Page 10 of The Magic of Pemberley (Fitzwilliam Darcy, Mage #2)

Chapter 10

M rs. Reynolds came to the drawing room that afternoon with a question. “Mrs. Darcy, I know you prefer not to be troubled with household matters, but a situation has arisen which you may wish to be aware of.”

Oh, dear. A pregnant housemaid, most likely, or some other difficult situation, but at least it would take her mind off her worries. Pemberley was so quiet with Granny, Roderick, and Frederica gone, and Darcy was already off in the clearing learning to control the changes the dragon binding had made in his ability to cast illusions. And her thoughts were not good company, not when a letter from the War Office could arrive at any moment. “What is it?”

The housekeeper looked back over her shoulder. “Cassie, you may come in now.”

A lean young woman crept into the room, her eyes darting about. If she was with child, there was no sign of it in her thin form. She bobbed a curtsy.

“Mrs. Darcy, Cassie is one of our kitchen maids, a good girl and hard worker. Today she came to me – quite appropriately – with an unusual story. Go ahead, tell Mrs. Darcy. You are not in trouble.”

The girl wrung her bony hands. “I’ve a touch of the Sight, madam, not much, but I can see the wee ones, the fae. My mum is the same way. ”

“It is a gift,” Elizabeth said gravely, to avoid frightening her more. It was true, too; she had always wished she could see them.

“There have always been wee ones who stop by here, a hobgoblin or two for the most part, but in the last few days, there have been more, over a dozen of them, and they seem to be planning to stay.” She cast a glance at the housekeeper. “I thought Mrs. Reynolds should know.”

“Quite right,” Elizabeth said. The girl had no reason to lie, but it did not make sense. They had just warded Pemberley against the fae, after all. Or at least she had thought the spell was successful. She must be missing something. “Are they doing any harm?”

“No madam, leastways not that I’ve seen. One old hob is always grumbling and complaining, but he’s not hurting anything.”

“Have you any idea why they are here?” It was baffling.

The girl shook her head. “No, madam. They do not talk to me.”

Well, this was clear as mud. Silently Elizabeth sent to Cerridwen. Dearest, apparently Pemberley is suddenly overrun with fae. Could the wards have failed? She shared the memory of Cassie’s words.

A ripple of laughter echoed in her head, remarkably like Cerridwen’s old kestrel kee-kee-kee. Lesser fae, all of them. They are there because the wards are keeping out the High Fae.

I do not understand.

Cerridwen sent the mental equivalent of an impatient sigh. There are those among the lesser fae with reason to fear the High Fae. You have provided them with a safe haven.

Trading one problem for another, apparently. Are they a danger to Georgiana? Or to the rest of us?

No danger, especially if you treat them well. A series of images flowed through Elizabeth’s head before Cerridwen withdrew from the sending. Apparently she had said all she wished to.

Elizabeth drummed her fingers on her thigh. “Cassie, some people feel that if they see a fae, it is wise to offer them food. ”

The girl ducked her head. “I never gave them anything but my own food, I swear it! But I had to. Otherwise, they can be tricksy. I never took anything that wasn’t mine!”

Even if it meant going hungry, apparently. “Mrs. Reynolds, pray arrange to provide whatever food Cassie recommends for our new guests. It is not to come from her own portion. Cassie, you have done us a service by bringing this to our attention. I hope you will keep us informed if you notice any other changes.”

Her face brightened with an astonished smile. “I will, madam, I promise.”

“If we are to have fae among us, your Sight will be most valuable to us.”

The housekeeper nodded, clearly pleased with this decision, or perhaps simply that she did not have to make a choice about how to deal with invisible creatures. “I will make certain of it, Mrs. Darcy.”

Elizabeth watched after them as they left, chewing her lip. Had she done the right thing? Not that there were many choices. The lesser fae went wherever they pleased, and nothing she could do would stop that.

Then a thought halted her, a reminder that this could affect Georgiana. Would these lesser fae recognize her as a changeling? What if they reported on her to the Wicked King? Good heavens, she was sounding like a dragon now, calling the High King of Faerie by their title for him. Next she would start finding inventive ways to curse his name each time she mentioned him. The thought made her smile.

But Georgiana needed to be warned, and it should not wait until Darcy returned to the house. Elizabeth sought her out first in the music room where the girl spent much of her time, and then, when that proved empty, in her bedroom.

Georgiana’s room looked different, but it took a moment for Elizabeth to realize why. Then it struck her. All the iron was gone, the candlesticks and figurines and boot scrapers. She must trust the wards were keeping the High King away.

The girl still looked nervous to see Elizabeth, though, rubbing her hands in her skirts. “Is something the matter?” she asked .

Elizabeth chose her words carefully. “Nothing is wrong; I just wished to obtain your opinion on something. I have been informed that a number of lesser fae have come to Pemberley.”

The girl’s eyes flickered from side to side. Or was she looking at invisible fae? “Yes, I know,” she said nervously.

“Are you able to see them?” Elizabeth prompted.

The girl nodded.

Was it always this hard to get answers from her? “I wonder if you might know why they are here, or what their intentions may be.”

“All I know is what they tell me,” Georgiana said apologetically. “They can only speak the truth, but they may be omitting matters of importance.”

Just like the old tales, then; the fae were truthful but skilled in manipulating their words to give a misleading impression. “And what do they tell you?” Elizabeth asked.

Georgiana flushed. “That they wish to serve me, to prove their loyalty to me. That they fear the High King.”

They wished to serve Georgiana ? This was too deep for Elizabeth. Perhaps Darcy might be more successful in getting an explanation from his sister. For now, she would do better to focus on the practical side. “Will there be consequences for the rest of us?”

A creaky voice answered from the empty air. “We have promised the great lady that we shall harm no one here and will offer assistance as we may, in keeping with our natures.”

The great lady? What did that mean? It was beyond disconcerting, conversing with a being she could not see. “How long do you intend to stay?”

“Why, this is our home now.”

Forever, then, or at least as long as the wards remained active. Well, Pemberley could afford to feed them, and perhaps some good might come of it for Georgiana. It was always wise to stay on the good side of the fae, even the relatively weak lesser ones, so a gracious response was called for. Carefully, since all the stories agreed that the fae, like dragons, hated being thanked. “Your answers have eased my mind. My staff has been instructed to offer food for you. If there are any difficulties, I hope you will inform me.”

“Indeed, Lady Companion,” the voice said.

How had he found out that she was a dragon companion? Georgiana was bound against telling anyone. It was a good reminder that the fae often knew far more than people thought they did.

Georgiana said in a low voice, “I am sorry to have brought this upon you. If you wish them to leave, I will ask them to do so.”

Good heavens, how easily Georgiana could blame herself for anything! “I do not mind their presence at all, and if our wards keep them safe from those who would harm them, I am glad of that. My concern is solely to understand what is happening and to make certain everyone at Pemberley, both mortal and fae, is treated fairly and with respect.”

The girl’s shoulders relaxed. “I hope it will not make trouble for you.”

“No trouble at all,” Elizabeth assured her. “We have already successfully added a dragon to the household, so including lesser fae should not be a problem.” At least she hoped so.

Two days later, Darcy led Elizabeth to the edge of a field where hay bale targets had been set up. He raised her hand to his lips and caressed it lightly before releasing it. Walking hand in hand with her was something he treasured even more, when he knew how little time he had left to do so. But he refused to let any worry into his mind right now. He was with his beloved Elizabeth on a beautiful day, and he intended to make the most of it – or at least as much as he could from a brief outing designed to study the sound of gunfire. Which was not much.

Her eyes danced under the edge of her bonnet as she gazed up at him. “I do not know how much help I will be, since I am far from expert at recognizing the sound of artillery. ”

“You should stop interfering with my excuses to spend time with you,” he said in mock disapproval. “Besides, that is why Wilkins is here.” He gestured to where his valet stood at the end of the pasture next to a stack of firearms.

Wilkins raised a hand in salute, and then lifted a long rifle to his shoulder, his head turned towards Darcy in expectation.

Darcy touched Elizabeth’s arm, simply for the pleasure of it. “This will be real gunfire. Listen to it and pay special attention to the timing between the sound and the appearance of the smoke. And how the smoke changes. That is what I will be trying to imitate.”

“Not something I noticed on those rare occasions when my father had a hunting party,” she said with a laugh. “I will do my best, though.”

Darcy nodded to Wilkins. The valet fired, a fine shot that thunked right into the bale of hay.

“That was a real bullet. Now he will simply hold the gun while I make the illusion happen. It will look different, of course, since I cannot make the gun kick back, but I only need it to seem convincing at a distance.” Darcy gathered energy from the air, plaited it together in his mind, and cast it out.

And almost stumbled at the explosion beside him. No, not an explosion, just the sound of one.

Elizabeth clapped her hands over her ears. “That was far too loud!” she said. “Did you intend that?”

“No. It should have sounded no different.” At least he was discovering this now, not when he was standing in front of the French Emperor. “The dragon magic seems to be having a bigger effect on my Talent than I expected. Let me try again.”

He gestured to Wilkins to lift the rifle again. This time he reduced the energy he put into the cast. A little too quiet now, but better. At least the smoke had come out beautifully. Odd that the dragon magic had more influence on his sound illusions than on the visual ones, but he was glad of it. People did not tend to question whether gunfire was real .

Or perhaps he noticed it less with his visual illusions because he had been practicing them daily as the dragon magic built up in him. This change was more sudden.

He cupped his hands around his mouth and called to his valet. “Reload and fire again, if you please.”

Elizabeth seemed to have recovered from her surprise. “This is fascinating. I had no idea you could do this.”

“I practiced it often at Netherfield, but not since then. The sound of gunfire comes easily to me – it is familiar and not complicated. I cannot cast a believable human voice, or even a cat’s meow.”

“Is that what you were doing when you and Bingley went out hunting? Everyone wondered if he was a terrible shot, since it seemed like there was far more shooting than was required to kill a few birds.”

“Gossiping, my love? Well, guilty as charged. And poor Bingley – he is actually a crack shot, better than I am. At least when he is allowed to use a gun that is loaded, unlike at Netherfield. Here, watch again.”

Wilkins pulled the trigger, and the crack of the rifle split the air.

Darcy cast again, a better effort this time, despite using less of his Talent than usual. A single shot, and then a barrage of illusory gunfire, with smoke rising from each one. Like an attack that might distract guards. The air currents made it harder, getting the smoke to linger just long enough, but it was a creditable effort.

“What do you think?” he asked Elizabeth.

“I would be convinced,” she said. “Does it feel different than it used to?”

“Without question. Before I could manage no more than three separate shots.” And this had been at least a dozen. “I wonder what other surprises your dragon magic has in store for me.”

But no surprise could be as miraculous as the joy he felt when Elizabeth beamed at him.