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“Georgiana has the ability to play any musical instrument without practice. She will read the music for whatever she plans to play, then perform the piece without error. Her preference is the pianoforte, so she rarely practises any other instruments.”

“That is impressive and useful in company. I would have welcomed such an ability.” With Elizabeth’s unwillingness and lack of time to practise, that talent would be welcome. Charlotte always made her play at gatherings. Elizabeth despised performing.

“You would be happy with a mere talent over being the heir?”

She closed her eyes for a moment. The breeze tonight was content, for the most part. An undercurrent of unease remained, but the earth was resting, and the offerings for the equinox and tonight’s bonfire had aided in rejuvenating the magic within.

“What do you hear?” asked Fitzwilliam beside her ear.

“All is well, though what is coming is still causing unrest. Tonight’s celebrations have shadowed what is to come.” She could not describe the effect any other way .

Her eyes opened, and she rested her head against Fitzwilliam’s shoulder so she could take in the stars that were bright in the sky.

“To answer your earlier question: no, I would not prefer to have a talent over being the heir. I cannot imagine not hearing the restless whisperings of the wind or feel the power coursing through the altar near the equinox and the solstice. Those sensations have been my faithful companions since I was a child. To live without them would be akin to living without my hearing or my sight. They are so ingrained I cannot separate them from my soul.”

He shifted his arms to put one around her and lift her for a moment. She gasped.

“I beg your pardon, but I would not have you fall.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Ah, the oak root that lies just behind Longbourn’s gardens. I should not have been so inattentive. My thanks for not allowing me to fall on my face.” She had done so often enough when not attending where she was walking; however, this time would have been mortifying!

They entered through the front doors with Papa striding to the fireplace to light the newly laid fire with the torch from the bonfire.

As was done every Samhain, the fires had been dashed and the remnants of the prior fires removed before the family returned from the celebration.

Re-lighting their hearth from the bonfire helped reinforce the bonds of their magical community as well as served to banish the house of any evil.

“Darcy, you are welcome to join us for our family celebration. The girls always enjoyed playing snap-apple. Lizzy has a particular talent for the diversion. She has yet to be burnt by the candle.”

She glanced up at him. His eyebrows were raised as he stared at the rod Mr. Hill had hung from the ceiling with a candle on one end and an apple already hanging from the other.

“I have never played snap-apple. We had hazelnuts for wisdom, but Mrs. Reynolds feared burning down Pemberley with the rod and candle required for apples.”

“You should try it, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth.

“You only need master the timing. As the rod spins, it keeps a steady rhythm. ’Tis not difficult to duck and weave so you are not struck by the candle.

” If he truly wished, he could charm the rod to slow just enough to grab the apple with his teeth.

She had never been allowed since her mother or her younger sisters might notice.

Mrs. Hill bustled in and took the torch from Papa. “Sir, my husband will light the remaining fires. Dinner will be served in an hour.”

“Thank you, Hill. Mrs. Bennet will require her tea soon.”

“Yes, sir. I already have the water ready.”

As soon as the housekeeper departed, Mama perched herself into her chair. “What is this about Lizzy marrying Mr. Darcy? No one has ever mentioned this arranged match to me.”

Jane’s eyes widened, and she hastened to her mother’s side and placed a hand to Mama’s back. “I am certain Papa has his reasons.”

“Since those decisions fall to me as the head of the family, I considered what was best for Lizzy and our family. I have kept the agreement between the Darcys and our family quiet as was planned when our daughter was still in her cradle.”

Mama sniffed. “I do not believe she should be the one to wed Mr. Darcy. Jane is more beautiful, and Lydia is much more agreeable.”

Elizabeth stiffened when Lydia tilted her head and fluttered her eyelashes towards the man.

He visibly recoiled, and a burst of a laugh escaped Elizabeth’s lips before she could turn and hide her amusement behind his arm.

She could not help it. He almost appeared like an animal about to flee for its life.

“Then ’tis a good thing you never had a say in the matter,” said Papa. “As it is, the magical contract is sealed and is irrevocable. ”

In actuality, if both parties agreed to dissolving the agreement, the proper counterspell could be performed, but Mama never took interest in much beyond her own abilities. The only sister who would know such a fact was Jane. Thank heavens Jane was circumspect!

Fitzwilliam’s hand slipped down and wrapped around hers. The slight squeeze that followed managed to settle her a little. Mama was ill. He had possessed knowledge of that fact before they agreed to announce their engagement. He would not hold Mama’s ramblings against her.

“Well, it seems our least deserving daughter will make a most advantageous marriage whether I approve or not.” A ceramic vase upon the mantel rattled before flying towards Elizabeth’s head.

Her feet slipped as she was whirled around.

When everything around her steadied, she lifted her head to Fitzwilliam’s cheek against hers. He was wrapped around her.

“Are you well?” he asked.

“Yes, and I thank you for your quick actions, although I have had years of dodging Mama’s anger.” Her reflexes had not always been quick enough—not that she needed to tell him that. Once she had even been hit so hard, she had been insensible. Upon awakening, she had been dizzy for a week.

Her betrothed unwrapped himself from her as Kitty giggled in a tittering Lydia’s ear. Why did it not surprise her that they would only see the romance of the situation?

At that moment, Mrs. Hill returned with the tray that she placed on the table beside Mama. “Mrs. Bennet, I am sure you have been wanting your tea,” said Mrs. Hill. “Forgive me for not having it ready and waiting when you arrived.”

Mama took the cup without question, took a sip, swallowed, then opened her mouth .

Elizabeth steeled herself. Whatever Mama had to say would not be good.

Her mother’s forehead furrowed, and she snapped her mouth shut. Jane removed her hand from Mama’s shoulder but left it to rest on the back of the chair. She was at the ready should Mama recall what was on her mind.

Mama opened her mouth once more, blinked, and shook herself. “What were we speaking of?”

Lydia took in a big gulp of air, but Jane grabbed her arm. Her youngest sister frowned and pulled from Jane’s grip. “Do not use your gifts on me. I do not require them.”

When Mrs. Hill made to depart, she gave Papa a slight curtsey.

Her father’s only response was a lifted eyebrow.

He was not unaware that the housekeeper had used more than the calming potion in the tea.

Mrs. Hill had tended to Mama faithfully for years and knew well Mama’s ever-changing moods.

Hill had also attended the bonfire, departing while they lit the torches for each household.

“It seems your housekeeper added some chamomile to the tea,” said Fitzwilliam in low tones next to her ear.

In a non-magical person, chamomile had the ability to addle the memory, but in an individual with magic, the effect was more pronounced. The herb was a good way to muddle one’s mind, and in this instance, would make for a more peaceful evening for everyone.

“Mrs. Hill has always had a good knowledge of herbs and remedies. She can also heal minor wounds.” When Elizabeth had been hit in the head by Mama’s superiorly aimed crystal figurine, the damage had been more than Mrs. Hill could fix in one attempt.

Instead, she had healed Elizabeth a small amount at a time.

If she had not, who knew how long she would have suffered the ill-effects of Mama’s ire.

The housekeeper had a worse time fixing the crystal figurine.

Her talent could mend objects back together, but the first attempt did not always put the pieces back in the correct places.

From that moment forward, the rest of the evening was pleasant. Mama’s ire subdued, her attention re-directed towards the bonnets Lydia brought out to trim, once again proclaiming over the lace on the Bingley sisters’ gowns.

They played snap-apple, and Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam were persuaded to roast two hazelnuts on the fire. The nuts roasted quietly and did not jump away from the heat, which according to lore meant she and her betrothed were an excellent match.

At the end of the night, Elizabeth walked Fitzwilliam outside for him to fetch Hen. “I am sorry for Mama’s response to our engagement.”

He tipped up her chin with his knuckle. “Pray, do not fret over it. Your mother has little control over what she says and is steadily losing regulation of her ability. You will no longer have to bear her ire when we are at Pemberley. Until then, I promise to do all I can to protect you.”

When he bent to kiss her forehead, she lifted up and captured his lips with her own. He did not linger, but they were in front of the house where anyone could see them.

“Will you be well riding at night?”

He smiled. “The moon is full. I should be able to see well enough. Are we to meet in the morning?”

She nodded. “Yes, I shall see you then.”

He mounted and before turning his horse towards the road, he dipped his chin. “Good night, Elizabeth.”