Chapter 4 #2
Pepper slowed to a halt under the spreading branches of an apple tree. “Are we there?” asked Elizabeth hopefully.
The horse raised her head and looked pointedly up into the branches, sagging from the weight of ripe apples.
Darcy said softly, “This tree was not here. It just appeared.”
Elizabeth swallowed back the desire to cry. “I was thinking that I was so tired and so hungry. Pepper must have heard my thoughts.” She reached out and grasped the nearest apple.
Darcy caught her wrist. “Wait! Is that safe? What if someone is angry you took it?”
Elizabeth shook her head, her mouth watering. “Pepper would not have stopped here if that were the case.”
“But we are not supposed to eat faerie food, or all mortal food will taste like ashes forever.”
“That is an old wives’ tale. I have eaten faerie food before.”
He raised an eyebrow. “In that brief visit to Faerie that you told Richard about?”
Her cheeks grew warm. “Perhaps I might have left out a few things. He seemed a little too interested.”
“Wise of you.” He released her wrist.
She plucked two apples. “Would you like one?”
“In for a penny, in for a pound. Why not?”
She handed one to him and picked a third for herself. “I truly am very hungry,” she explained.
“Should we take more in case you are still hungry afterwards?”
“It will be hard enough to hold these without falling off Pepper. And I imagine Pepper can always create another apple tree if we need it.” She patted the horse’s neck. “You are very clever to produce a tree that bears apples in April. But I suppose nothing in Faerie follows the usual rules.”
The apple was one of the most delicious things she had ever tasted. Elizabeth devoured the first one quickly, then spoke to Darcy. “There is one thing that is not an old wives’ tale. You must always tell the fay the exact truth. They will know if you do not, and they will punish you with a fay trick. They will make your lie come true, but always in a manner that will be harmful to you.”
“I will keep that in mind.” He said nothing more until she had eaten her second apple and Pepper had started walking again. Then he added, “If I asked you how much time you spent here in the past, would you tell me the truth?”
Elizabeth hesitated. “That would depend on why you wanted to know, I suppose.”
“It is simple curiosity about your life.”
She wanted to be back on better terms with him, and there was no real reason to keep it a secret. “Like most people, I have forgotten a great deal of my early life, but I would guess it was many times. Bluebird enjoyed the human world where she could play tricks on people, but usually she brought me here. And I expect your uncle would be sadly disappointed by how very little I noticed of my surroundings at that age. I remember a sort of bower in the woods, a beautiful black-haired woman, and someone combing my hair, but not much more. Going to Faerie seemed much like going to visit a neighbor in Meryton. I did not realize how unusual it was until years later.”
“We think the oddest things are normal when we are children,” Darcy said.
“I have a question for you as well,” said Elizabeth determinedly. “When did you realize I had magic? ”
He looked reflective. “It was at a gathering at Lucas Lodge. I knew someone there had magic, but not who it was until Sir William Lucas suggested that I dance with you. Our eyes met, and I could feel the magic in you. But look – I see something.” He pointed ahead of them.
Elizabeth squinted to make it out. There were three towers, made of something that looked more like silver filigree than stone. “That certainly looks like a laird’s court.”
THE PALACE, FOR THAT was the only term Darcy could apply, truly was made of silver filigree. How could it possibly stand? The walls should not be able to hold a roof, and the towers ought to have collapsed of their own weight. It was disconcerting to see the laws of nature so casually violated.
No one met them at the door. Elizabeth looked at him, shrugged, and entered. Darcy followed close behind her, hoping uninvited guests were not slain on sight. It would seem in keeping with the barbaric glamour traps.
A tall silver throne sat at the far end of an impossibly long hall, with an equally tall, equally impossible being slouched in it. He was surrounded by fay folk. Darcy recognized dryads and sprites in his retinue, along with some diminutive figures he could not name. Drawing closer, he could see that everything about the laird was longer than he expected – longer legs, longer arms, and long, tapering fingers. His cheekbones were prominent and his chin narrow, and he was dressed in a tabard made from cloth of gold trimmed with sea green silk. His hair was spun gold and hung nearly to his shoulders, making him a picture of unearthly beauty sitting in a beam of impossible indoor sunlight. Cuffs of silver filigree covered his lower forearms. Darcy had never seen a Sidhe, the most powerful fay, but he had no doubt the being before him was one .
Elizabeth halted a short distance from the throne and lowered herself into a deep curtsey. Darcy opted for the most cautious course and made his court bow.
“What brings mortals to my hall?” The Sidhe’s voice seemed to contain chiming bells.
Darcy’s throat was tight, but he said, “We have come to seek your permission to return to our own world.”
The fay lord stepped down from his throne and paced in front of them. Darcy was unaccustomed to having to look up to see someone’s face, and he did not like it, especially given the fay’s grim expression. There was something odd about his tilted, emerald green eyes, their pupils shaped in tall ovals not unlike a cat’s eyes, under eyebrows shaped more like wings than arches. His skin was pale and translucent like fine porcelain. The sight of him sent a shiver down Darcy’s spine.
“Why did you come here that you wish to leave so soon?”
Elizabeth seemed unperturbed by the astonishing sight. “I fled here to escape a powerful mage. Faerie was the one place I knew he could not follow me. I am told he is no longer pursuing me, so I may return home safely.”
“The doors to Faerie are blocked to mortals.”
She held out her stone. “When I was a child, I had a fay friend. She brought me to Faerie sometimes. She gave me this years ago in case I ever needed to return here. I did not know there would be glamour traps or that I would no longer be welcome. I should not have come here if I had.”
The fay lord loomed over her. “Years ago there were no glamour traps. They were created after the war with mortals began.” He whirled to face Darcy. “And you. Who are you?”
Absolute honesty. This would not be pleasant. “My name is Fitzwilliam Darcy, and I am a mage.”
“The one she was fleeing? ”
“No.” In case that might seem less than honest, he added, “That was my uncle.”
He turned to Elizabeth. “Are you a mage as well?”
“No. Mortal women are not permitted the use of magic.”
“Not permitted? How barbaric. You, mage – why were you pursuing her?”
“I was worried about her. She had been missing for days.”
The fay lord silently paced back and forth, back and forth. “Throwing yourself into Faerie because you were worried?” he asked scornfully.
He was going to have to say it. “I love her.” He avoided looking in Elizabeth’s direction.
“Ah, love and death, those human mysteries.” With another one of his lightning quick twists, he turned to Elizabeth. “And you. Do you love him?”
Darcy interjected, “She does not.” He would rather say it himself than hear Elizabeth saying it.
“Permit the lady to answer for herself!”
Elizabeth licked her lips, obviously uncomfortable. “My sentiments towards him are confusing. I cannot claim to love him, but I also cannot be certain I do not love him.”
Darcy stared at her, repeating her words in his mind. They made no sense. But surely it was better than a straightforward denial, was it not?
The fay lord seemed pleased by this peculiar non-answer. “Have you ever murdered a tree?”
“Murdered? Do you mean cutting it down?” asked Elizabeth in bewilderment.
“Call it what you wish.”
“I have never cut down or killed a tree. Once I asked my father to trim away a branch that was blocking my window, but the tree is still there.”
Had he ever given an order to cut down a tree? Darcy frantically ran through his memory. No doubt his steward had done so on occasion, and could be considered to be acting in his name –
“I do not speak of that sort of tree, but the trees in a grove.”
“I have never harmed a tree in a faerie grove.” Elizabeth sounded more certain this time.
“And you?”
“I have never cut down any trees in a grove.” Why was it so important? Were the trees sacred to the fay?
The fay lord demanded angrily, “Why have your fellow mortals broken our treaty?”
What treaty? How could he respond to this? “I beg pardon for my ignorance, Lord, but I do not know what treaty you refer to.” Was that suitably humble?
“The only treaty! The Great Treaty between fay and mortals. We gave you your freedom, and you preserved our groves!” He practically spat out the words.
How was he to admit he had never heard of this treaty the fay held so dear?
Elizabeth, braver than he, asked, “Honored Lord, when was the Great Treaty made?”
He waved his hand as if shooing away nonsense. “Perhaps a thousand of your years ago, or a little more.”
She took a deep breath. “Honored Lord, mortal life is fleeting and mortal memory is even shorter. A thousand years is more mortal generations than I can count. I am ashamed to admit that today’s mortals do not know the Great Treaty ever existed. We do not know why the fay have been attacking us. Mortals do not even know you are at war with us.”
“How can this be?” he cried. He stalked back to his throne and threw himself into it.
Elizabeth said quietly, “It must be the Enclosure Acts. Landowners have been cutting down wooded areas and enclosing them, but when they cut down a faerie grove, the faerie ring is destroyed.”
It could not be. Or could it? Last spring one of the neighboring landowners had cleared a forested area that bordered on Rosings Park, and now fay attacks were common there. Surely the ring they had traveled through should serve the same purpose, and it was close by. But he knew nothing of how faerie rings worked or why they were important.
“Is there something we should do? Does he wish us to leave?” Darcy asked in a low voice.
“I think not,” said Elizabeth slowly. “I believe we should wait to be dismissed.”
A dryad-like creature draped in a diaphanous green silk drifted silently towards them, stopping just in front of Elizabeth, but not looking at them. An apple on a silver plate appeared in her hand.
Elizabeth stiffened, but she took the apple. “I tha... Eating this will give me great pleasure.” Her voice shook.
The dryad made no acknowledgment before continuing her journey across the hall.
Elizabeth sidled closer to him, her face pale. “I should have warned you earlier. You must never thank them. It is a grave insult. And... And I do not believe our thoughts are fully private here.”
How could their thoughts not be private? “I do not understand.”
“Just a moment ago I was wishing I had eaten another apple. I was wishing it rather loudly, if such a thing is possible.”
Good God, what might they have overheard from his thoughts? They could not hear them all, or there would be no need to ask questions. Perhaps they could only hear thoughts that expressed strong desire. If that was the case, the Sidhe lord should know all about his desire for Elizabeth’s love. Even through his fear, he ached for her .
The Sidhe gestured to another dryad. She glided towards them with a gem-studded silver cup in her hands. She offered it to Elizabeth, who drank from it and returned it to her. The dryad held it out to Darcy. Society would hold it rude for a man to drink from the same glass as a lady, but here it seemed expected. He took a careful sip. It was a sweet, flowery wine that sparkled like champagne, and it made his head spin a little. He handed it back to the dryad, who offered it to Elizabeth again.
Elizabeth hesitated briefly before taking it and drinking from it again. She turned towards him and offered it directly to him, watching him closely. If she thought he should drink it, he probably should. He took it and drank again. Now his head definitely spun for a moment. Was there some drug in the wine? Was it safe? Elizabeth seemed untroubled by it.
The dryad took the goblet from him and walked away.
The Sidhe lord seemed to come to some sort of conclusion. He strode towards them once more. “Walk with me,” he commanded.
Darcy and Elizabeth trailed after him through the impossibly long hall, half running to match the pace of his long legs. At the far end a wooden door suddenly appeared in what had been a filigree wall a moment before. It opened itself, revealing an enormous garden filled with climbing vines and exotic flowers with a hauntingly beautiful scent.
A silver filigree gazebo sat in the center of the garden. The lord stopped before it and spun to face them. “Our two worlds are bound together like twins residing in the same womb, and anything that interferes with that binding harms us both. Not all of us are happy with this war against humans. It is King Oberon’s son who wishes it. Oberon is completely in his thrall.”
“If there is a way to end the war, we would do anything in our power to promote it,” Darcy said carefully.
“I am glad to hear it.” The Sidhe held out his hand, now holding two tiny cakes. Was this some sort of ritual ?
Elizabeth took one of the cakes and ate it. “I am honored.”
Darcy followed her example. Like the wine, the cake tasted of flowers, and again, his head spun.
“We will speak further, but you must leave now,” said the Sidhe. “Oberon’s representative is nearing this place. There is a whitethorn tree in the grove from whence you came. Meet me there on Beltane at sunset. Both of you, and no one else. Do you understand?”
Darcy nodded. “We will be there.”
“Into the gazebo,” he ordered, pointing a long tapering finger.
The silver filigree looked too fragile to hold Elizabeth’s weight, much less his own, but Darcy was beyond arguing. He followed Elizabeth, grateful the floor seemed to support him.
But only for a moment. The floor dissolved under him, and he struck cold earth with a bone jarring thud. They were in the faerie circle at Rosings and the spell book still sat outside it. Sharp knives seemed to be stabbing into the arm he had fallen on.
Beside him Elizabeth pulled herself to a sitting position and rubbed her hip.
“Are you hurt?” Darcy asked.
“I will have a bruise or two, nothing more. I must say these transitions seemed easier when I was younger, but perhaps I am simply less resilient. And you – are you injured?”
Darcy cautiously moved his arm. It hurt like the devil. “A bit sore. More stunned by how quickly everything happened.”
“I had forgotten how abrupt the Sidhe are. One would think immortality would allow more time for civility, but it does the opposite for them, as if any wasted moment is lost forever. And they are accustomed to being in command, as you may have noticed.”
“I noticed,” he said dryly. His arm throbbed as he stood, but he was pleased that his legs seemed to be working. He held out his good hand to Elizabeth .
She looked up at him ruefully. “I thank you, but I believe I should rest here a few minutes longer before I try anything complicated like standing up. At the risk of sounding like my mother, my nerves are suffering.”
“A few moments of rest sounds like an excellent idea.” He collected the brandy flask he had left by the spell book before joining her again. “Normally I would hesitate to offer brandy to a young lady, but under these circumstances, perhaps it might soothe your nerves.” He uncorked it and held it out to her.
She took the flask. “I am willing to try anything.”
“I recommend small sips,” he said as she raised it to her lips.
She coughed a little with her first sip but seemed more comfortable with the next. “I cannot understand why anyone would drink this for the flavor, but the sensation is not displeasing.” She offered it back to him. “I imagine you could use some as well.”
It was true, but they were no longer in Faerie, and he would not be able to offer it to her after he drank from it. “It is not necessary.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Surely you are not worried about propriety after we shared a cup in Faerie, not to mention the way we rode together on my –” She stopped and pressed trembling lips together.
“What is it?” Darcy asked. She could not possibly be feeling the effects of the brandy this quickly.
She let out a breath. “I was about to say the way we rode together on my cat. Because that is what we did. We rode bareback on my cat.” Her voice shook with nervous laughter.
He chuckled, relieved it was nothing more. “So we did. Or perhaps we rode your raven. But this is the last time I will refer to us riding double. It would be very difficult to explain here.”
Her expression sobered. “I suppose so. And I suppose we had best relieve my friend’s anxiety by returning to her.”