Lord Matlock lifted his hand a few inches. “No, I will accept...your help. Just that...” He stopped to catch his breath.
“Do not try to talk, sir.” Eversleigh placed a small chair beside the sofa and gestured to Elizabeth to take it.
“I can say it for him,” said Darcy. “He would rather LadyCatherine had died than for her to be alive as a sorceress.” He had been thinking the same thing.
Lord Matlock bobbed his head in agreement.
“Mr. Darcy, could you try to call Pepper while I begin here? I may need her help.” Elizabeth sat and took Lord Matlock’s hand in both of hers. “Your Lordship, your daughter told me you sometimes feel great pressure in your chest. Is that what is happening now?”
He nodded again.
“You will feel magic moving up your arm, and it may make you somewhat sleepy. That is to be expected.” Then she deliberately lightened her tone. “This is one for the annals of great hubris, is it not? The hedge witch who tried to heal the Master of the Collegium?”
Darcy winced at her words as he struggled to open the latch on the window. Did no one ever oil the cursed things? It gave way finally and he pushed the window open. He stuck his head out as far as he could. “Pepper! Elizabeth needs you!” Nothing. Only silence. He counted out a minute and tried again. “Pepper, I beg you to come.”
Behind him, Elizabeth said, “My lord, I pray you, do not try to follow my magic with yours. You are making it more difficult.”
Lord Matlock’s lips twitched. “Simply...curious.” He closed his eyes.
“Thank you. I will be happy to answer your questions later.” Her expression suggested she was not certain there would be a later.
If only there were something he could do! For lack of anything better, he stuck his head out the window again. “Pepper, I will give you every fish in the lake if you help us!” Still nothing.
At least Lord Matlock was still breathing. Elizabeth’s head was bowed in concentration. Eversleigh stood behind her, his eyes shut and his hands on her shoulders. Even through his fear and grief about his uncle, jealousy burned in Darcy’s stomach. Was Eversleigh the true reason she had pushed him away?
“Caw?” Pepper sat on the windowsill in raven form.
Not even Pepper’s appearance could lift the heaviness in Darcy’s chest. Mechanically he said, “Elizabeth – Miss Elizabeth, that is – is trying to help Lord Matlock. He is having a heart paroxysm. She asked me to call you.” At least he could still be useful to her in this small way.
Lord Matlock turned his head in their direction. “What is that?”
Darcy said quickly, “There is no need to worry. Pepper is a phouka. Usually she takes the form of a cat.”
As if on cue, Pepper flew down to the floor and transformed.
“Is that the cat who attacked me?” Lord Matlock sounded sleepy.
“Yes, but only because she thought you intended harm to Miss Elizabeth. She will not hurt you now.”
Pepper padded to the sofa, jumped up on Lord Matlock’s chest and began to knead, pushing her paws into him rhythmically and purring.
“Is she doing that for a reason?” asked Lord Matlock.
“I do not know, but Pepper usually has a reason for what she does.”
“Her eyes do not match.” Lord Matlock did not show the excitement at meeting a phouka that Darcy would have expected. Another bad sign.
“No, they do not.”
“But I do feel a little better. I can breathe. Perhaps she is doing something.”
“I have great faith in Pepper,” said Darcy.
Elizabeth began to hum, but she did not open her eyes. It made quite a tableau, Lord Matlock on the sofa with Pepper on his chest, Frederica kneeling by his shoulder, Elizabeth sitting beside him holding his hand, and Eversleigh standing behind Elizabeth.
Lord Matlock blinked. “The pressure is gone.” He sounded surprised. He took a deep breath and released it. “Definitely better.” He started to pull himself up to a sitting position.
Without opening his eyes, Eversleigh reached out, put a hand on Lord Matlock’s shoulder, and pushed him back down. “Stay there,” he ordered.
