Chapter Five #2
He gaped. “Seven? How can that be?”
She nodded. “Kitty is a pyromancer, Mary is a terramancer, and Lydia is a ferromancer, although she does not practice much. My mother’s magic is mostly with fabric; she created the lovely curtains and embroidered cushions throughout the house.
And my father’s mancy is powerful with shields and wards. ”
“Both of your parents have magic?” he said incredulously.
“Yes, although my mother is loath to talk about it. I believe she was ridiculed and shunned in her childhood. My father was more insulated by his place in society. Marrying him must have given my mother quite a sense of relief.”
“There are many in society who marry their sons and daughters to mages in the hopes that their children will have talent, but there is never a guarantee. Plenty of children never inherit mancy. I have never heard tell of a family in which every child is a mancer. That is quite a blessing!”
He spoke as if he knew a lot about magic, but it was rare in merchant families. Perhaps he had an aristocratic ancestor. “So you do have magic?”
His expression abruptly shuttered. Clearly she had hit upon a subject he meant to keep private. “Yes, I have some small ability,” he said in a quelling tone.
“I believe that magic is more of a blessing in London than in Hertfordshire.”
“But surely your neighbors benefit from your talents.”
“Indeed. They are pleased when we can prevent a fire from spreading, drain a flooded field, or heal a boy’s broken arm.
They are pleased to bring us presents of game or flowers.
But few of our neighbors would wish their daughters to befriend the Bennet sisters, and none desire their sons to court any of us. ”
“Such a provincial view is unfortunate. I sometimes hear such sentiments in De—the country. In London, though, strong magic is lauded and sought after.”
“It has been suggested that we remove to London, but it would be far more difficult to conceal my real talent there.”
“Indeed,” Mr. Dee agreed. “But you should at least visit town. Your family would find an enthusiastic reception.”
“That would be lovely,” Elizabeth said wistfully.
“The Council would protect you from those who would want to use your powers unjustly.”
“And who would protect me from the Council?” she asked.
He was silent for a long moment. “You are not wrong,” he finally said.
“Their reputation for ruthless manipulation is not undeserved.” They continued in silence for a moment.
“However,” he said, “there are many other benefits to London society. You and your sisters would be sought after for your magical talents. Many gentlemen would like to make your acquaintance.”
Mr. Dee’s conduct was puzzling. At times he appeared to be flirting with her, but now he was suggesting she should seek out other men. “Do you wish to help me find a husband?” she inquired with a smile.
He colored. “Th-that was n-not my intention,” he stammered. “You have good reason for concealing your true talent, but your sisters need not. They might find gentlemen to their liking.”
“That might do very well for Jane—or Kitty and Lydia when they are older,” Elizabeth mused. “But we have no acquaintance to introduce them into society.”
“Oh, my family might—” He stopped himself. “I may have an acquaintance who might do your family that favor.”
Elizabeth suspected he had almost revealed a greater acquaintance with the ton than a wool merchant should possess. Part of the mystery that was Mr. Dee. “I am certain my father would be pleased to discuss it with you. Do you participate much in London society?”
He grimaced. “Occasionally. My family requires it.” Again, Elizabeth sensed he was concealing something. “But I travel extensively to…conduct business.”
“It must be lonely.”
This characterization troubled him. “I do not find it so. It is more efficient…less dangerous.”
“Dangerous?”
“Less danger from highwaymen and the like,” he said hastily. “A single man may travel more quickly and stealthily than two or more.”
“I see.” They walked in silence for a moment.
“Although I take pleasure in a solitary ramble, I am so accustomed to being surrounded by family that I would find it strange to be alone for long. I feel safer with other people around, I suppose. If something goes wrong, there are others to help. We each have different strengths.”
He shook his head. “If there is trouble, you must only protect other people.”
“Oh my, the life of a wool merchant must be quite a bit more exciting than I imagined.”
“There i-is always danger on the roads,” he stammered.
They turned a corner and arrived at the door of the house. “Would you prefer to retire to your room?”
“Yes,” he agreed. “I will admit to some fatigue.”
***
Elizabeth left him at the door, but Darcy did not immediately retire to his chamber.
He was busy castigating himself, unable to count the number of secrets he had let slip or almost revealed to her.
He had always moved among the elite levels of society without anyone being aware of his work for the Agency, allowing him to note and report on possible magical malfeasance.
Never before had he experienced such difficulty concealing his object.
He would prefer to blame his indiscretion on the blow to his head but suspected it had more to do with how he reacted to Elizabeth Bennet’s charms. Something about her disarmed his customary reticence and caution.
Not only did she cause him to lower his guard, but he also found himself longing to confess the truth.
Luckily she was not an enemy agent, or Darcy would already be dead.
All the more reason to quit Longbourn as soon as possible.
Toward that end he needed to contact Richard, whose silence Darcy found increasingly disturbing.
While the Bennet family remained in the garden, Darcy slipped out through the front door.
The bright noon sunshine cast sharp shadows across the landscape, which was fortunately devoid of occupants.
Even the servants were indoors or tending to the family in the garden.
Standing in the shade of a pine tree, Darcy centered himself, taking deep breaths and burrowing deep into the core of his magic.
It was more difficult than it should be, but he managed to draw on his reserves and shape the shadows into the form of an imp.
Standing about a foot tall, the shadow imp was vaguely humanoid in shape and appeared to be carved from wisps of smoke.
Shadow imps had no real consciousness; they could only follow a shadowmancer’s commands.
Darcy handed the imp a hastily scribbled note to Richard.
The creature’s wispy arms enveloped it, hiding it from view.
He then relayed meticulous instructions about where the imp could find his cousin, directing it to conceal itself from all other humans.
He clapped his hands to send the imp on its way and watched as it darted from the shadow of the pine tree to the shadow of the oak beside it—and from there to the shade cast by a series of shrubs.
It raced from shadow to shadow until it was lost to Darcy’s sight.
It would travel in that way until it reached Matlock House in London, moving faster than a horse or a person could travel.
It would return to Darcy after delivering its message.
Still, the whole process would take several hours.
It was the first magic Darcy had performed since being pulled from the river, and it had depleted his energy. Returning to the house, he trudged up the stairs to his room, where he slept soundly for the rest of the afternoon.
He awoke refreshed and astonished to find that he was eagerly anticipating dinner with the family. He usually found society wearisome. Perhaps he simply craved human company after his long isolation.
Darcy spoke little during the meal but instead took the measure of his hosts. Mrs. Bennet and her younger daughters were often rather crass; his aunts and uncle would have been appalled at their conversation. Elizabeth alternated between blushing at their outcries and stifling a smile.
Mrs. Bennet did at least half the talking. She peppered Darcy with questions about his livelihood and family, forcing him to give evasive answers. She also kept up a steady stream of compliments toward her daughters; Lydia was her favorite, but she occasionally praised Jane or Kitty.
Stupid woman, Darcy thought. Elizabeth saved my life, and “Mr. Dee” is best acquainted with her.
If Mrs. Bennet yearns for a daughter to marry an apparently prosperous wool merchant, Elizabeth is the obvious candidate.
She was easily the most intriguing woman Darcy had ever met.
Not only did she wield extraordinary vivomancy powers, but she was beautiful and witty.
How could her mother prefer Lydia’s vapid giggling or Jane’s bland serenity to Elizabeth’s obvious charms?
Nonetheless, Mrs. Bennet appeared to have forgotten she had a second daughter.
Mr. Bennet favored her in a desultory manner but did not bestir himself to promote marriage for any of his daughters.
Their attitude was particularly irritating because Darcy saw no evidence that Elizabeth had any local suitors.
He understood about the local prejudice against magic, but even so…
were the men in the neighborhood blind? Elizabeth was far lovelier than Jane, whose beauty her mother frequently extolled.
If Darcy were a squire from a neighboring estate, he would have courted Elizabeth from the moment she made her bow in society.
He briefly indulged in that fantasy, imagining that his position and hers were relatively equal so he might be free to woo her.
It was not the first time that he had wished he were Mr. Dee in truth.
It was a wonderful vision, but following that path too far could only end in bitterness.