Page 8

Elizabeth took in a great inhalation of the brisk morning air.

After being cooped up inside Longbourn for two days of rain, the freedom of walking through the fields was welcome.

As volatile and capricious as her mother’s moods had become, they were worse when Elizabeth had no opportunity to escape the house and her mother’s presence.

Perhaps her powers fed her mother’s instability?

More than likely, Elizabeth reminded her mother of the disappointment that her second born was not the heir—as far as Mama knew anyway.

When Elizabeth would visit her aunt and uncle in London, Jane would report in her letters that her mother was much improved during Elizabeth’s absence, which was why she believed it to be so.

Her stomach twisted. Despite living with her mother’s disdain for so many years, the rejection still smarted.

The fields were still damp from yesterday’s light misting rain as well as this morning’s dew, but not so sodden that she sank into the mud.

She had worn her older boots lest she ruin the new ones her aunt had sent from town a month ago.

Regardless of Mama’s feelings towards her, she had no desire to increase her mother’s agitation, which ruining her boots would surely do.

The thudding of hoofbeats made her stop and glance about her, and as they grew louder, she whirled around as a great black steed came to a halt about five yards away from her.

He was a beautiful horse, his bright white blaze and socks a stark contrast to the darkness of the rest of his body.

Nevertheless, she took a step back. Her heart fluttered madly against her ribs. The beast’s proximity was unnerving.

The gentleman atop the horse dismounted and drew the reins from the horse’s head as he stepped before her. “Good morning, Miss Elizabeth. ”

It was him—the gentleman from the forest. His proud bearing and tall stature helped make him recognisable, even without the cloak he wore on the equinox.

The penetrating gaze of his crystal blue eyes caused a frisson within her that accompanied the sensation emanating from him that she could not identify.

She could not describe it, either. It was most unusual.

“Good morning, Mr. Darcy.” She had not required an introduction that night in the forest, and she had no need of one now.

One side of his mouth curved. “Good morning, Miss Elizabeth.”

“You already wished me well, or have you forgotten so quickly?”

He smiled wider. “I have not forgotten.” He cleared his throat. “As the fields are not terribly muddy from the rain yesterday, I had thought to find some peace before my hosts demand my presence for the rest of the day, but I would enjoy your company if you are inclined to join me.”

She started and stepped back once again.

“You wish me to ride with you?” Her heartbeat quickened.

She liked to give the horses of Longbourn treats of apples and carrots and to brush them, but she had never taken to riding.

Her own two legs were sturdy. They could take her anywhere around Meryton and Longbourn she wished to go, and if the distance was too great, a carriage was not objectionable, but she preferred the breeze to caress her cheeks and whisper in her ear.

Some of her most meaningful moments were spent rambling.

“No, I thought we would walk together. I have given Hen a good run. He will be pleased with a reprieve before we return to Netherfield.”

“His name is Hen?” He named his horse for a chicken ?

The gentleman chuckled and gestured towards his stallion. “Miss Elizabeth, may I present Hengroen.”

“Do you also have a mare named Llamrei?” If he had one mount named for a warhorse of King Arthur, would he also have one named for King Arthur’s own steed?

“I do, but she remains at Pemberley. She will soon birth a foal by Hen, and I would not cause her strain by bringing her so far from home when in such a delicate condition.”

While he spoke, Elizabeth tilted her head and made a study of the gentleman before her.

As she had discerned on the equinox, he was quite tall and handsome.

His well-tailored greatcoat fit snug across his broad shoulders and even with it on, little doubt existed that he was an active sort by the snug fit of his topcoat.

Once he had finished his explanation, she glanced in the direction of the forest. “I usually walk in Oakham Forest. Would your horse object to the woods?”

“No, I do not believe he would.”

When she turned to continue forward, he fell into step beside her. “Will we meet your white stag today?”

She lifted one shoulder. “He joins me whenever I enter the forest, and if I sit to read, he always hovers nearby until I am ready to depart.” She frowned and stopped to face him. “I do not understand why you can see him.”

“I believe your father was dumbfounded as well. I could sense the protective charms on him, but I was able to see him and let him sniff my hand.”

She stared at the forest ahead of them for a moment. None of her sisters nor her mother had ever noticed Herne, or they would have commented on his presence when they had entered Oakham Forest for the Mabon celebration.

“I believe your spell is working, even if I cannot explain why he is visible to me. ”

“But I do not want him to be noticed by hunters. ’Tis why I have protected him since I first found him as a young stag.” He had been much smaller and so adorable at that time, but he had grown into a stunning creature.

He dipped his chin to catch her gaze. “He protects you as well I would say.”

“I would say we protect each other. However, he has become quite old. I do worry how many rambles we have left together. The hares would remain in Oakham Forest, but they are not my constant companions. They and the pheasants are fickle creatures who worry more about their next meal than roaming through the trees with me. They care naught for the secrets carried on the wind.”

He smiled and held out his elbow. “Well, may I offer my services to accompany you then? I vow to protect you with my life and listen with adept ears for the confidences that might be shared along the way.”

Elizabeth could not stop the huff from escaping at his vow and whirled to face him.

“Why does everyone believe I require protection? First my father, then Herne, and now you. Do you not believe I can keep myself safe? Moreover, who would seek to harm me? No one knows I am the heir but Papa, Jane, our housekeeper, my old governess, and you.” That secret had been hidden well after all.

The midwife who had delivered her had died a few years ago, so she took the confidence to her grave, and her governess would never tell a soul.

“I am certain you do not require anyone to guard you and keep you from harm,” said Mr. Darcy.

He pivoted around to face her. “But you must understand there are those who have sensed your growing power over the years, which was why it was imperative to keep your identity hidden.

You also cannot control the visions other mages may have of you.

You also have to consider how many would believe a lady is the heir to one of the most powerful magical families in the world.

Claiming you are the heir without protection might be dangerous enough. We have no way of knowing.

“I have no doubt in my mind that you will one day need to prove yourself—to defend yourself against evil, and if I can be of any aid to you in the endeavour, I would do so without hesitation.”

The earnestness of his expression pulled at her heart. “You do not even know me.”

His fingers ran from her temple to her jawline.

“I have seen glimpses of you since I was a little boy. Your feelings, when strong enough, travelled the miles between us to me. I did not always know what had happened, but I knew if you were happy or sad, and eventually, my visions showed me you. My father then confirmed what I had come to believe: we are connected by more than the magical contract our parents signed when you were born. Have you never felt it?”

Was that the sensation she could not identify? Thus far, she had only experienced that oddity when he was nearby—

She gasped and backed away from him. “When I was five, I shut myself in my room and sobbed for two days. Hill and Papa could not make me eat. I was sad for weeks after, but I could not explain why.”

He paused for a moment. “Fifteen years ago,” he said in almost a whisper. “That happened in May—May fourteenth—did it not?”

She nodded.

“You were feeling my sadness from my mother’s death. She died in childbirth.”

Elizabeth swayed in her spot. “What of the child?”

“Georgiana lives. She is at Pemberley.”

Her palm pressed to her stomach in an effort to relieve the uneasiness within. “Three years ago, I was angry and sad all at once . . . ”

Mr. Darcy swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “My father died in a carriage accident.”

Her eyes burned. “I am sorry.” How had she never known what was happening when he had understood some time ago?

Papa had not given any ideas for why she was prone to those fits of emotion.

She had been terrified it meant she would one day be like Mama.

What could be worse or more tragic than losing her wits?

She frowned and rubbed some gooseflesh that had erupted on her arm. “In August, I was frustrated then I had a surge of anger. I have learnt to temper the mysterious emotions I have from time to time, so I held it in, but the event was no less strange.”

He cleared his throat, and his eyes darted away from hers for a moment. “I should prefer to speak of that later—when we are more assured of our privacy. I could cast spells to ensure the confidence, but I prefer to wait if you do not mind.”