Chapter 1
One
The dancing nymphs were not equal to Caroline Bingley’s standards. “Hmph,” she sniffed. “Their dancing could be more graceful. And their dresses do not even glow.”
Bingley gave her a carefully correct smile—the smile he used when he tried not to contradict his sister. “I suppose there are fewer nymph dancing troupes to hire in Hertfordshire than in town.”
Caroline gave an elegant shrug. “Then they should do without. It is not as if nymph dancers are de rigeur at an assembly ball in the country.”
“I suppose the good people of Hertfordshire are showing everyone how sophisticated they are. Nymph dancing troupes must surely be a novelty here.” Louisa Hurst tittered with her sister.
“Or perhaps they take pleasure in watching the nymphs dance. They are quite lovely,” Bingley said with absolute sincerity.
Darcy silently agreed with his friend. Small and light, nymphs could perform tricks and elegant dance steps that would be impossible for a human.
The troupe at the Meryton assembly was perhaps not the most sophisticated he had ever observed, but they wove intricate and beautiful patterns with ribbons.
Darcy said nothing to Caroline; he was less willing than Bingley to draw her wrath.
The party from Netherfield watched in silence as the performance concluded with an elaborate pose made colorful by ribbons wrapped around each dancer’s wrists. Darcy joined the applause; the dancers should be commended just for avoiding tangling up the ribbons.
The five nymph dancers glided to the edge of the dais that occupied one end of the assembly hall and made elegant bows before hurrying out the door.
Although they took delight in performing for humans, nymphs tended to be shy and uninterested in socializing with other species.
The members of a small orchestra—all human—swept onto the dais and commenced tuning their instruments.
Caroline was not finished punishing her brother for the sin of prevailing upon them to attend a country dance.
“Have you noticed the pathetic attempt at décor?” She waved negligently at the ceiling.
“Colored flames in the chandeliers? Shadow silhouettes on the walls? It is all so passe. The floral decorations do not sparkle. And the curtains have been blue all evening. The least they could do is enchant the curtains!” Her eyes slid toward Darcy. “Surely you agree with me.”
He hated to be drawn into a disagreement between the siblings, but honesty—and a sense of obligation to Caroline— compelled him to respond.
“The décor does rather possess an amateur air,” he admitted.
Colored flames and enchanted silhouettes on the walls had been popular in London three years ago, but the most fashionable balls now had more sophisticated decor.
Bingley was not perturbed by the criticism. “I find it most charming. The decorations were probably conjured by a local mage in his spare time. They would not possess the funds to hire a professional decorator mage.”
“That much is exceedingly obvious,” Caroline sneered.
Bingley’s attention was drawn toward movement on the far side of the room.
Sir William Lucas, one of the local landowners, was moving toward them purposefully with other local residents in his wake.
“Apparently Sir William has other people for us to meet,” Bingley said with relish.
Darcy managed not to groan; meeting people had to be the most tedious part of attending balls.
“I thank you for my share of the favor,” Caroline drawled, “but I am forced to decline. I have an urgent need to visit the ladies’ retiring room.
” Grabbing her sister’s arm, Caroline fled the scene as if being chased by enemy soldiers.
Hurst, Louisa’s husband, had already taken himself off to the card room, leaving Darcy standing with Bingley and cursing himself for not having affected an escape earlier.
Just as Sir William reached them, the orchestra struck up a lively dance tune.
“Mr. Bingley! Mr. Darcy!” The man’s voice was always quite a bit louder than the occasion warranted.
He gestured expansively toward the family of worthies arrayed behind him.
“Allow me to introduce the Bennet family. Mr. and Mrs. Bennet and three of their daughters, Miss Jane Bennet, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and Miss Mary Bennet. Their younger two daughters have already found dancing partners.”
Everyone exchanged bows and curtsies. Bingley’s gaze lingered on Miss Jane Bennet, who was quite lovely, with a blonde halo of hair framing a serenely beautiful countenance.
Darcy’s attention was particularly arrested by Elizabeth Bennet.
Her hair was a mass of dark curls, and her smile held a faint hint of amusement in it.
How intriguing. Something about her name was familiar, but Darcy would remember meeting a woman of such striking beauty.
Mrs. Bennet burbled about how wonderful it was to see such fine young men at their “fair assembly.” By “fine,” Darcy understood her to mean “wealthy.” He was accustomed to this reaction, but that did not render it less tedious.
While the others spoke of inconsequential subjects, the question of where Darcy had heard of Elizabeth Bennet nagged at him.
When Mr. Bennet said something about the Academy of Magic, Darcy remembered.
“Miss Elizabeth, are you the woman who petitioned the Convocation for admission to the Academy?” He blurted out the words.
She did not appear nearly as abashed as he would have expected. “I am, but that was three years ago. I am intrigued to find that you still recognize my name.”
“I was part of the Convocation panel that heard your petition.” Only after uttering those words did Darcy realize it was hardly the most politic thing he could have said. The panel had been unanimous in rejecting her application; the Academy had never admitted a woman.
Fortunately, she appeared more amused than irritated.
“It is a shame the panel did not see fit to test my magical abilities before denying my request. That might have altered their opinion.” Darcy expected the other mages in the group to be embarrassed by this forwardness, but her father laughed an agreement and Sir William nodded.
The sisters regarded Miss Elizabeth with sympathy.
Only Mrs. Bennet colored and glanced away.
Apparently Miss Elizabeth’s application to study magic was well known in the community. How curious.
“Magical studies in the Academy are quite rigorous and even dangerous,” Darcy said. “They should not be undertaken lightly.”
“I assure you, I had every intention of undertaking them quite heavily.” Her father snorted a laugh and even Bingley smiled.
Darcy’s friend broke the ensuing awkward silence by inviting Miss Bennet to dance the next set, which was just beginning to form.
After her shy agreement, they hurried toward the dance floor.
Politeness suggested that Darcy prevail upon Miss Elizabeth to dance, but he could not bring himself to do so.
She had created a minor scandal, and he had no intention of associating himself with her any longer than the length of the discussion.
Obviously she rated herself rather highly if she believed her abilities equal to the most talented young mages in the country.
“I understand you are from Derbyshire, sir?” Mrs. Bennet asked.
“Yes, my estate is Pemberley—near Matlock,” Darcy answered shortly.
Questions about his income hovered unspoken in the air.
Darcy wondered if there were a polite way to hint at how fruitless any matrimonial efforts would be.
Mrs. Bennet babbled about a distant relative from Lambton, relieving Darcy of any social obligations save nodding at appropriate moments.
Everyone knew that women’s magic was better suited to small domestic tasks such as mending clothing, embroidery, or beautifying charms. Female servants might use a little magic to enhance food they made, make cleaning easier, or light a kitchen fire.
However, most women were not adept with higher level spells.
History did offer a few exceptions to this rule, such as the notorious Jane Dee during Elizabeth I’s reign. But customarily women did not possess the capacity for greater magic, leaving male mages to fight magical wars and perform other dangerous tasks.
Darcy understood why Miss Elizabeth was without a dance partner despite her beauty. If the woman’s doomed application was widely known in the neighborhood, scandal would have attached to the whole family.
Citing the need for some punch, Darcy turned and hastened away from the group. This assembly ball was tedious enough; he did not need to struggle through an awkward discourse with such a family.
Caroline Bingley was standing near the punch table, and Darcy hastened to pour her a glass. She accepted with a smile. “Thank you, Fitzwilliam, you are so thoughtful.”
“The prospects for good society are not promising,” he replied. “We must rely upon each other for company.”
“Indeed.” She laughed as if he had said something exceedingly droll. “Only our own company is tolerable.” She regarded him with an expectant expression.
Oh. “Would you honor me with the next dance?” Darcy asked.
“I would be delighted,” she drawled.
Darcy occasionally had small reservations about Caroline’s character; she could be cutting and cold.
But she had excellent taste in fashion, and nobody could fault her manners.
In addition, the Bingleys were a well-established magical family with Convocation members stretching back for generations—although Bingley’s father had unfortunately dabbled in trade to replenish the family’s coffers.
Nevertheless, Darcy had made the right decision when he had prevailed upon Caroline to marry him.