Chapter 15 #2
“I would like to meet some of these mortals, especially if it is two or three at a time. I am unaccustomed to crowds.” Titania appeared to be speaking to her attendants, but her voice spread farther than a mortal’s would.
A few brave souls came forward, but most of the crowd held back and a few even scurried away. Lord Matlock joined his wife and Lady Jersey in an informal receiving line just outside the bower.
Lord Matlock laughed at something a ruddy-faced man said to him. “My friend, if you believe my magic could create one tenth of this spectacle, you vastly overrate my abilities. My abilities are nothing to theirs. You should have seen Prince Aelfric the first time I met him, calmly conjuring a table full of real fruit out of thin air.” His voice seemed unnaturally loud in the silence.
The ruddy faced man said to Aelfric, “Is that true? Do you have the power to conjure things?”
Aelfric smiled politely and produced an apple on his outstretched palm. “For you.”
Elizabeth hurried to his side and said to the stunned man, “The fay dislike being thanked.”
“I...” The man looked up from his astonished inspection of the apple. “What do I say, then?”
“They do not mind being told what we think of their actions.” She could hardly believe she was being so forward with a perfect stranger, one who was no doubt far above her in rank, but she could not allow him to upset Aelfric when her brother was on his best behavior.
“I am amazed. I have never seen such a thing.” The man held the apple gingerly.
“Why did the fay seek me out?” said Lord Matlock in a carrying voice to another guest. “They did not. It was sheer coincidence. My son and daughter happened to become acquainted with that dark-haired young lady over there, Miss Bennet. She is Prince Aelfric’s sister and one of the very few mortals with the ability to visit Faerie. She took my daughter to meet Queen Titania, who kindly invited her to join her retinue. My Frederica is the one at the Queen’s feet.”
Lady Matlock appeared beside the ruddy man. “Your Grace, you look as astonished as I felt when I first met one of the Sidhe. They are remarkable, are they not?”
“Remarkable, yes, indeed.” He still looked dazed as Lady Matlock ushered an older couple and a young lady up to Aelfric.
“Prince Aelfric, may I present Mr. Watts, one of our mages, and his wife and daughter, Mrs. Watts and Miss Watts?” said Lady Matlock.
Mr. Watts eyed Aelfric skeptically. “You claim to be a Sidhe?”
“Father, please,” murmured Miss Watts, her color rising.
With perfect composure, Aelfric replied, “No, I do not claim to be a Sidhe. I am a Sidhe.”
Elizabeth whispered to Aelfric, “Flowers for the ladies.”
Aelfric obediently produced two white roses. He handed one to Mrs. Watts, and then stroked the petals of the second against her daughter’s cheek before giving it to her. “Beauty for the beauty,” he said.
Miss Watts appeared enthralled.
Next came the Earl and Countess of Wisley, who received an apple and a rose, followed by an elegant older lady. Elizabeth held her breath. Older mortals were still a novelty to Aelfric, making him unpredictable.
Lady Matlock said, “Permit me to present Mrs. Clapp, a dear friend of Lady Jersey.”
Aelfric studied her for a moment and said, “The showiness of the rose is not for you. You have the resilience and strength of our smaller, but no less valued, delights.” He produced a nosegay of buttercups and cornflowers. “They will not wilt. ”
“You have a silver tongue,” Mrs. Clapp said with just a hint of tartness. “But you have chosen my favorites. The young ladies will need to keep a clear head around you!”
Aelfric’s patience astonished Elizabeth as he met guest after guest. She had never seen him like this. Was he following instructions from Eversleigh? She hoped he could maintain it, especially since most of the guests were still eyeing them suspiciously from a distance.
She had known it could not be this simple to introduce the fay into mortal society. She prayed it would not turn into a disaster.
“Oh, dear,” murmured Lady Matlock during a brief pause. “Perhaps you should return to the queen. Sir Walter Holmes’s daughter is sitting beside her and taking down her hair. Sir Walter will not be pleased.”
Titania’s entourage had indeed increased by two young ladies. A handsome man in evening dress was painting the scene. Had Lady Matlock arranged for a painter? Elizabeth had never heard of such a thing at a society entertainment. She smiled when she realized the painter’s easel was made of silver filigree.
Titania held her hand out to Elizabeth as she approached. “Here is my Libbet. She must be in the painting, too.”
Frederica looked up at her from her position by Titania’s knees. “Mr. McKee told the queen he wished he had his paints so he could record this historic scene.”
“It will be my masterwork,” said the unmistakably dazzled painter.
Titania nodded regally. “I have not yet renamed him. I wish to see his painting first.” She turned back to meet another guest brought to her by Lady Jersey.
It was a relief to sit down on the ground by Frederica. Elizabeth was exhausted, and the most challenging part of the night for her was yet to come .
A starry-eyed girl with a crown of daisies said, “I cannot believe this. In Cornwall, where I grew up, I saw the fay all the time, but that the queen herself should invite me to join you! Do you think she will permit me to return to Faerie with her?”
Frederica nudged her elbow. “Titania has invited Rowan and Honeysuckle to join us.” She added in a whisper, “Miss Butler and Miss Holmes.”
“She would be delighted, I am sure,” said Elizabeth. “You are Rowan?”
“That is what the queen says. Everyone in London says my true name, Jennifer, is odd simply because it is Cornish, so I am glad she gave me a new one. But how do you dare to wear your hair down?”
The elegantly dressed Miss Holmes, now Honeysuckle, shook her loose tresses. “Think of it as a costume ball. I like the freedom of it.”
“But people are staring at us!”
“Pay them no mind. Let them stare and see that we are not afraid,” said Miss Holmes.
Frederica grabbed Elizabeth’s arm, her eyes wide. “Stand up, all of you, this second,” she hissed frantically. “He is here, though Lady Jersey did not expect him. And Eversleigh is not! He was supposed to deal with him if he came.”
“Deal with what?” Elizabeth struggled not to trip over her silks as she stood up.
Frederica leaned over Titania and said urgently, “The Prince Regent is here. He acts in the King’s name.” She swallowed hard and whispered, “He is very fat. Do not say anything about that.” She dropped gracefully into a full court curtsey and bent her head.
The Prince Regent? Good heavens! Elizabeth did her best to imitate Frederica, who had the advantage of having been presented at court in her first Season, but the narrowness of her underskirt and the uneven ground made it difficult. With her head bowed, she peeked through her lashes to see a large number of boots coming towards them.
“Prince Aelfric, you should stand with Titania.” It was Lady Matlock’s voice. “Where is Viscount Eversleigh?”
Aelfric said, “He is in Faerie, healing from an injury caused by dark magician – what you would call a sorcerer.”
“Another one?” Lady Matlock sounded exasperated. “Well, I suppose I will have to do it myself, then. Queen Titania, the Prince Regent has requested the honor of an introduction to you.”
Titania’s silks floated as she stood. “You must rise, all of you. He has his retinue, and you are mine.”
Startled, Elizabeth raised her head. At Lady Matlock’s nod, she rose from her curtsy, attempting to keep her wobbling to a minimum.
Lady Matlock said briskly, “Let us have your dryads directly behind you, with the mortals and sprites after them.”
“Libbet and Marigold Meadowsweet will walk with my dryads.” Titania’s voice did not leave room for argument.
Her legs weak, Elizabeth obeyed, not even objecting when Bluebird took her by the hand.
They stood far enough back that she could not make out the words that passed between Titania and the Prince Regent, but from their voices, it seemed to be a cordial meeting. Elizabeth could barely believe she was in the presence of royalty. He looked just like the caricatures she had seen.
Her legs were starting to feel stronger when Lord Matlock approached the royal party. His hearty voice carried well. “Your Royal Highness, we have a special entertainment planned to celebrate Queen Titania’s visit, and we would be deeply honored if you would permit us to present it to you.”
“What sort of entertainment is it?” The Prince Regent eyed the dryads hopefully.
“It involves three young ladies. Among the fay, all women perform magic, and they find our ban on ladies employing magic to be barbaric. I tend to agree, especially now that I have learned what accomplished young ladies can do with magic. My daughter, Lady Frederica, my niece, Miss de Bourgh, and our dear friend Miss Bennet will join together in delighting us with an illusion of the King’s Hall in Faerie. It will be unlike the flat illusions you have seen in the past. With this illusion, you will be able to walk through it and experience it from all angles just as you would if you actually travelled to Faerie.”
Prinny’s response was clearly in the affirmative.
Elizabeth wished she could hide somewhere, but she reluctantly stepped forward with Frederica towards the spot where Anne de Bourgh was waiting between Lord Matlock and Titania. The idea of performing the complicated illusion in front of half the ton had been intimidating enough. Adding the Prince Regent to the audience made it terrifying.
Titania said softly, “Libbet, child, your gift is still unsteady from the blood binding.”
What was that supposed to mean? “Perhaps, but I cannot step back from this now.”
Anne took hands with Frederica on one side and Elizabeth on the other. “Let it begin.”
Elizabeth did her best to ignore the audience, focusing her attention on building the illusion, first creating a mist and then solidifying it into the vaulting ceiling of living wood of the King’s Hall. She felt Frederica building the opposite side, while Anne channeled power to both of them. She adjusted her construction to bring out the fine details of the gargoyles and to make the falling water from the fountain glisten.
But part of her ceiling was turning back into mist. She forced her attention there to repair it, but then the fountain slowed and the grassy floor began to fade. The sounds around her began to disappear, and something was wrong with her feet. This had not happened when they had practiced it. Surely she could not fail now in front of this august audience and the Prince Regent himself!
Then she felt Aelfric’s power buttressing her own, supporting her ceiling and walls, tweaking a detail here and there. The flowery scent of Faerie air wafted past her. The entire illusion strengthened and became more solid as Prinny and his retinue walked through it. Somehow, with Aelfric’s help, Elizabeth was able to hold her part of the illusion for the interminable minutes until Anne said, “It is done.”
Gratefully Elizabeth let the illusion dissolve into mist. What was wrong with her? When they had practiced building the illusion, it had been challenging and draining, but she had been able to maintain it.
“Libbet,” said Frederica in an odd voice, “why are you standing in a puddle of water?”
Elizabeth looked down at the water that rose to her ankles. It did not spread across the level ground to Anne and Frederica. There was no denying it was unnatural. Her feet were soaking wet. “Perhaps it is something Mr. Darcy did.”
“But he is still in Faerie with his sister.”
And she was at the revel in front of the Prince Regent with water clinging to her feet and ankles. She could not simply walk around that way! What had Mr. Darcy said about dealing with water, that he told it what to do? It was worth a try. Feeling utterly foolish, she looked down at her personal puddle and said, “Leave me and sink into the ground.”
The water obeyed.
“I feel very strange,” she said.
Bluebird materialized beside her. “You should have listened to Titania, Libbet. This was too much for you.”
“But I did it before. I am certain I will be fine if I can only sit down for a few minutes.”
Frederica looked at her worriedly. “Unfortunately, that is the one thing you cannot do.” She tipped her head in the direction of the Prince Regent.
Bluebird’s steadying arm came around her. “I will support you.”
Elizabeth allowed herself to lean against Bluebird. At least her part of the evening was done.
ONLY A FEW GUESTS WERE still lingering when the servants brought out a new table of food especially for the fay guests. The dryads, sprites and elves descended on it with a frightening alacrity, while Titania’s swains fought for the privilege of bringing her a plate.
Frederica said to Elizabeth, “Just look at my mother and Lady Jersey. They are going to be perfectly insufferable about what a success this evening has been.”
“They deserve it. I thought it would be an utter failure at first, but once the Prince Regent showed his approval, everything changed. I had not thought it possible that it would turn out so well.”
Frederica stifled a yawn, looking as tired as Elizabeth felt. “I am glad it is almost over. It is more enjoyable attending an event like this when one is not part of the entertainment.”
“I will have to take your word for it since I have never attended anything like this. But I must speak to your father before we leave. He will want to know what happened earlier, and it does not seem likely that either Darcy or Eversleigh will be in a position to tell him.”
“I suppose so. He should be in the Italian Garden. Mama sent him there when she decided the crush was becoming too much for him.”
“He looked like he was enjoying himself immensely,” said Elizabeth. But Lady Matlock did have reason to worry about her husband’s health, so perhaps it had been wise.
Aelfric set down his plate of food, a true sacrifice for one of the fay. “I will accompany you. I do not like you walking about alone when there has been dark magic afoot.”
Elizabeth considered telling him it was unnecessary, but she was too tired to quarrel. “Very well.”
Without the colorful lanterns, the Italian Garden was darker than the park where the revel was held, but the full moon made it light enough to see. Lord Matlock sat on a bench overlooking the parterre, a single lantern at his feet.
“Did my wife send you to check on me?” he asked. “I assure you my heart is ticking away just as it is supposed to, and there is no cause to worry.”
“I am glad of it, though I did not come here at Lady Matlock’s behest, but to tell you of certain discoveries we made just before the revel.” Elizabeth drew a deep breath. “It appears George Wickham, formerly a member of the Collegium, has taken up sorcery, and he convinced Aelfric to make the wells go dry. Aelfric is prepared to tell everyone that he, not Darcy, was responsible for the dry wells. Wickham cast a spell on Darcy’s sister, too, but Aelfric has removed it. Lord Eversleigh was injured by the spell, and he is recovering after being healed by Titania.” Good heavens, she sounded incoherent.
Aelfric frowned fiercely. “Wickham was responsible for the girl’s snake?”
“That is what Eversleigh – Evlan – told me.” She had forgotten Aelfric had not been present to hear that part.
Lord Matlock had grown still. “I think you had better tell me this story from the beginning.”
After she finished relating all that had occurred, Lord Matlock mopped his forehead with his handkerchief. “I had hoped we were past our sorcery problems when my sister was sent away,” he said with unusual quietness. “Richard had the right of it.”
“I wish that had been an end to it, too.” What else could she say?
Aelfric said calmly, “You need not worry about Wickham. I will kill him.”
If he was expecting an argument from Elizabeth, he would be in for a disappointment.
Before Lord Matlock could comment, four men approached them from the direction of the house. The leader carried a lantern and was in a Rosings footman’s livery.
Lord Matlock sighed. “Why do I think this is going to be more bad news?”
Aelfric faded back into the shadows.
The footman halted in front of them. “Lord Matlock, Mr. Biggins is here to see you.”
The earl’s eyes drooped, and he murmured to Elizabeth, “From Darcy’s Board of Inquiry.”
Elizabeth stiffened. These must be the men hunting for Darcy.
Lord Matlock stood and said affably, “Mr. Biggins, it is always a pleasure to see you, but as the bard said, our revels now are ended, and I believe you were not on the invitation list.”
“I am here on Collegium business, Matlock. The Board of Inquiry has made a decision. Under Collegium law, Darcy must submit himself for binding. He has fled from us, and we have reason to believe he may be here.”
“I have always wondered why our founders chose to invest such power in Boards of Inquiry,” Lord Matlock remarked. “Perhaps they assumed the members of such boards would strive for justice rather than acting out of personal spite. Still, we make do with what we have. In this case your judgment will have to be suspended. There is new evidence in the case which exonerates Darcy.”
Biggins scowled. “New evidence must be presented properly. We will bind Darcy now, and should this supposed evidence change our judgment, he will be released.”
Matlock shook his head gravely. “I fear that would be a poor choice on your part. Darcy has resigned from the Collegium and can no longer be required to submit for judgment, and tonight he is under the protection of mages far more powerful than you – and I do not refer to myself.”
“We have listened to you long enough, Matlock. He must submit now.”
“And I say you must listen to the new evidence now. Prince Aelfric, might I be so bold as to impose on you to make certain explanations to these gentlemen who want to bind Darcy? Gentlemen, this is Prince Aelfric of the Sidhe.” Lord Matlock leaned back, clearly preparing to enjoy the spectacle as Aelfric stepped out of the shadows.
Biggins’s face twisted in fear at the sight of the Sidhe. “I do not know what game you are playing, but stay out of our way.”
Aelfric put his hand on the sword at his belt, the one that had not been there five minutes earlier. “You will not bind Darcy or harm him in any way.”
The men stiffened. Aelfric’s appearance could be an illusion, but his voice was clearly not that of a human. “You cannot stop us.”
“I most certainly can. Your judgment is mistaken. Darcy may be the only mortal able to control the waters, but it is child’s play for any of the Sidhe.”
The three men jumped backwards as a jet of water fountained up in front of them. “In this case, I – oh, not you as well!” Aelfric’s voice turned peevish.
“What is the matter?” asked Elizabeth anxiously.
“They have snakes in their heads, too. All three of them.” Aelfric sounded disgusted by this turn of events.
“Snakes?” asked Lord Matlock, baffled.
Elizabeth leaned close to him and said softly, “He means they are under a sorcerer’s spell.”
Lord Matlock’s head snapped in her direction. “Are you certain?” he breathed.
“Aelfric seems to be certain.”
“That would explain why they have been so unreasonable.” He studied the three men before turning back to Elizabeth and murmuring, “I do not like these odds, even with your friend Aelfric here.”
Neither did Elizabeth. If any of the men had sorcery at their command, it could be disastrous. As it was, they were watching Lord Matlock closely. Did they realize they had been detected? Would they try to stop her if she went for help? But perhaps help was already at hand. She looked hard at Aelfric and thought as loudly as she could. Danger! She imagined the sight of the men in blindfolds. Again and again. Danger! Blindfolds. Danger. Blindfolds.
Aelfric shot her a bewildered look, shrugged, and gestured towards the men – who were now blindfolded, bound at hands and feet, and gagged.
Lord Matlock’s eyes bulged at the sight. “What?”
Aelfric said apologetically, “Libbet seemed to think you wanted them that way. I will free them if you wish.”
“No, I like them that way very much,” wheezed Lord Matlock. “I thank –”
Elizabeth kicked his boot.
“... I mean to say you are a very useful fellow to have around.”
“The gag was my idea. That rude one in front was preparing a snake spell for you, and I was tired of hearing him speak.”
“So was I,” said Lord Matlock. “Libbet, my dear – pardon me; I meant to say Miss Bennet. Would you be so kind as to inform the mage with Queen Titania that I would greatly appreciate his immediate assistance? Darcy as well, as I assume he must be lurking somewhere hereabouts. I would do it myself, if I thought I could stand up without bringing on another heart paroxysm.” He looked paler than he had the time Elizabeth had healed him, and this time her magic was too depleted to help.
“Gladly.” Elizabeth bobbed a curtsy and set off for the part of the garden where Titania’s retinue remained. After a few steps she picked up her skirts, heedless of showing her ankles, and began to run.
DARCY TOOK OFF HIS greatcoat and laid it over Georgiana’s sleeping body. He had once again failed to protect her from Wickham. Her expression, even asleep, was pained. And all he could do was to try to keep her warm. He had failed her in so many ways.
Wickham, a sorcerer. It was still a struggle to believe, but in hindsight he could see the beginnings of a pattern. He had missed the signs.
A dryad glided up to Georgiana’s other side, carrying silken blankets and a pillow. Without looking at Darcy, she spread the blankets and gently placed the pillow beneath her head. The dryad brushed her fingertips over Georgiana’s closed eyelids.
Darcy felt the prickle of magic. “What are you doing to her?”
The dryad finally looked up at him. “It is to give her sweet dreams,” she said in a low, melodious voice.
Darcy glanced down at Georgiana’s face. She was smiling a little now and the look of pain was gone. He felt a wave of thankfulness towards the dryad, but it left him tongue-tied. What could he say when he was not allowed to thank her? “Your gift is a generous one.”
The dryad nodded and glided away. How did they move so smoothly?
Everything had been such a chaotic rush. It had been an ordinary day until Hobbes had brought him Biggins’s calling card. There was only one reason Biggins would call on Darcy, and that was if the Board of Inquiry had decided against him. The news that he had two other mages with him only confirmed it. Darcy had grabbed what money he had at hand, escaped out the kitchen door under the concealment of illusion, and fled to Faerie.
A rush of wind struck his face as a bird flew a few feet away from him. A white raven, of course, who circled back to him, cawing frantically.
He was too tired and worried for this. “What is it, Pepper?”
Darcy put up his arms to defend himself as the raven flew straight at his face.
Pepper gave an exasperated caw and changed into a cat. She bit into his trousers and yanked at them.
“Pepper, I cannot go with you this time. I must stay with my sister.”
This time Pepper’s teeth reached his skin.
“Ow! Devil take it, Pepper!”
Pepper yanked at his trousers again.
Darcy held up a hand. “Just wait.” He stood up and waved to the dryad who had helped him. When she came closer, he asked, “Are you able to understand the language of phoukas? She wants me to go with her, but I cannot leave my sister.”
Pepper released his trousers and meowed.
The dryad nodded. “She says Libbet is in danger and needs you. Your mother’s brother is near death.” She paused to listen again. “There are dark magicians, and only fools left to fight them. Libbet is frightened.” She looked up at Darcy. “If you wish, I will watch over the girl. She is safe here.”
“I...you are kind.” And suddenly he knew it was true. He could feel Elizabeth’s fear as she leaned over his uncle and whispered something to him. How in God’s name had that knowledge come to him? “Can you take me there, Pepper?”
ELIZABETH WAS OUT OF breath when she reached the bower. “Lord Matlock requires... Help. Sorcery. He is ill.” The young mage FitzClarence did not hesitate, dashing off in the direction she pointed.
Titania grasped Elizabeth’s arm tightly.
“No, I must return to him,” Elizabeth gasped. A moment later she and Titania were somehow standing at Lord Matlock’s side, and Elizabeth’s arm felt as if it had been yanked out of its socket.
Lord Matlock’s hand was pressed to his chest as he spoke weakly to Aelfric. “If I do not survive this... tell my son... tell him you are to have your pick of the horses in my stables. They are the finest in England.”
Titania leaned over Lord Matlock. “You are ill?”
“My heart,” he wheezed.
“I can help you,” said Titania.
“If you wish. I suspect it is too late.” His normally ruddy face was white.
Titania laid her hand on Lord Matlock’s cheek and gazed into his eyes. After a moment, she beckoned Elizabeth to her and put her other hand on Elizabeth’s cheek. “Mortal hearts are different from ours. I must see yours to know how his is supposed to work.”
A tickling heat built up in Elizabeth’s chest and sweat broke out on her forehead. What was one more bit of magic running through her?
Titania began to sing, a wordless melody that seemed to wind itself in and out of the air. FitzClarence arrived, chest heaving, with Darcy just behind him. How had he known to come?
Aelfric held up his hand to stop them. “The queen is healing Lord Matlock.”
“And those men?” Darcy gestured to the bound mages.
“They have snakes in their heads,” said Aelfric matter-of-factly.
Mr. FitzClarence peered at the blindfolded men. “Is that not Biggins?”
“It appears to be,” said Darcy grimly. “What happened?”
“Snakes,” said Aelfric, as if surprised he had to repeat himself. “That one in front was building a snake spell for Lord Matlock.”
“Snakes?” Mr. FitzClarence sounded baffled.
“Sorcerer’s spells,” said Darcy.
Elizabeth’s eyelids were growing heavy. Would it be rude to sit on the ground? She was so tired, and the ground looked so very appealing. She sat, put her head on her knees, and slept.
TITANIA FINALLY STOPPED her song. “He will live. His heart is different now, neither entirely mortal nor fay, but it will do what is needful.”
“We are in your debt, great lady,” Darcy said. Perhaps the queen of Faerie could help with this new problem as well. How could he ask her without making a demand? “I will need his advice for dealing with these men who have been practicing dark magic. I do not know what to do with them.”
She gave him a sympathetic look. “I wish I could help you, but I am not permitted to interfere in mortal conflicts. I will leave Libbet with you. She needs you.” And she vanished.
What the devil was he to do now? The three mages, either sorcerers or in thrall to sorcery, were struggling against their bonds and trying to shout through their gags. Elizabeth, Lord Matlock, and presumably Eversleigh were still in their deep sleep from healing. Why had Elizabeth needed healing? Had someone hurt her? He could not afford to think about that.
If only he had some idea what had led to this situation! But everybody who knew what had happened was unconscious. It was as if A Midsummer Night’s Dream had magically turned into Hamlet, with sleepers scattered about the stage in place of dead Danes.
Well, everybody except Aelfric, who might or might not understand any part of it, with his wild talk of snakes. He said nothing had been wrong with Libbet but could not explain why Titania had healed her. His highest priority seemed to be waiting for Lord Matlock to awaken so he could ask him about his horses.
“Are there any other mages here tonight?” Darcy asked FitzClarence, who was visibly trembling at the thought of facing sorcery.
“I saw Watts earlier, but he has left already,” said FitzClarence. “I was told to pay attention to Titania, not to the guests.”
“What of Lady Frederica?”
“She went somewhere with Miss de Bourgh after the Prince Regent left.”
The Prince Regent? Darcy raked his hand through his hair. Three possible sorcerers and a mage who was still wet behind the ears. This was not promising. A few days ago, the responsibility to deal with the situation would have been his, but he had resigned from the Collegium. “FitzClarence, with Matlock and Eversleigh incapacitated, and those three suspected of sorcery, you are the senior member of the Collegium here, at least until we find Richard Fitzwilliam. It falls to you to decide what to do with our guests.”
“Me?” squeaked FitzClarence. “You are senior to me.”
“Unfortunately for you, I resigned from the Collegium two days ago, largely because of the antics of Biggins and the rest of his Board of Inquiry. They have placed me under proscription for misuse of my powers.” At least sorcery might provide an explanation for their outrageous behavior towards him.
Aelfric said, “If that refers to the dry wells, he did not do it. I was responsible for those.”
“I do not believe Darcy has done anything wrong, but I have no idea what to do,” said FitzClarence. “If I truly am in charge, then... then I ask you to take charge of them, Darcy.”
Damn it. Eversleigh and Lord Matlock would expect him to do it, too. “Aelfric, you said the one man was making a snake. The other two – are they sorcerers as well or only enslaved to a sorcerer?”
Aelfric shrugged. “I cannot tell unless they attempt to use a spell. I only noticed the snakes because they were so startled.”
A fine time for Aelfric’s near omnipotence to fail! “Is there any other way to tell?”
Aelfric considered this. “You could ask the phouka. She might know.”
Pepper! Compared to FitzClarence and Aelfric, Pepper was a veritable pillar of dependability, but she had disappeared into the night after leading him here.
“Pepper, I need your help,” he called to the empty air, scanning the sky for a white raven in flight.
Pressure against his ankle made him look down. “Pepper! Good cat.” He squatted down to be closer to her eye level. “Pepper, we have a problem. Those men who are tied up – at least one of them is a sorcerer, a user of dark magic. Can you tell me if the others are sorcerers or just under a spell?”
Pepper meowed, stretched, and strolled leisurely over to the men.
FitzClarence looked discreetly appalled. He must have thought Darcy had lost his mind, talking to a cat.
“She only looks like a cat. She is a phouka.” When Pepper turned her head to glare at him, Darcy added hastily, “Or she is a cat who is also a phouka. I am not certain of the details.”
“Her eyes do not match,” whispered FitzClarence nervously.
Pepper sniffed at one of the unknown men and turned her face away as if displeased by the smell. She repeated the process with the second man. When she came to Biggins, she sniffed one side of his head, walked down the length of his body, sniffed his trousers, and sank her teeth into his leg just above his boots. Biggins’s body jerked, but his shriek was muffled by his gag.
Darcy would not have thought a cat could look disgusted, but Pepper did as she trotted back to him. “Let me see if I understand. Biggins is a sorcerer, but the other two are not. Is that correct?”
Pepper began to purr.
“That is worthy of even more fish.” Darcy straightened. “Gentlemen, I believe our best course of action is to confine these men in a safe place until Eversleigh is able to examine them. The dark cellar at Rosings Park should suit them admirably.”