Chapter Fourteen #4
Suasion? The mere sound of the word made Darcy’s heart race.
His uncle believed he had been influenced by a suasion spell?
A denial was on the tip of his tongue, but his uncle did not reach conclusions precipitously.
And there was Elizabeth, standing beside the earl, regarding Darcy solemnly.
He had every reason to believe her judgment was sound.
“I feel…odd. But surely…suasion. It is impossible! It was outlawed.”
“How eagerly are you anticipating your impending wedding?” Elizabeth asked.
“We will be wed on Saturday…” Darcy rubbed his forehead. “Why did I agree to such a plan?”
“Are you still planning to cast a ballot for Hurst as archmage?” she asked.
Darcy opened his mouth to say “of course,” but the words would not come. Instead, a rush of memories flooded back, nearly staggering him under the onslaught. “Hurst is the one who used suasion on me! I found the spell in his study, but he forced me to forget.”
Uncle Matlock gasped. “How dare he?”
Darcy swayed on his feet, nauseated at the thought that Hurst had taken control of his mind. His uncle caught his arm and pushed Darcy gently into a nearby chair. Elizabeth sat beside him. “We suspect Hurst has ‘persuaded’ a large number of people to vote for him.”
Darcy massaged the back of his neck—where a headache still threatened. “The spell was exceedingly powerful. I would dismiss anything that contradicted the story that Hurst had told me.”
His uncle shot a look at Elizabeth. “There is the evidence we need to verify your suspicions. I may have Hurst arrested based on Darcy’s testimony.”
She gave him a chagrined smile. “Actually they were originally Mr. Darcy’s suspicions.”
He massaged his forehead with one hand. “Sir, you cannot have Hurst arrested while at least half the mages in the room are under the influence of his suasion.”
“Half?” His uncle gaped.
Darcy nodded. “I suspect so. At the very least they will suspect you of an underhanded play to win the election. At worst, Hurst may have enough control over them to make them fight you.”
The archmage scowled. “Damnation!” He turned to Elizabeth. “I beg your pardon, miss.”
She shrugged. “I was thinking it.” His uncle laughed.
“We cannot allow him to become archmage,” Darcy said. “But stopping him will be exceedingly dangerous; I can only imagine how much energy was generated by the death of multiple young goblins.”
Elizabeth regarded the archmage speculatively. “Were you able to create more of the potion?”
“Yes. An entire bottle.” A corner of his uncle’s mouth quirked upward. “Fortunately, a little goes far.”
“We discovered that both a potion and a spell are necessary to nullify suasion,” Elizabeth explained to Darcy.
“But how will you distribute the potion?” Darcy asked.
Elizabeth’s gaze slid meaningfully to the punch bowl, and Darcy grinned. “An excellent idea.”
“We were not sure it would be effective,” his uncle explained. “This was our first attempt.”
Darcy grimaced. “I am pleased to have proved to be a good test subject.”
“We believe the suasion spell held a tighter grip on you than most since it forced you to forget things and change multiple opinions,” Elizabeth said.
The spell gripped me so tightly—controlled me. He feared he might cast up his accounts. No wonder suasion spells were regarded with such horror. It was a terrible thing to make a person mistrust their own mind.
“Once most of the mages are no longer under Hurst’s control, they can help us capture him,” his uncle said. “He may have enormous power, but surely he cannot defeat a whole room full of mages.”
Darcy wished he could be as confident. Hurst had proven to be surprisingly resourceful.
Elizabeth and the earl concocted a scheme in which she would provide a distraction so the archmage could pour the potion into the punch unobserved.
Apparently the distraction involved an illusion of a bird on the other side of the room.
One woman screamed, and another shrieked, “How did it get in?” Men shouted, “Catch it!” at each other as the “bird” swooped and dove over their heads.
Few mages could create such a fully realized illusion that would move so freely through space.
No doubt it would keep everyone confused for at least a few minutes.
From the corner of his eye, Darcy noticed his uncle sidling surreptitiously toward the punch bowl.
Suddenly Caroline Bingley was beside Darcy.
Ignoring the commotion on the other side of the room, she regarded him intently.
“Your uncle looked quite grim when he spoke with you.” She moved to slip her arm through his. “Is everything all right?”
The bird disappeared, leaving confused grumbling in its wake.
Darcy stepped away, out of her reach. He supposed he should find a way to dissemble and pretend that he was still under her influence, but he was too angry. “No. It appears that someone has been using a suasion spell on me.”
Caroline stiffened. “How extraordinary! Why do you believe that?”
Over her shoulder, Darcy observed his uncle and Elizabeth distributing cups of punch to random guests, murmuring about sharing the excellent recipe. Involved in conversation, most people took the cups absently and sipped.
Darcy focused his attention on Caroline. “Yes, it was extraordinary,” he said. “I found myself suddenly eager to cast my vote for Hurst and desiring an immediate wedding. Was it Hurst who persuaded me that I was desperately in love with you—or was that your doing?”
Caroline’s mouth opened and then closed. “I do not have the pleasure of understanding you.” She tittered nervously. “I am not a mage, of course. What does a suasion spell do?”
Memories of the evening in Hurst’s study rushed back to Darcy. He shivered involuntarily at the recollection of his impotence. “You and Hurst both used suasion on me.”
“I do not know what you are talking about.” Caroline’s voice was shaky.
“No wonder I could not remember anything.” He leaned over to whisper viciously in her ear. “Such as how I am actually in love with Elizabeth Bennet.”
The blood drained from Caroline’s face. “Nonsense! Why, if anyone has cast a spell on you it is her!”
Darcy did not hesitate for a second. “Our engagement is over.” His voice was loud enough to draw attention from many nearby guests, which was all to the good. The more public his repudiation of her was, the less likely she could twist her way out of it.
She grabbed for his hand, but he yanked it from her grasp. “Fitzwilliam, no! You love me! This is just a misunderstanding—”
“You had best depart now.” Darcy’s voice could have frozen the Thames. “I cannot bear the sight of you, but for your brother’s sake I would prefer not to make your actions generally known.”
“Fitzwilliam!” Caroline blinked back tears. He had to give credit to her thespian abilities. “I only did it because I love you so much!”
Darcy rolled his eyes. “You used an illegal spell on me, Caroline!” Several of the onlookers gasped.
Elizabeth appeared at Darcy’s shoulder. “Punch?” She held out a cup to Caroline with a smile that showed all her teeth.
“What have you done to him?” Caroline demanded. “You have turned him against me!”
“You accomplished that all by yourself,” Elizabeth said in a low voice. “You needed no assistance from me.”
“You country wench!” Caroline spat at her, causing nearby guests to gape. Faster than Darcy would have believed possible, she had pulled down strands of ether and directed them toward Elizabeth, whose gown erupted in flames.