Page 12 of The Magic of Pemberley (Fitzwilliam Darcy, Mage #2)

Chapter 12

B y the next morning, loneliness hung on Elizabeth’s shoulders like an iron weight. She had not realized how rich she had been in friends at Pemberley. A week ago she could have spoken to Darcy, Granny, Frederica, or Roderick about the matters on her mind. Now there was no mortal with whom she could discuss any of it – her land Talent, magery, or dragons.

There was one person at Pemberley who did know about land Talent, though, and shared her interest in pouring magic into yarn and fabric. A woman who had once saved her life, and whose help she would need later in her pregnancy. Darcy’s base-born half-sister, the midwife – who had made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with the Darcy family.

Elizabeth was determined to change her mind. She needed Mrs. Sanford as a midwife, and she desperately wanted her as a friend.

The midwife lived in a cottage near the top of the hill. Elizabeth was glad of the effort it took to climb the steep path, since it distracted her from wondering how she would be received. She wanted this to work.

The door opened to her knock, and Mrs. Sanford stood behind it, frowning at her. “Mrs. Darcy,” she said flatly. Her slight resemblance to Darcy, mostly around the eyes, gave Elizabeth a pang .

This was not promising. Elizabeth gave her an engaging smile. “I hope you will forgive me for calling without an invitation. Or, for that matter, a proper introduction. I owe you a great deal for saving my life.”

Mrs. Sanford studied her, and then opened the door to let her in, with seeming reluctance. “Your husband’s lynx left me little choice in the matter.”

Elizabeth stepped inside the tidy room. “He brought you to the house, that is true, but you chose to help heal me.”

There was no softening in that stern face, nor did she respond.

Then it struck Elizabeth what it must have been like, to have Darcy’s lynx force her to go. The midwife would have made the natural assumption that Darcy had sent him. “I must apologize for that, though. The lynx was acting on a suggestion from my familiar. My husband knew nothing about it.”

One corner of her mouth turned up. “I am certain you mean well, Mrs. Darcy, but the lynx is Mr. Darcy’s familiar and acts on his behalf. Even when it comes to showing his teeth and forcing someone out of their home – and into a place where they are forbidden to go.”

Oh, dear! That did sound bad. “My husband did not even know of your existence. If he had, he would have sent a servant, not his lynx.”

Now her lips bowed downwards. “I could have refused a servant’s request. But that is neither here nor there; it has always been the case that the Darcys make the rules at Pemberley, and the rest of us have little choice but to follow them.”

This was a poor beginning indeed! “I would not be pleased either, to be hauled off by a wild creature under someone else’s command. Would you be willing to take my familiar’s word for it that it was solely her idea?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Your dragon, you mean?”

She nodded. “I did not know whether you were aware of her identity.”

“It was rather obvious, after she shared her power during your healing.”

Elizabeth wavered, wanting to know how the midwife guessed Cerridwen’s true nature, but that could wait. “I believe she meant you no harm, but we could ask her directly. ”

Mrs. Sanford sniffed. “It does not matter. You must be here for a reason. I assume you want me to leave.” Her tone was bitter.

Elizabeth stared. “Leave? But this is your house!”

Her face crinkled as if she had smelled something noxious. “Leave Pemberley, of course.”

Recoiling, Elizabeth exclaimed, “Good Lord, no! Why would I want that!”

“To strengthen your husband’s precious Talent, of course. Because there can only be one Talent bonded to the land. Because only a true-born Darcy can be permitted to touch the power of the earth.” Scorn dripped from her voice.

“That is just silly. I am bonded to the land, as is my dragon, and neither of us were born a Darcy.”

“You do not think my Talent lessens your husband’s bond?” Her tone was skeptical.

Elizabeth laughed. “Have you seen his Talent in action? Does it look diminished? Where I grew up, I taught all the tenants to give blood to the earth, and it never harmed my own bond. Besides, why would I object when you use your Talent to help the other tenants? Not to mention saving my life with it.”

“But they say only one person can hold the Talent within the estate.”

“You and I are living proof that is not the case. Personally, I think they claim that to protect the inheritance laws, to keep younger sons from trying to take part of an estate.”

Mrs. Sanford studied her in silence, her dark eyes so like Darcy’s that it made Elizabeth’s heart ache. “You are not what I expected. I will grant you that,” she allowed. “If you are not going to evict me, then why are you here?” It was grudging, but no longer hostile.

Should she even say it? “I came for the same reason any other woman calls on a midwife. I believe I am increasing.”

Her eyes widened, her jaw falling slightly. “And you want me to attend you? ”

“You are, by all reports, an excellent midwife; you have healed me before; and most importantly, you understand the issues of bonding to the land. Why in the world would I go to anyone else?”

Mrs. Sanford sank down onto a chair as if her legs had suddenly decided not to support her. “Surely your husband will wish to handle the birth rites.”

Elizabeth took a deep breath. “He is away for some months. I hope he will return in time for the birth, but babies do not always keep to a schedule. That is why your help would be invaluable.”

She looked stunned. “He would miss the birth of his heir, the bonding to Pemberley?”

Elizabeth steeled herself. “It may not be possible for him to do otherwise.” And she had to prepare for that.

“When is he due to return?”

“That is uncertain.” Elizabeth raised her chin, trying to keep the wobble from her voice.

Something flickered in those familiar dark eyes. Pity, perhaps? “Is this one of those marriages?” she asked darkly. “I hoped he might care about more than your dowry.”

Bother those tears that came so readily these days! Elizabeth blinked them back. “He does care, but business calls him away.”

“Do not make excuses for him. I know his sort all too well.”

It was a bitter disappointment, but there was no point in arguing with this woman. She would have to find friendship – and a midwife – somewhere else. “I fear I have made an error in coming here. Pray forgive me for taking up so much of your time.” Elizabeth marched over to the door.

“Wait! I will help you, if you wish it.”

Elizabeth turned back slowly, her hand still on the latch, her chest aching. “Why? You are clearly angry, and no doubt have good reason for it.”

“My anger is at your husband, not you. And he is not the one who needs my care. ”

“It is not his fault he must be away.” Why did she care so much that this woman understand that?

Mrs. Sanford tsked. “If you wish to believe that, you may.”

“It is true!”

Her eyes flashed. “It is also true that a rich man can show a purse of gold and be brought to your side whenever he wishes.”

“Not from behind French lines in Europe!” The words slipped out. Elizabeth clapped her hand over her mouth.

Mrs. Sanford stood stock-still. “Is that where he is?”

“I should not have said that. It is a secret,” Elizabeth said in a low voice. “I pray you, tell no one.” If only she could do a binding, like Cerridwen! It would be a disaster if this angry woman revealed it.

“A healer never reveals the secrets they hear,” the midwife said slowly. Then she straightened. “I think you had better sit down and tell me more about your condition.”

Half an hour later, Elizabeth was still there, sipping an herbal tisane the midwife had prepared for her. “This is tasty,” she said. “Fennel?”

“With raspberry leaf, nettle, and chamomile. Good to strengthen your womb. I will give you some to take with you.” She hesitated. “I must ask this. Are you aware of who my father was?”

Elizabeth set down the cup carefully. “I was given to understand that old Mr. Darcy had two families, although my husband appears to have been unaware of it until meeting you.”

“Hardly surprising. We were forbidden to go anywhere near the great house, and he sent us away before we were old enough to disobey.” Her lips tightened. “Off to school and then into the Army for my brothers, and a position in London for me. He provided for us, as long as we never returned.”

“But you came back. ”

“As soon as he died, to care for my ill mother. When no one said anything, I decided to stay. Quietly.”

Then she had only been here for five years. “How did you manage to bond to the land?”

“My mother’s work. She teased a little information from the old man and buried my afterbirth in the garden. She knew my brothers would be taken away, but she thought he might let her keep a daughter. When I returned, the power was here.”

“Where are your brothers now? Are you in contact with them?”

A shadow crossed her face. “I have not seen them since we were children, but we write occasionally. Robert’s last letter mentioned he had met the other Darcy boy, Jack, in Spain. Said he was a surprisingly decent sort, given his upbringing.” Her face paled. “That was his last letter. He was at Salamanca, in the massacre.”

“I am so very sorry,” Elizabeth said softly. “Jack Darcy died there, too.” Jack, whose father had refused to buy him a commission because it was too dangerous, but he had sent his two base-born sons into the Army. Now the two half-brothers had died together.

“They met the same fate.” She looked up. “There will be talk, you know, if I am attending you.”

“As if there has not been talk about me since I arrived! That strange Mrs. Darcy with her books and old clothes and now her dragon,” Elizabeth said ruefully. “Unless it troubles you, I do not care about a little gossip.”

“It does not bother me. No one here minds my oddities, since they are useful, and everyone loved my mother.” She shrugged. “I understand you can feel the power in the cloth I make. I wonder if you would be willing to test something for me, purely for my own curiosity.”

“Of course. At home I used to grow my own flax and spin it into yarn with my Talent.”

The midwife got up and opened a chest, pulling out a small pile of fabric. “Would you mind closing your eyes? I would like you to hold two pieces to see if you can tell the difference between them. ”

It seemed harmless, and now she was curious, too. “Happily.” She closed her eyes and held out her hands, palms up.

Bits of fabric settled in them. Wool, by the feel, with magic in each. She raised her left hand. “This one is stronger. What is it?”

“Open your eyes.”

Elizabeth looked down at her hands. Two identical scraps, except one was blue and one white. “The color?”

“They are from the same looming, but I dyed that one with woad I grew in the garden.”

She nodded slowly. Another step for adding in the power from the land. It made sense. “Would you teach me how someday? I know nothing about dyeing.”

The midwife smiled for the first time. “If you wish.”