Finally, after what felt like hours, she lifted her hands and opened her eyes. “Charlotte, would you bandage the wound? I am too...” Her voice trailed off, and she collapsed into a nearby chair, her hands still covered with blood. She sighed heavily and looked straight at Darcy. “You might have warned me she had magic of her own.” Her voice was accusing. “She fought me every inch of the way.”
“Magic?” Darcy bristled at the implication. “My aunt has no magical abilities.”
“You may believe that if it gives you comfort.” She sounded exhausted. It was unlike Elizabeth to give in so easily.
Richard frowned and laid his fingertips on Lady Catherine’s throat. Surely he was not taking this ridiculous allegation seriously! He straightened, his face losing its color. “Miss Bennet is correct. Ice cold Fitzwilliam power.”
How could it be?
His cousin shook his head in disbelief. “I apologize, Miss Bennet. We had no idea. Either she herself is unaware of it, or she disguised it verywell.” He crossed to the side table, poured water from the ewer into the basin, and carried the basin and towel to Elizabeth.
She seemed confused by his offering. Richard knelt beside her, dipped the towel in the water, and began washing the blood from her hands.
“Thank you,” she murmured, as if too tired to speak aloud.
Richard was staring at her hand. “Darcy,” he said evenly. “I don’t suppose you can do anything for burns.”
That was enough to rouse Darcy from his stunned state. He hurried to her side. Her fingers, her beautiful fingers that he had admired as they moved across the piano keys, were covered with red, angry blisters. Gently, reverently, he took her hand in his own, careful to touch only where the skin was intact.
“What are you going to do?” she asked wearily.
He could not give the answer that sprang immediately to his mind, so instead he said, “I cannot heal the burns, but I can encourage your skin to grow quickly.” Taking her lack of protest as consent, he muttered the words to spur healthy growth. It made no visible difference, but he could feel it working, the throb of growth, the rush of healing blood under her skin. It was dizzyingly intimate.
“That does feel better.” She sounded surprised – and more alert. How had she recovered so quickly?
Of course. He should have known. Richard was on her other side, his fingertips on the inside of her wrist. He must be feeding her power, replenishing what she had exhausted.
Mrs. Collins said, “Lady Catherine is stirring!”
Elizabeth’s expression brightened. “Good. That means all the elfshot is gone.”
“She will be well again?” asked Richard.
“Eventually. The other person I know of who survived elfshot babbled meaningless nonsense when he first awoke, and it was more thana week before he was himself again. Some residual influence of the elfshot, I assume.”
Richard’s lips quirked. “But how will we know if she is babbling meaningless nonsense or is merely being her usual self?”
Elizabeth started to laugh and covered it with a cough, but her eyes sparkled.
And Darcy still cupped her hand in his. He said huskily, “That is the limit of my ability to help. I am sorry I can do no more.”
Elizabeth tentatively stretched her fingers and then closed her hand. “It hardly hurts now, and I feel much better. I thank you.”
Darcy looked away, already missing the touch of her hand. “That is Richard’s doing, not mine. Restoring strength is his gift.”
Richard took his fingers from Elizabeth’s wrist and straightened. “You seemed in need of it.” His cheeks bore a telltale flush. “And now we should feed you. Between what you did and Darcy’s healing, you must be hungry enough to eat the counterpane.”
Elizabeth gave a half smile. “I was thinking of starting with the bed curtains, actually. They look more appetizing.”
WHAT HAD SHE DONE?
The colonel had been correct when he said she would be hungry. Elizabeth had never been so famished in her life. Of course, she had never used so much magic at once, either. It was all she could do not to attack the tray of pastries and cold meats with both hands. Picking delicately at her food like a lady was out of the question, so she settled for eating at a steady pace, even if in an unladylike amount. The colonel ate just as heartily. Fortunately Elizabeth could leave the care of Lady Catherine to Charlotte for the moment.
Colonel Fitzwilliam kept up a steady stream of conversationbetween bites, but Mr. Darcy had excused himself as soon as the food arrived. At first it was a relief not to have to worry what he thought of her at every moment, but now she feared where he might have gone. Was his willingness to tolerate women with magic not as great as his letter had implied? Perhaps Colonel Fitzwilliam was merely keeping her here while Darcy took steps to prepare a binding spell. Oh, she could not bear it, especially not from him!
Why, oh, why had she done it? She could not have exposed herself more completely if she had made a deliberate attempt. He already had reason to believe she might have magic, but now she had shown it without a shadow of a doubt. Why had she not told Mr. Darcy there was nothing she could do? She could have stopped her efforts rather than use her powers when Lady Catherine’s magic had attacked her. Lady Catherine might have lost her arm or even her life, but Elizabeth would not be at risk of losing everything she cared about. If she had stopped, Darcy would have thought her no more than another harmless wisewomen employing charms she did not understand.
And to expose herself to Mr. Darcy, of all people! The man she had insulted gravely only two days ago, the man who had no reason to think kindly of her or to protect her. She might as well have thrown herself off a cliff.
