Page 9

“Yes, of course. I understand.” She did not really. Yet the entire connection of their emotions was a mystery as well. She would have to ask Papa if he had ever heard of the like. If so, why had he never suspected it when those things occurred? He had to know of Mr. and Mrs. Darcy’s deaths.

“Where do you wish to go today?” asked Mr. Darcy.

“Oh, I should like to walk to the stones.”

He held out his arm once again. “Then allow Hen and me to accompany you.”

They walked in silence for a bit until he released her to cross the rocks at the brook ahead of him.

He followed close behind but a little slower so his horse could find his footing through the water.

The quiet was not unnerving or uncomfortable, but as though they had no need to speak to understand the other, which was unsettling in and of itself.

When they emerged on the opposite side of the stream, they continued through the trees until they reached the sizeable clearing where the stones rested.

Elizabeth stepped up to the altar while removing her gloves and after tucking them into the pocket of her redingote, set her bare palms upon the surface.

The hum that had built up to the equinox had subsided some but had not yet returned to the gentle pitch she was accustomed to.

“Is something amiss?” asked Mr. Darcy.

“At the equinox, the altar hummed stronger than I had ever felt, and now, the vibration is still stronger than is its wont.”

His eyebrows drew down a little in the middle. “That could by influenced by a number of possibilities. Bingley and his family would not bring enough power into the area to alter the balance around the circle.”

“What of you? My father has said your family is talented in the magical arts.”

He dropped his stallion’s reins and removed his own gloves as he approached the altar and set his fingers upon the smooth stone. Much as she had done at times, he closed his eyes then opened them and shook his head.

“Perhaps if we. . .” He gestured to her hand. “May I?”

“What is it you want to do?” Butterflies erupted in her stomach as he stepped up behind her. He was not touching her back, but his chest was so close, his warmth was evident even with the chill.

“Perhaps if we combine our power to read what is amiss with the stone, we can learn more than we would alone.”

“I have never tried such magic. Have you?”

“My father and I did so to cast a charm before his death. For this, however, I would place my hand over yours, and we would both channel our energy into the source of the vibration.”

She nodded and returned her palm to the altar. When he covered her hand with his own much larger one, she inhaled sharply. Gooseflesh peppered the back of her neck at his proximity. This would not do! She needed to stop being such a silly goose .

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she turned her mind to the source, doing her best to ignore the heat and power coming from Mr. Darcy’s hand over hers. She stumbled forward, her other hand landing on the surface as she fell headfirst into darkness.

Visions seemed to float in front of her until she fell headlong into the first but seemed to land on her feet. The difference in position made her dizzy. She shook herself and took in her surroundings, but she had only appeared to move to the centre of the clearing to face the altar.

Elizabeth blinked and gasped. What was before her was not what was happening in the moment.

Instead, she gaped at her own figure, who stood behind the altar with Mr. Darcy standing at her right side, her father on her left.

Papa stood tall and gazed at her with adoration and pride while she held her hand over the altar.

She was wearing her white cloak and what appeared to be a crown of rosemary and sage.

What was this ceremony, and why would she require a crown that would harness additional magic?

A hard pull yanked her from that vision and dropped her into a strange room.

When she glanced about her, she gasped. Standing near the fire was Mr. Darcy with his arm wrapped around her.

His opposite hand was on her rounded stomach, a gentle smile upon his features.

“I care not if this is the heir,” he said.

“One day, he or she will come. I am in no hurry.”

Once again, she was forced from what was happening around her and flung into another room.

Wait! She stood in the far corner of Longbourn’s library.

She watched as a version of herself sat with Mr. Darcy in the chairs.

From the hall, a blonde gentleman entered wearing a wide grin, and she departed.

Elizabeth followed the dream version of herself to the parlour where Jane stood, in front of the other Elizabeth, smiling with tears flooding her eyes. “Oh, Lizzy! I am so happy! ”

All of a sudden, she was once again yanked forward to a burst of colour beneath her eyelids.

“When I learnt of your existence, I sought to prevent you from claiming your full potential, but you thwarted me. But that has come to naught as you are now nothing to me. Bow before me descendant of Merlin!” The flash that struck Elizabeth in the vision caused pain to permeate her body.

Bile rose from her stomach into her throat.

She ripped herself away and ran to the edge of the ancient oaks to cast up her accounts.

Mr. Darcy hastened to her side and placed a hand between her shoulder blades until she was finished. He handed her his handkerchief while she remained leaning against the tree. “Are you well?”

“The light at the end was accompanied by pain.”

“I do not believe those were in any particular order,” he said.

“If we start at the beginning, rosemary symbolises love, happiness, and loyalty while sage is a symbol of wisdom and immortality. Together, they can form a magical crown to aid in warding off one’s enemies and enhancing one’s own magic through their own wisdom.

Obviously, we must have believed you required it, or you would not have been wearing it.

“The next seemed to be further into the future. We were in the master’s sitting room at Pemberley. What I said was true, by the way. I shall welcome whatever child regardless of ability.”

She heaved out a sob. Her mother’s vitriol was not necessarily her fault, but if Elizabeth had been a boy maybe—

“Your mother would be the same, even if you had been a boy.”

Elizabeth jolted up and stared at him. “How did you know?”

He bent some to catch her gaze. “I made an assumption. Your father shared his suspicions about your mother with my own mother and father. He recognised how her behaviour—”

“Resembled that of my grandmother’s. Yes, he has mentioned as much to me. ”

“He also had some idea of what was happening even before your birth. Your sex would not have altered her future.”

Mr. Darcy took her elbow and led her to another tree where he helped her rest against the trunk. “I do not believe the next vision was relevant to the information we seek.”

She shook her head. “That was my sister Jane. I do not know how she would fit into how the stone is behaving. As I mentioned before, the final one, however, caused me pain. Whatever or whoever that was—"

“We know danger is coming. If we consider each of the scenes, I believe only the vision with your crown and the last are pertinent to the behaviour of the altar. The others have likely existed in our minds and helped ease us into what we were attempting to see. We need to speak to your father, and we need to speak to him as soon as possible.”