Chapter 13 #2
Charles perfectly remembered the elderly man, who had uttered some type of warning.
The gravity of this information hit him with full force.
This entire fiasco is Darcy’s fault. “Do you mean to tell me that you twice angered an ancient sage and ignored his advice?” Now in a rage, he shoved Darcy, who stumbled backwards.
“Why did you drag me into your troubles?”
When Charles advanced on him, Darcy held up his hands in self-defence. “How was I to know what he meant to do? If I knew how to appease him, I would have done so by now.”
Henry stood between them. “Steady on, Charles.”
Charles could scarcely believe that he ever wanted to be like Darcy. “And now I’m stuck in the body of a man whom everyone loathes.”
“I’m highly respected in town, as you well know,” Darcy said in a curt tone.
Charles scoffed at his self-important friend.
“You made a terrible impression on my neighbours with your high and mighty conduct at the assembly. Didn’t you see how hesitant everyone was to approach me this morning, thinking I was you?
” He cringed at the memory. “How am I to make a home in this community when everyone has a poor opinion of me?”
Darcy merely stared, further enraging Charles. How can he be so blind?
Henry pushed him back to the bench. “Don’t be cross, Charles. Darcy couldn’t have known the old man was a wizard, and he hasn’t offended anyone since that first night.”
“You can’t even remember our neighbours’ names,” he said, still infuriated at Darcy. “We even dined at some of their homes.”
“How can I be expected to remember so many peoples’ names?”
“What a bag of moonshine!” Charles said in disbelief. “I’ll wager you remember all of your tenants’ and neighbours’ names in Derbyshire.”
“Of course.”
“And what’s more, I daresay you know every merchant in your village – and their families.”
“Well…yes.”
Charles continued, entirely out of patience with Darcy’s carelessness.
“But here in Meryton, you won’t give yourself the trouble because once you leave here, you’ll never see them again.
” Darcy made no answer to this charge. “But they are my neighbours. They have welcomed us into the community, indeed, into their homes, and the least we can do is remember their names.”
“You make an excellent point, Charles.”
At least Darcy had the decency to appear contrite. “You must make proper amends for embroiling me in this sorcery.”
Darcy blew out a long breath, then sat beside him. “I’ll do whatever you require.”
“We will all attend the next assembly, and you will dance every set.”
Darcy groaned, and Hurst doubled over with laughter. “I must say that this is the most fun I’ve had in an age.”
“And you, too, Henry,” Charles said, without a trace of amusement. “Every set.”
Henry clapped Darcy on the back. “Don’t worry, old man. It won’t be so bad.”
Knowing his friend’s disgust of dancing, Charles took comfort in the prospect of watching Darcy pay his penance for involving him in this farce.
Although Darcy was a great fellow and the best of friends, his behaviour at the assembly had been abysmally rude. Charles had enjoyed the evening, but he supposed that Darcy was accustomed to mingling in only the first circles.
“Look on the bright side,” Henry said. “At least now you know who cursed you. You can appeal to him to reverse the spell.”
“How is that in the least helpful?” Darcy said in an irritable voice. “The man appears and disappears at will.”
“I haven’t the foggiest notion. You’re the one who summoned him from the ether. Try doing that again.”
Darcy grumbled and rose to his feet. Gazing skyward, he raised his palms. “What do you want from me, oh wise one? How shall I atone for whatever transgression I’ve committed against you?”
The only sounds that followed were the wind rustling through the trees, the fallen leaves scattering over the ground, and the babbling brook.
And Henry’s snickering.
Charles shook his head at the absurdity. At this rate, they would never find their way out of this imbroglio.
***
Alone in the master’s chamber, Darcy studied his friend’s reflection in the looking glass, as Charles’s harsh rebuke of his conduct at the assembly echoed in his ears.
Hearing that home truth spoken in his own voice had had a stinging effect.
He’d been forced to admit that his behaviour had been abysmally rude.
Worse yet, he had offended lovely Elizabeth. He had apologised through a surrogate, but he vowed to make proper amends to her once he’d returned to his true form. He owed her at least that much.
Furthermore, he owed Charles a better performance at the next assembly. He doubted his amiable and obliging friend had ever offended anyone in his entire life. Unfortunately, his penance would involve his most abhorred activity, most certainly with women below his station.
Not that he was unaccustomed to dancing with the lower classes. He had often done so at home on public days and at the Lambton assembly, but he had been acquainted with those ladies. In fact, he’d known all their names and their families.
But for some reason, he hadn’t made much of an effort to learn the names of the people he’d met in Meryton.
While he knew the Bennets and Lucases, he had trouble recalling their younger children’s names – there were so many of them, after all.
However, this issue seemed to be of some importance to Charles, so he would try to follow his example.
How extraordinary that this matter arose because of the discussion of the mysterious hooded man. At the time, Darcy had thought the man was merely a stage actor reciting a line from Shakespeare. How could he have suspected he was an ancient sage?
What was the line he had quoted from Henry VIII? He distinctly recalled it as Queen Katherine’s speech to Cardinal Wolsey.
“You sign your place and calling, in full seeming, with meekness and humility; but your heart is crammed with arrogancy, spleen and pride.”
In that play, Shakespeare had characterised the cardinal as ambitious and underhanded, but surely, no one could lay those charges at Darcy’s door. Certainly no one so wholly unacquainted with him.
Weather gods, fairies, and soothsayers? He doubted such beings existed, or if they did, that they would bother themselves with Darcy’s affairs.
Why would some mythical sorcerer single him out and accuse him of being overly arrogant and proud?
He might be proud, but what man of his standing wouldn’t be proud of his ancestry and birthright?
On the other hand, he had to admit that the hooded man had correctly warned him of Georgiana’s imminent danger in Ramsgate.
While it was entirely possible that the man had heard of his sister’s summer residence from some mutual acquaintance, Darcy rather doubted this explanation, especially since he had appeared again at Vauxhall Gardens.
Had the second speech been intended as another warning?
The harsh truth was that if he hadn’t acted on the old man’s advice, Georgiana would have been lost to him. Wickham would have carried her off and taken control of her fortune. This alone should be reason enough to give the matter more consideration.
Was that ancient man also responsible for the circumstances in which he now found himself? It seemed beyond imagination, but his friend’s reflection in the glass was another undeniable truth.
Perhaps he ought not to discount the existence of sorcerers so completely.