Chapter 6 #2
The Sidhe lord gave him a look of pure disgust, but the lady took pity on him. “Why, when a grove is destroyed, the lesser fay, the ones who can only use that particular ring, wither and die. The Sidhe can use any ring, so it matters less to us. When it is only an occasional grove lost, the lesser fay at nearby rings attempt to take on extra duties around the lost ring. If they did not...” She shrugged delicately.
Darcy leaned forward. “What would happen? What are these duties you mention? This is what we must know if we are to convince our government the rings must be saved.”
“Why, many crops would fail and fewer babies would be born, both humans and animals. Your mages would lose their power, since it emanates from the faerie rings.”
Elizabeth paled. “No crops would grow?”
“They would struggle. Seeds would still sprout but would grow poorly. The land would become barren.”
His mouth dry, Darcy said, “That changes the question. There should be no difficulty protecting the groves if we can convince the government of this.”
Elizabeth said slowly, “I can see why it is in our best interest to protect the groves, but how does it benefit the Sidhe?”
The lady’s laugh chimed harmoniously. “Why, our vitality comes from you, from having those with human blood among us and by mingling our blood with yours.”
Darcy’s mind was racing. “Honored lord, I will report what I have learned to the mages and to the minister. Lord Matlock, the Master of the Collegium, will wish to meet with you to confirm my reports, if that would be possible.”
“No. Only the two of you.” His expression glacial, the Sidhe added, “Meeting with your leader would make it appear as if I am betraying my king. No one will question my desire to spend time with a beautiful young mortal who stumbled into my hall in Faerie.”
Elizabeth blushed. Darcy ignored a rising tide of jealousy.
Darcy said carefully, “We did speak to another mortal who wishes to stop the war. He asked us to give you this.” Darcy reached under the table and produced the basket Eversleigh had provided, filled with fine sweetmeats he had brought from London for this purpose. Uncertain which of the Sidhe to present it to, he set it on the table between them.
The lord pulled the fine linen cloth from the top of the basket, revealing a letter. He read it with a frown before handing it to the lady. Her eyebrows rose as she perused it.
“Do you know what this says?” demanded the lord.
“Viscount Eversleigh told me it says that he wished you to know he supported your endeavor, and that he has a great deal to lose in the event of open war. He will not reveal what he knows to the king and hopes he can be of service to you.” Had he forgotten anything?
Elizabeth added, “He cannot reveal who you are since we do not know your name.”
The lady inclined her head. “You have shown us honor. I am called Aislinn.”
The lord said nothing.
Darcy tried a different tack. “If we can protect the groves, will that be enough to stop the attacks?”
“No. We must also remove Oberon from the influence of his mortal-hating son. It will not be simple; he is very attached to the boy. But that is not a task for you.”
The lady said something in a musical language incomprehensible to Darcy, but she seemed to be asking her companion a question.
The lord’s eyes narrowed, and he answered her at some length.
Elizabeth made a soft choking sound and interrupted the lady’s reply – and spoke in the same language. Darcy stared at her, his breath hitching. Why should he be so surprised she had kept one more secret from him, and why did it have to hurt?
Elizabeth turned to him apologetically. “I was just telling the honored lord and Lady Aislinn that in fairness they ought to know I understand their speech.”
Darcy said stiffly, “I had not been aware you spoke the language of the fay. ”
“I had not been aware of it myself, and I find it quite disturbing,” she said with an edge of sharpness.
The lord placed two elongated fingers under Elizabeth’s chin and studied her face. How much could he see in the dying light?
In his chiming voice, he said, “Someone has tampered with your memories.”
Elizabeth stiffened. “Who did it?”
“That I cannot tell you, but it seems to affect only your oldest memories.”
“My father,” she whispered bitterly.
“Unlikely,” Darcy said. “I know of no human mage who has the power to change memories. That would be far more difficult than a binding spell. Could it have been a fay?”
The lord lifted his chin. “There are those among us who have that ability. It is a tricky business, mortal memory.”
If only Darcy could see Elizabeth’s face! But she must be devastated, given her fear of binding spells altering her mind. The least he could do was to take the conversational burden from her. “What is the next step for us, then?”
The lady said, “I would like to introduce the young lady to our queen. She has no love for either this war or Oberon’s son, and she has greatly missed having mortal visitors. She might benefit from hearing a mortal perspective on the war.”
“Might I accompany her on this visit to provide her with a mortal companion in Faerie?” He did not like the idea of Elizabeth alone in Faerie, especially after the lord had called her beautiful.
The lady’s silvery laugh sent a shiver down his spine. “My dear boy, if I were to take a handsome mortal man into Titania’s presence, any hope of serious discussion would be at an end. Our queen is fond of handsome mortals.”
Elizabeth asked hesitantly, “Might I take a female companion? ”
“If she has fay blood, or, as you mortals call it, magic, and if she comes as a friend to Faerie, I would have no objection. Do you have someone in mind?”
“Mr. Darcy’s cousin. She is visiting here.”
“Bring her to the faerie ring early tomorrow morning. I will sense your presence there.”
The lord looked searchingly at Darcy. “Tell your friend that Cathael appreciates his assurances.”
“I shall, honored lord.”
Pepper stood, stretched, arched her back and made a trilling sound.
Sounding amused, Lady Aislinn said, “As if I could stop you, phouka.” And with that, both Sidhe disappeared, along with the basket.
“CATHAEL? NOT WHOM I would have expected, but I suppose it makes sense. He is young enough, only a century or two, to take risks like involving mortals in his struggle to stop the war. He is not particularly influential among the Sidhe. Aislinn is less of a surprise. She gets on well with everyone and dislikes conflict,” said Eversleigh. “It is a good sign that they offered you their names.”
“I wish you would tell us something of the etiquette of the Faerie court,” complained Frederica, who had been practically bursting with excitement since learning she would accompany Elizabeth to Faerie.
Eversleigh said, “It is better if I do not instruct you on what to expect. That way you will seem to be innocent outsiders.”
“What if we inadvertently offend the queen?” Frederica asked.
“She is not the sort of lady to take offense at an honest mistake, I assure you.”
The next morning it became clear that Frederica would have no difficulty passing as an innocent outsider. From her gasp when Lady Aislinn appeared in the faerie ring to her wide-eyed examination of their surroundings in Faerie, she could not be mistaken for anything but a new visitor.
But it seemed altogether too familiar and comfortable to Elizabeth. This part of Faerie was more park-like than the countryside she had been in with Darcy, and this time she was not frightened, exhausted and half-starved after being lost in the glamour trap. It felt natural to have sprites dashing by on their way to some destination. Even the flowery scent of the air was familiar.
They trailed behind Lady Aislinn, passing through a tunnel of saplings covered with flowering vines until they reached a spacious bower. The branches of living trees wound sinuously to form a loose latticework roof from which viburnum blossoms hung and scented the air with their rich fragrance. The floor was soft, springy moss. At the far end sat a dark-haired Sidhe lady surrounded by dryads and sprites.
Heedless of the breach of manners, Elizabeth caught at Lady Aislinn’s sleeve. “I have been here before,” she said quietly. “When I was young. I know her.” More of those thrice-cursed tampered memories she could not quite catch, like a squirrel who ran out of sight whenever she came close to it.
“The queen? That is unexpected. But she has seen you, so we must proceed.” Lady Aislinn propelled her forward until they neared Titania. The Faerie queen was smaller than she seemed in Elizabeth’s vague memory, but every bit as hauntingly beautiful.
Lady Aislinn made a deep curtsy. “Great lady, my most respectful greetings, and may the moon’s blessings shower on you eternally.”
Titania’s eyes slowly turned to focus on her visitors. “Greetings to you, Lady Aislinn. Whom have you brought me today?”
“These are two young mortals who stumbled into Faerie. I thought you might find them amusing. This one speaks some of our language, although she does not know where she learned it. Perhaps her memory is lost in the mists of Faerie.”
“Mortals? How delightful! I have so missed having mortals among us.” The queen beckoned them towards the bank of flowers where she reclined. “Come forward.”
Honesty. She must be honest. As if by second nature, Elizabeth sank to her knees and then sat back on her heels. “Great lady, forgive me. I think I have seen you before, but my memories are not clear,” she said humbly.
The queen of Faerie leaned forward. Searching eyes seemed to tingle through Elizabeth as Titania gracefully trailed her fingertips down Elizabeth’s cheek. “Are you not my little Libbet, child?”
Libbet. Her childhood nickname, spoken in a golden tone, resonated deeply. “I... I am Libbet, great lady, but I cannot remember,” she said hesitantly.
“Bluebird!” called Titania. “Bluebird, my love, come to me.”
A dryad appeared from the trees, tall and willowy now, but unquestionably Elizabeth’s childhood friend. “I am here, lady.”
“Bluebird, is this not our little Libbet come back to us?”
“Libbet!” cried Bluebird. “Oak and ash, you have come at last!”
At last?
Titania patted the ground beside her. “I am so happy you have returned! Come sit by me and tell me your story.”
Elizabeth obeyed. It felt natural, even familiar, as Titania’s sprites began to play with her hair and stroke her dress, their touch like delicate butterfly wings dancing over her.
“Who is your friend?” asked the queen.
Elizabeth glanced at Frederica. “Her name is Lady Frederica Fitzwilliam, and she is the daughter of a powerful mage. She speaks only English, I fear.”
Titania’s gaze drifted over Frederica, her head tipped to one side as she tapped her fingertips against the corner of her mouth thoughtfully. In English she announced, “Your name does not suit you. We will call you Meadowsweet for your hair of white gold – nay, you shall be Marigold Meadowsweet, for you are both strong and delicate.”
Frederica inclined her head. “I will be honored to be Marigold Meadowsweet. You have named me aptly. It indeed suits me much better,” she said, blithely discarding one of the proudest surnames in England.
Titania clapped her hands. “Bring wine and faerie cakes for our guests. Libbet, what brings you back to Faerie?”
“Bluebird had given me a talisman to allow me to use the faerie rings. I was frightened by a man, so I fled here, and Lady Aislinn brought me to you.” Elizabeth’s scalp tingled as the sprites pulled out her hairpins and teased her hair loose. This was familiar, too, the sensation of being treated like a doll come to life.
“What man dared frighten my Libbet?”
“He was a powerful mage, lady. He had discovered my use of magic. In the mortal world, women are forbidden to use magic.”
Titania drew back. “Still?” she asked in blank disbelief. “How barbaric. It is good you are here now.”
Did the faerie queen think she would stay there forever? Perhaps it was better not to discuss that.
A sprite pressed a delicate flute of sparkling wine into Elizabeth’s hand. The flowery scent was achingly familiar, and it tasted of apple blossoms and elderflowers in the moonlight. As the first sip slid down her throat, Elizabeth remembered.
She remembered sitting by Titania just like this, being primped and coddled until something else caught the queen’s attention, and being put aside to play with Bluebird until the queen’s fancy returned to her. She remembered spending long days in Faerie and loving it better than Longbourn – and she remembered the day Oberon had taken her away. She had trusted him, and he had gone into her mind, shrouded her memories in mist, and told her not to return. But why had he done it? Why had she been in Faerie at all? The answers remained elusive as the sprites spread her hair over her shoulders, weaving strands of flowers through it.
“Marigold Meadowsweet must be made ready as well,” commanded the queen. “We dance with my lord the King tonight.”
Tonight? They were expected back at Rosings tonight. And whatever Lady Aislinn had hoped they would communicate to Titania, it had not yet happened.
ELIZABETH WHISPERED to Frederica, “Your mother might not recognize you. I certainly would not have.”
Frederica fluttered the colorful gauzy silks the sprites had somehow attached to her dress, matching the flowers and ribbons winding through her loose hair. “True, but she would approve, saying it is only right to dress in a manner which makes my hosts comfortable, although this is perhaps not what she had in mind when she said that! And my father – he would not mind what I wore if only he could have this opportunity. He will be green with envy when he hears.”
What would Elizabeth’s own mother think if she saw her daughter in Faerie? Would it bring back her own memories or simply make her swoon as Anne de Bourgh did at the mention of magic?
A flourish of hunting horns made the fay fall silent. Titania floated regally to the center of the glade. Elizabeth and Frederica joined the queen’s sprites and dryads behind her. No one seemed to find the presence of two mortal women in her train odd.
On the other side of the glade, a tall Sidhe – tall even for a Sidhe – strode in, dressed in black and silver. Oberon. Even now his presence sent a shiver of fear down Elizabeth’s spine. Why had he betrayed her trust?
Behind him followed a group of retainers, mostly elves, but with a few Sidhe and a mortal man in a red coat. Was that a uniform? Yes, even a King’s soldier!
Lady Aislinn brushed against her. “The one just behind the king on the left, the young fellow dressed all in black, is Oberon’s son, of whom we have spoken.”
He looked young, but it was difficult to tell when none of the Sidhe seemed to age beyond a certain point. His resemblance to his father was striking, and he reminded her of someone else, too, but she could not remember another Sidhe with that look. The curl of his lip – did that mean he scorned this gathering, or was it simply his usual expression? She would trust him no more than she trusted his father.
Titania spread her arms. “Come, the moon is rising. Let us dance!”
Everyone was taking hands and forming small circles. Elizabeth tried to step away, but Lady Aislinn caught her hand. “You must dance, or you insult our king and queen.”
“But I do not know the dance.” But she had thought she did not know the Faerie queen, either.
“You will learn as we go. Come.”
Elizabeth cast a look of amused desperation at Frederica, who took her other hand. “Very well. If I make a fool of myself, at least there is no one else here who knows me.”
That had to be the exact moment she saw a familiar face.
It could not be. George Wickham stood across the circle from her, red coat and all. What could he possibly be doing in Faerie? She looked away quickly. Perhaps he would not recognize her. With her hair loose and draped in flowers, she did not look like Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn .
The musicians struck up a tune with fiddles, flutes, drums, and an instrument she could not identify. Elizabeth tried to watch Lady Aislinn’s steps, and the pattern quickly became clear – step to the side, hop, put her left foot behind her right and step twice, hop. She could manage this, even if she lacked the grace of the sprites and dryads.
But could she manage George Wickham?
How could he be here? Wickham had told her he had trained as a mage, but nothing about fay connections. She now knew the truth about Wickham and his history of lies and deception, but he would not be aware of that. He would still consider her to be his friend. This was not the time to confront him about his lies.
The music sped up and so did the dancers. They moved faster and faster until it took every bit of her concentration to keep from falling over her own feet. It was a relief when the music finally stopped with a clash of cymbals.
Gasping for breath, Elizabeth leaned towards Lady Frederica. “I have a problem.”
“What is it?”
But it was already too late. Wickham’s smooth voice – how had she ever thought it pleasing? – said, “Miss Elizabeth, this is a most unexpected pleasure. You have been keeping secrets from me.”
She turned slowly to face him. “I might say the same of you, sir.” She smiled to make it seem like teasing flirtation.
“To think of the many times I mentioned the fay to you, and you never showed any sign of interest! I am impressed.”
Trust Wickham to be impressed by what would seem to be lying by omission. “How do you come to be in Faerie, Mr. Wickham?”
His smile was self-deprecating. “I am half fay, as you must have guessed, and Prince Aelfric is my liege lord. But you would have already known that. My prince has also been playing his cards close to his chest.”
What on earth did he mean by that? “The prince’s liege man and wearing the uniform of King George’s militia?”
His smile displayed his perfect, even teeth. “The prince has been very helpful to me in certain matters pertaining to someone we both dislike. I joined the militia on his orders. The ladies of Faerie are as fond of a red coat as any Englishwoman.”
“I thought you decided to join after an accidental meeting with Mr. Denny.”
“I put myself in his way. It gave me an easy excuse to be in Meryton so I could become acquainted with your family.”
Startled, she said, “My family? Why would you have any interest in us?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Not I, but my prince. And his interest is self-evident.”
“Not to me.” The knowledge was a sour taste in her mouth. Not only had he lied to her, but he had used her to meet her family. How could she even pretend to flirt with him?
“Is that so? I find that difficult to believe.”
“I assure you it is the truth.”
His expression grew puzzled. “You truly do not know, do you?”
She had been so intent on his words that she had totally missed the approach of the prince until Lady Frederica touched her arm in warning.
“Wickham, introduce me to your friend.” The prince’s chiming voice was deep and smoky.
Wickham hesitated. “My lord, I am not altogether certain that is a wise idea under these circumstances.”
The prince narrowed his eyes. “I told you to introduce me to the mortal.”
“Very well,” said Wickham with a light but uneasy laugh. “My lord, permit me to present to you Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn. Miss Elizabeth, I find myself in the highly unusual position of introducing you to your own brother, Prince Aelfric.”
This was too much. Elizabeth had seen enough of Wickham’s trickery and games. “I do not know what you hope to accomplish by this,” she said frostily. “I have no brother, nor have I any connection to a prince of Faerie.”
Wickham wore an oddly uncomfortable expression. “Your mother’s first child was a boy.”
“Yes, and he died the day he was born. You and I spoke of this before. I even showed you his grave at the bottom of the orchard.”
The prince said haughtily, “I do not know who is buried in that grave. I was abandoned in a faerie ring, and I would have died of exposure had it not been for the mere chance of a dryad who happened to pass that way and found me.”
This story must be some odd form of fay mischief. “I do not know what you hope to gain from this, my lord. If I might state the obvious, my parents are mortals, and you, sir, are not.”
“Your mother, who is also mine, is mostly mortal. My father is King Oberon.” His voice was ice cold.
Elizabeth glared at him. “My parents were married at the time my brother was born.”
The prince’s long face took on an expression of puzzlement. “Why does that matter?”
Wickham said quickly, “My lord, by the laws and customs of England, a woman’s husband is considered the father of all her children, even if he has not been in her presence for more than a year. By fay custom, the father is the one...”
“The father is he who begot the child upon the mother,” said the prince without a hint of embarrassment. “How could it be otherwise?”
“Very well, I understand your meaning, but I still say it is ridiculous and this is some sort of trickery.” Elizabeth barely managed to remain civil .
The prince looked down his nose at her. “I tell you it is the truth, and Sidhe do not lie.”
With a fawning smile, Wickham said, “Miss Elizabeth, you and I are both accustomed to mortals who bend the truth easily, sometimes for no better reason than their own amusement. The Sidhe can be mischievous and cunning, but not untruthful.”
It was true, at least according to her untrustworthy memories. The Sidhe always told the truth. Elizabeth rubbed her arms. She had to calm herself. “I cannot know if you are who you say you are. Clearly you believe it, as does Mr. Wickham, but I remember seeing my mother cry over my brother’s grave. She would sneak out of the house at night and be found there in the morning, shivering, with her nightdress damp with dew. That is not the behavior of a woman who abandoned her child.”
The prince stared at her in silence.
Frederica said slowly, “Is it possible your mother truly believed her son had died and was buried in that grave?”
Prince Aelfric’s expression became shuttered. “You believe someone else left me in the ring and lied to my mother? Her husband, perhaps?”
“It seems a possibility, my lord,” said Frederica.
“And who are you?”
Frederica ducked her chin and looked up at him through her eyelashes. “You may call me Marigold Meadowsweet.”
“Marigold Meadowsweet, Wickham, leave us,” the prince commanded.
Frederica swept a curtsy that encompassed both Elizabeth and the prince. “Libbet, should you need me, you have only to call.” Then she left, accompanied by Wickham, leaving Elizabeth alone with the glowering prince who hated humans and might be her brother.
This was not what was supposed to happen during this visit. She should be safely back in the Dower House at Rosings, having had a brief conversation with Titania. How had everything spiraled so far out of control?
“Why does she call you Libbet?” he demanded.
“That is what Titania has always called me.” It could do no harm to remind him she was under the queen’s protection.
“Titania does love her human followers.” He said it with the scorn of a faerie prince for a mere mortal. “Tell me about your mother.” Not his mother, nor our mother, but her mother.
“My mother is...” Should she tell him their mother was a silly, ignorant country gentlewoman, or could she even say that? “I cannot truthfully tell you anything about her beyond her appearance and that she likes raspberries and dislikes currants, but I do not think that is what you are asking. I learned recently that everything I thought I knew of her may be wrong, and she is not now the woman she was before your birth.”
“That sounds remarkably like an excuse. I do not like excuses, Libbet.”
She stiffened, as much at his menacing tone as at his use of her name without any of the usual formalities of Miss and her last name. That familiarity was the risk of using her fay name, since the fay had little use for rules of that sort. “I will answer your questions, but pray give me a moment to collect my thoughts. This has been a great shock.” To say the very least. How could it be true?
“A moment, then,” he said grudgingly.
Something about his tone reminded her of Mr. Darcy. Not the man she had come to know recently, but the proud gentleman whom she had first met in Meryton. Why did the comparison seem so amusing when all else was nightmarish?
“Very well,” she said slowly. “I recently learned from my uncle – my mother’s brother – that once she was clever, witty, and loved all things fay – quite unlike the woman she is now. She changed abruptly after the death of her son, by which I mean what she believed to be his death, if that is the case –”
“I understand what you mean,” the prince said coldly.
“The next time my uncle saw her, she was different – silly, nervous, and completely uninterested in magic and the fay.”
His lip curled. “Is that common to mortal women after childbirth?”
“No, of course not. But it is characteristic of a woman who has been bespelled by a mage to bind her magic so that she cannot use it.” Did the fay even have binding spells?
“Is that what you think happened? What mage would dare to lay such a spell?”
“I do not know for certain, and I am basing this only on my uncle’s word –”
“The truth, Libbet,” he snapped.
He was right; she had not been telling her own truth. “I believe that is what happened, and that my father set a spell on her,” she said in a rush. “I have been trying to understand why he would bespell her, but now I wonder if perhaps it had something to do with... you.” She did not want to admit that this unpleasant, haughty Sidhe might be her brother, but the pieces fit together. If her mother had given birth to a fay child, her father would have reason to hate the fay and to keep her mother from them by any means.
Lady Aislinn interposed herself between them. “Libbet, Titania wishes you to dance.”
The prince grasped Elizabeth’s wrist in an iron grip. “I am not finished with her yet.” It was a warning.
“My lord, she belongs to the queen, not to you.”
Belonged? Elizabeth belonged to no one, but it seemed unwise to say so. “My lord, perhaps we could speak further after the dancing –”
“No. We will speak now.”
Lady Aislinn grasped Elizabeth’s other wrist, as if she were a rope in a tug-of-war. “My lord, you have no right –”
“I claim blood right.”
Lady Aislinn froze in consternation, but her voice remained dulcet. “My lord, you cannot. She is a stranger among us and does not know our ways. You have just met her.”
He shot her a look of disgust. “Not that sort of blood right. She is kin to me. We share a mother.”
“You do?” This time Lady Aislinn’s astonishment could not be contained as she stared at Elizabeth.
Elizabeth licked her dry lips. “I... I did not know, but it seems it may be true, if what the prince has told me is correct...” She gazed pleadingly at Lady Aislinn.
Carefully Lady Aislinn removed her fingers from Elizabeth’s wrist. “Then I cede to your blood right, my lord, but I urge you not to make an enemy of the queen. This girl has great value to her – as I understand her mother did before her.” She turned and walked away.
“Your mother was one of Titania’s followers?” the prince demanded.
“It is the first I have heard of it, but as I said before, despite living with her for twenty years, I clearly know nothing about my mother. Our mother.” With luck, the prince would not be able to tell how close she was to hysterical laughter – or to outright fury.
“But why would your father punish your mother for bearing me? Giving birth to a Sidhe should be a matter for rejoicing.”
Was he serious? Forcing herself to speak evenly and slowly, she said, “Because it meant his newlywed wife had been unfaithful to him.”
A line formed between his brows. “How was she unfaithful to him?” Then his expression cleared and he laughed. “Oh, yes, I had forgotten the foolish mortal custom that men and women should have only one lover.”
That was beyond enough. “You may call it foolish, but that custom is what prevents young people from unexpectedly meeting unknown brothers and sisters and discovering they knew nothing of their parents!”
“Yet that same custom apparently causes men to abandon helpless infants like so much rubbish.”
Trembling now with rage, she said, “And what should he have done? Raised you as if you were a mortal when everyone would be able to see you were not? He at least tried to return you to your own people.”
“He could have told your mother the truth and had her bring me here safely!”
“Yes, he was unjust to you in that. But is it just for you to declare war on all mortals because of what one man did to you?”
“That is not the reason. Mortals are not...” He stopped, no doubt deciding he ought not insult mortals to his mortal sister.
“Well, this mortal is finished with this conversation. I do not care what sort of right you think our shared blood gives you. No mortal gentleman would ever behave so rudely to a lady!” She hurried past him into the glade.
Where was Frederica? The light of the moon was bright, but it cast many shadows, and the differing shapes of the various fay races made it impossible to pick out one mortal in the mass of swirling dancers.
It was Frederica who found her. “What happened, Lizzy? Did he say something? I saw you practically running from him.”
Elizabeth said blankly, “I want to go home.” It was all she could do not to burst into tears.
“Home to the Dower House or to your parents’ house?” asked Frederica, ever practical.
“I do not know.” Half a sob escaped her. “I want to apologize to Mr. Darcy.” Where had that come from?
“Darcy? What has he to do with this?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.” Elizabeth swallowed a sob .
“I think we had best find Lady Aislinn.” She took Elizabeth’s arm and steered her past the dancers.
But Lady Aislinn, when they found her, shook her head. “Had I known you were Prince Aelfric’s sister, I would never have brought you here, nor would Cathael have agreed to it. The prince is not our friend. That, with the matter of Titania’s prior claim on you, makes this matter too deep for me.” She sounded displeased.
“But I did not know he was my brother,” Elizabeth said despairingly. “I do not want him to be my brother. I hope I never see him again. I beg you, can you not simply send me home?”
Lady Aislinn’s expression softened. “I am sorry, child. I do not envy your position. We are both pawns in this game. I can do nothing but help you to tell Titania about your brother, and then it is best for you to think no further of me.”
Was Lady Aislinn truly abandoning her in Faerie?
Frederica frowned. “Will the queen send us back if we ask her to?”
“Of course. We do not hold mortals here against their will. Come, the dance is ending.”
She led them to Titania. “My queen, Prince Aelfric claims your Libbet is his sister.”
Titania showed no sign of surprise. “Did you not know, Libbet? Did your mother not tell you of him?”
“My mother...” Tears stung the corners of Elizabeth’s eyes. “My mother is bespelled.” She could hold back no longer. Surrounded by scores of celebrating fay, she burst into tears.
“My poor dear child!” cried Titania, holding Elizabeth close. “We will return to my bower. No one can hurt you there. You must tell me everything.”
Elizabeth might not remember Titania well in her head, but her body recalled the sensation of being held by the faerie queen. And so she told her everything, from removing the elfshot from Lady Catherine’s arm to Mr. Gardiner’s revelations to her encounter with Prince Aelfric, leaving out only the parts about Lord Cathael.
Titania made soothing sounds and instructed a dryad to play sweet harp music. “Now you must go to sleep, my dear child. I have a special place for you here with the softest moss, and you will have only sweet dreams.”
“But I must return to Rosings.” It was the one thing she still knew for certain.
“It will not harm you to spend the night in Faerie, child. Now lie down here, and my dryads will sing you a lullaby.”
As if a lullaby could cure her problems! “I thank you, but I could not possibly fall asleep.”
An amused smile crossed Titania’s flawless features. “There are some things that are easier in Faerie.” She waved a graceful hand, and Elizabeth slept.