“Everything I need is in my satchel, but perhaps I can start without it. A sharp knife and a tourniquet to begin with. An unstarched cravat and a stick will serve admirably as a tourniquet. Forceps, if there are any at hand. Rags for when the bleeding starts. Perhaps her maid could cut away the sleeve of her dress.”
“No servants.” If word got out that he had employed a wisewoman, he would lose the last vestiges of trust from the Collegium. The same would be true if Lady Catherine died suspiciously in his presence, or he would never have resorted to this. “I will fetch what you require.”
Elizabeth looked surprised. “Very well. Charlotte, dear, will the sight of Lady Catherine’s blood trouble you?”
By the time Richard returned with word that the surgeon had been sent for, Elizabeth’s satchel had arrived, and she had set the tourniquet in place on Lady Catherine’s upper arm. She rummaged through the satchel and removed several objects, including a small metal tin. Her movements were efficient and competent.
Despite himself, Darcy could not take his eyes from her. This was a side of Elizabeth he had never seen before and hardly even guessed at. The stories he had been told of wisewomen always portrayed them as crones who were more than half lunatic, scattering herbs and drawing signs in the air. No one had ever mentioned they could be bewitchingly beautiful with fine eyes. Standing beside her was torture.
Elizabeth stripped off the wire holding the tin closed. Could that thick lining inside the tin be iron? She gingerly lifted out a stone arrowhead. Perhaps this was the start of the lunatic bit.
“What is that?” Darcy asked.
“Inert elfshot.” She did not look at him.
He reached past her. The stone tingled at his touch, and he snatched his hand away.
“Mostly inert,” she said with a slight smile. “Otherwise it would not help me.” She slid the arrowhead along Lady Catherine’s arm until it abruptly stopped as if of its own accord. “Yes, definitely elfshot. It seeks out its own kind. But I suppose you know that.”
He could almost hear the echo of her voice.I resolved long ago never to marry a mage, and nothing will induce me to change my mind.“No. We learn other things in the Collegium.”
She raised her eyebrows at him and then returned the arrowhead to its iron box. She took up her scalpel and wrapped the handle in a scrap of cloth, but then stopped short. She held out the candlestick from the bedside table to Mrs. Collins. “Charlotte, could you light this, if you please?” Her voice was oddly flat.
Darcy flicked a finger. “Ardescas.” The wick caught with a steadyflame.
“Thank you.” The words sounded forced. Elizabeth held the scalpel in the flame until the tip of it glowed.
“Why do you –”
“Elfshot dislikes fire,” she snapped. “It is difficult enough doing this with a mage in the room without having to explain everything.”
Mrs. Collins asked timidly, “Should I hold her arm down?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No need. She can feel nothing while she is under the influence of elfshot.”
Darcy sucked in his breath as Elizabeth made a deep slice in his aunt’s arm. She did not hesitate, though, poking deeper with the scalpel as blood welled around it.
“There,” she murmured. She held out her hand. “The inert elfshot, if you please. Mind the edges of it.”
Darcy hastened to obey. Elizabeth took it without a word and set it directly in the wound. Could that possibly be safe? But there was nothing safe about any of this.
What was happening? She did not seem to be doing anything. But suddenly she had two arrowheads in her hand. She pulled the second one off using the forceps and held it out in his direction. “Do it.”
He murmured the words of unmaking, and the elfshot dissolved into ashes. “Is she safe now?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “There are still traces I must remove.” She leaned over the wound and covered it with both her hands, one on top of the other. Mrs. Collins wiped away the oozing blood.
Since it seemed there was nothing further he could do to assist her, Darcy stepped back. It was safer that way. The immediate crisis was over, and being near her just reminded him of all he had lost. He had offered her everything he possessed, and she had disdained it. He was the last man in the world she could be prevailed upon to marry. And while he might be seeing a new side of her today, his desire for her was unchanged.He ached for her, and she wanted nothing to do with him.
But he could not stop watching her. He settled in a chair where he could see her face. Her fingers were moving near the wound, but her eyes were closed. It must be part of the wisewoman show, but he was surprised Elizabeth would indulge in such theatrics.
As silent minutes passed, a look of strain came over Elizabeth’s face. Her body grew rigid and beads of perspiration began to form on her forehead. Her eyes were tightly shut.
Could something have gone amiss? Were the traces of elfshot affecting Elizabeth? Dear God, he could not bear it if something happened to her! Perhaps he should put a stop to this.
Mrs. Collins asked, “Lizzy, are you unwell?”
Elizabeth shook her head almost imperceptibly but remained silent.
