It was Darcy’s turn to groan. “Please do! I would be in your debt.”
“That would be a novel experience,” Richard grumbled. “Just think, I could spend every day of my life among servants who make my skin crawl. Delightful.”
They had reached the parsonage, so Darcy did not trouble himself to point out that Richard could hire new servants. His heart began to beat faster as he rapped on the door with the gold knob of his cane. Elizabeth was behind that door. He could tell she was there because the constant pressure of the elements around him was already starting to fade.
The maid showed them into a small sitting room where Elizabeth and the former Miss Lucas sat near a tiny fire. Darcy somehow managed to introduce Richard to them despite his every sense being overwhelmed by Elizabeth’s light and pleasing figure, the tiny dark curls along her neck that escaped from the restraint of her hairpins, the movements of the long, slender fingers on her small hands. Oh, to have those delicate fingers caressing his skin! If he did not restrain his thoughts, the direction of them would become all too apparent.
How was it that the air around Elizabeth seemed brighter than everywhere else?
Her dark eyes were every bit as fine as he remembered, although the expression in them was not sultry, but wary. It was natural, he supposed. He had singled her out for attention at the Netherfield ball and then he had abandoned her. She must think he had deliberately toyed with her feelings. But she seemed well enough; her complexion was still rosy, and she did not appear to have lost weight, as he had.
Charlotte said, “It is a pleasure to meet you, Colonel. Lady Catherine often tells us about you and your family.”
Richard assumed an expression of mock dismay. “Pray permit me to guess.” He pressed his hand to his chest and said in falsetto, “My dear brother, the Earl of Matlock.”
Charlotte laughed. “To be fair, she has mentioned him once or twice without reminding us he is an earl – but only to remind us he is also a powerful mage.”
“I am all astonishment that she should ever forget!” said Richard.
Darcy felt pressure against his leg and looked down to see a white cat turning mismatched eyes to him. “Miss Elizabeth, did you bring your cat to Kent, or is this simply a close relative?”
Elizabeth smiled. “That is indeed my cat. She hates being separated from me. Since she does not mind curling up in a basket on the stage, I brought her with me.”
“I recall how she followed you across three miles of fields when you stayed at Netherfield.” Darcy reached down to scratch the cat’s head. Normally he did not care much for cats, but he had felt so peaceful when this one sat in his lap in the garden at Netherfield. Or perhaps he liked her simply because she was Elizabeth’s cat.
“I am impressed you remember her,” said Elizabeth.
“A white cat named Pepper is rather memorable.” Darcy could hardly say he had not forgotten anything about Elizabeth during the months since he had seen her at Netherfield. He had tried to forget her and failed, and now he could not stay away from her.
“You named a white cat Pepper?” asked Richard in surprise. Hearing her name, the cat sniffed at his boots.
“I cannot claim the credit,” said Elizabeth lightly. “She was given to me by a friend with an unusual sense of humor. I am fortunate she did not name her Bluebird or Elephant or something even less appropriate than Pepper.”
“Good God! Her eyes!” exclaimed Richard. “One is blue and the other yellow. I have never seen such a thing.”
“Pepper is an unusual cat,” Elizabeth said archly.
Pepper abandoned Richard’s boots and jumped onto Darcy’s lap. Her fluffy tail tickled his chin as she turned around, curled up, andstarted to purr. Darcy’s muscles relaxed as he stroked her back. The purr grew louder.
Mrs. Collins handed Richard a cup of tea. “Are you a mage like your father?”
“Of a sort,” said Richard. “My magic cannot compare to his. A good thing, since otherwise
I would have been forced to follow in his footsteps at the Collegium of Mages, and I am much happier in the Army.”
“It must be exciting to grow up with a father who is a mage,” said Mrs. Collins. “When I was a child, Mr. Bennet would occasionally create an illusion to entertain us, and I thought it the most marvelous thing in the world.”
A shadow crossed Elizabeth’s face so quickly Darcy thought he might have imagined it. She said, “My father no longer practices magery. For all I know, he may have resigned from the Collegium.”
Richard shook his head. “He would not resign. People would suspect he was dabbling in sorcery.”
“Surely that is no longer the case,” said Mrs. Collins. “There has not been a sorcerer in England in more than a century.”
“Only thanks to the Collegium, and the watchful eye it keeps on all mages to keep them from being tempted into sorcery.” Richard sipped his tea with the elegant grace his mother had instilled into him. “Good Lord, I sound just like my father. Heaven forbid!”
Mrs. Collins shivered. “Tempted into sorcery? Who would want to become a monster from our nightmares?”
“I doubt any of them set out to be evil. But have you never wished you could make someone do your bidding? For a mage, that is the road to sorcery, so we have outlawed casting spells on people.”
