Chapter Fourteen #2
A glance at the papers on the desk told her this was the earl’s own office in the Council building.
She ascertained that the door was locked, and the sole window was too small to provide an escape.
However, the window did supply a view of the river; unfortunately, Elizabeth was not in a mood to appreciate its beauty.
Voices filtered through the office door, but not specific words.
Her captors apparently waited in the adjoining sitting room.
Elizabeth might not be able to escape, but surely she might thwart the necromancer’s scheme some other way. If only she could warn William! By now, he would have noticed her absence, unless the earl had glibly managed to account for her disappearance. No, William would not fall for such lies.
But how to send a message…?
Elizabeth opened the window as widely as she could and then cast about for nearby birds. Several answered her summons; she chose a plump pigeon, asking it to alight on the windowsill.
At the desk, Elizabeth scribbled a hasty note to William.
The most difficult part of the process was showing the pigeon the location of Matlock House and imprinting images of William on its mind.
Seeking individual humans went against the nature of birds, and it was something the pigeon did not easily understand. But Elizabeth’s magic prevailed.
She had performed this mancy before when sending messages at Longbourn, although she had used it sparingly, finding it distasteful to impose her will on the bird’s. But these were dire circumstances.
She curled up the paper, which the pigeon took in its feet.
Soon the bird was soaring into the London skies.
She hoped it would follow her instructions and not be distracted by an old woman scattering breadcrumbs in the park.
Perhaps I should summon another bird and send a second message, just in case.
But before Elizabeth could find another bird, the click of the door’s lock told her that her captors had come for her. She turned to face her fate.
***
The elegant dining room at Matlock House had become a command center.
People spoke in small groups, consulting maps and arcane necromancy texts.
Servants wove through the guests, providing tea and biscuits.
Lady Margaret had initially objected to the casual use of her fine furniture, but Darcy had simply glared her into submission.
Jane’s message to Gracechurch Street had brought not only the entire Bennet family but also Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, both accomplished mancers. Mr. Gardiner was also a practical, take-charge sort of man—a good counterbalance to Mr. Bennet’s indolence.
Bennet had given insights into the conduct of necromancers. One of his books confirmed the theory that Lord Walter could use Elizabeth’s powers to raise his son—and further revealed that she would not survive the ritual. William tried not to think about that.
Unfortunately, nobody had any thoughts about where the earl had taken Elizabeth. They knew he would need to draw life energies from many people to fuel the ritual, but London was full of places where crowds would gather.
After more than two hours of no progress, Darcy’s nerves were starting to fray.
He found himself snapping at Richard and growling at the household staff.
When one of the servants opened the front door for a delivery and a pigeon flew into the front hallway, Darcy’s patience snapped.
As the bird flitted into the dining room, he barely restrained the impulse to curse.
“Will someone catch that creature and return it outside!” he shouted.
Two footmen gamely raced around the room attempting to catch a bird that—implausibly—seemed bent on flying straight for Darcy. Chairs were knocked down, and at least one teacup shattered on the floor.
“Wait!” Jane shouted.
The sound of her raised voice was strange enough to draw everyone’s undivided attention. She was watching the bird intently. “It holds a paper in its feet! It must be a message from Lizzy.”
“She can do that?” Darcy said weakly.
“She has done so before,” Jane said absently as she endeavored to coax the bird into her hand. But the creature was intent on Darcy, flying in circles around his head. “She must have sent the message to you,” she observed.
Never having befriended a bird before, Darcy regarded the pigeon with some bewilderment. Finally, he held out his cupped hand. The creature immediately alighted on it and dropped the paper.
Once the message was delivered, the bird hopped to the table and helped itself to the remnants of a piece of toast. Lady Margaret opened her mouth to object, but Darcy glowered her into silence.
At the moment, he was so in charity with the bird that he would happily have given it an entire roast—if pigeons ate roasts.
He unfurled the message—written in Elizabeth’s graceful hand.
William,
I am locked in Matlock’s office at the Council building. He intends to kill the Council members during the ritual to open the new season and use their deaths to fuel his son’s rebirth. Please make haste.
I may have neglected to tell you that I love you most ardently.
Elizabeth.
Darcy had to blink back tears, knowing she had written the last sentence because she feared she would never have the opportunity to tell him in person. He dropped the paper into his pocket. Nobody else needed to read what Elizabeth had written for his eyes.
“Uncle Walter has taken Miss Elizabeth to the Council chambers. He intends to kill the Council members and use their deaths to bring Edward back to life.” The expressions of disgust and horror on the faces around him mirrored Darcy’s own sentiments.
Mr. Gardiner glanced out the window. “The sun is beginning to set. We do not have much time.”
Darcy strode to the dining room door. “Who will accompany me to the Council building to rescue Miss Elizabeth and stop Lord Walter?”
Everyone surged for the doorway.
“Wait!” Richard cried. “We must have a plan!”
***
They made a strange procession. The sun was just beginning to set as the earl’s followers pulled Elizabeth out of his office and tied her hands behind her back with some kind of bespelled cords that prevented her from using her magic.
They thrust her into the midst of the mages, some twenty strong, and herded her toward the pier overlooking the Thames, where the Council was beginning the celebration to open a new season.
Elizabeth was unsurprised to discover Wickham by the earl’s side.
She had expected him to appear, guessing that his persuasive powers had convinced many of the men to follow the necromancer with the fervency of true believers.
Wickham surely helped them forget any doubts they might have about Lord Walter’s cause.
Elizabeth worried whether her love for William was strong enough to resist Wickham’s influence. But the blackguard did not even glance in her direction, apparently deciding her imminent demise meant she was not worth the effort of persuading.
Bringing up the rear of the procession was the litter bearing Edward Fitzwilliam.
Approximately twenty-five Council members were arranged in a semicircle on the pier, where they had been preparing the speeches and ritual words to begin the celebration. They stared at Lord Walter’s procession with baffled frustration.
“Matlock, what is this disturbance about?” demanded an ancient and stooped man who Elizabeth guessed was Sir Lloyd, the Council’s leader. “If you have a grievance with the Council, you must raise it in a regular meeting.”
Elizabeth recognized the Council’s second in command, Lady Farha, from illustrations in the paper. Standing in front of the other Council members, she was even blunter with the earl. “This display is hardly in good taste, my lord!”
The necromancer regarded them with a slight smile. “You condemned my son to death—”
“Is that your concern?” a portly man behind Lady Farha blustered. “The matter was debated and voted upon—”
“You condemned my son to death!” Lord Walter’s voice rose, drowning out the others. “Now I will condemn you.” He pronounced the words with a decided relish that caused Sir Lloyd to flinch.
“Behold!” The earl threw his arms up in the air.
The last sliver of the sun had disappeared beneath the horizon, and the sky was suddenly full of wights, drowning out all other sounds with the noise of rustling. They descended upon the Council members like a great flock of bats.