Frederica chafed her cousin’s hand. “Anne, can you hear me?”
“Of course. I am not deaf,” said Anne sharply. “Where is he?”
“Whom do you mean?”
“That strange man, the one who said he would fix me.”
Elizabeth said, “He is a Sidhe, not a man, and he has returned to Faerie.”
Frederica asked hesitantly, “How do you feel?”
Anne’s brow furled. “Odd. As if I have been trapped in treacle and am suddenly free. What happened?”
“You have been under a spell, a binding spell. We could not explain that to you because part of the spell made you swoon whenever anyone mentioned magic. We had been trying to find a way to break the spell for some time. Yesterday our Sidhe friend was able to remove it. You have been asleep since then.”
“A spell.” Anne’s voice went flat. “I suppose my father set it up before he died.”
Frederica cast a concerned glance at Darcy. “No,” she said slowly. “We believe he had nothing to do with it.”
“You think he would not stoop so low? I assure you he would.”
Frederica bit her lip. “That might be true, but my father was the one who cast a spell on you.”
“Lord Matlock?” Anne gave a harsh laugh. “And he is the one who is supposed to protect us from sorcerers.”
“You do not remember him casting a spell?”
Anne shook her head. “I remember he came for the funeral. I was still weak. When I stopped being able to think clearly, I assumed it was God’s punishment for killing my father.”
Eversleigh said quickly, “Miss de Bourgh, children who lose a parent often feel as if they are responsible for their – why are all of you looking at me like that?”
Elizabeth finally broke the silence that followed. “I cannot claim much knowledge of the episode, but my understanding is that Miss de Bourgh did cause her father’s death, though I have not heard any evidence that it was done deliberately.”
“Oh, it was deliberate, I assure you,” said Anne coldly. “I had to feign illness for a week to keep him from draining my magic long enough that I could recover it to kill him.”
Eversleigh said in a strained voice, “Miss de Bourgh, only a sorcerer would drain a child of magic. Are you attempting to tell us your father was a sorcerer?”
“Did you not know?” Anne stared at them. “He had been stealing my magic for as long as I could remember. He needed it to fuel his spells to force others to do his bidding.”
Darcy was stunned. Could it be true? But his own father had known Sir Lewis well. Could he and Lord Matlock both have missed the evidence? Past sorcerers had managed to hide their endeavors for years. All Darcy could remember of Sir Lewis was him standing with his hand on Anne’s shoulder, always on her shoulder, and Anne being perpetually exhausted and eating enough for three children. Good God, it really was true.
Anne shuddered. “I need to release some of my magic. All these years with it bottled inside me – I thought it would drive me mad.”
Frederica’s face might be ashen, but she still remembered her manners. “Would it help to cast a spell?”
Anne’s eyes were sad. “I do not know any spells, only how to unmake things. It would be rude to unmake any bits of you when you have been helping me, and mother was very cross the time I unmade part of the house. And yes, that was supposed to be a jest.”
“I could teach you how to light a candle with magic. All you have to do is to concentrate on the wick and imagine it growing hotter and hotter, say ‘Ardescas,’ and it will be done.” Frederica fetched a small candelabra from a sideboard and set it before Anne.
“Just that?” asked Anne dubiously. “I thought there was more than that to spells.”
“That is all you need for this one. That is why it is good for beginners.”
Anne squinted and stared at the candle. “Ardescas.” The wick began to emit smoke and burst into flames.
So did the draperies and the rug.
Eversleigh and Frederica began frantically chanting spells to douse the fire, but no sooner would one area of flames go out than another would start. Elizabeth, coughing, tried to say something to Anne, gesturing to the door.
