Heat tingled through Elizabeth. She knew Darcy would not attempt anything further with her, but simply knowing he would be in the same house while she was sleeping made her senses more alive. He might not do anything, but she suspected he would be thinking about it. She certainly would be.
How could she even be thinking about what had passed between them when the room in front of her looked as if it had been ransacked by hobgoblins? Her body was not listening to her mind; it only wanted to feel Darcy’s hands on her again, to touch him, to experience the sensual awakening of his kiss. Where was the mortification she ought to be feeling? She had to find a way to keep this desire under control. Heavens, she sounded like Darcy when he explained how his moods affected the elements, but one could not help having moods. Perhaps one could not help feeling this aching need, either.
She rubbed her arms, trying to create new sensation to replace her memory of Darcy’s touch, but it did not work.
“Elizabeth, are you unwell?” asked Frederica. “You look as if you are in another world.”
“I am perfectly well,” said Elizabeth firmly. But she did feel as if she were in a new world, one which did not have the sense of familiarity that Faerie did. “I was thinking about poor Miss de Bourgh. She must feel so lost.”
Lost. She was the one who was lost, adrift on an unknown sea. Anchors had always held her in place, but now they had vanished one byone. Her father, her mother, and even her uncle had all become unknown to her. Her home was no longer safe. Charlotte had been cut off from her. She had letters from Jane, but how could she even begin to tell her sister what her life had become? Even her memories were untrustworthy. She had a brother who was not a brother. The only time she had felt anchored and safe was when she had been in Darcy’s arms, and that was the one place she should not be.
“You are not well,” said Frederica decisively. “Come to your room. You can sit down, and we can talk about it.”
Elizabeth realized she was crying. “Not my room!” Somehow that was very important.
“My room, then,” said Frederica. “Darcy can handle matters here.”
She allowed Frederica to put an arm around her and steer her into her bedroom.
Frederica pulled out a chair from in front of the vanity. “Sit here. I will bring you a handkerchief.”
Elizabeth took a deep breath, but she could not calm herself. Hot tears kept running down her cheeks as she choked back sobs. She accepted a handkerchief Frederica thrust into her hand and pressed it over her eyes.
Frederica said soothingly, “It must have been a shock to see that Cousin Anne could do so much damage in her sleep, but Darcy will find a way to make it safe for her. He always does manage to solve these things. In the morning it will look better.”
She cried even harder. The disaster in Miss de Bourgh’s room was the least of her worries. She could not tell Frederica what she and Darcy had been doing before that. A sob tore through her. As if that were her only worry! Somehow she managed to regain just enough composure to speak. “I met you five days ago. Five days! It seems like a year. Less than a fortnight ago everything was normal in my life, until your father cameand I fled to Faerie. Now it never seems to stop. What disaster will happen tomorrow?” And now she finally knew what she wanted, and she could not have it. She dissolved into sobs again.
“It is shocking, is it not? I remember being so excited to hear you tell me about what Faerie was like, and how thrilled I was to have the opportunity to go there. And then to have Titania want to speak to me and ask me to stay! It should have been everything I wanted. But now all this with Cousin Anne and Sir Lewis – the world is becoming a frightening place. But we will muddle through somehow.” Frederica paused in reflection. “This is not so bad. Oliver Cromwell was the last sorcerer in England, and he nearly destroyed the country. He was a nobody, and yet he took over England with his power. A hundred thousand dead, including the king, and so many people enslaved by him. Bloody Mary the Sorceress had hundreds killed and nearly put us under Spanish rule. It seems Sir Lewis did not even do enough damage for it to be noticed. He could not do more without causing trouble in the Collegium. That is progress, is it not?”
“That might be little comfort to those people who suffered under Sir Lewis, but you are right. It is not the same as Cromwell or Bloody Mary, or even Henry VII stealing the throne with sorcery. We should be grateful Sir Lewis did no more.”
“I think you have managed admirably through one shock after another,” said Frederica.
“I have done my best.” Elizabeth wiped her eyes. Speaking of history was calming, but a glance in the mirror over the vanity showed her eyes were red and swollen. She did not want Darcy to see her like this. Perhaps she could talk to Frederica until she looked more like herself.
THE LANDING WAS EMPTYwhen Elizabeth left Frederica’s room.Now she needed an excuse to go downstairs. Even if nothing else was possible, she wanted to be in his presence, if only for a few minutes. That was why she had not wanted to go to her bedroom earlier. She would have been expected to retire, and she could not have seen him.
She felt her way downstairs through the dark, one hand gripping the railing. Light still spilled from the drawing room. Would he be there?
He was sitting in an upholstered chair, staring thoughtfully into the remnants of the fire. He jumped to his feet when Elizabeth entered.
“Pardon me for disturbing you,” she said, her voice almost steady. “I left my candle here earlier.” She took the chamberstick with its lighted candle from a side table.
“Your presence could never disturb me.” His voice was low and intimate.
The heat of desire began to grip her once again. “I will say goodnight, then.”
He stepped closer to her and brushed her cheek with his knuckles. “About what happened earlier –”
She had to be strong. “Nothing has changed. There is no future for us, despite a moment of weakness.”
He was silent for a moment. “What if I am not willing to accept that?”
There was a tiny comfort in knowing he still wanted her. “Are you willing to explain to your sister why, despite being under suspicion of misusing your powers, you decided to take up with a woman who was beneath you to start out with and is now an active scandal, even knowing it would destroy your sister’s chance of being accepted in society and making a good marriage? The Collegium’s suspicions would not be allayed by discovering you had married a witch, and you would be in greater danger. It does not matter what either of us want.”
“I still say there are ways of dealing with the scandal.” There was a plea in his voice.
“Perhaps there are, but it would mean living a lie for the rest of my life. That is too high a price.”
