Mr. Darcy studied Tommy’s leg, looking at it first from one direction and then another. With a pained expression, he pushed aside the deadly nightshade vine. “What nonsense,” he muttered. He began murmuring in Latin, dipped his forefinger into the water and put two drops side by side above the wound and two just below. Elizabeth felt thetingle of building magic as he passed his hand over the wound.
Nothing seemed to happen as Darcy finished reciting the spell. He said, “Now we must wait for the poisons to flow out of the wound. It may take some time.” But a cloudy fluid was already beginning to fill the bite. “I can check the wards in the meantime.”
He paced along the wall and stopped near a corner. He turned his back on the others to begin the warding spell. Elizabeth could not make out the hand gestures he made, and he was apparently careful not to speak the spell itself loud enough to be overheard. Elizabeth curled her lip. Typical mage behavior, making certain no one else could learn their skills.
She refused to stand there and gawk at him. Instead she tended to Tommy, wiping away the fluid trickling out of the bite. The red streaks running up his leg were already beginning to fade. Nothing she could have done would have worked so quickly or so well. It should have relieved her, but instead anger surged through her. It was not fair. Darcy had the opportunity to study magery and to learn skills and spells instead of having to fumble to discover how to use his magic. Not fair at all.
Elizabeth was still seething when she and Charlotte left the cottage, long after Darcy had finished renewing the wards. “I am glad for Tommy’s sake, but the Millers could never have afforded to pay a mage to heal him. Darcy happened to be feeling charitable, or more likely he wanted to look charitable, and so he deigned to help out. I would help boys like Tommy without charging money, but I am not permitted to learn how to do so, and I can be punished if I even dare to try. It is infuriating!”
“Still, it was kind of him to help when I asked,” said Charlotte reasonably. “He need not have obliged. And it is not his fault that women cannot receive the same training as men.”
“No, but he is content to be part of the Collegium that enforces those rules,” Elizabeth muttered. “I cannot forgive him for that.”
DARCY HURRIED THROUGHthe gate to the formal gardens of Rosings Park. It was faster that way and would give him a chance to change his clothes before calling on Elizabeth. Would her warm smiles be back now that she had seen him help the sick boy?
He had just reached the Italian Garden when he felt her presence, that subtle relaxing of the pressure of the elements, and his yearning hunger for her began grow. Then he saw her, perched on the edge of the fountain, her gloves beside her and her fingertips trailing in the pool. It made an enchanting picture, one that took his breath away, at least until she spotted him and pulled her hand out of the water.
Darcy halted and bowed, pleasure in every breath now that he was in her presence. “Good day, Miss Elizabeth. I had not realized you were fond of these gardens.”
“In general, I prefer the grove, but today I was in the mood for flowers planted in straight lines. Lady Catherine told me I might walk in the gardens whenever I pleased so long as I was in no one’s way.” She added archly, “I hope I am not in your way.”
It would be unwise to tell her just how much he liked having her in his way. “Not at all. I am on my way back from the village, and this route is more direct than the road.”
“It is kind of you to renew the wards. I would not have imagined you would take that kind of work on yourself.” There was a slight edge to her voice.
Was she implying it was beneath him? Of course, he would usually think so, too. “The villagers need protection during these fay attacks, and I have a certain responsibility for the tenants of Rosings, including the village.”
She tilted her head. “Is that not Lady Catherine’s duty?”
“She does much of the day-to-day estate management because sheprefers it that way, and I have seen no reason to interfere, but the estate belongs to Miss de Bourgh, and I am her guardian.” If only he could kiss her rosy lips instead of making nonsensical chatter!
“You are? It must be challenging to be guardian to a woman your own age.”
“My father was originally named as her guardian. I inherited the responsibility after his death.” It was a nuisance he would generally prefer to avoid, but it was that same guardianship that had forced him to come to Rosings each year, and without that he would not have seen Elizabeth again.
“I hope Lady Catherine has not objected to the wards being renewed.”
“I did not discuss the matter with her. It needed to be done, and so I have done it. Unless she wishes to dig each ward out of the walls, she has little choice but to tolerate it.” He did not want to waste his time with Elizabeth talking about his aunt or the wards.
Elizabeth reached behind her to trail her fingers in the fountain pool again. It was at once innocent and sensual, the movement exposing the curves of her body. She could have been a water nymph sitting there, and he was the Greek god desperate to possess her. How could he keep himself from touching her, twining his fingers with hers and then moving on to stroke her shapely arms, his body demanding more and more from her –
With a cry of surprise, Elizabeth yanked her hand out of the water, staring at it in shock.
“What is the matter?” Darcy asked.
“The water! Only my fingertips were in it, but the water crept up my hand and wrist!” Her disturbance was evident. “Did you cast a spell?” she accused.
“Not a spell as such, but it is my fault.” How could he have lost control like that? He wanted to sink into the ground. “My magic iselemental, and water has a particular affinity for me. When I am this close to a body of water, it can misbehave unless I make an effort to keep it quiet. I failed to pay sufficient attention to it, and I apologize for that.”
Elizabeth continued to stare down at her hand. “Water is not alive. How can it have an affinity for you?”
“Lodestones are not alive, either, yet they turn to point to the north. Natural philosophers have argued about water’s affinity for centuries. Some would say that my presence agitates the aetheric vibrations which keep the water in place. Others would say it is a relic of some fay traces in my blood. I have yet to see a convincing explanation of why I can do this.” He pressed his palms together and slowly separated them by a foot or so. The water in the fountain obediently retreated to each side, leaving a dry space in the middle.
Elizabeth eyed him warily. “That is uncanny. And it is not a spell?”
“No, although there are spells which could do similar things. I simply concentrate on the water and what I wish it to do. Left to itself, without my efforts to keep it quiet, it would do this.” He crossed his arms and withdrew from the constant calming refrain in his mind.
The water inched towards him, splashing over the edge of the fountain and running in rivulets towards his boots. It was slower than usual, most likely because Elizabeth’s odd ability to suppress some of his effect on the elements. “That is why I say it has an affinity for me.” He resumed his calming thoughts and the water stopped splashing out of the fountain. “My moods can affect water, too.” He never told people these things, but she ought to know what she would be facing if he offered for her.
