Page 11 of The Magic of Pemberley (Fitzwilliam Darcy, Mage #2)

Chapter 11

T hey returned to the house in time for Darcy’s meeting with his steward. Elizabeth settled herself in the library with her Arabic book on magery. There was still one segment she did not understand.

She had not even finished a page of it when a maid came in with a message. “Mr. Darcy requests your presence in his study, madam.”

Foreboding washed over her, echoing through her with a sense of horror. Her shoulders tightened. Darcy’s meeting should have taken at least an hour, and he never sent for her, instead preferring to join her wherever she might be. He would only do this if he wanted to ensure they had privacy, even for that first moment when she saw his face.

Which meant his face would be showing something. The time for his mission must have come.

She tried to swallow, but there was a lump in her throat that wanted to choke her. She needed to do her duty, to act as if nothing was wrong. Forcing back the ready tears that fought to spring into her eyes, she pasted a smile on her face as she set her book aside. “Very well.”

It was not as if this was a surprise. They had known it was coming very soon. But it was hard not to feel as if everything had changed, as if each step she took was bringing her closer to her doom .

Elizabeth knew the second that she reached the study that she was not wrong. Darcy’s face sported new lines tugging at the corners of his eyes, even though he stood as proudly as ever.

She would not make him say it. Closing the door behind her, she asked, “When must you leave?”

“Tomorrow.”

“So soon?” The words escaped her.

The corner of his mouth quirked. “It is not my choice. Time is of the essence, they say.”

He had not moved to embrace her, instead staying behind his desk. Perhaps he could not let himself soften right now, either. “What reason will you give for your journey?”

He lifted a letter from his desk. “They have arranged it all. I have a small estate in Ireland, and the steward there has been found to be stealing. I must go to oversee the investigation and hiring of a new one. I will sail from Liverpool, in theory.”

In theory, but not in reality. “I suppose it is better if I do not know all the details.”

“Most likely.” Now, finally, he came out from behind the heavy desk that stood between them. He took her hands in his and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I will be traveling under the name of Edward Harcourt.”

She bit her lip until it hurt. He was telling her this so that if the newspapers reported that Edward Harcourt had been killed, she would know what it meant. Through her suddenly dry mouth, she said, “Thank you.”

He continued to whisper. “You will receive letters from me, purportedly from Ireland, to keep up appearances. They will all be written in advance, though.”

And she would have to pretend she was not worried about him. “Is there anything I can do to help you prepare?” Having a task might make it easier. No, what was she thinking? Nothing could make this less painful.

“My valet will handle most of it, but you could inform Mrs. Reynolds of my plans.” He hesitated. “Perhaps, if I do not ask too much, could we dine privately tonight? ”

A chance to be alone with him, with no servants looking on? “Yes, of course.” And then her fa?ade crumbled as she moved into his arms.

This would be their last day together. She wanted to steal every moment of it.

Elizabeth was wearing her brave face when Darcy found her in their private sitting room, her eyes still red-ringed, but she welcomed him with a smile that only looked slightly forced.

“Thank you for arranging this,” he said huskily. He had hurried through his last preparations, final instructions for his steward, breaking the news to Georgiana, and scribbling quick responses to letters that would otherwise never be answered, just so that he could have this time.

How had he ever thought he could do this? It had seemed simple back at Netherfield, when he was still reeling from the knowledge of Jack’s death and the dragon attacks. He would marry Elizabeth, get her with child, and then head off to France without a second thought for either his wife or baby.

He had not known then that she would teach him to care about living again. Nor what it would mean to learn to love her, and then abandon her to a future alone. Not to mention breaking his own heart by giving her up.

“When do you leave tomorrow?” she asked.

“First thing,” he said. “It will be a full day of travel.” He tried to chase the image out of his head, of walking out the door of Pemberley for the last time, and their final farewell.

She raised her chin. “I think it would be best if we said our goodbyes here in the morning, then. Perhaps it is weak of me, but I am not certain I will be strong enough to keep my composure in front of the staff when you leave. It will be hard enough to pretend that I am not worried about you while you are gone.” Her voice trembled .

He went around the table, already set with food, and took her hands. Gently he raised her to her feet. “It is not weakness. It shows that you care, which means everything to me. It will be easier for me, too. I never imagined parting from you would be so hard.” He took her precious form into his arms, all too aware this would be among the last times he could do so.

She pressed her face against his shoulder, and then raised her head to seek out his lips. He met them with a desperation and hunger that surprised even him. How much he needed her!

Then his hands, as if of their own accord, began to tangle with her buttons, and he forgot everything but her.

The waiting dinner was long forgotten.

The next morning, Elizabeth dragged herself out of bed. Sobbing would not bring Darcy back. She poured water into the basin and splashed it on her hot face, letting the cool wetness soothe her swollen eyes. But nothing could reduce her fear and pain.

Perhaps if she went back to bed, she could escape through sleep. But then she would only dream of Darcy in danger, and she could not spend the next few months hiding from reality.

She needed to face facts. Because of her efforts, Darcy was better equipped to succeed in his mission. With the help of the dragons, he even had a chance to survive it. But it was no more than that: a chance. He would be in enemy territory with the entire might of the French state turned against him, and his English accent would betray him from the moment he opened his mouth.

Her breath caught in her throat. No, she was not going to start crying again. She had responsibilities, to practice the exercises Granny had given her, to work with the dragons on setting up defenses, to strengthen her bond to the land so she could send more power to Darcy. To care for the child growing within her. To take her place as the mistress of Pemberley.

She rang for Chandrika to help her dress. The maid carefully said nothing about her reddened eyes, just rubbed a little powder under them to disguise the shadows. “Will you be wanting a breakfast tray, Mrs. Darcy?”

The cowardly side of her wished to accept. But she had a role to play, that of a wife whose husband was merely attending to business in Ireland, not risking his life. For his protection, she had to put on a brave face and not draw attention to his absence. She raised her chin. “No, I will go downstairs.”

Convincing herself to eat something was a different matter. Even if her appetite had not fled with Darcy, she had been distinctly queasy in the mornings of late. The very smell of coffee was enough to make her want to run away. She should ask Mrs. Reynolds to stop serving it, since Georgiana never drank it. But she soldiered on, ignoring the generous spread of food on the sideboard in the breakfast room, settling on tea and toast with honey.

It seemed so empty there. Only last week, Granny, Roderick, and Darcy had all broken their fast with her, and Frederica had been just a short walk away. Now all of them were gone, all but Georgiana, who spent most of her time in her rooms. She was alone.

She had managed only a few bites of toast when Mrs. Reynolds came in. “Mrs. Darcy, would you have time today to consult with me about a situation?”

Anything that could distract her would be a blessed relief. “Of course. Is something the matter?”

The older woman hesitated. “Nothing is wrong, as such, but some of the staff are growing distressed by the presence of the fae.”

“Cassie told them?”

“It has become hard to miss. If you would be willing to accompany me to the servants’ quarters, it would be easier to show you than to explain. ”

Mystified, Elizabeth followed her up the narrow steps to the top floor, where the maids’ sleeping quarters lined a long corridor. Mrs. Reynolds gestured her in the first door.

Elizabeth stepped inside the bedroom. While not large, it was more spacious and brighter than the tiny spaces tucked under the eaves at Longbourn. The furnishings were simple but sturdy.

What could be the problem with the room? Everything seemed in order. Even the hairbrushes were lined up perfectly, and the room was spotless.

Too spotless. The small windowpanes gleamed as if polished. The curtains looked freshly pressed. The walls showed not a trace of dirt, not even a shadow of the soot in the corners of the ceilings. The room had been scrubbed within an inch of its life.

She narrowed her eyes and turned to the housekeeper. “Either you are working the maids to the bone or we have a brownie.”

“More than one, most likely. All the maids’ wing is like this, and Miss Georgiana’s rooms as well. The stables, too, I am told.”

Elizabeth frowned. Brownies never came to wealthy households, preferring to stay where they were needed most. Had the safety offered by the wards outweighed that preference? “Why does this distress the staff? It would seem to reduce their workload.”

“They fear losing their positions,” Mrs. Reynolds said sharply. “Why would you pay good money for work that is being done for free? The staff here receive reasonable wages and are treated well; they are unlikely to find another job like this. Nor one that allows them to be near their families.”

Elizabeth rubbed her hand over her forehead. If only she knew more about the fae! “No one will be dismissed,” she said tiredly. “I intend to learn more about this, and I will speak to our staff later.”

Elizabeth found Georgiana practicing the harp. If anything, the music room sparkled even more than the staff quarters. The very air seemed scrubbed clean, like the first breeze of a summer day. It was the only public room of the house she had seen so far that had the touch of brownie cleaning. Was it because Georgiana spent most of her time there?

Georgiana smiled as she rose to make her curtsy. Perhaps the girl was finally becoming a little more comfortable with her. That would be a pleasant change.

“I apologize for interrupting your practice. It sounded lovely,” Elizabeth said.

The girl absently caressed the pillar of the harp. “It is a fine instrument. My brother gave it to me last year.”

Elizabeth smiled at her warmly. “I expect it was more the musician than the instrument. I do not wish to keep you from it, though. I wondered if any of the lesser fae are about, and if you might be willing to help me communicate with them.”

“There are always some near me, unless I send them away.” Georgiana sounded quietly confident. “I always ask them not to attend our family dinners, so that we have privacy there.”

All the things she had not thought of, like whether there was a crowd of fae watching them eat! Having invisible guests was an uncomfortable thing. “Mrs. Reynolds tells me that some rooms here have been cleaned by brownies. Do you know anything of that?”

“A little.” Georgiana beckoned with her fingers to an empty corner of the room. With her gaze fixed in that direction, she said gently, “It would please me if you answered my sister’s questions.”

How far did the little fae’s obedience to Georgiana go? Elizabeth said carefully, “It would make me more comfortable if I could see who I was speaking to.”

A small creature in a tattered black skirt and patched leather vest rippled into view. She was barely taller than Elizabeth’s waist, with long, pointed ears and spindly fingers that clutched a rough twig broom. “What d’ye wish tae know, mortal?” she asked in a hoarse voice .

The sight of this being from the old tales made the hair rise on Elizabeth’s arms. “Is it true that brownies have been offering cleaning assistance here?”

The brownie glanced at Georgiana before responding. “Aye, when t’spirit moves us.”

Elizabeth had the sense that she was biting back a harsher response. “You have been doing a fine job of it. It creates a small problem for me, though. While your assistance is clearly well meant, I cannot accept your aid without recompense.”

The brownie hissed at her, revealing sharp uneven teeth. “We help those who help us. T’ great lady who gives us her protection; t’ folk in the kitchens and stable who put out food for us. We dinna serve you .”

Reasonable at one level, yet a little too close to unpaid servitude for Elizabeth’s liking. Still, the fae had clearly been offended by her question. “As long as it is by your choice.”

“Nae one compels us.” The brownie seemed a little less hostile now. “And we can defend ourselves.”

“I am glad of it. I am not familiar with the ways of the fae, but I am willing to learn. I wish us to live together here in harmony.”

The brownie snorted. “We serve t’ great lady, but there can be nae harmony while t’ High King tortures our people.”

“My dragon would agree with you,” Elizabeth said slowly. “You have answered my questions well.”

Now all she had to do was to convince the staff to accept the situation.

The staff were all gathered in the servants’ hall, murmuring to each other. At Elizabeth’s entrance, they stood and shuffled into rows. Oh, dear. She had hoped for more informality. But this was Pemberley, not Longbourn, and they still hardly knew her.

“Good evening.” She moved to stand at the head of the room. “I thank you for coming. As you are no doubt aware, we have had an influx of lesser fae among us. I have spoken to one of them, and they have promised to do us no harm. But I am aware you may have other concerns about how this will affect you.”

She watched for a reaction, but it was just worried looks, so she continued. “There will be no changes in the staffing here, no reductions in position or salaries. For those of you whose workload has lessened, I have instructed Mrs. Reynolds to find new tasks for you. She will consult the rector to see if there is charity work which could use extra hands.”

She could see the visible signs of relief on the faces nearest her. “It will be an adjustment, but I am determined that none of you will suffer for the presence of the fae among us. Mrs. Reynolds will, as always, assign your particular duties, but if you have any general questions, I will do my best to answer.”

An older footman stepped forward, and she nodded to him.

He ducked his head. “These fae. The elderflower brought them, didn’t she?”

Baffled, Elizabeth studied him. His accent was not particularly thick, certainly not enough for her to misunderstand his words, but what on earth did he mean? None of the other servants seemed confused by his question. “Pardon me, did you ask about elderflowers?”

Mrs. Reynolds moved closer to her. “He means the dragon. It is a way to avoid using the word, because of the binding.”

Yet another local custom she needed to learn. But of course they must think it was Cerridwen’s fault. A dragon had appeared at Pemberley, and less than a fortnight later, the house was overrun with lesser fae. How could she explain this so they could understand – and not blame her for it? “Not directly. You have no doubt heard that Lady Anne Darcy was trapped in Faerie for many years. We recently discovered that one of the High Fae has been threatening her children. When Cerridwen learned of it, she placed a protection on Pemberley to keep him away. But many of the lesser fae also fear him, too, so they have come here for their safety. We did not expect that, but it is the price of keeping Mr. Darcy and Miss Darcy safe from the High Fae.”

Mrs. Reynolds frowned. “Mrs. Darcy, is there any risk to the staff from this High Fae?”

“Not now, since he can no longer enter Pemberley, and his interest is only in the Darcys. Beyond that, I cannot say, though I would not wish to be the one standing in his way. He is very powerful.” The staff might panic if they knew it was the High King himself.

The housekeeper nodded decisively. “So we are safer now, too.”

“Thanks to Cerridwen, yes. Are there any other questions?” Of course they must have questions, but apparently none they would voice to her. “Mrs. Reynolds will keep me apprised, of course, should any new problems arise.”

After she bade them good night, the servants turned to each other, putting their heads together to whisper as Elizabeth turned to climb the stairs, with Mrs. Reynolds following behind her.

Once they reached the great hall, she turned to the elderly housekeeper. “Will that satisfy them?”

“I hope so. I thank you, Mrs. Darcy, for keeping everyone on. It is generous of you.”

“Will any of them wish to leave anyway? A dragon is enough of a shock, and then to add in the fae – I could not blame them if they did,” she said wearily.

Mrs. Reynolds seemed to consider. “One or two, perhaps. More because of the fae than your dragon. They are quite proud of her, and that they are in service to a dragon companion. The only complaint I have heard on that front is annoyance that they cannot boast to their families about it.”

It was almost enough to make her smile. Almost, but not quite. “What was that about elderflowers?”

The housekeeper’s expression cleared. “It is a tradition here, that anyone who sees a dragon will then plant an elderflower by their doorway as a sign to their neighbors who are also under bindings, and to honor the dragons. Because elderflowers are sacred to dragons, of course. ”

That was news to Elizabeth, but there were certainly many elderberry bushes in the village and the hedgerows – and around the Dragon Stones. No doubt this explained why elderberry preserves and elderberry wine had been appearing on her trays so frequently since Cerridwen had taken on her true form.

But for now she was simply exhausted. She had hardly slept last night, and the pain of Darcy’s absence seemed to sap the strength from her bones. “Pray keep me informed if there are any further problems, Mrs. Reynolds. I think I will retire early tonight, with a tray in my room, if that is not too much trouble.” She could not face making conversation with Georgiana over dinner.

“Not at all, madam,” the housekeeper said.

She should not complain, though, not when Darcy must be far more uncomfortable, somewhere in a coach partway to London or wherever it was they planned to take him to catch his ship. Somehow not knowing made it even worse. At least he was safe while he was still on English soil, but that would not last.

Finally she was in her bedroom, where she could throw herself on her bed and bury her face in the pillows. These next weeks and months, waiting to hear the worst, were going to be a nightmare.