Page 26 of The Magic of Pemberley (Fitzwilliam Darcy, Mage #2)

Chapter 26

A nd then the arguments began.

Colonel Fitzwilliam led the way, absolutely determined that Elizabeth would not go to France, or, if he could not stop her, that he would come along to defend her. Never mind that he could barely speak French, at a time when Englishmen in France were being attacked on the streets merely because their fellow countryman had been part of the assassination attempt. But he would not stop insisting until Elizabeth said she would simply slip away without him – and that Cerridwen would cover her tracks if he tried to follow her.

She placated him with promises that she would do no more than locate Darcy and would then return home, give the colonel the information, and let him handle any rescue that needed to be done.

Then Frederica took a turn, insisting that she and Quickthorn should accompany her. There would be safety in greater numbers, and her truth-casting and illusion abilities could be useful, especially if Darcy was imprisoned. Quickthorn herself joined in the fray, pointing out how young and inexperienced Cerridwen was, and the importance of including a dragon with greater knowledge of the world.

It was harder for Elizabeth to deny this, because deep down she would have liked to have her friend with her. She almost said yes, but then reconsidered. She herself was fairly confident of her ability to pass as a commoner, especially with the Marseille accent that colored her French, the one that had made Darcy’s French tutors wince. She had grown up traipsing the fields of Meryton, making friends with tenants and spending long periods of time living with the Arabic-speaking apothecary and his family. Lady Frederica Fitzwilliam was every inch the aristocrat, and that would show, from her perfect posture to her upper-class conversational French.

Frederica did not accept this easily. Quickthorn was even more argumentative and would not give in until Elizabeth agreed to let the sea-green dragon taste her blood, giving her the ability to track Elizabeth much as Cerridwen planned to do with Darcy. Not that Elizabeth wanted anyone to come after her if she got into difficulties, but if it would soothe Frederica and Quickthorn to think that they could, she would permit it.

Then Frederica and the colonel joined forces, with the argument that Mrs. Sanford should go with her. “She said you might reach your time in as little as two months. You may need her help, and she could support you as it gets harder for you to move about,” Frederica pleaded.

This time Elizabeth just laughed. “Two months at the very earliest, she said, and much more likely three months or more! I intend to be back long before the baby is born, and even if I fail at that, there must be plenty of midwives in France. Women there have been giving birth for centuries, you know. It would only make me look suspicious.”

It was not that she wished to go alone. In fact, the idea terrified her. But taking someone with her would only add to her danger. And she would have Cerridwen, if any problems arose. She steadfastly refused to think of the potential difficulties from which not even a dragon could extract her.

At least Mrs. Reynolds did not argue with her when Elizabeth told her she was going to France to find Darcy. “For everyone else, though, they are only to know that I am going to visit my family.”

“Of course, madam.” The old housekeeper bit her lip. “If I may ask, has there been any word of Mr. Darcy? I have been praying for him every night. ”

Elizabeth hesitated, but she knew how much Mrs. Reynolds loved him. “We believe he is still alive, although likely a prisoner. Cerridwen, who can sense his location, says he seems to stay in the same place, as if he is locked up.” There was no point in distressing her with the news of his gunshot wound.

The housekeeper wrung her hands in her apron. “You are very good to go after him, madam. How may I be of service to you?”

“I will be traveling as a commoner. Could you find me a few dresses that would suit a farmer’s wife or a servant? Nothing fine or new; something that will keep people from noticing me.”

The housekeeper studied her from head to foot, no doubt calculating whose clothes might fit her, especially in her current condition. “I will arrange that immediately. If you want the staff to believe you are going to see your family, we will have to pack a different set of trunks for that, too.”

She had not even thought of that, but Mrs. Reynolds was right. “I will be taking Chandrika into my confidence, so she can work on that, too.” Which only raised another problem – how was she to explain her departure to Rana Akshaya? The Indian dragon kept to herself, but Elizabeth could hardly leave her without a host. Perhaps Frederica would be willing to stay at Pemberley in her absence.

“Very good, madam. And I will instruct Cook to pack up some local food for you – dried fruits and nuts. For the sake of the babe.”

Tears sprang to the corners of her eyes. “Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds.”

Another week! According to Cerridwen, the Nest’s shipmaster had reported it would take that long to make some minor repairs before they could depart. Another seven days of waiting while Darcy was likely suffering, his life at risk every single hour. Another week apart, when she could hardly bear how long it had been already. Another week closer to her confinement, a high price to pay .

She stroked her hand over her belly, now prominent despite her loose skirts. Her pregnancy had not been visible when Darcy left, just a barely palpable bulge. Would it shock him to see the difference in her? She had been so careful to hide from everyone that she was more easily fatigued now, often behind on sleep from the lively creature within her who seemed to delight in kicking her ribs. If it was a boy, he was sure to be a sportsman, with his unending energy.

How she wished Darcy had been here to see the changes in her! And how she longed for his embrace. She should have appreciated every single one of them when he was still here.

And here came those blasted tears again! She had never been such a watering pot before she was increasing, and she detested how everything made her cry now. She hurried from the drawing room before anyone could see her and into the library, always empty at this time of day.

The room was dark, with no candles lit, but she did not care. She could see well enough to find her way to Darcy’s favorite chair and to stand behind it, gripping the back as if somehow it held a residual essence of him.

If only he were there, where he would be safe, and with her!

She could picture him, his tall form filling the leather chair, his dark curls resting on the top, soft and springy, and his scent of soap and spice rising from it.

“William,” she whispered despairingly.

As if her mental image had heard her, his head turned, his cheeks hollow. “Elizabeth?” He sounded astonished.

Her heart pounded with disbelief. She blinked, and the image began to fade around the edges, and then evaporated into the mist. Despairing, she cried, “No! Come back!”

Her knees buckled, her cheek rubbing painfully against the leather back of the chair as she slid to the ground, tears flowing down her face.

“Pardon me, madam, did you call?” It was Daniel, the footman. “Madam?”

“Over here,” she managed to say .

He appeared around the chair, his expression of dismay almost comical. Finding the mistress collapsed on the floor was not part of his usual duties. “Do you require assistance, madam?"

Even through her tears, she wanted to giggle. Of course she needed assistance. “If you could make the room stop spinning, that would be very helpful.”

Spinning. Dizzy. Giddy. She knew what needed to be done.

“Shall I fetch Mrs. Reynolds?” He sounded worried.

“No. Tea with honey, right away, and something to eat. And Lady Frederica.” Had they not just played this scene? But this time she had not even realized she was using her Talent. Yet here she was, her life force depleted to the point where she could not even pick her head up.

But for that momentary sight of Darcy, she would have suffered more – whether it was real or not.

The sound of running footsteps announced Frederica’s entrance. “Elizabeth? What happened? What did you do?”

With extraordinary effort, Elizabeth turned her head a fraction of an inch. “I am not quite certain, but I did too much of it. I was imagining my husband sitting in that chair, and suddenly he was there.”

Lady Frederica gulped. “You created an illusion of Darcy? When you can barely manage a mouse? No wonder you are depleted.”

If only her head would stop spinning! “Not an illusion. I saw him, and he saw me. I cannot explain it.”

“That is impossible! There is no kind of sending where you can see each other.”

Elizabeth’s forehead throbbed. “Not a sending. Something different.”

Rapid footsteps tapped into the room in a moment later, Mrs. Reynolds thrust a cream-filled goblet and a spoon into Elizabeth’s hand. “Eat,” she ordered. “Tea is coming, and more food.”

Elizabeth tried to take the glass, but her hand shook so badly that Frederica grabbed it away. “You are in terrible shape,” her friend informed her, scooping out a spoonful of trifle and holding it to Elizabeth’s lips as if she were an infant .

Which, at the moment, it seemed she was. She opened her mouth and let the cool softness run into her mouth. “Currant trifle?”

“It was the first thing to hand,” the housekeeper said briskly. “Old Mr. Darcy always told us time is of the essence in these matters. Now eat.”

Elizabeth accepted another dollop of trifle from Frederica. Of course Mrs. Reynolds would be familiar with the situation; she had served two generations of mages.

The next person who barreled through the library door was not a mortal at all, but Rana Akshaya in her human form. “You must never, ever do that again,” she commanded, her words a threat.

Elizabeth choked down the trifle in her mouth. “If I ever discover what I did, I will make every effort to avoid it, I promise you.”

“This is not a joke, Companion Elizabeth. You shook the foundations. You could have killed all of us.”

“Oh,” Elizabeth said weakly. “But I was not even using my Talent.”

Rana Akshaya glared at her. “Are all English companions so ignorant? Do they not teach you what can drain both companion and dragon alike?” With an annoyed sound, she stripped off her glove and laid her hand on Elizabeth’s cheek. “Look at me.”

She was too weak to disobey. Heat spiraled into her, scouring her clean, filling her with light, just as it had that long-ago day at Netherfield when Rana Akshaya had healed her.

The Indian dragon lifted her hand, and the spinning in Elizabeth’s head was gone. Not just that, but she felt as if she could get up and run a race. Something was odd with her eyesight, but a vigorous shake of her head took care of that.

“Now listen to me, little companion,” Rana Akshaya ordered. “You could easily have completely drained your dragon with a trick like that. We cannot afford to lose the Seer because of your carelessness.”

Horrified, Elizabeth jumped to her feet. “Is Cerridwen hurt?”

“You were fortunate this time, and she is only weakened. I will tend to her next. Do not play with fire again.” And she swept from the room .

“But…” Elizabeth said to her retreating back. Instead she turned to Frederica and Mrs. Reynolds, both of whom had gone pale. “What did I do?”

Frederica said, “I have never heard of any foundations, much less shaking them.”

“It hurt Cerridwen, too.” A horrifying thought. “I must go to her immediately.”

Elizabeth found Cerridwen in the ballroom. Rana Akshaya was there, along with Quickthorn, so Elizabeth hovered just outside until the Indian dragon was finished with whatever magic she was doing.

As soon as Rana Akshaya left, paying no attention at all as she hurried past, Elizabeth ran in and threw her arms around Cerridwen’s neck. “I am so sorry, dearest! I never, ever intended to hurt you!”

Cerridwen leaned into her. “I am perfectly well now. What happened?”

She tried to remember. “I do not know! I was missing Darcy, picturing him sitting in his chair in the library. Wishing he were there. Remembering how it felt. And then…he was there. For just a moment. He looked at me and said my name. Then he faded away.”

“What of your Talent?” It was Quickthorn, speaking from behind her. “What were you trying to do with it?”

“I was not even using it! At least not that I was aware of. Just wanting… him.”

Cerridwen’s presence grew stronger in her head, probing her memories. “You tried to bring him here,” she said slowly.

“Not intentionally! How could I? I know that is impossible.”

“But you wanted it.”

A huff of smoke passed over Elizabeth’s head as Quickthorn lumbered forward to stare into her face. “You must never do that again. Not ever. Do not even let yourself have that wish, not if you want to live. ”

“I have already heard this lecture from Rana Akshaya,” Elizabeth said crossly. “What does it mean, that I shook the foundations?” She had never heard of such a thing, not even in her Arabic books.

Quickthorn snorted. “The world sits on certain foundations which keep us in our place. In a very few places, the foundations have been altered, as in Faerie rings, permitting us to leave our world. It is a dangerous thing, not undertaken lightly, as it can cause a collapse of reality around the ring if done without great precautions being taken.”

“But how could I do such a thing? I am a poor excuse for a mage; Frederica will tell you so! And I was not even using my Talent!”

In an unusual display of tact, Frederica murmured, “You are good at sending, even if we have not yet found any other part of magery that comes easily to you.”

The air buzzed with energy. Elizabeth could practically see the sendings shooting back and forth between Quickthorn and Cerridwen. What were they saying?

Cerridwen tossed her head, then spoke in Elizabeth’s mind. Can you come to the Nest tomorrow? Apparently this requires the Eldest’s attention.

She could hardly refuse. Perhaps she could ask some questions of her own, too.