Mr. Darcy’s Enchantment

Chapter 2 #2

The colonel’s eyebrows shot up. “Does she, indeed? She allows non-mages to touch her, knowing they will learn nothing from it. How deviously clever she is! Still, it is a good thing you saved her. If she had died magically when Darcy was here, some people might have suspected he had a hand in it.”

“Mr. Darcy? Why would he want her to die? He tried to save her.”

“I know, I know. But some people might suspect he wanted Lady Catherine out of the way, so he could marry Anne and have complete control of all the Rosings assets without interference. But, as you may know, Darcy has no interest in marrying Anne, even with Rosings as her dowry.”

Elizabeth smothered an urge to laugh. So Colonel Fitzwilliam did not know Darcy had offered for her. That was a relief. “I have never seen him show an interest in her, despite all of Lady Catherine’s hints.”

“And my father’s. He is even more set on Darcy marrying Anne than Lady Catherine is. Poor Darcy. But that reminds me – might I examine that inert elfshot of yours?”

“Certainly. Here it is.” She paused eating just long enough to remove the tin from her satchel.

“Thank you. I have never seen such a thing before.” He opened the box and set his fingertips on it, his eyes taking on a distant look.

“Really? Every wisewoman has one.”

He raised his eyebrows. “The procedure you did today is common, then?”

“No, not at all. If elfshot hits anywhere but the arm, it reaches the heart too quickly for any hope of stopping it.”

“Yet all wisewomen carry these?”

Elizabeth smiled. “Not for that reason. We use them to determine if someone’s death was caused by elfshot. That way we know whether to bury them with iron over their heart to prevent it from escaping and seeking a new target.”

“Interesting. I should talk to wisewomen more often.”

She was tempted to laugh. “Good luck. It is unlikely they will want to talk to you. Wisewomen have good reason to fear mages.”

“I suppose so. But how did you become one? I was under the impression wisewomen were usually, er, older.”

“They are. It is considered ill luck for a woman with young children to do this sort of work, so mostly it is spinsters or women whose children are grown.”

“So how did a marriageable young lady like you become one?”

She laughed. “I am a fraud. I am not really a wisewoman. I have just been present when a wisewoman was working often enough to have learned her ways. The local wisewoman sought me out when I was twelve because she thought I could be of help to her.”

He raised an eyebrow. “With things like lighting candles and destroying elfshot?”

“You saw through my deception! Yes, that sort of thing. She had lost her vision, and with it her ability to do magic. I went with her whenever she was called to see someone, and I paid attention.”

“Your parents permitted it?”

Elizabeth flushed. “They did not know. They thought I just liked to take long walks alone. But I would have had to stop when I turned eighteen because the wisewoman said it was unsuitable work for a marriageable gentlewoman, but then there was a rash of fay-borne illnesses this last year and the work was too much for her. I saw the easier cases myself, the ones where a half-trained student is better than no wisewoman at all.” She paused and said ruefully, “Your aunt was not an easy case. I am surprised I succeeded.”

“But you did succeed,” the colonel said with a smile. “How did you learn to light candles and destroy elfshot?”

“By experimentation. When I was a child, my father amused himself by making illusions for me, and one time he showed me how he did it. I could not remember the spell, but once I knew it was possible, I somehow found my own way to cast illusions, little ones, mostly so I could hide things from my mother. When my father caught me doing it, he refused to show me anything more. I learned a few more things by watching him. I was determined to master unmaking so I would never be made to eat food I did not like. I detested fish, you see. I can unmake small objects, but I never became quite good enough to unmake fish.”

He chuckled. “Living things and things that have been alive resist unmaking. It would take a powerful mage to unmake a fish.”

“Is that why it did not work? I was so frustrated by it. Fortunately, our cook eventually left us and I liked the new cook’s fish dishes much better.”

“What else can you do besides unmaking and illusions?”

“Mostly healing, since I avoid doing unnecessary spells for fear of being caught. I can heat up lukewarm tea. I can see fay folk and tell when they have been present, like finding the elfshot traces, and I can perform a few fay spells - how to make milk curdle and that sort of thing.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam straightened abruptly. “Good Lord! You are full of surprises. How on earth did you learn fay spells?”

“When I was small, a fay child befriended me. Well, not exactly a child, because they do not have children as we know it. Just a very new one who had only recently come into being and had little experience of the world. She said she would be a dryad when she was ready, but she was very mischievous. I never knew what to believe because she could make up elaborate stories.” Elizabeth smiled in recollection. “She tried to teach me to shape-change, but needless to say that was not a success.”

“Good Lord. But I just said that, did I not? Well, it deserves saying again. Do you have any idea how rare that is?”

Elizabeth shrugged. “I have no idea. My friend took me to Faerie a time or two, so it seemed natural to me.”

The colonel’s jaw dropped. “You have been to Faerie, too? Astonishing! Does your friend still visit you?”

“No. Even though I can still see fay folk, my friend and I drifted apart. She would visit me from time to time until about two years ago. The last time she told me she could not come again because their king was declaring war on all mortals and had forbidden any fay folk to aid mortals on pain of banishment. And she gave me a cat to remember her by – the white cat named Pepper, if you recall.”

He held up his hands. “Wait, wait! Their king has declared war on us? Are you certain of this?”

Taken aback by his intensity, she said slowly, “That is what she said. Whether it is true or not I cannot tell you. She is fay, after all, and she had named herself Bluebird because she was neither blue nor a bird, so I would not put much credence in anything she said. Except that it does rather feel as if Faerie is at war with us, with all these attacks by the fay.”

“But why? Why would they be at war with us?”

Elizabeth shrugged. “Bluebird said it was because of the trees. She was never particularly literal, so she might have meant anything by it.”

“The trees? That makes no sense.”

Before he could continue, Darcy returned, looking frustrated. “I have been trying to explain to Anne what has happened to her mother. I cannot tell if she simply does not understand what I am saying or whether she is refusing to listen. In the end she just stared at me as if she had no idea who I was. Perhaps she is upset about her mother, but I have never seen her so confused. Richard, perhaps if you –”

“Oh, no, not me. She is terrified of me. You know what will happen. I will walk in and say ‘Cousin Anne’ and she will swoon. Or run away. Or run away and then swoon. Perhaps Miss Bennet...” The colonel turned hopefully to her.

“I barely know her,” protested Elizabeth, her self-consciousness returning with Darcy’s presence. “We have scarcely exchanged a dozen words. Oh, very well, I will try, but I have little expectation of success. Perhaps Mrs. Collins can join me. Miss de Bourgh knows her better.” She paused. “Colonel, is it possible Miss de Bourgh is afraid that you might touch her?”

“I would never hurt her! Or do you mean....Hmm. What do you think, Darcy?”

Darcy eyed him thoughtfully. “If she will not permit you to touch her, we are unlikely to find out if she has reason to avoid you.”

“I AM NOT SURPRISED Miss de Bourgh did not understand Mr. Darcy’s explanations,” said Charlotte. “Unless one is very patient with her, she becomes confused.”

“I am unsurprised as well,” Elizabeth replied. “But my reasoning is different. Have you noticed that Miss de Bourgh’s spells of confusion and swoons usually occur when the subject of magic arises?”

“How odd. I had not made that connection. What could have made her so frightened of magic?”

“Perhaps she is not frightened of it at all,” said Elizabeth darkly. “The only reason I can think of for someone to grow confused when magic is mentioned is more magic.”

Charlotte caught at her arm. “Surely you cannot think she is under a spell?”

“That is precisely what I think, and knowing that Lady Catherine has magic, it is not difficult to guess why her daughter is bespelled.”

“A binding spell,” Charlotte breathed.

“And now you can see why I fear them. I would rather die than be like her.”

Miss de Bourgh was in her sitting room, looking distractedly out the window while Mrs. Jenkinson read to her. She stopped at the sight of them.

Charlotte nodded to her. “Mr. Darcy asked us to explain Lady Catherine’s indisposition to Miss de Bourgh.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Mrs. Jenkinson. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You must be very gentle. Miss de Bourgh is not having a good day. Not a good day at all.”

“We will be gentle,” said Charlotte soothingly. “Miss de Bourgh, did Mr. Darcy explain to you that your mother has been injured?”

Miss de Bourgh rose to her feet. “Injured? I must go to her. She will expect it. ”

“It will be better if you wait. Lady Catherine is unconscious and is likely to remain so for some time.”

“She swooned?” She smiled unexpectedly, a mischievous smile. “She swooned!”

“Er, yes,” said Charlotte. “She is in no danger at present.”

“Oh.” Miss de Bourgh looked back out the window, her fingers picking at the fringe of her shawl.

“We believe she was attacked by one of the fay folk. She was struck by elfshot, but it has been removed.”

Miss de Bourgh’s brow creased. “Fay folk? There are no fay folk at Rosings. I...” Her forehead suddenly smoothed. “What was I saying?”

“Your mother’s injury was caused by elfshot,” prompted Charlotte.

“Elfshot? How odd.” She paused. “The sun has come out, I see.”

Elizabeth leaned forward to be ready to catch Miss de Bourgh. “We believe Lady Catherine’s injury is magical in nature.”

As she had expected, Miss de Bourgh’s eyes turned up, and her head fell to the side. Elizabeth eased her back into her chair.

As Mrs. Jenkinson bustled around Miss de Bourgh with vinaigrette and pillows, Elizabeth laid a hand on the young woman’s wrist and extended her senses. Yes, there was a spell, no question, but it did not have the same flavor as either Mr. Darcy’s magic or Colonel Fitzwilliam’s. It was a relief to know neither of them were responsible for it.

RICHARD STROLLED IN and stopped short at the sight of Darcy. “I had not expected to find you here. I thought you would be keeping Miss Bennet company.”

Darcy scowled. “I doubt Miss Bennet wishes for my company, especially after I disrupted her visit by bringing her here. And I might point out you apparently decided not to remain with her either.”

Richard sat down in the leather armchair and stretched his legs out in front of him. “I was writing a letter to my father. Since it was about Miss Bennet, I thought it better done in privacy.”

Darcy stiffened. “You wrote to your father about her?”

“Of course. He will want to meet her.”

“Why?”

“No need to snap at me, old fellow! Because she has information about Faerie. He may or may not already be aware of the practices of wisewomen, but you know how anxious he is to learn anything about Faerie. She has only been there very briefly, but that is more than anyone else we are aware of. And...”

“And what?” A weight settled on Darcy’s chest.

Richard leaned forward and spoke quietly. “She knows the fay spell for shape-changing. She cannot do it, but she knows the words. My father would sell his soul for that spell.”

“Even though it does not work?”

“Come now, Darcy. Just because an untrained girl cannot make it work does not mean my father cannot. If there is a spell that has defeated him, I do not know of it.” Richard rubbed his hands together.

A bitter taste stung Darcy’s mouth. While Lord Matlock might not sell his soul for the spell, he would certainly sell his son. Richard had made no secret of his admiration for Elizabeth, but her pittance of a dowry had put her out of his reach. That spell alone would be an enormous dowry. “Elizabeth is unlikely to wish to meet your father. She has made it clear she wanted as little as possible to do with the mages, much less the Master of the Collegium.”

“She need not fear him. You know that as well as I do. I will say nothing of it to her for now. If he is not in London, that letter might take a week to reach him. I told him I could not bring her to him, so he would have to come here. Once she meets him, she will understand he would not hurt her.”

It was better not to answer that. Let Richard learn for himself that Elizabeth did not like to be coerced.

“Still, this means I must remain here until I hear from my father. I know you were eager to leave before any of this happened, so if you wish, you can return to London tomorrow while I manage matters here.”

An hour ago Darcy had been cursing the fate forcing him to stay at Rosings, subject to the agony and the humiliation of being in Elizabeth’s company. But Richard’s plan to manage things might include managing a ring onto Elizabeth’s finger. “I prefer to remain for now. I am Anne’s guardian, and I do not wish to face our aunt’s righteous wrath if she discovers I abandoned my duty.” Did it sound like a good enough reason?

“Good. If you are still here when she recovers, you can be the one to explain why we allowed a wisewoman to treat her and that we discovered her secret. She will take it better from you.”

The butler brought in a calling card and silver tray. Who would be calling at this hour? Darcy read the card and snorted. “Collins. You had best receive him, Richard. I would end up saying something I would regret.” Darcy headed for the door.

“Oh, thank you so very much, my dear cousin!” Richard called after him in a falsetto voice.

A QUIET KNOCK AT LADY Catherine’s bedroom door made Elizabeth snap shut the lady’s magazine she had been paging through. She had not been reading it, anyway, only using it to disguise her discomfort. She kept hearing Colonel Fitzwilliam telling her that Darcy had known about her magic all along. That one fact turned everything she thought she knew of him on end. He had sought out her company, even offered her marriage, knowing she had magic. It sounded as if his family would even expect him to marry a woman with magic. If only she had known! She would have given anything to find a mage who supported her use of her abilities. She would have been beyond grateful for his attentions, no matter how proud and disdainful he might be. But how could she have guessed that his beliefs were in opposition to the Collegium?

How could she face him now, after the accusations she had made to him when he offered her his hand? She had misjudged him so badly. And now she could not stop thinking about him.

Charlotte rose from her seat by Lady Catherine’s bedside and opened the door. “Mr. Darcy, do come in.”

Heat flooded Elizabeth as she stood and curtsied. Oh, why must she be so embarrassed by his very presence? He had no doubt only come to inquire after his aunt. Most likely he was not even thinking about her. After all, he had shown no interest in her earlier apart from her treatment of Lady Catherine, and had left as soon as that was done. He could hardly have made his wish to avoid her company any clearer, and she could hardly blame him for it.

“Has there been any change?” he asked Charlotte, his face impassive.

Charlotte gestured towards Lady Catherine’s bed. “No improvement, but no worsening either. We have been dabbing her lips with essence of feverfew. Some say it may be helpful in treatment of elfshot.”

“Pray inform me if there is any change. Mrs. Collins, might I have the honor of a private conversation with Miss Elizabeth?”

Oh, no. What could he possibly want to tell her that he could not say in front of Charlotte? Could he possibly wish to return to the subject of his offer of marriage? No, that was impossible. Not after the way she had treated him.

His mouth twisted. “There is nothing to worry about, Miss Elizabeth. I merely wish to share a piece of information with you.” He did not trouble to keep the irony out of his voice. He must have guessed what she was thinking.

Charlotte looked concerned, as well she might. “If Lizzy wishes to speak to you, I have no objection.”

Darcy tilted his head. “Miss Elizabeth, perhaps we could speak in the sitting room with the door open. Mrs. Collins would be able to see us there.” There was no warmth in his voice.

She could hardly refuse, so she walked ahead of him into the sitting room. “Yes, Mr. Darcy?”

He paced across the small space before turning back to her. “You told my cousin that you know the fay shape-changing spell.” He did not sound pleased.

Why was she longing for some sign of softening in his face? He had every reason to dislike her. “I know the words, but I cannot make it work.”

“Miss Elizabeth, those words, whether you can employ them or not, would be worth a great deal to certain people. A very great deal indeed. I would suggest that you do not give them away.”

She moistened her lips with her tongue. “I do not understand what you mean.”

If anything, his expression darkened. “You should not tell them to anyone without extracting something in return. You could get almost anything you like. An estate which is not entailed away to Mr. Collins. A dowry. A guarantee that no mage will ever put a binding spell on you.”

“I see.” Was it possible he was trying to help her?

“But once you tell anyone those words, you give away that power.”

Why was he telling her this? “Am I to assume mages are the ones who would seek the spell? Will they attempt to trick me into giving it to them? ”

“I would hope not. My concern was more that you might freely offer the spell, unaware that you could purchase your own safety with it. Your other knowledge about the fay is valuable as well, but that spell particularly so.”

She looked down at her hands for a moment and then deliberately met his eyes. “I thank you for telling me this. Especially since you could have simply asked me for the spell and I would have told you it.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “I know what it is like to be threatened with a binding spell. I would not wish it on you or anyone.”

Her mouth dropped open in surprise. “You know that fear?”

“It is nothing now,” he said dismissively. “Someone went to a great deal of trouble to make it appear I had been abusing my abilities, and the punishment for that is binding.”

“Oh. I am sorry you faced that.” She meant it. It would break her heart to see his pride and cleverness brought down by a binding spell. How could anyone think he would do such a thing, or that he would allow himself to be caught? “It is a silly idea.”

Now he looked furious. He must have misunderstood her.

She said quickly, “Oh, your expression! I meant only that if you were to misuse your powers – and I by no means intend to suggest you would – but if you were to do so, you would cover your tracks so carefully that no one would ever dream of connecting it to you. You would never do it in a careless, obvious manner. That is all.”

His anger seemed to vanish, replaced by a slight smile. “Very perceptive, Miss Elizabeth. It is a pity you were not on the Board of Inquiry.”

Hesitantly she smiled back.

“Lizzy!” Mrs. Collins’s voice interrupted the moment of connection. “Her ladyship’s eyes are open again.”

“Excuse me,” Elizabeth murmured as she hurried back into the bedroom.

Lady Catherine’s eyes were indeed wide open and staring straight up again, the pupils dilated. Elizabeth waved a hand in front of her face, but she showed no awareness, just as she had not when the elfshot was in her arm. “I wish I could tell you what that means, but I have no idea,” Elizabeth said.

Lady Catherine’s eyelids slid closed.

“How odd,” said Mrs. Collins.

Darcy said, “Mrs. Collins, I forgot to mention your husband is downstairs with Colonel Fitzwilliam. I imagine he is curious about your presence here. While I greatly appreciate your assistance, I can hardly expect you to stay longer.”

Charlotte glanced at her. “And Lizzy?”

“That is up to her,” he said in a level voice.

“I would think it wise for her to remain here. If something should change in Lady Catherine’s condition, it would be difficult to explain why you would come to the parsonage in the middle of the night to fetch Lizzy.”

How could she stay the night in the same house with him? But she had no excuse for refusing. “Very well; I will remain here.”

“Will Mr. Collins object?” Darcy asked Charlotte.

Mrs. Collins shook her head. “I will tell him Lady Catherine, in a brief moment of consciousness, expressed a preference for Lizzy to tend to her. He will accept that. I will stay here with her tonight, if that is not inconvenient.”

Darcy bowed. “Thank you. We would be happy to have both of you. I think it would be safe now to allow the maids to assist you. We have explained to them that Lady Catherine hit her head and has not yet regained consciousness. The surgeon should be here shortly, and we will ask him to use the same story.”

“Very well. I suppose I must speak to my husband before he annoys Colonel Fitzwilliam past his endurance,” said Mrs. Collins. “Would you accompany me, Mr. Darcy?”

He inclined his head. “I will be happy to.”

Elizabeth let out a breath she had not known she was holding. Suddenly she did not want him to leave, not until she had managed to thank him properly. By all rights, he should be bitterly angry at her after the acrimonious manner of her refusal, but somehow he had overcome that in an attempt to help her avoid her greatest fear. Surely that required some sort of acknowledgment, and if she did not say something now, she would never find the courage to do so.

But he was already following Charlotte out the door.

She had to stop him. “Mr. Darcy, may I ask you a question?”

He turned immediately. “Of course, Miss Elizabeth.” Was there some gentleness in his tone?

She bit her lip. A question. She needed to ask a question that showed he had earned some of her trust. “My cat, Pepper. Did you notice anything unusual about her?”

He shook his head. “Not apart from her name and her eyes.”

“She is fay, or at least part fay. Is that something other mages might notice?” She watched him anxiously.

He stiffened, his eyes wide, and paused before answering. “It is not something I have ever considered. Richard is very sensitive to magic, and he did not seem to notice anything, so I would suspect no one else would. But I will give the matter further thought.”

“Thank you. I would prefer it if no one recognized her true nature. She is very important to me.” Would he understand that this was her apology for distrusting him?

“I will certainly do anything in my power to distract anyone’s attention from Pepper.”

She smiled in relief. He had understood. “I thank you.”

He hesitated. “I hope I will have the opportunity to meet Pepper again now that I know this.”

With a playful look, she said, “That will be up to Pepper. Like any other cat, she makes her own decisions.”