Mr. Darcy’s Enchantment

Chapter 8 #2

ELIZABETH JUMPED TO her feet. “Mr. Darcy wishes to see me? At this hour? Did you tell him Lady Frederica and Miss de Bourgh have already retired?” She would have been abed herself if her body had not still hummed with nervous energy from the stressful day, or so she tried to convince herself. Or perhaps the rushing noise of the wind outside was responsible for her agitation. But those were just excuses. It was thoughts of Darcy that had kept her awake. Now he was here, and her body felt suddenly alive, her skin tingling with anticipation.

“I explained that, miss, but he insisted you were the one he wishes to speak to. Do you want me to stay with you while he is here?” The maid’s heavy eyelids were at odds with her offer.

“I will ring for you if I need you.” Elizabeth spoke with more assurance than she felt. She had been alone with Darcy on several occasions, both before and after his proposal, and he had never made any attempt to take advantage of the situation, but now she wondered how much she could trust herself. She had not been able to stop thinking about him since their brief conversation outside Titania’s bower when she had experienced that unaccountable urge to throw herself into his arms. He must know it, or why would he wish to see her alone in the middle of a windstorm? Or perhaps something had gone amiss at Rosings.

She tidied her hair, although at this point nothing would make it look freshly styled, and made her way downstairs to the sitting room. The maid had not yet taken the time to clean it fully, since she would have had no reason to expect guests before morning.

Darcy stood by the fireplace, his elbow resting on the mantel and his hand across his eyes. His hair looked as if the gardeners had taken a rake to it, and his usually tidy cravat was wrinkled, the earlier complex folds now retied into a simple schoolboy knot.

Her heart sank. Something must be very wrong. “Mr. Darcy, what is amiss?”

He started at her words and collected himself enough to bow. “My apologies for calling at this hour. I was walking the grounds and saw the light in your window. I hoped talking to you might clear my head.”

How did he know which window was hers? He had not been upstairs in the Dower House since she had moved there. And why did his head need clearing? He did not appear to be foxed, but he might well be less than sober. “It is late to be walking the grounds.”

His mouth twisted. “Going to sleep was not an appealing option.”

He was not going to make this easy for her. “How did your examination of Sir Lewis’s library go? Did you find proof of sorcery?”

His shoulders sagged. “We found an abundance of proof. I spent hours reading his journals. Sorcery is a viler thing than I ever realized. I feel unclean, as if nothing can ever wash away what I saw. That any man could do such things, much less a man I knew...” He turned haunted eyes to her.

The poor man! He was clearly suffering. But what comfort could she offer? “It takes great courage to confront the stuff of nightmares. The old stories of sorcerers – they are terrifying.”

“It is not courage. Richard is the bravest man I know, and he could not even bear to be in the room. He said the stench of sorcery made him ill.”

“How long did you stay there?”

He shrugged. “I left perhaps half an hour ago. Eversleigh is still there. I did not even stop for dinner because the mere thought of food turned my stomach.” He wiped the back of his hand against his mouth.

“I am so sorry.” If only she could relieve his pain!

“I am the one who should be sorry for imposing on you with my tale of woe.”

“Pray do not be sorry. If speaking of it can provide any comfort...”

“Talking to you was not my only reason for coming here.” He took a few quick steps across the room to look out the window. “When elemental mages feel something strongly, the elements respond. If I do not keep my emotions in check, there can be floods, fires, whirlwinds. I have learned how to control my moods to prevent such things. Tonight I could not do so. You heard the wind.” He clenched his hands. “For reasons I cannot explain, the elements do not respond to me as strongly when I am with you, so I came here before I flooded the village or burnt down Rosings.”

Elizabeth stared at him. “You think that I somehow interfere with your magic?”

“I do not know what it is. I only know that certain people seem to lessen my effect on the elements. Or perhaps I should say certain creatures, since your cat has the same effect. When Pepper is on my lap, the elements might as well not exist.” His agitation seemed to be increasing rather than decreasing.

“No wonder you are fond of her.” Could this be why he had sought out Elizabeth’s company so often? “I assume proximity must help, then.” She crossed the room to sit next to where he stood, trying to pretend she would not rather be closer still.

His mouth twisted. “Proximity helps to subdue the elements, but in your case, it is also dangerous.”

“Dangerous? I do not understand.”

He stepped jerkily until he was directly in front of her, his face drawn. “Elizabeth,” he said hoarsely. “I know you do not want me. I know you despise mages and would never consider... But I beg of you, do not send me away.” He grasped her hands. “For the love of God, let me hold you, so that I can remember there is some good in the world, and that I am not all alone against the darkness.” His voice throbbed with raw need, but it was the need for comfort, not the desire of a man for a woman.

How could she refuse him what he so desperately needed, especially when she wanted it so badly herself?

He drew her to him before she had time to think further. Her cheek rested against his chest, the superfine wool of his coat providing softness over the muscle beneath it. Her hands clutched his shoulders, and there was nothing soft about them. But it was his hands splayed against her back she felt most of all, tempting her as he held her close.

The weight of his head rested on top of hers in a way that felt all too natural. She could hear the steady thudding of his heart. His clean scent of shaving soap and spice was overlaid by dust and ink. Sensation surrounded her – the warmth of his arms around her, his somehow delicate touch on her back, and the astonishing intimacy of pressing herself against him so closely that she could feel his chest rise and fall with each breath, creating an ache deep within her. If only she had not been wearing her shawl, she might have felt the warmth of his long fingers through the thin fabric of her dress. The mere thought raised the tide of longing.

How mortifying it was! He wanted comfort, and all she could feel was wantonness. What a triumph for him, could he know that the proposals which she had proudly spurned less than a fortnight ago would now have been gladly and gratefully received! He was as generous, she doubted not, as the most generous of his sex. But while he was mortal, there must be a triumph, even now, when any connection between them was impossible. So much had changed since that evening when she had so bitterly and foolishly refused his proposal.

Now his heartbeat sped up, so perhaps he was not altogether indifferent to her charms. Not that it mattered now.

He released her then, leaving her even more bereft. “I apologize, Miss Elizabeth. You are generous, but I should not be imperiling your reputation for my own selfish needs.”

“My reputation?” She sank down onto the sofa, hoping he would not realize that it was because her legs were having trouble supporting her. “The only reputation I have is an unsavory one.”

He stiffened visibly. “Because of our journey to Faerie?”

She half smiled at the thought of riding bareback in his arms. “Compared to everything else I have done, that was nothing. Everyone knows now that I am a woman with magic. Society may grudgingly accept a magical woman who consents to a binding spell, but a woman who refuses one? Never. At present I am in a fragile artificial world where those around me are willing to accept magic in a woman, at least to some degree, but this is not reality. The minute I step off the grounds of Rosings, there will be children throwing stones at me.”

The color drained from his face. “But that has never happened to you before.”

“No, because I have always kept my abilities a secret. Now Lady Catherine is shouting to the rooftops that I am a witch. Mr. Collins has no doubt already written to Sir William Lucas with the shocking news, and all Meryton will know it in a day. And if that were not enough, I was gone for several nights, returned in your company, and then accepted an offer of protection from Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

“What?” He sounded half strangled. “If he dared – ”

She held up her hand. “The colonel did nothing improper, but that does not matter. When a young woman accepts an offer of housing and support from a gentleman, it does not matter how pure his intentions are. I assure you the rest of the world will see it as improper. Before all this happened, I would never have dreamed of accepting his invitation to stay at this house, but it does not matter anymore.”

“Of course it matters!” He raked his hand through his hair. “It is not too late. We can give out that Anne was the one who invited you, and then it is perfectly proper. Frederica has been here the entire time, so you have been chaperoned.”

“You might not wish to make that fact public. I spent most of the afternoon trying to convince Lady Frederica to return to London immediately. She does still have a reputation, but it will be harmed, not just from exposure to me, but by the taint of sorcery that will cling to all of us, no matter how many years ago the sorcery took place. It would be wiser for her to leave immediately and pretend she was never here. I wish you would speak to her about it, because she will not listen to me.”

“She has been with Anne, and that will protect her reputation.”

“My dear Mr. Darcy, Miss de Bourgh will have even less reputation than I do. Even if she somehow manages to keep her magic secret, she is still the daughter of a sorcerer. She will never be welcome in polite company.”

Now it was Darcy’s turn to sink down in the chair. He covered his face with his hands. “Sir Lewis is still harming people, even today.” His muffled voice was despairing

So much for having offered him comfort. She went to the sideboard, poured two glasses of wine, and brought him one. “It looks as if this might not go amiss.”

He did not meet her eyes. “I thank you. I only wish I could help ease your pain.”

“Mr. Darcy, do I sound as if I am in pain?” she asked sharply. She was, of course, but it was not about her reputation.

“No. You sound remarkably calm about your life falling apart.”

“That is because I am calm. A little sad, perhaps, for the future I once hoped to have, but I never really believed in that future. The price of remaining in society, of someday marrying and having a family, was living a lie. I am relieved it is over, and I no longer have to pretend to be someone I am not. For the first time in my life, I feel free of fear. I can perform small everyday magics without worrying about being seen. And Miss de Bourgh is free, too. I cannot see her being a fine society lady, and she is already considering plans for what she wishes to do next.” She took a sip of the wine, its tartness bringing her back to the present.

“It is admirable of you to try to make the best of your situation, but I am not ready to admit it is hopeless. We could set up a new identity for you, perhaps a recent arrival from India. We can arrange for references. My uncle can claim to have known your father as a child and that he was appointed your guardian after your parents died. You would be completely respectable.”

Elizabeth sighed. “You do not believe me. I do not need a new identity. There are places I can go, enclaves of wisewomen where it is safe to be a woman with magic. Or perhaps I will remain with Miss de Bourgh. She dismissed her companion this afternoon, so she will need a new one, and I am interested in the plans she is making. She wants to make Rosings a haven where women can learn magic.”

“What of Eversleigh?” he asked harshly.

Taken aback by his anger, Elizabeth said, “I imagine he would help me if I asked, but I do not intend to do so. I do not see why you are so troubled that I am not fighting the inevitable.”

“Because it is not inevitable, and it is my fault you are in this position! If I had never asked you to treat Lady Catherine, none of this would have happened. You would still be visiting Mrs. Collins and looking forward to returning to Longbourn. ”

“Your fault? I could have refused to treat her or simply not used magic, and the result would have been the same as if you had not asked me. But Miss de Bourgh would still be swooning and unable to finish a sentence, Lady Catherine would be dead, and we would have no hope of stopping the fay attacks. All in all, I think it is not an unreasonable exchange.”

“Well said, but I also remember you telling me in Faerie that you did not want a brother, nor a mother under a binding spell, nor a father who would bespell your mother.”

She sighed, trying to keep her emotions in check. “I do not want those things, but I would rather know the truth than a pretty lie. Well, apart from the Sidhe brother. He is still a bitter pill to swallow. I could do without the knowledge that my father abandoned a helpless infant in addition to binding my mother. Still, Eversleigh keeps saying it is good for Aelfric to have met me, so at least someone benefits.” She somehow managed to make the last sentence sound droll.

“I would have been happy not to know Sir Lewis was a sorcerer.” Darcy’s voice was flat.

There was nothing she could say to that. It was terrifying to realize there had been a sorcerer in their midst, and no one had discovered him. If Anne de Bourgh had not killed him...She shuddered to think what might have happened.

The wind rattled the window panes.

Darcy abruptly moved to sit beside Elizabeth on the sofa, his shoulders slumping. “My apologies. The wind is picking up again.”

How could she bear to watch this proud man brought so low? She placed her hand gently over his. “Does that help?”

He nodded silently. After a moment he said explosively, “I cannot believe this is happening. I never lose control like this.”

“Never? That is a very high standard.”

“It is a necessary standard,” he snapped .

She hated to see him criticize himself so harshly. “You have had a difficult time as well, learning about Miss de Bourgh’s binding spell and that your uncle had been the one to place it, not to mention that she had murdered her father whom we now know was a sorcerer. Your family has been turned upside down as much as mine, and that does not count being thrown into Faerie twice, nearly dying in a glamour trap, and watching Miss de Bourgh perform impossible feats of magic. And that was before you had to face Sir Lewis’s sorcery tonight.” Not to mention having a heartfelt, if ill-expressed, proposal of marriage thrown back in his face. “It would be more astonishing if your control were not slipping.”

Somehow she had to help him. Without conscious thought, she found herself laying the fingers of one hand against his cheek. It was rougher than she had expected, but he would not have shaved before the dinner he had not eaten. The poor man deserved so much better, and she ached because she could not give it to him.

He stiffened and turned his head to face her, his eyes dark with pain. She could not have looked away to save her life. Tension hung in the air between them.

Then his lips sought hers, the gentle pressure making her lips part instinctively. This was what she had needed, this all too human touch from this particular man. She made a little choking noise in her throat as an ache rose deep inside her. As if it had been an invitation, his kiss became hungrier, with a desperate need.

She arched towards him, instinctively seeking more of him. More of his lips, the tantalizing, spicy taste of him, and more of the flutters of pleasure expanding from her deepest parts. She leaned into the hand cradling the back of her neck as he nibbled her lip. The sensual onslaught only intensified as he deepened the kiss as if responding to the need building within her. The last of her remaining ability to think fled as he explored her mouth, and she became a creature of pure sensation and need. She needed his touch and his closeness more than she needed air to breathe.

Her hands seemed to develop a life of their own, winding around his neck, seeking even more contact. He groaned and pulled her closer, but it could never be close enough, even as she felt the warmth of his body through his clothes. She gave a whimper of protest as he dragged his mouth away from hers, only to begin a new onslaught as his lips fluttered along her cheek, nibbled her earlobe, and found the exquisitely sensitive spot where her neck met her jaw.

Oh, who could have known her neck could provide such overpowering, burning pleasure? She tipped her head to the side, exposing more of her flesh to his forays.

Her clothes suddenly seemed to constrain her, chafing tender skin as his tongue skimmed her collarbone. When he discovered the notch at the base of her neck, something inside her seemed to melt. The cascading intensity of her need began to overpower her. Surely he would go lower, to that skin bared by her neckline that was longing for his touch! But he did not, and she thought she might expire from the loss until he reclaimed her lips, this time with a devouring certainty. She met him with her own demands even as she accepted his claim. As his hand finally began to explore the curves of her body, a swell of desire swept through her, leaving her trembling and straining against him.

A loud crash broke through the sensual spell trapping Elizabeth. She pulled back from him just as a second crash was followed by the sound of shattering glass. Something slammed shut with a resounding bang. It seemed to be coming from above them.

Good heavens, how had she ended up on Darcy’s lap?

The third crash made the walls shake. Elizabeth scrambled off Darcy’s lap and raced up the stairs, Darcy close behind her.

The wild racket was coming from Miss de Bourgh’s room. Elizabeth threw open the door. Inside a whirlwind had knocked over furniture, pulled paintings off the wall, and scattered bits of debris everywhere. A window hung open, dangling from a single hinge.

Darcy’s hand on her shoulder tugged her back. “Do not go in. It is not safe for you.” He strode past her into the room, ignoring the whirlwind tearing at his clothes, and pulled back the bed curtains to reveal a sleeping form.

How could Miss de Bourgh possibly sleep through this racket?

“Good heavens!” Frederica stood behind her in nothing but a nightgown, staring at the wreckage.

Pounding footsteps on the stairs signaled the arrival of a footman and the maid, now wide awake and gaping at the sight. A blur of white fur passed by them, racing into the room. Pepper leapt onto the bed and sprawled herself across Miss de Bourgh’s sleeping body.

There was sudden silence as the whirlwind vanished. The whistling of the wind outside disappeared.

Darcy tipped his head back, as if consulting heaven. “It was not me,” he said incredulously. “It was her.”

“She created the windstorm while she slept?” Elizabeth asked in astonishment.

He nodded. “Your cat is worth her weight in gold. She stopped it.”

“Pepper did? Then she deserves all the fish she can eat tomorrow.”

Pepper purred loudly enough to be heard from the door.

Darcy came back out to the landing, rubbing his forehead. “Since my father died, I have been the only strong elemental mage in England. It never occurred to me that the windstorm could be caused by someone else. I should have seen it coming. My uncle said Anne had elemental magic.”

“What should we do, sir?” The footman’s voice trembled.

Darcy glanced back into the bedroom. “It will be safe as long as Pepper stays with her, but we should be prepared in case she leaves. We will need five basins of water, one under the bed and the others around it. The banked coals should be removed from the fireplace and replaced with paper, and metal pots with paper placed around the bed as well.”

“Water under the bed and paper in the fireplace?” The maid clearly thought he had lost his mind.

“She is stirring the elements when she dreams, and whatever items are closest to her will be affected. If she calls water in her sleep, the water under the bed will spill, but the lake will not flood. If she calls fire, the paper in the fireplace will burn rather than the house. Placing things with little value around the bed will help if she casts unmaking – better that she unmake some crockery than the walls. I have no idea what to do about calling wind. I rarely had difficulties with that.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Someone will have to stay awake to watch over her in case the precautions are not enough.”

Frederica, her eyes wide, said, “I hate to think what she could have done if she had not exhausted her magic earlier.”

“I will start teaching her elemental control tomorrow.” Darcy ran his hands over his face. “This is like revisiting my childhood.”

“You did this sort of thing?” said Frederica, sounding horrified.

“Every night. Usually I created floods in my sleep rather than windstorms, though.”

The maid asked, “Should we wake her if it starts again?”

“No. That could be dangerous. There is no telling what she might do if she is startled awake. Fortunately, it appears she can sleep through almost anything.” He looked at Elizabeth. “It was not me. Or at least it was mostly not me. Most likely I added to the disturbance. I cannot believe it.”

Frederica smothered a yawn. “What are you doing here anyway, Darcy?”

Elizabeth said quickly, “He stopped by to tell me what they had found in Sir Lewis’s study, and I am very glad he did. His timing was impeccable.” At least the shadows on the dark landing would hide her blushes.

“Darcy, I think you should stay here tonight, or whatever is left of it,” said Frederica. “You are the only one who understands this.”

Darcy turned to the maid. “Is there a bed that can be prepared for me? A sofa or a cot in the servants’ quarters will do.”

“Yes, sir.” The maid hurried off.

Heat tingled through Elizabeth. She knew Darcy would not attempt anything further with her, but simply knowing he would be in the same house while she was sleeping made her senses more alive. He might not do anything, but she suspected he would be thinking about it. She certainly would be.

How could she even be thinking about what had passed between them when the room in front of her looked as if it had been ransacked by hobgoblins? Her body was not listening to her mind; it only wanted to feel Darcy’s hands on her again, to touch him, to experience the sensual awakening of his kiss. Where was the mortification she ought to be feeling? She had to find a way to keep this desire under control. Heavens, she sounded like Darcy when he explained how his moods affected the elements, but one could not help having moods. Perhaps one could not help feeling this aching need, either.

She rubbed her arms, trying to create new sensation to replace her memory of Darcy’s touch, but it did not work.

“Elizabeth, are you unwell?” asked Frederica. “You look as if you are in another world.”

“I am perfectly well,” said Elizabeth firmly. But she did feel as if she were in a new world, one which did not have the sense of familiarity that Faerie did. “I was thinking about poor Miss de Bourgh. She must feel so lost.”

Lost. She was the one who was lost, adrift on an unknown sea. Anchors had always held her in place, but now they had vanished one by one. Her father, her mother, and even her uncle had all become unknown to her. Her home was no longer safe. Charlotte had been cut off from her. She had letters from Jane, but how could she even begin to tell her sister what her life had become? Even her memories were untrustworthy. She had a brother who was not a brother. The only time she had felt anchored and safe was when she had been in Darcy’s arms, and that was the one place she should not be.

“You are not well,” said Frederica decisively. “Come to your room. You can sit down, and we can talk about it.”

Elizabeth realized she was crying. “Not my room!” Somehow that was very important.

“My room, then,” said Frederica. “Darcy can handle matters here.”

She allowed Frederica to put an arm around her and steer her into her bedroom.

Frederica pulled out a chair from in front of the vanity. “Sit here. I will bring you a handkerchief.”

Elizabeth took a deep breath, but she could not calm herself. Hot tears kept running down her cheeks as she choked back sobs. She accepted a handkerchief Frederica thrust into her hand and pressed it over her eyes.

Frederica said soothingly, “It must have been a shock to see that Cousin Anne could do so much damage in her sleep, but Darcy will find a way to make it safe for her. He always does manage to solve these things. In the morning it will look better.”

She cried even harder. The disaster in Miss de Bourgh’s room was the least of her worries. She could not tell Frederica what she and Darcy had been doing before that. A sob tore through her. As if that were her only worry! Somehow she managed to regain just enough composure to speak. “I met you five days ago. Five days! It seems like a year. Less than a fortnight ago everything was normal in my life, until your father came and I fled to Faerie. Now it never seems to stop. What disaster will happen tomorrow?” And now she finally knew what she wanted, and she could not have it. She dissolved into sobs again.

“It is shocking, is it not? I remember being so excited to hear you tell me about what Faerie was like, and how thrilled I was to have the opportunity to go there. And then to have Titania want to speak to me and ask me to stay! It should have been everything I wanted. But now all this with Cousin Anne and Sir Lewis – the world is becoming a frightening place. But we will muddle through somehow.” Frederica paused in reflection. “This is not so bad. Oliver Cromwell was the last sorcerer in England, and he nearly destroyed the country. He was a nobody, and yet he took over England with his power. A hundred thousand dead, including the king, and so many people enslaved by him. Bloody Mary the Sorceress had hundreds killed and nearly put us under Spanish rule. It seems Sir Lewis did not even do enough damage for it to be noticed. He could not do more without causing trouble in the Collegium. That is progress, is it not?”

“That might be little comfort to those people who suffered under Sir Lewis, but you are right. It is not the same as Cromwell or Bloody Mary, or even Henry VII stealing the throne with sorcery. We should be grateful Sir Lewis did no more.”

“I think you have managed admirably through one shock after another,” said Frederica.

“I have done my best.” Elizabeth wiped her eyes. Speaking of history was calming, but a glance in the mirror over the vanity showed her eyes were red and swollen. She did not want Darcy to see her like this. Perhaps she could talk to Frederica until she looked more like herself.

THE LANDING WAS EMPTY when Elizabeth left Frederica’s room. Now she needed an excuse to go downstairs. Even if nothing else was possible, she wanted to be in his presence, if only for a few minutes. That was why she had not wanted to go to her bedroom earlier. She would have been expected to retire, and she could not have seen him.

She felt her way downstairs through the dark, one hand gripping the railing. Light still spilled from the drawing room. Would he be there?

He was sitting in an upholstered chair, staring thoughtfully into the remnants of the fire. He jumped to his feet when Elizabeth entered.

“Pardon me for disturbing you,” she said, her voice almost steady. “I left my candle here earlier.” She took the chamberstick with its lighted candle from a side table.

“Your presence could never disturb me.” His voice was low and intimate.

The heat of desire began to grip her once again. “I will say goodnight, then.”

He stepped closer to her and brushed her cheek with his knuckles. “About what happened earlier –”

She had to be strong. “Nothing has changed. There is no future for us, despite a moment of weakness.”

He was silent for a moment. “What if I am not willing to accept that?”

There was a tiny comfort in knowing he still wanted her. “Are you willing to explain to your sister why, despite being under suspicion of misusing your powers, you decided to take up with a woman who was beneath you to start out with and is now an active scandal, even knowing it would destroy your sister’s chance of being accepted in society and making a good marriage? The Collegium’s suspicions would not be allayed by discovering you had married a witch, and you would be in greater danger. It does not matter what either of us want.”

“I still say there are ways of dealing with the scandal.” There was a plea in his voice .

“Perhaps there are, but it would mean living a lie for the rest of my life. That is too high a price.”

His fingers lifted her chin, and then she tasted the yearning, delicious heat of his lips again. He teased her mouth open with his tongue, but not in the hungry, demanding manner of his earlier kisses. This was slower, more intimate, and made her long for more.

Too soon he pulled his lips away and rested his forehead against hers. “If you deny this, you are living a different kind of lie.”

She wanted to give in so badly. Instead she retreated into the simplest excuse. “It is late.”

One side of his mouth turned up as he straightened. “So it is. We can speak more tomorrow.”

Elizabeth already felt the lack of his touch. “Good night, then.”

“Sleep well.” He lowered his voice. “And Elizabeth? Lock your door.”

Oddly, that helped her regain her composure. “Am I supposed to believe you are one of those very rare mages who cannot perform an unlocking spell?” she asked archly.

His eyes flared. “Go to bed, Elizabeth – while you still can.”