Chapter 17
Darcy massaged his aching neck. He had somehow managed to sleep in his chair for an hour or two, but he was paying for it in stiffness. At least the morning sun had made an appearance outside the library window, freeing him from the long hours of darkness with no escape from his thoughts.
There could be no good resolution for him. Of his very few choices, all were bad, and the most dignified seemed to be to accept his captivity with apparent calm, even if it meant pretending to read a book that could not begin to hold his interest. It was preferable to burning the house down without any guarantee he could burn Debenham with it.
When Biggins came in wearing his customary smirk, Darcy merely glanced up at him and returned to his book.
“Now, now, Darcy. No point in ignoring me. I am doing you a favor this time.”
Perhaps the earth was flat, too. “How kind of you.”
“Lord Matlock has been fretting about your well-being and has convinced Debenham to allow him to talk to you. Ten minutes, no more.”
Now he had Darcy’s attention. Peering behind him, he could see Lady Matlock holding the arm of her blindfolded husband. “You are in luck, Biggins. As it happens, I am quite at leisure to receive visitors.”
Biggins stepped back to allow the Matlocks to enter. Lady Matlock led her husband to an armchair. “The chair is right behind you, my dear. You may sit.”
“Never thought you would have to lead me around like a helpless baby,” grumbled Lord Matlock. “I hate this.”
“I know, my dear,” said Lady Matlock. “We all do. But here is Darcy, and he appears unharmed.”
“I am indeed unharmed.” A few bruises hardly counted as harm. “And you?”
Lord Matlock made a hissing sound. “Disgusted with myself and under a control spell, but that is all.” His hands were linked by a short rope, giving him some ability to move them. It was more freedom than Darcy had expected him to have.
“The control spell prevents you from removing the blindfold, I assume.”
“Debenham is too clever to resort to that. He told me if I made any attempt to remove the blindfold, they would blind me.”
“I am glad they did not do that.” Darcy had assumed Debenham would already have blinded his uncle.
Lord Matlock scowled. “Debenham wants to use as few spells on me as possible. Apparently each spell reduces the amount of power he can draw from me. An interesting fact about sorcery, if we survive long enough to document it.” His voice dripped bitterness. “How have they treated you?”
“I cannot complain of discomfort. Debenham set blood wards around me to stop spells, and there is always a guard here, but I have a comfortable chair and they bring me whatever books I request. It could be much worse.” It would only last until Debenham realized Darcy would never cooperate, so he should enjoy the comfort while he could.
“Do the wards stop your elemental magic?”
Darcy shook his head before realizing his uncle could not see him. “No, but it makes no difference. I can only control water and earth, and those are no danger to Debenham and little use to me.” Would Lord Matlock understand his silent message?
His uncle sat perfectly still for a moment. “Yes. It is a pity you cannot control fire, but there is no point in wishing for what we do not have.”
It had taken several hours for Darcy to realize that his failure to use fire the previous day had left Debenham with the impression he had no power over it. Now that Darcy knew Elizabeth and the others were safely away, he was waiting for his chance. Once he had Debenham close enough, he would set him and everything around him afire. Innocent lives would be lost – the servants, his aunt, his uncle, and his own – but far worse would happen if Debenham consolidated his power. He had to do it soon, too, before Wickham arrived. Wickham knew he controlled fire.
Darcy said, “Debenham seems to be hoping he can convince me to join him, so he treats me well. I do not know if he truly believes he can change my mind, or if he is simply making the best of it since he can neither bespell me nor kill me.”
“Ah, yes,” said Lord Matlock with the first sign of his old self. “The elemental mage’s death curse. How very useful it is, even when not employed.”
“I assure you I have already chosen the curse and set it to take effect on my death, even if I am taken by surprise.” If Darcy were certain enough that the old stories of the death curse were true, he would be making efforts to force someone to kill him solely so the three sorcerers would die with him.
“I wish Debenham would kill me,” Lord Matlock said. “At least that would be an honorable death rather than watching everything I fought for being destroyed.”
“My dear, we must not despair,” said Lady Matlock. “I may not be clever, but I know there is always hope.”
Lady Matlock, not clever? She must be hiding her abilities, too .
Lord Matlock’s hands clenched into fists. “Even if we miraculously escape another reign of sorcery, my legacy is destroyed. I wanted to be remembered as a scholar and a mage who protected England from sorcery. Instead my name will be cursed for generations as the man who let sorcerers come to power, even when they were right under my nose. My own brother-in-law and sister, sorcerers. I appointed a sorcerer to the Council of Mages, and if Debenham had not been in Ireland at the time, I might have made him Master of the Collegium instead of Eversleigh. I all but paved the way for them.”
“You had no way of knowing. They hid their sorcery well,” said Lady Matlock gently.
“Oh, there were signs. Small ones, now that I look back on it, but the signs were there, and I missed them. Would that I had died before discovering how badly I failed in my duty.”
“You trusted Debenham,” said Lady Matlock. “You could not spend your entire life suspecting everyone and watching for the slightest hint of deception.”
“Why not?” roared Lord Matlock. “That was my responsibility!”
Darcy wished he had consolation to offer. No one had suspected Debenham, but his uncle was right. He was the one who would be blamed for this. “Sorcerers are always deceitful. Honorable men have fallen victim to them time and again throughout history. You hold yourself to an impossible standard.”
Lord Matlock grimaced. “It was hubris, nothing more. I was my father’s second son and therefore destined to lead the Collegium. When my brother died and left me the earldom, in my pride I thought I could manage both positions – Master of the Collegium and Earl of Matlock. Instead the Collegium had only half of my attention. I should have resigned as soon as I inherited.”
“My dear, you will always manage to find some way to blame yourself. The fault lies with Debenham, not with you. We can do nothing now. I only wish I knew if Frederica and Richard were safe.”
Finally, something Darcy could help with. He had managed to reach Elizabeth, enough to know she was in Faerie with the others. “I am not worried about them. I am somehow certain, in my heart, that they are both safe and with Miss Bennet.”
Lady Matlock’s eyes closed for just a moment, but she gave no other sign of the relief she must be feeling. “I hope you are correct, but you know how I fret.”
“Naturally. I would worry, too. That was why I stopped fighting Debenham. He threatened to harm the ladies, and I had not yet realized they had escaped.” Darcy was still blaming himself for that.
Lord Matlock finally stirred himself to speak again. “If Debenham tries to influence you by threatening me, you should not give in to him.”
Darcy almost smiled. “I know. He has already tried threatening to hurt both of you. I told him you would spit on my grave if I cooperated with him to spare you.”
“Good,” said Lord Matlock. “You are absolutely correct.”
Biggins said loudly, “That is enough.” He nodded to the footman. “Help Lord Matlock back to his room and be sure to lock the door.”
After Lady Matlock led her husband out, Darcy noticed a scrap of paper on the chair she had sat upon. It was out of reach, outside of the wards holding him. But if he could only distract the guard for a minute, he might be able to produce a breeze to blow it to him.
He prepared himself carefully, organizing the wind currents in his mind. He held up the book he was reading. “Pardon me, could you bring me the second volume of Plato’s Works ? It should be on the third shelf in the corner.” As the footman obligingly turned his back to look for the book, Darcy told the air to blow. The wind picked up the paper and wafted it to the floor beside him. Darcy grabbed it and stuffed it inside his book. The breeze had been stronger than he had intended, and several other papers had fluttered to the floor. If he managed to live through this experience, he would make a point of practicing his control of air more.
“This one?” asked the footman.
“That is the one.”
The footman brought him the book, picked up the blown papers, and started to close the window.
“Leave it open,” said Darcy. “I like the fresh air, even if it becomes breezy in here.” And it would leave an opening in case a white raven might want a way inside. Not that he thought any rescue possible against a sorcerer as strong as Debenham, but he needed to hold onto a ray of hope. He opened his book to the page with Lady Matlock’s note. It was upside down, but he managed to shift it surreptitiously while pretending to cough. She had written in tiny letters that were hard to see.
My husband is considering doing something rash which is destined to fail. If something rash is to be done, you would be more likely to succeed. You have our blessing, regardless of the outcome for us. God bless you.
Darcy swallowed hard. It was no more than he had already planned, but this absolved him of the guilt he felt over it. It was decided, then. The next time Debenham came into the room, Rosings would go up in flames.
ELIZABETH SOLVED THE problem of obtaining elf clothing by asking Bluebird for it. Having discharged that task in something under five minutes left her with endless hours to fill. She reached out to Darcy regularly, hoping a sense of her presence would provide some slight relief. It was perhaps the only thing that kept her from running mad. She took turns reading aloud to Titania and later took a long walk to distract herself, but mostly she remained in the private corner of the bower with Frederica and Anne since Titania was not fond of sad faces .
But through it all, she felt an ache in every inch of her body, nauseated by the idea of Darcy imprisoned. Eversleigh had told her the sorcerers would not kill him. She believed him, but the sick taste at the back of her mouth came from the thought that Darcy might prefer death to indefinite imprisonment by sorcerers. Then her chest felt hollow at the thought of never feeling his arms around her again. Oh, why had she denied him for so long? They might at least have had a little joy before this happened.
Anne and Frederica talked together in low voices, but Elizabeth could not bring herself to take part. How could they not resent her when the welfare of Frederica’s parents and Aelfric were put second to Darcy’s? It seemed so unlikely that a rescue could work. She dared not let herself believe in it.
Eversleigh’s reappearance with Colonel Fitzwilliam in the midafternoon brought an end to the waiting.
“The rescue will happen tonight,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam. “Eversleigh found the spell he needs to counter a sorcerous ward, and I have arranged for guns and fireworks to be delivered to a hidden spot just outside Rosings.”
“Fireworks?” Frederica asked dubiously. “How is this going to work?”
“The guns are for our first distraction. I will be firing them off by the groundskeeper’s cottage. Debenham will send out any available servants to find out what is wrong, but he will not risk himself. The fireworks are for our second distraction, where we pretend to be fay folk attempting to rescue Aelfric. That will bring out the sorcerers. Then Eversleigh will keep himself and Anne invisible while they find Darcy, take care of his guard, and break the wards.”
“That would be a fine plan, except for the part where Elizabeth, FitzClarence, and I have to convince the sorcerers we are an entire fay army,” said Frederica .
“That is where the fireworks, illusions, and magic come in. Ah, FitzClarence, you are back! Well done.” The mage was accompanied by Jasper Fitzwilliam.
Frederica gasped, “Jasper? What are you doing here?”
“I asked FitzClarence to bring him,” said the colonel.
“Have you run mad?” hissed Frederica.
Jasper, the youngest and least regarded of the Fitzwilliam family, did not seem to hear her, or perhaps he was just accustomed to his family’s disdain. But he was not sporting his usual cocky grin, presumably because of the seriousness of the situation. “You wanted me?” He sounded dubious. “FitzClarence says you want to rescue Darcy, but I don’t know what help I can be.”
Richard clapped his arm. “You are the perfect man for the tasks I have in mind. First, I need you to get the groundskeeper at Rosings drunk, and after that, I need you to make four people in the dark look like an attacking army of the fay using fireworks, noise, and whatever magic Miss Elizabeth, Frederica, and FitzClarence can produce.”
Jasper’s face cleared. “Is that all? That will be easy.”
WAS ROSINGS UNDER ATTACK ? God, Darcy hoped so, but he could not tell what was happening outside in the dark. Flashes of light illuminated the window, and inhuman howls and ululations sent shivers down Darcy’s spine. Damn the wards that held him in place and kept him from the window! “Can you see anything?” he asked his guard who was peering out. Not that he could rely on what his guard reported, but it was better than nothing.
“Hard to say. Flying balls of fire and lots of colored lights over on the other side of the garden.”
The other side of the garden? That must mean near the pergola where they were holding Aelfric. The young Sidhe could not use magic himself when he was surrounded by iron, so it must be someone else. Was it the fay trying to rescue Aelfric?
None of this made sense. First there had been random gunshots somewhere near the lake, and then this. Bright lights and shouts, accompanied by deafening bangs. Fireworks. Why would the fay be using fireworks?
His hands ached with the desire to help the attackers. He would use anything – a gun, a sword, even his bare fists. But all he could do was to sit in this thrice-damned chair.
He heard rustling, and suddenly his guard collapsed to the floor. “Are you hurt?” Darcy asked.
“Hush.” It was Eversleigh’s voice, sounding as if he were only a few feet away, but the room was empty.
Darcy swung his head from side to side, but he could see nothing. Had captivity sent his mind running mad?
“He is unconscious.” Anne’s voice came from the direction of the window where the guard lay.
They were not there, and then suddenly they were. Sick relief filled Darcy. “What are you doing here?” he whispered.
Eversleigh squatted by one of the stone carvings used for the wards and studied it. “Rescuing you.” He held out his hand near the ward but did not touch it.
“What is happening outside?”
“A distraction. Debenham and Biggins are out there now. This is a blood ward?”
“Made using my blood,” said Darcy. “Debenham says the wards will cut my flesh to shreds but they do not seem to affect anyone else.”
“Can you break it?” Anne asked Eversleigh.
Eversleigh nodded. “I can manage the spell if you can supply the brute magical force. ”
Of course. Debenham’s sorcery was far more powerful than Eversleigh’s magery. Anne’s power should be enough to break it, though. At least he hoped so.
Eversleigh said to Anne, “When I point to you, pick up the ward and carry it toward the corner. It will be hard to pull.”
Anne nodded. “Ready.”
Eversleigh began to chant the words of ward breaking. When he reached the conclusion, he pointed to Anne.
She stooped to pick up the ward and froze in place, an expression of horror on her face.
“What is the matter?” asked Darcy urgently.
“I cannot move my body, only my head. Nothing happens when I try.” Her whisper was agonized. “It is his magic. My father’s.”
“No, I assure you, Debenham set the wards,” said Darcy. “Perhaps he worked with your father so his magic seems similar.”
“Not similar.” Anne was breathing quickly. “It is the same, I tell you!”
“It cannot be. You unmade Sir Lewis.”
“No, I did not! I do not know why Lord Matlock said I did. I unmade his eyes, and when I woke up, they said he was dead.”
Eversleigh muttered a spell. “Can you move now?”
“No.” Tears leaked down her cheeks.
“Forgive me.” Eversleigh attempted to move her arm, but it did not budge, not even as Eversleigh's face turned red and perspiration broke out on his forehead. “No use.”
There had to be a way to free her. “Anne, can you unmake the ward?”
Anne closed her eyes. “No. It is as though nothing is there.”
What had Debenham done? And why was his magic like Sir Lewis’s? The notebooks, the ones in Sir Lewis’s study. What had been in the last one? Sir Lewis had been testing ways to control another man’s body. His last notebook had shown some slight success.
That notebook had been filled. All of them had been. Why had he never realized there must have been another notebook with his last notes? He was a fool.
“Well, well, well.” Debenham stood in the doorway. “Having a party, and you did not even invite me?”
Eversleigh winked out of sight.
“Impressive trick, Eversleigh, but it will do you no good.” Debenham closed the door and leaned back against it. “All I need to do is wait for the servants to return. They will be able to find you by touch, and you cannot stay invisible forever. Your little diversion would have worked so nicely if I had not set the wards to alert me if anyone touched them. Sorcery can be so very useful.”
Darcy was helpless, and so was Anne. But Eversleigh still had a chance. He would not be able to break open the window and escape before Debenham could stop him, but perhaps Darcy could help. He pictured the window hinges in his mind and set a tiny intense fire burning inside them, feeding the fire with his own energy.
“Nothing to say for yourself, Darcy?” Debenham drawled.
“I was trying to decide whether I should call you Debenham or Sir Lewis,” Darcy said coolly. “It must be pleasant to be back at Rosings Park after all these years.”
Debenham started at that, but quickly regained his composure. “I do not know what you mean.”
Darcy encouraged the fire inside the hinges. If he could keep Debenham distracted a little longer, Eversleigh might be able to push the window out. “If that is how you prefer it, but I knew Debenham years ago, and you are not that man.”
“People change with time, Darcy.”
Hotter, hotter. “If you are truly Debenham, where did we first meet? ”
“I have met thousands of people over the years. I do not recall most of them.”
Was that the smell of melting metal? “What college did you attend at Cambridge? Surely you can remember that.”
Debenham’s eyes narrowed. “This is a stupid game, and I am done with you.”
So it was true. The bottom seemed to drop out of Darcy's stomach. “Does Biggins know the truth about you? What would he think if he knew you could not remember your college?”
“I was at Trinity, you fool!” Debenham’s face was turning a mottled red.
“A good guess, given how large Trinity is, but Debenham went to Corpus Christi. Are you not going to release poor Anne from your ward? That looks like a very uncomfortable position.”
“You will not whisper a word about this to anyone, Darcy. I cannot kill you, but I can make you wish I had.”
“I have no doubt of that.” The threats meant nothing to Darcy but a way to buy more time. “How does it work? Does any part of Debenham’s mind remain?”
The sorcerer shrugged. “I neither know nor care.”
“A pity. I did like the man – at least before this.” Fire. Fire in the hinges.
“Spare him your pity. He was already learning sorcery when I met him.” He turned his attention to Anne. “The little girl has grown up, I see. I should thank you for falling into my trap. Your power will be very useful, and there is unfinished business between us. You cost me a great deal.”
Anne did not respond.
“You remember how to remain silent, do you? Good. But be warned your little trick will not work twice. If you destroy these eyes it will be but a minor inconvenience. My own body still lives, and I can use it to take control of one of the others. But where shall we begin, you and I? An eye for an eye, perhaps?”
The window fell away with crash and the sound of shattering glass. Smoke curled from the broken hinges.
Debenham rushed to the window and stared out. “What the devil!”
An invisible hand opened the door to the library. Eversleigh must have escaped.
“Damn him!” Debenham raced to the door and dashed out.
“Kill me.” It was Anne’s voice, just above a whisper.
Darcy was speechless. “I...”
“I beg you! I know what I face, and he will want revenge on me.” Her voice was agonized.
Anne knew what Sir Lewis was like better than he did. “But...”
“Quickly! Before he returns! There will not be another chance.”
In her position, he would want to die, too, and he had spent hours trying to devise ways to kill the sorcerers using his powers. But death was irreversible. “I cannot. I am sorry.”
“Then I will do it myself!” She created it a tiny whirlwind directly in front of her, hovering in front of her face. At first nothing happened. She could not move, and her face was blocked by the whirlwind that was sucking the air from her lungs.
Longer and longer. How long before she lost consciousness? Darcy’s hands ached to reach out to her, but the wards blocked the way. How could she do this to herself? And why was he holding his own breath?
The whirlwind vanished. Anne’s head hung limply, her skin chalk white. But after a moment she sucked in air, her color slowly returning.
Of course; she could only keep the whirlwind going until she lost consciousness, and then her body would insist on breathing again. He let out a deep breath, but his chest ached for what she would suffer .
She raised her head, blinking her eyes. “Dear God, no,” she whispered hoarsely. “No.”
“I am sorry.” What else could he say? Helplessness sent bile into his mouth.
“Darcy, I beg you, help me. Otherwise I will have to use fire, and I do not want to burn.” Her voice shook with horror.
God, no. How often in the last day had he imagined dying by fire? His mouth was dry. Which was worse, allowing her to bring herself agonizing pain before the relief of death, or putting out the fire and condemning her to torture?
“Damn you, Darcy.” Anne looked straight at him as the hem of her skirt began to burn. She was going to do it.
He could not allow it. He grabbed the ewer of water they had given him for washing and threw it on the flames, calling extra pond water to douse the remains. “Not that way, God have mercy!” He glanced around desperately. The basin. That would do it. He piled up three books, set the basin on top, and used another book to push the pile through the wards until it was just below her chin. He told the pond water to fill it to the brim. “Do the whirlwind again. When you lose consciousness, your face will fall in the water.” And she would drown.
“Thank you.” Her voice dropped. “Tell Aelfric... No, nothing.”
The air began to swirl again, trying to suck the water from the bowl as well as stealing Anne’s air. It took all of Darcy’s control to keep the water still. At least it kept him from thinking about what was about to happen.
The whirlwind died away again. This time water sloshed over the edge of the basin as Anne’s face fell into it. He could tell when she inhaled water, and he knew what she would be experiencing if she still felt anything. He had ended up breathing in a lungful of water several times before he learned to control his magic. It was a painful, choking feeling. He looked away, unable to bear to watch.
Finally there was a thump as her body toppled to the floor. That had not happened when she was unconscious earlier. That must mean... Her head was facing away from him, so he could not see her face.
Debenham reappeared and stopped short at the sight of Anne’s limp body. “What happened?”
“She has elemental magic. She drowned herself.” And he had helped her.
Debenham rolled Anne onto her back. Water dripped from her open mouth. “I need help in the library!” he shouted. He glanced up at Darcy and snapped his fingers.
Black spots danced before Darcy’s eyes. His ears began to ring, and the world slipped away.
ELIZABETH TRIED TO keep panic at bay by counting the others as they arrived beside the faerie ring at Rosings. Frederica, Jasper, and Richard Fitzwilliam. No sign of FitzClarence, but Titania had given him his own talisman to travel to Faerie, and Eversleigh could help Anne.
“Wait!” A girl’s voice called out. “Take me with you, please!”
Frederica’s head snapped around. “Georgiana?” she asked in disbelief.
Darcy’s sister hurried into the glade. “Freddie? Why are you dressed as an elf?”
“Never mind that,” said Elizabeth. “Into the ring, quickly! We can talk more in Faerie.” Elizabeth touched her stone and the ground dropped away. The familiar flowery scent of Faerie surrounded her.
Frederica hugged Georgiana. “We have been so worried about you!”
“They never found me. I saw all of you racing away from the house, so I knew something was wrong. I heard the servants talking about the sorcerer in the cellar being freed, so I hid in a closet until night-time and then crept out of the house. I spent all day here hoping someone would come, but I hid when it grew dark. When I saw all the lights, I thought it might be the fay, so I ran to the grove.”
“Clever girl!” said Frederica.
“Hold a moment,” said Elizabeth sharply. “Colonel, do you feel anything unusual about her?”