Chapter Fourteen
Darcy raced into Matlock House, Richard hard on his heels. He nearly collided with Roland the butler after tearing the door open. “Mr. Darcy?” The servant managed to infuse the simple words with a world of disapproval.
“Where is Miss Elizabeth?” Darcy nearly shouted at the man.
“Where is my father?” Richard asked almost simultaneously.
Lady Margaret emerged from a nearby drawing room, embroidery in one hand. “Goodness! What is the matter?”
Darcy looked up the stairs. Should he ensure Elizabeth’s safety first, or should he confront his uncle? After all, they could not be certain the earl was the threat.
“What is all this fuss about?” his aunt demanded.
Darcy was in no mood for explanations. “Where is Elizabeth—Miss Elizabeth?”
“I do not know,” his aunt responded. “I only recently returned from a visit to Lady Maxwell. Miss Jane Bennet was in bed with a cold. I assumed her sister was keeping her company.”
Darcy raced for the stairs, taking them two at a time. The others followed. “Where is Father?” Richard asked as he climbed the stairs.
“How should I know?” Lady Margaret replied. “Perhaps at his club? Business often takes him there.”
Darcy strode to Elizabeth’s room and pulled open the door without knocking. From the top of the stairs, his aunt gasped at this effrontery. If he startled Elizabeth, Darcy was prepared to happily apologize. But the room was empty. The bed was neatly made, and there was no sign of its occupant.
He made haste to Miss Jane Bennet’s room, managing to confine himself to a knock before throwing open the door when she bade him enter.
Fully dressed, Jane sat on the bed with a book in her lap. Her eyes went wide at the sight of Darcy. No doubt his expression was thunderous. He barely managed not to shout. “I apologize for the intrusion, Miss Bennet. I have an urgent need to find your sister. Do you know her whereabouts?”
She frowned. “No. I have not seen her all day. It is passing strange. I took breakfast in my room, but I expected her to join me for luncheon.” She hastily clambered off her bed.
Darcy had already pivoted back into the hallway. “Where is Elizabeth?” he demanded from his aunt.
“I have not the slightest idea!” She sounded bewildered. “She joined us for breakfast, but since then I—” Her face turned white as she stared down the hallway. “Merciful heavens,” she whispered.
Darcy followed her gaze but noticed nothing save an open door at the end of the hall.
However, this signified something to Richard.
“That is Edward’s room,” he said in a strangled voice.
His cousin had once told him that his parents kept his brother’s room locked up since his death.
Darcy had assumed the memories were simply too painful. Was there something else going on?
She rushed along the hallway, and they followed. The richly decorated bedchamber was completely empty. Lady Margaret halted on the threshold, staring in horror at the bed.
“What did you expect to find in Edward’s room, Mother?” Richard inquired.
She did not reply; her hand covered her mouth as if to stifle a scream.
Darcy performed a quick circuit of the room with Jane’s help, but they found nothing amiss. Richard grabbed his mother’s arm and met her gaze. “What was in this room?”
“Edward…Edward was here,” she murmured.
“Yes, this was Edward’s room.” Richard’s voice had taken on a patient, cajoling tone. “But Edward is dead. What was here?”
Lady Margaret’s eyes focused on her son’s face. “Edward was here. Your-Your father p-preserved his body here.”
Jane emitted a horrified gasp. Richard released his mother’s arm, staggering backward. “No! We buried Edward! We buried him at Matlock.”
She shook her head. “The c-coffin was empty, w-weighted with sandbags. Your father brought Edward here in secret and preserved him with spells.” She gave a faint laugh.
“I thought, why not indulge him? He was half-crazed with grief. Having Edward here gave your father peace, prevented him from sinking into despair. We kept it a secret….The servants were ignorant….It hurt nobody.”
Richard regarded his mother with wide, horrified eyes. “Mother, the Agency has been seeking a mage—who has killed—a mage who has been practicing necromancy!”
His mother turned even paler. “No. No! Do not say such terrible things! Your father would never—!”
Darcy stood beside his cousin and gestured to the empty room. “This is proof. Uncle Walter has been practicing necromancy. He has killed people, raised wights.”
She shook her head vigorously. “No. He would not do that.”
“No?” Darcy’s voice was harsh. “Then where is Edward’s body? He would not move it unless he intended to use it. Where is Miss Elizabeth? Uncle Walter must have abducted her.”
Tears trickled down his aunt’s cheeks. “I do not know where they are. He would not do such things….”
Darcy turned away from her impatiently and faced his cousin. “Do you have any ideas?”
Richard’s face was a greenish color. “No…I am caught between castigating myself for not noticing and wishing that I yet remained in ignorance. This is grotesque. What use could he possibly have for Edward’s corpse?”
“Can you not guess?” Darcy reigned in his terror to take a gentler tone with his cousin. “He hopes to bring your brother back to life.”
Jane nodded slowly. “That is the logical conclusion.”
“No….” Lady Margaret moaned and collapsed to the floor. Richard helped her to a chair.
“But why abduct Miss Elizabeth?” Richard asked. “If he wants to prevent her from destroying his wights, he could simply dispose of her.” Jane made an anguished noise.
“You told me they were unable to determine how Lady Genevieve perished,” Darcy said. “What if he requires a vivomancer to complete the spell?”
“That has a twisted logic to it,” Richard said.
“At least we know he will not kill her,” Jane said.
“Not yet,” Richard said, causing Jane to turn even whiter.
“He needs her for his spell, and I brought her right to his house.” Darcy considered banging his head against the wall.
“Time for regrets later,” Richard said. “The question is where would he have taken her?”
They all looked at Lady Margaret. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I do not know. I swear! I thought that all this time he was just visiting his club and mentoring younger mancers.” As she continued to sob, Jane helped her from the room and handed her to a maid hovering in the hallway.
Darcy paced the floor, running fingers through already disheveled hair. “They could be anywhere!”
“My father researched necromantic rituals following the wight attack. He might have some thoughts on the subject,” Jane volunteered. “Our family arrived at my uncle Gardiner’s house this morning. I received the message an hour ago. I could send a note prevailing upon them to join us.”
“Please do,” Darcy said. “We could make use of their mancy if it comes to a battle.” Richard raised his eyebrows, perhaps recalling some of Lydia and Kitty’s more egregious conduct.
“The Bennets will be an asset in a fight,” Darcy assured him.
“And Uncle Walter has a small army of followers in addition to the wights.”
Jane hurried from the room, calling for a footman to help her send a note.
Richard peered out the window. “No doubt we have a few hours before anything occurs. The necro—my father cannot summon the wights until the sun goes down.”
Darcy took a deep breath and reminded himself that Richard was right—despite the inner voice screaming that he must locate Elizabeth immediately.
He nodded to his cousin. “Is there a map of London in the house? We could determine likely places for a necromantic ritual.”
“A good thought.” Richard strode from the room, and Darcy followed. One way or another they would recover Elizabeth.
***
Awareness returned slowly as Elizabeth gradually took in the details of her surroundings. The earl’s spell to render her unconscious had been quite effective. She had been laid on a fainting couch in a small office—furnished with a desk, a few chairs, and a fireplace.
As she drifted in and out, Elizabeth recalled and regretted all the decisions that had led her to this moment.
Why had she not told Jane when she was investigating the mysterious room at the end of the hallway?
Why had she not waited for William before visiting it?
For that matter, why had she not suspected Lord Walter before?
And now the earl planned to sacrifice her as part of his twisted scheme to reanimate his son and decimate the Council.
She was certain that he schemed to seize power of the Council himself once most of the members were dead.
The Council for Enchantment wielded enormous power in Britain.
Without any checks on his authority, the earl could do great damage.
Tears leaked from Elizabeth’s eyes and rolled down her cheeks.
Bad enough that she would die, but her death would serve an evil and destructive purpose.
Why had she not allowed William to propose when he longed to?
Why had she not insisted upon it? Why had she not confessed her love for him?
Many days ago, she had realized she loved him, and yet her pride had constrained her from speaking the words.
Now she would never have the opportunity to tell him.
For the rest of his life, William would believe that she was ambivalent about him—or worse, still angry about his deception.
The more she considered her circumstances, the angrier she grew at Lord Walter. How dare he take away her chance to tell William she loved him! How dare he remove their chance for happiness!
Anger animated her into a sitting position and sustained her through the ensuing dizziness. Eventually, she was able to leverage herself into an approximation of standing and move about the room, clinging to the furniture for balance.