Elizabeth grimaced. “Very little under my current limitations.” If only Mr. Darcy would go away! Then she could use her magic to give the boy a fighting chance.
“It’s bad, isn’t it?” asked Mrs. Miller.
“It isn’t good. How long has he had the fever?” asked Elizabeth.
“It started last night.”
Elizabeth bit her lip. “I had best clean the wound. Is there a basin of water?” She took out clean rags and some herbal simples from her satchel, more for something to do than because she thought they might help.
If she did nothing, the infection might improve on its own, but more likely it would progress. The leg would have to be amputated – most surgeons would be suggesting that already – and even then Tommy might die. If she used her magic, he would have a better chance of recovery, but there would be no guarantee. But if Mr. Darcy caught her using magic, he would put her under a binding spell, and she would lose everything that made her herself. She had seen Mrs. Goulding after she was spell-bound. It had made her slow-witted, nervous, and fretful. It was a choice between her mind and Tommy’s leg, if not his life.
If only she knew more about the abilities of mages! They were half a mile from Rosings. Would Mr. Darcy be able to sense her using magic from that far? Perhaps she was worrying too much. If mages could sense magic half a mile away, they would have caught every woman with magic years ago. But Mr. Darcy had been watching her so closely. Did that make a difference?
Perhaps she could wait until late tonight when Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam would likely be asleep. But how would she explain to the boy’s mother that she wished to treat him in the middle of the night rather than now? The infection could be much worse by then, too.
“This is going to hurt.” She dipped a rag into the water his mother had brought and began to gently cleanse the bite wound.
The boy moaned. “Make it go away!”
“Not much more now, Tommy. You are being very brave.” It hurt to see his suffering.
She had to do it. If she did not take the risk, she would never be able to look at herself in a mirror again. Magic was the only thing she could do to help him, so she would use magic and hope that the distance from Rosings was enough that the mages there would not notice.
Elizabeth placed her fingers on Tommy’s ankles and felt for his life force. There it was, a little weak, but it was enough to work with.
A knock at the cottage door broke her concentration. As the boy’s mother answered it, Elizabeth lifted her hands. Better to wait until they were alone again.
A familiar voice said, “I am Darcy, the nephew of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. I am here to renew the wards on your cottage.”
Elizabeth jumped backwards, her heart pounding. Thank God she had not truly started yet! Her stomach churned at her narrow escape. She surreptitiously pulled the blanket over Tommy’s wound.
“Oh, come in, Mr. Darcy,” said Mrs. Miller. “We would be very grateful to have the wards renewed.”
Darcy ducked his head to step inside the cottage. “I did not realize you had callers.” He bowed to Elizabeth and Charlotte.
“Young Tommy is very ill,” said Charlotte. “We came to see if there was anything we could do to help.”
“I am sorry to hear it. Is this the boy who was bitten by a redcap?” he asked Elizabeth.
“Yes.” Oh, why had she told him anything about the boy?
Charlotte appeared to reach a decision and stepped closer to whisper something to Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth took advantage of his distraction to fade further back into the shadows. She could hardly believe he had almost caught her in the act of using magic.
“I have no particular talent for healing, but I know the basic spells for treating common problems,” Darcy told Charlotte.
“Would you condescend so far as to see if Tommy’s injury is something you might be able to help with?”
Darcy moved to stand at Elizabeth’s side. “Do you think it is a fay spell?” he asked her quietly.
She somehow managed to find her voice. “It started that way, but now the problem is infection.”
“There is a spell for drawing out infection. It rarely solves the problem completely, but it often improves matters. I could try that.”
Why was he looking at her? “Mrs. Miller, Mr. Darcy is a mage. Would you like him to use magic on Tommy’s wound?”
“I’d take help from the devil himself,” said Mrs. Miller, her eyes filling with tears. “It’s that worried I am.”
Elizabeth carefully drew back the blanket to reveal the injury.
