Chapter Ten
This had been a supremely bad idea. Now he would always know what he was sacrificing. He was experiencing a paradise he could never have again.
“Lizzy!” A female voice called from far away.
Their lips separated, and they tore away from each other.
“Lizzy?” He thought the voice might be Kitty’s.
“I am coming!” Elizabeth called. She stared at Darcy, her eyes wild with passion and her breathing heavy. He knew the experience had been as revelatory for her as it had been for him.
“I must beg your pardon,” Darcy said in a low voice. “I did not intend—”
She rolled her eyes. “Do not apologize for kissing me like that. If I had not desired it, I would have prevented you.”
Darcy experienced relief and regret mingled together. She would be well within her rights to claim he had compromised her, and he could not deny it. Although he had no desire for scandal, part of him would be overjoyed at being compelled to make her his wife.
“I think it would be best if you quit Longbourn before we are tempted to repeat such…mistakes,” she said. With a last regretful look, she turned and hurried toward the house, leaving Darcy to find his way back to Netherfield.
***
The following day, after breakfast, Elizabeth escaped the house for a walk.
Just being in the same room with Mr. Collins was awkward.
She had finally convinced him that she would not accept his proposal.
That evening he used the tune of a popular hymn to propose to Mary.
She had declined, saying she was not planning to marry.
Elizabeth supposed that Kitty would be next.
She set off in the direction opposite to the road that led to Netherfield; she needed nothing to prompt thoughts of Mr. Darcy.
Her thoughts wandered in that direction nonetheless.
When would he leave Hertfordshire? Had he already departed?
Would he think of her when he was in London?
Even if he had no plans to marry Miss Bingley, would he someday marry a woman like her?
She wished to divert her thoughts back to the beauty of the trees and nature around her, but they would drift toward Mr. Darcy once again.
The road turned and led her into an area the locals called the Old Forest; it was not a terribly original name, but it accurately described the atmosphere.
This area was hilly and stony, so it was densely forested and had never been transformed into farmland.
A local viscount owned the land and had once used it for hunting, but the house and grounds had fallen into disuse.
The dense foliage did not allow for much sunlight to penetrate.
Elizabeth loved the unspoiled, wild woods, but there was no denying they were dark and forbidding.
She took pleasure in the coolness of the sudden shade but could not suppress a slight shiver.
There had always been rumors about ghosts and trolls in the Old Forest. Local children would dare each other to venture off the road and into the forest. Elizabeth had always been eager to take a dare, much to Jane’s dismay, and had gone further than any of the local boys.
Though none of them had truly ventured very far into the woods, always remaining within sight of the road.
I am a grown woman, not subject to childish imaginings, she reminded herself.
She was a bit relieved to hear the rattle and squeak of a carriage coming up behind her; at least she would briefly have company in this gloomy place.
She stepped to the side of the road to allow the carriage to pass.
But, to her astonishment, the reins rattled, and the driver commanded the horses to come to a halt.
She turned just in time to watch Mr. Wickham jump out.
Elizabeth blinked in surprise. Where in the world had Mr. Wickham obtained a carriage?
She was still wary of the man, but there was no harm in being pleasant. “Mr. Wickham, what brings you here?”
He moved with great agitation, and his voice was high with anxiety. “Your father has sustained a blow to the head! Your family sent me to find you.”
“Oh no!” It had not been long since Elizabeth had left Longbourn, but accidents could happen so quickly. She made haste toward the carriage. Her father would need her healing powers immediately. “Has the doctor been summoned?” she asked.
“I do not know.”
Mr. Wickham took her hand to help her into the carriage. Elizabeth hesitated. I vaguely recollect something about this man. Something about his conduct at Lucas Lodge…What was it?
“Miss Elizabeth?” he inquired.
She had frozen in place. He was untrustworthy in some way, but did it matter when her father was injured?
“We must make haste. Every minute is precious!” he urged.
The answer came flooding back to her. The man was a pensimancer. He could influence people’s thoughts with magic and had done so at the Lucas Lodge ball. A quick search with her magical senses determined there was mancy at work. He was influencing her to climb into the carriage.
Fortunately, pensimancy was not strong magic. It could influence the direction of someone’s thoughts, but it could not control them, especially if that person was on guard.
When she examined Wickham’s story, it became laughably implausible. How would he know her father was injured? He was not a frequent guest at Longbourn. Where had he obtained the carriage?
Mr. Wickham must have some other motivation for wanting her to enter the carriage—which was a compelling argument against it. Even now he was watching her with a convincingly worried expression.
She removed her hand from the man’s grasp. “I cannot travel alone with a strange man. I will walk home to Longbourn.”
He gaped. “But, surely, under the circumstances—!”
She shook her head, backing away from the man. “No, my father would be the first one to disapprove.” It is a good thing Mr. Wickham does not know Papa.
The man reached out his hand, increasingly desperate. “Miss Elizabeth, I implore you! Your father’s life could be at stake.” She could sense the force of his magic, pushing against her resolve.
“No. I will return to Longbourn on my own.”
Wickham sighed. “You leave me little choice, madam.” Without warning, he leaped forward and grabbed her by the wrist, dragging her toward the carriage. “Conners!” he called to the coachman. “Come and help!”
Elizabeth struggled to free her wrist, but Wickham was much stronger.
She shrieked and dug in her heels—all the things that he would expect her to do.
But she was also surveying the surrounding greenery for possible weapons.
Ah, ivy, that would do very well. It was an aggressive plant that loved to climb all over everything.
She focused her will on the patch of ivy by the side of the road and pushed life into it. She could sense the plant awaken and start to grow, excited at its newfound vitality. She directed it toward Wickham while simultaneously wedging her heels behind a tree root to halt her forward momentum.
Wickham brushed off the first ivy that crept across his boot, but the vine was nothing if not persistent.
It worked its way up both of his boots, entangling his feet.
He stared down with such an expression of dumbfounded shock that Elizabeth almost laughed.
“What devilry is this?” he cried as it rapidly twined itself up his legs.
Pulling out a belt knife, Wickham slashed at the ivy, which was now encircling his waist. He managed to cut one vine, but the plant was growing new shoots far more quickly than he could sever them.
The coachman had climbed down from his perch but was obviously reluctant to go near Elizabeth. “It’s the forest!” he exclaimed. “At the inn, they said the Old Forest is haunted!”
“It’s not haunted, you fool!” Wickham bellowed. “Come here and help me!”
Elizabeth sent tendrils of ivy creeping toward the coachman, whose eyes grew as wide as saucers.
The man frantically sought an escape, but they were surrounded by woods on all sides.
After a moment’s indecision, he jumped to the carriage, wrenched the door open, and climbed in.
A second later, the door lock clicked. Elizabeth chuckled.
At least he would not give her any more trouble.
“I know you’re doing this, you witch!” Wickham flourished his knife at her even as the vines entangled his arms. “Release me!”
Elizabeth backed away, intending to run toward Meryton for help. But her magic would fade once she quitted the area. When the ivy released him, Wickham would be free to follow her in the carriage. She had to flee where the carriage could not go.
Without another thought, Elizabeth spun around and dashed into the densest part of the Old Forest.
***
Darcy had informed Bingley of his imminent departure, merely saying that business called him back to London. Bingley had been quite startled, and Miss Bingley had pouted. Nonetheless, Darcy planned to leave in the early afternoon.
The encounter with Elizabeth in Longbourn’s garden had left Darcy even more torn about his departure.
If he had no intention of marrying Elizabeth, he should quit Hertfordshire and remove himself from the temptation of her presence.
But the thought of leaving her behind was painful, and he would need to make arrangements with the director to ensure her safety.
No matter what he did, she would continue to haunt his thoughts.
He had watched Bingley court Jane Bennet with joyous ease, envious that he could not experience such freedom.
Bingley’s valet was performing the actual packing, but Floyd regularly consulted with Darcy about his preferences for which items to take and how to pack them.
With each decision, Darcy’s heart grew heavier.
How could he possibly be thinking of sacrificing Elizabeth?
She was the best thing that had ever happened to him.
He would never find another woman who suited him so well.
When this fantasy grew too appealing, he imagined the scene if he presented Elizabeth as his intended bride to his aunt and uncle Matlock.
They would be shocked. They would sneer.
They would give Elizabeth the cut direct.
They would ensure that he and Elizabeth became persona non grata in the ton, rendering it impossible for Darcy to be an agent.
What sort of life would that be for Elizabeth?
She had grown up in social exile; surely she hoped that marriage would better her circumstances.
No. Quitting Hertfordshire was the only answer.
Darcy had arrived at Netherfield’s drawing room to bid adieu and give thanks to his hosts when Richard arrived. The door opened, and the butler announced, “Colonel Fitzwilliam,” just before the man himself strode in.
Bingley shook Richard’s hand heartily. “What a wonderful surprise!”
Darcy watched as Richard bowed to the ladies and Hurst. His cousin’s grim expression told him this was not a spontaneous social visit.
“So what brings you to this part of the country?” Bingley asked.
“Urgent family business, I am afraid,” Richard said. “Might I speak to Darcy in private?”
“Of course,” Bingley said at once. “Darcy, why do you not take the yellow parlor?”
Darcy’s heart was pounding by the time he and Richard had settled into chairs in the parlor. Although it was possible his cousin had actually arrived on family business, it was far more likely that an Agency crisis had erupted. And Darcy could imagine far too many disasters. “What is it?”
Richard’s countenance had lost all the amiability he had exhibited for Bingley’s family. “Grim news from London, I fear. Baldwin and Lady Genevieve are both dead.”
The Oxford professor and the dowager countess were the only two known vivomancers in Britain. Darcy gasped. “What happened?”
His cousin shook his head sadly. “Assassinated in their homes.”
“Surely they were under guard.”
“They were. Baldwin’s killer managed to slip into the house and stab him without the guards noticing. We do not know how Lady Genevieve perished; there was not a mark upon her body. We might have chalked it up to natural causes if it had not occurred the same night as Baldwin’s death.”
“This is terrible!”
“It is a disaster. Council mages have encountered the wights four times in London. Thanks to your advice, we were prepared with the two vivomancers at hand. They wielded the only magic that can destroy the wights. Other mancers can stop them only temporarily.”
Darcy leaned back in his chair. “Thank the Lord nobody knows about Elizabeth except you and the director.”
Richard’s expression remained apprehensive.
Ice gripped Darcy’s heart. “That is still the case, is it not? I gave strict instructions.”
“I told nobody beside the director, but there may be a leak in the department. Information that should have been secret has been compromised recently. Miss Elizabeth’s identity may be known to the necromancer.”
“Good God!” Panic compressed Darcy’s chest. “He could be stalking Elizabeth even now!”
“We have every reason to believe he is in London.”
“You had every reason to believe he could not assassinate Baldwin and Lady Genevieve,” Darcy snarled. “I am unwilling to gamble her life on that assumption.” Richard recoiled at his cousin’s vehemence.
Darcy surged to his feet. “He could arrive in Hertfordshire as easily as you could! Or he might have sent some of his followers.”
“The director sent me to prevail upon Miss Elizabeth to visit London. We need her to help fight the wights.”
Darcy scowled. “No! It is far too dangerous.”
Richard’s eyebrows shot upward. “I realize you have feelings for Miss Elizabeth, but surely it is her decision.”
Darcy stalked to the door waving his hand dismissively. “We are getting ahead of ourselves in any event. First, we must ensure she is safe.”
“Immediately?” said Richard.
But Darcy was already in the hallway. “We must go to Longbourn and warn her. There is no time to lose!”
Richard did not share his cousin’s sense of urgency, but he gamely followed along.
It took longer than Darcy would have liked for the groom to saddle two horses, but soon they were galloping on the road toward Longbourn. Darcy’s anxiety allowed him to outstrip his cousin, and he was the first to rein in his horse at the Bennets’ front door.
He slipped out of the saddle and strode up to the door, but it opened before he knocked. Jane Bennet, beleaguered and hollow-eyed, emerged. Wailing emanated from inside the house.
“Mr. Darcy,” Jane said, “I hope you can help us. Lizzy is missing!”