Chapter Five #3
Once he was healed, Darcy would leave Hertfordshire and probably never encounter the Bennets again. He would have no choice but to abandon Elizabeth to her matrimonial fate, whatever that might be. The thought was surprisingly painful.
Darcy was exceedingly grateful he had concealed his name.
Mrs. Bennet would be far too happy to learn about his estate in Derbyshire and ten thousand pounds a year.
If she were eager to match a daughter to a well-to-do wool merchant, he could only imagine her frenzy of excitement if she learned Darcy’s true worth.
The discussion had turned to Lydia and Kitty’s recent visit to Meryton and rumors that a garrison of militia might be stationed at the town.
Truthfully the younger girls were far more excited at that prospect than the presence of a taciturn guest—which suited Darcy quite well.
There had been no further news about mysterious strangers inquiring about men who had been fished from the river.
Hopefully the necromancer believed Darcy had drowned.
Darcy’s gaze often wandered to Elizabeth.
There was something magnetic about the animation in her eyes and the sportive way she spoke with everyone, even the servants.
He had even found himself flirting with her this afternoon in the garden.
It was so easy to do. She had such lively conversation that he could not help but desire her good opinion.
He reminded himself sternly that he could do nothing more than admire her…
discreetly…from a distance. It would be unforgiveable to foster any expectations he could not fulfil.
I am staring at her again! He hastily averted his eyes.
By the end of the meal, Darcy was finding it increasingly difficult to keep his mind on the discussion.
He had no interest in the subject at hand and really was only interested in conversing with Elizabeth, but she was too far from his seat to make this feasible.
His mind drifted to Richard. Had the shadow imp returned with a reply?
Darcy was eager to venture outside and search for the creature.
Finally, Mr. Bennet was ready to end the meal. “Would you care to join us for cards and reading in the parlor before you turn in?” he asked Darcy.
“Er…I would enjoy that,” Darcy responded. “But…I thought I might take a walk outside first. I have been confined indoors for so long.”
“An excellent idea!” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. “We should all take a stroll after dinner.” Lydia rolled her eyes, apparently no more excited about walking with Darcy than he was.
He silently cursed Mrs. Bennet’s matchmaking obsession. Now he would need to find a discreet way to separate from the group and seek the imp.
A few minutes later, Darcy was surrounded by Bennets as he stepped out of the front door and onto the lane running from Meryton to Longbourn.
The sun was just beginning to set, but there was still plenty of light.
Mrs. Bennet and the younger girls tripped quickly down the lane, chattering about bonnets and ribbons.
Jane and Elizabeth joined their father while Darcy deliberately lagged behind, leaning on his cane more than necessary.
Darcy slowed his steps even more, allowing the others to outdistance him as he stared into the shadows. The imp was a creature of shade and secrecy; it would not return to Darcy if he was surrounded by people.
“Mr. Dee?” Elizabeth turned around, regarding him questioningly.
“I am more fatigued than I anticipated,” he said. “I pray you continue apace, and I will join you eventually.”
He sank onto a bench near a small pond by the side of the lane, hoping the others would forget about him.
His hope was in vain. The rest of the party came to a halt and peered at him.
Mrs. Bennet pulled Lydia back in Darcy’s direction, depositing her on the bench.
He sighed. He was more than ten years Lydia’s elder.
Lydia sat beside him like a sack of potatoes. Elizabeth lingered nearby, admiring flowers near the edge of the pond. Was she hoping to “protect” Darcy and alleviate his discomfort? He could not help admiring her…particularly when she wore trousers that revealed the shape of her legs.
The other girls accompanied their father for a walk along the lane. Mrs. Bennet had returned to the porch, fanning herself—although it was not particularly warm.
Weary of the strained silence, Darcy said, “It is a pleasant evening.”
Lydia nodded. “This is my favorite time of day to watch the sun set.”
“Indeed. Much more pleasant than at noon,” Darcy replied. He heard Elizabeth snicker; Lydia merely blinked.
“Come along, Lizzy!” Mrs. Bennet called from the doorway to the house.
No doubt she saw her second oldest daughter as an obstacle to her matrimonial ambitions.
Darcy’s irritation flared anew. “I need your help settling in the parlor.” With an apologetic shrug to Darcy, Elizabeth hurried to her mother and “helped” her into the house.
Darcy stood, having no desire to be in that close proximity to a girl of such tender years. Leaning lightly on his cane, he wandered about and peered into the shadows, hoping the imp would come to him.
“What are you doing?” Lydia inquired from the bench.
“Admiring the shrubbery,” he replied. But then he realized he must distract her attention or she might follow him. “I heard you say something about a new shawl. I am passionately interested in shawls—particularly wool shawls. What variety do you plan to purchase?”
Lydia grinned and took a deep breath. “I desire a shawl similar to one that Maria Lucas has, but in a nicer color. Hers is gray. Not even a pleasant light gray but a really dull dark gray. I was thinking of blue. Not navy blue, which is boring, but more sky blue—which is ever so much prettier, don’t you think?
” She continued without pausing. “But Mama doesn’t think sky blue is practical… .”
Darcy tuned out her prattle as he scrutinized the surrounding shadows. The imp was nearly upon him before he noticed it. The creature flew into his hands and made an amusing little bow—its signal that it had delivered the message. There apparently was no return message from Richard.
What did that mean? Darcy pondered that question as the imp disintegrated back into shadows now that its mission was complete.
Why no reply? Was it possible the imp had delivered the message to the wrong person?
That was supposed to be impossible, but no doubt there was a way to trick the magic.
Had the necromancer somehow intercepted his messenger?
He meandered back to the bench. Somehow, unbelievably, Lydia was still talking about shawls. How was it possible to devote so many words to such an inane topic?
But then, miraculously, Elizabeth was by his side. He had not even noticed her emerge from the house. “I doubt Mr. Dee needs quite so much detail about fringe,” Elizabeth remarked to her sister.
Lydia was taken aback at the thought. “Would he rather hear about my new bonnet?”
“It has been a fatiguing day for him. Perhaps he would prefer to enjoy the summer night in peace,” Elizabeth said.
“Peace—” Lydia started and then stopped. “That is odd. All the crickets fell silent.”
Darcy stiffened, realizing she was right.
“The same thing happened the other night,” Elizabeth remarked. “And then I heard a rustling sound I thought might have been bats. But the sound was so loud, they would have been huge bats.”
Dread crawled up Darcy’s spine.
He had supposed he was safe from the necromancer’s creatures because he had neither heard nor seen them while he was at Longbourn.
But…. “Is your house warded?” he demanded of Elizabeth.
Warding, magical shielding, was an expensive procedure that many mancers did not bother to provide unless they had a particular reason to fear magical attack.
“Yes,” Elizabeth said. “My father did it himself.”
Damnation! Darcy had believed himself safe because he had sensed no dangers since arriving at Longbourn.
But it was possible—even likely—that the wards had been protecting him – as long as he remained inside the house.
Today he had emerged from the house, wearing the amulet the necromancer was seeking.
“There!” Elizabeth cried. “That sound!”
Then Darcy heard it: a rustling akin to dead leaves. A sound he had heard only once before. He whirled toward the women. “Run!” he shouted. “Run to the house!”
Lydia froze in terror, but Elizabeth reacted.
Grabbing her sister’s arm, she pulled Lydia toward Longbourn.
Darcy turned and shouted toward Bennet and his daughters, who were fortunately still within sight.
“Retreat! Retreat to the house! Danger approaches!” He saw them halt, spin around, and run back.
It was too late.
Within seconds at least a dozen wights descended from the sky, swirling toward Darcy and the women like a flock of gargantuan bats. Lydia screamed.
Then the wights were upon them.