.
She stayed at the Hursts’ townhouse in London and very much enjoyed the man’s hospitality.
Unfortunately, he could not be sure where her loyalty would lie.
“It is better not to involve her,” he said finally.
Elizabeth was silent for a long moment. Did she resent that he was unwilling to risk his fiancée while Elizabeth was completely entangled in the investigation? “Surely there is something I may do to help,” she said finally.
Darcy considered. Up until now, the investigation had not proved particularly dangerous; even the goblin summoning had proceeded smoothly.
But now he wanted Elizabeth as far from danger as possible.
“You might do some research. In particular I want to know if there is a way to unravel suasion spells—individually or for large groups of people.”
Her lips twisted. “Surely I might be of more direct assistance with fighting Mr. Hurst.”
“It is not safe.”
“Of course it is not safe!” she said tartly. “But I am not a China doll to be placed on a shelf. I am a capable mage.”
The thought of her getting hurt was like a lead weight in his chest. He was already unhappy that Caroline and Bingley were so close to the man.
Must he risk everyone he cared about? Thankfully Georgiana was safely at Pemberley.
“I will admit that I would prefer you stay safe,” he said.
“But we will desperately need a counter spell if Hurst has used suasion. Such research is vitally important.”
She considered for a moment. “Of course. But if I do find something in my research, how will I get word to you? It would be improper to send you a note.”
“There is a ball given by the Emery family in two days’ time. I will make sure you receive an invitation.”
She nodded. “I hope I know something helpful by then.” Contemplating the consequences of failure, they sat in silence until the carriage began its descent toward London.
***
The grounds of the Convocation complex spread below them: a dozen buildings from several different architectural periods.
Elizabeth did not know the purpose of all the buildings, but the white marble pillars of the famed Convocation Hall made it easy to identify.
Their ultimate destination appeared to be a rolling green behind the hall.
Free of trees or bushes, the space might have been designed to land dragon-drawn coaches.
As they descended, Mr. Darcy reached out with a tendril of ether to nudge Mrs. Jenkins awake. She started and peered around in alarm, an expression of horror on her face as she recognized where they were.
“We are just about to arrive in London, Mrs. Jenkins,” Mr. Darcy said gently. “Did you have a nice nap?”
She squinted at him from behind her glasses. “I napped? Well, I suppose that is the best way to travel by dragon coach.” The chaperone peered out the window, turned green, and quickly looked away.
“You may spend the night at the Convocation guest quarters if you like,” Mr. Darcy told her. “The dragon coach can return you to Kent in the morning.”
The woman shuddered. “If it is all the same to you, I would prefer a horse-drawn carriage.”
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “I am certain that can be arranged.”
The landing was just as smooth as the rest of the trip. For all its bulk, the dragon fanned its wings in such a way that it practically floated to the ground, bringing the carriage down with a soft bump.
Elizabeth could distinguish the shapes of her aunt and uncle silhouetted by the late afternoon sun at the edge of the green. Her uncle was a Convocation member, but it was unlikely he had ever traveled in a dragon-drawn carriage.
Mr. Darcy handed down Mrs. Jenkins, who wobbled away from the coach as fast as she could, perhaps still worried that Daisy would eat her. Then he handed Elizabeth down, giving her fingers an affectionate squeeze.
He joined her as they thanked the coachman for a good ride, and Elizabeth gave Daisy a pat and a bit of praise. “If she were a horse, I would give her an apple,” she murmured to Mr. Darcy. “But I do not know what constitutes a treat for a dragon.”
“They like oak,” he said.
“Wood? They eat wood?”
He gave her an enigmatic smile. “They have to burn something to breathe fire.”
Elizabeth put her hands on her hips. “You are teasing me.”
“You enjoy research.” He shrugged. “You can find the answer for yourself.”
Her aunt and uncle were walking in her direction. “I suppose I will see you at the Emerys’ ball—”
“Fitzwilliam!” a shrill voice interrupted. Miss Bingley nearly pushed Elizabeth aside in her haste to greet her fiancé. He gave her a rather forced smile as she kissed him on the cheek.
During their travels, Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy had fallen into a natural rhythm and effortless camaraderie. It had been easy to forget that he was not hers; he belonged to another woman. That reality was a forceful slap in the face.
Miss Bingley looped her arm through Mr. Darcy’s and practically dragged him a short distance away for a private conversation.
Elizabeth turned away, pretending to watch her aunt and uncle’s progress.
She had struggled to give him the impression that her emotions were not entangled—that she felt little more than friendship for him.
The truth was not so simple—as her reaction to their kiss had demonstrated.
But no good could come from admitting such confused sentiments—even to herself.
In the future, I must treat Mr. Darcy as nothing more than a friend.
Mr. Bingley reached her before her relatives did. At least she could greet him with unreserved happiness. “Are you completely recovered from your injuries, sir?”
He beamed. “Indeed. I have never felt better!”
Having freed himself from Miss Bingley, Mr. Darcy shook his friend’s hand. “I believed nothing could induce you to leave Hertfordshire…or Longbourn,” he said with a knowing smile.
Mr. Bingley shrugged. “The vote is only a few days away; I wanted to show Hurst my support.”
Mr. Darcy could not completely conceal a wince. “Hurst is here as well?” he asked. Elizabeth was probably the only person who noted the instant tension in his body.
“He is in the Convocation Hall.” Mr. Bingley gestured toward the building. “Would you join us for tea in the parlor?”
Mr. Darcy stared at the hall apprehensively. “I am rather weary. Perhaps another time.”
Miss Bingley rolled her eyes. “Do not be tiresome, Fitzwilliam. Surely there is time for tea.”
The muscles in Mr. Darcy’s jaw worked as he clenched his teeth. His friends do not know everything he has undertaken for the sake of their safety, Elizabeth thought.
Before Mr. Darcy could reply, Aunt and Uncle Gardiner had reached their party, and it was necessary for Elizabeth to make introductions.
As they were speaking, a whoosh of air and the sound of flapping wings announced that the dragon carriage had swooped back into the sky. Elizabeth craned her neck so she could watch as it swiftly became smaller and smaller, a dark speck against a blue sky.
“That truly is a magnificent sight!” Aunt Gardiner exclaimed.
“You really traveled in style, Lizzy!” her uncle said.
“It was quite thrilling,” Elizabeth agreed. “I have Mr. Darcy to thank for that.”