Chapter Fourteen #3
Her Uncle Gardiner was a member of the Convocation.
Although not a particularly strong mage, he was acquainted with the organization’s leadership.
She could start with him. Perhaps he could gain her access to the Convocation library—and he might know who they could trust with her suspicions.
Since he was not a voting member, Mr. Hurst was unlikely to have bothered influencing his opinion.
Elizabeth stood and turned to stare at the dark windows of the Gardiners’ house. They could not afford to waste more time. She would need to awaken her uncle now so they could visit Convocation Hall at first light.
***
Perhaps I am ill, Darcy thought. Although the weather had been mild, it was still possible to catch a chill.
His body felt strong and vital, but his mind had been foggy for days.
He forgot simple things, and his thoughts seemed to be moving through molasses.
Caroline had visited Darcy House for luncheon and dinner the previous day.
Darcy could not actually remember inviting her, but she assured him that he had.
Of course he had no reason to doubt her.
Still, something was not quite right, as if he had missed a step as he descended a staircase.
But whatever he was missing remained elusively out of his reach.
When he was with Caroline, he knew he was in love with her.
But somehow he could not quite experience that love; it was like something he dimly recalled from a dream.
Of course, marrying her was right and natural, but occasionally he would consider asking to delay the wedding.
However, whenever he found himself in her presence, delay was the furthest thing from his mind.
Today was the Convocation meeting and banquet, an all-day affair.
For the moment he could set aside concerns about Caroline and focus on his duty to mage-kind.
Part business meeting and part social occasion, the annual event welcomed new Convocation members and allowed committees to present reports on regional activity.
The meeting would commence with the election of the archmage who would preside over the Convocation for the next three years.
Darcy experienced a twinge of guilt that he would not be casting a vote for his uncle, but Hurst was clearly the superior choice.
He never failed to be impressed by the great hall.
It was an enormous room with a white marble floor and impressive rows of columns and arches along the perimeter.
Today it was set with long tables in preparation for the luncheon.
After the meeting concluded and luncheon was consumed, tables would be cleared away to leave space for dancing.
The evening banquet that followed was one of the highlights of the mages’ London Season.
The Convocation mages would be joined by wives and older children, particularly eligible young men and women who were seeking magically talented spouses.
There were already a small number of daughters, wives, and sisters who had accompanied some of the mages.
Darcy arrived with no small amount of trepidation, particularly about encountering Elizabeth Bennet.
Her face had fallen when she had learned that Darcy and Caroline had set a wedding date.
He liked and respected Elizabeth. It was a shame she had developed such a tendre for him when he was already betrothed.
Hopefully he had done nothing to inadvertently encourage such sentiments.
In any event, encountering her could become awkward.
Caroline awaited him just inside the entrance to the great hall; he greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.
She was so beautiful and stylish—destined to set new fashion trends as Mrs. Darcy.
He was exceedingly fortunate that she had agreed to marry him.
Why did I ever consider delaying? I would marry her this minute if possible.
Caroline made small talk with her sister and Mr. Hurst about a play they had recently attended. Darcy contributed little to the conversation, but when Caroline requested a glass of punch, he was happy to fetch it for her.
Unfortunately, Miss Elizabeth stood near the punch table—deep in conversation with his uncle, the Earl of Matlock.
Darcy awkwardly mumbled greetings to both and hastily collected a glass of punch.
But Miss Elizabeth approached, apparently determined to speak with him.
“Mr. Darcy! What a pleasure. I hope your health has been good?”
“Y-Yes, I have been in excellent health.” Darcy stared down at the punch. The sense of having missed a step intensified when he was near Miss Elizabeth. How odd.
“I am happy to hear it! I thought you a little pale during our dragon coach ride, but perhaps that was a result of the altitude.”
“D-Dragon coach?” he repeated blankly.
Miss Elizabeth regarded him quizzically. “Why, yes, we took a dragon-drawn carriage from Rosings Park to London. It was quite thrilling.”
Darcy prepared to contradict her, but then an image popped into his mind: Miss Elizabeth sitting on a carriage seat with clouds visible behind her. Yet, dragon carriages were reserved for urgent Convocation business. What could have been so important, and why could he not remember it?
“You requested the coach only four days ago,” Uncle Matlock said, putting a companionable hand on Darcy’s shoulder. “Surely you are too young for such lapses in memory!” he chuckled.
Another image rose unbidden in Darcy’s mind: holding Elizabeth’s hand as he sat beside her in that same carriage. Surely he would never do something so improper. He said the first thing that came into his head. “I do not recall any circumstances that would require a hasty trip to London.”
Miss Elizabeth drew her brows together and leaned toward him, speaking in low tones. “You were concerned that Mr. Hurst was slaying goblins to drain their etheric power.”
Darcy darted a glance at his uncle, disturbed she would make such wild accusations in front of the archmage.
But he must have known and appeared only mildly curious.
“John would never do such a thing!” Darcy said emphatically.
“I did suspect him of…something. But I could not have been more wrong. He explained it all to me.”
“Oh? What did he say?” his uncle asked in a pleasant, noncommittal tone.
The explanation was at the tip of Darcy’s tongue but not quite within reach. “I do not recollect his exact words, but he was most convincing.”
Another image: visiting Hurst’s study alone at night—searching for…something. As Darcy endeavored to grasp the memory, pain lanced through his skull. I need Caroline; she will sort it out.
He turned away from the others without even a “by your leave” and sought Caroline in the crush.
She was on the other side of the room—so far away!
Before Darcy could take a step in her direction, his uncle touched his shoulder, holding out a glass of wine.
“You will appreciate this wine. A most unusual vintage.”
Darcy took it automatically but then shook his head. “Perhaps later,” he said. “I have a headache.” He attempted to return the glass, but his uncle refused. Why was everyone behaving so oddly? “I need to find Caroline—”
His uncle appeared to be blocking the way. “I assure you that this wine will do more to alleviate your headache than Miss Bingley will.”
Miss Elizabeth, at the earl’s side, nodded emphatically. “I think you will appreciate it.” When had she become acquainted with his uncle?
“It must be an exceedingly unusual vintage to heal headaches,” Darcy said.
Elizabeth gave him a strained smile. “You will find it to your taste.”
Very well. If he did as they bade, perhaps they would leave him alone and he could return to Caroline. Darcy gulped down the wine. It was a little on the sweet side for his taste. “Nothing out of the common way, sir. Why did you—?”
But his uncle was muttering Latin and glancing upward as he drew down ether.
The strands were curling above Darcy’s head.
“What are you about, sir?” he asked. Casting a spell on someone without their permission was the height of bad manners.
Elizabeth did not appear disturbed; she watched Darcy intently.
Ignoring Darcy, the earl continued his chant. The strands of ether descended, wrapping themselves around him. Most inappropriate. “Uncle, I must insist that you cease immediately!”
Darcy tried to back away, but his uncle’s hand shot out and grabbed his forearm in a viselike grip. Miss Elizabeth crowded against him on the other side. Nobody appeared to notice their unusual conduct. Had Miss Elizabeth cast a look away spell?
The earl finished the chant with a few English words: “Let the truth be known!”
The effect was immediate and blinding—as if he had stepped straight from London’s foggiest street into a bright, crystal-clear summer day. Darcy blinked furiously, disoriented and a little ill.
His uncle and Miss Elizabeth watched him intently.
The etheric bands were gone, and his uncle had released his grip.
Darcy could now go to Caroline, but he could not recall why he had needed her so desperately.
Between one breath and another, Darcy’s mind caught up to what was happening.
He had been enchanted! He was experiencing the aftereffects of a spell.
“What did you do to me?” he asked his uncle, his voice hoarse.
“A potion and counter spell to combat suasion.”