Elizabeth could tell that something was wrong almost immediately; for though they had done a similar rite to cure Jane, curing a fever was far easier than curing all the ills that had befallen Miss Darcy. The wind — a tell tale sign of magic — had begun to blow, but it was weak, barely touching the flames and not strong enough to even lift the curls from their foreheads. Kitty was the first to break off the chant, and then Mary, and at last even Jane grew silent as the moon moved behind the clouds.
“Please, let us keep trying,” Elizabeth asked her sisters, not keeping the desperation out of her voice.
“You are too weak Lizzy, it will not work,” her father called from behind her. She turned to see him stride toward her, and behind him Mr. Darcy stood still, the lines on his face hardened by the shadows of the fire.
“Such things do not always work on the first try, papa. Let us try again,” she repeated, but her father shook his head.
“There are not enough of you. Such a spell requires a full coven, and you are short your most powerful member,” her father said kindly, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I will not see you injure yourselves attempting to reach magic beyond your abilities.”
“Will you not help us, papa?” Jane called from across the circle, bending to check on Miss Darcy. “She is burning up and sweating, papa. Please, let us try again with your help.”
But Mr. Bennet shook his head.
“I said I would not help child, and I mean it. This was not my mistake, and I am not powerful enough to make a difference,” he responded, patting Elizabeth gently on the shoulder. “Come, back up and allow Mr. Darcy to take his sister home.”
Mr. Bennet turned away from her then, and Elizabeth felt a great swelling of anger. She desperately reached within to control it, but it would not work, and before she realized it she had opened her mouth and called out.
“Will you ever endeavor to anything, father?” she asked, her voice harsh and sharp as it cut through the night. “You have given us a poor education in our ancestral arts, and then scold us when we make mistakes. You charge us with the burden of continuing our line and saving our home when you, not once, have endeavored to provide for us when you are gone. You mourn that our magic is land bound, yet you have never attempted to petition for it to be unbound. You laugh and mock the world for all its follies, and yet you have so many of your own.”
“Lizzy,” Jane called out in warning, but Elizabeth shook her head.
“Whether it was your fault or mine, an innocent girl lies here on her deathbed, and you refuse to even try to help? Have you given up so easily all this time? Have I been blind, and only see it now?”
Her father turned to her, his eyes wide in surprise as he opened his mouth to answer.
“Would you be strong enough if you had another to help, one with ancestral magic, even if they are not a part of your coven?” Mr. Darcy asked suddenly, surprising everyone as his voice echoed through the clearing and cut through the tension radiating between Elizabeth and her father. Elizabeth looked away from Mr. Bennet for a moment and nodded, confused.
“Yes, I believe so, but it’s quite impossible; I do not know any other such person,” she answered, and sighed. “I am sorry, Mr. Darcy. If my father will not help, we have no choice.”
“I will help. Show me what to do,” the gentleman said, striding toward his sister and pulling off his jacket.
“Sir—?” Elizabeth began, just as Jane and Mary walked forward as well, but he shook his head.
“I have family magic, through my father’s side,” he answered gruffly, staring directly at Elizabeth. “I have no training and do not use it, but my sister has some knowledge. If you will teach me what to do, I will aid however I can.”
Elizabeth stood stock still, staring at the man in front of her, who was now being instructed by Mary to remove his tall boots. Mr. Darcy had magic? This man who had ridiculed the magical arts, who had thrown suspicion on her and her sisters, had been hiding such a similar secret of his own all along?
She did not know whether to feel betrayed or to laugh from the sheer ludicrousness of it, but a small pinch from Mary reminded her that she must do something, and so she set about forming a pentagram of rocks around Miss Darcy and the fire.
“We should change the rite,” Mary said as she helped Jane to mix more herbs. “Healing a witch is a different practice — if we call to her in the old language, claim her as our own, it will be more effective.”
Jane nodded in agreement, but Mr. Darcy only stared.
“She does not have a name in the old language,” Mr. Darcy called from where he was adding more sticks to the fire.
“Hardly anyone has a name in the old language anymore sir,” Mary told him comfortingly. “We have always used our Christian names. It will suffice here as well.”
Elizabeth rushed over to Mary with a bowl of ash she had scooped from the burnt herbs and mixed with soil, and knelt down beside her and Miss Darcy.
“Did you know?” Mary asked in a soft voice, and Elizabeth shook her head vigorously. “What a shocking surprise this must be then.”
“Do you believe this will work? We rarely use such old rites,” Elizabeth asked anxiously.
“I have read on it extensively. I believe that it will.”
In short order, Mary had used the ash to draw a series of symbols on the foreheads of all those gathered around the fire, made long lines down Miss Darcy’s forearms and forehead, and set to directing everyone to different spots on the pentagram.
“The rite we are attempting is one done among a coven, which means that we will be temporarily binding you and Miss Darcy into our coven. As you do not practice, I assume you do not have already have one of your own?” Elizabeth asked Mr. Darcy quietly. He shook his head.
“I do not believe so. You have to choose a coven, yes?” Elizabeth nodded.
“Indeed, sir, you do. Do you agree to practice this rite as a member of ours? It is only temporary, I assure you, and holds no lasting meaning,” Elizabeth rushed to add, but Mr. Darcy was already nodding.
“If it will work, I will consent.”
“Mary is far more knowledgeable than the rest of us, and just as Jane is skilled in healing, Mary is well versed in the old arts,” Elizabeth whispered comfortingly to him. He looked very different, standing in the cool night in his shirt sleeves with white ash and mud drawn across his face as he shifted uncomfortably. She noticed with amusement that he had not consented to remove his boots, and she considered that such a man must have his dignity one way or the other, even if it was simply by refusing to go barefoot. Though perhaps he simply could not remove them without help. The thought of Mr. Darcy being rendered helpless by his sartorial choices cheered her considerably, and she took a deep breath, feeling much more able to accept this shocking night.
When they began, he and Elizabeth were on opposite sides of the pentagram — he between Jane and Kitty, she with Jane and Mary. Unlike the elegant, polished magic they so frequently practiced with their tiny chants and uniform recipes, Mary began this rite differently, calling up a keening, plaintive cry of words in the old language. Elizabeth went next, sending up her cry and throwing a handful of herbs into the fire, followed by Kitty and then Jane. Mr. Darcy went last, his deep voice carrying out the words that were clearly unfamiliar to his mouth, but he did them justice and threw his own handful of herbs into the fire.
They then moved, walking slowly around the circle, repeating their calls as Mary kept up one steady, plaintive chant, and the wind began to blow, faster and fiercer with each call, sending the fire beside Miss Darcy dancing higher into the sky with blue-white flames as each member of the group moved into the top position of the pentagram. Mr. Darcy had just stepped into the position and said his chant when the wind whipped with a furious whistling noise, and from the center of the pentagram Miss Darcy sat straight up, letting out a scream that pierced the night.
Mr. Darcy, physically shaken, moved as if to run to her, but Jane and Kitty caugh
t his arms, stopping him.
“You must stay in place until the rite is finished!” Elizabeth called across the fire to him. In the soft light of the fire she saw the fear climbing in his eyes and the exertion it took to keep himself from running to his little sister, and her heart went out to him.
Miss Darcy’s scream ended and she collapsed back into the earth, breathing heavily as Mary continued her cry, echoing the words and grasping hands with Elizabeth and Kitty, causing the five of them to link hands into an unbroken circle. After what felt an eternity, Mary sent up her final prayer, and the wind stopped, leaving the clearing in an eery quiet. The group unlinked hands, and at once Mr. Darcy was by his sister’s side, the Bennets close behind.
Miss Darcy was awake, though barely, and her eyes fluttered slightly and her breathing was ragged.
“Georgiana?” Elizabeth heard Mr. Darcy say to his sister softly as he tucked a loose strand of hair back. “Can you hear me, birdy?”
“Fitzwilliam?” the girl breathed, her voice faint. Mr. Darcy let out a strangled laugh and held his sister closer to him, and Elizabeth looked away, feeling like an intruder on this private moment.
The Bennets fell back and began tidying the area, exchanging tired yet satisfied smiles with each other silently as Elizabeth approached her father who — to her surprise — had remained at the edge of the clearing throughout the whole ordeal.
“Father,” she began, but Mr. Bennet shook his head, stopping her words.
“No. We will speak of it later,” he said sternly. But, more gently, he reached forward and put dry lips to Elizabeth’s forehead. “I am proud of you, my dear.”
Soon Mr. Darcy was on his feet, picking up his now sleeping sister and preparing to mount his horse. Once more she approached him and steadied Mercury’s reins, watching silently as he swung up onto the great stead and secured his sister in front of him.
Both were silent as they looked on each other, and though Elizabeth had a thousand questions to ask him, at last it was Mr. Darcy who broke the silence.
“Thank you, Elizabeth. I will not forget this,” he said quietly, his eyes boring into her own. She blushed slightly at his use of her Christian name, but did not correct him.
“I cannot accept thanks for aiming to resolve a situation which I caused,” she said just as softly.
“Has anyone told you that you are exceedingly obstinate?” the tall gentleman asked her. She smiled slightly, the first time all night, and shrugged.
“We all have our vices and little weaknesses,” she responded, before patting Mercury’s neck and stepping back. Mr. Darcy nodded once more at her, then kicked the horse into motion, riding off through the night as Elizabeth looked on and felt acutely aware that her largest weakness was now departing from her, carrying with him all her secrets and the entirety of her heart.
XXVIII
Elizabeth rose early the next morning despite her lack of sleep, and walked out directly in the hopes of seeing Mr. Darcy on his morning ride. She waited far past her usual time, but he did not arrive. Assuming that he would not want to leave his sister so soon after her ordeal, she was not disheartened, and walked out again the next day. But it was not until she returned from this walk, very late, that she learned from Mr. Bingley that Mr. Darcy and his sister had returned immediately to London.
Elizabeth took heart in the news of Miss Darcy’s great improvement, but quit the drawing room quickly in favor of the solitude of her room, a habit she would take up regularly. She had wished to talk to him, to ask him her questions, to attempt to repair the rift between them. For hadn't everything changed? His confession of magical lineage had allowed her to hope as she scarcely had before, for surely he could not spurn her for carrying the same secret as himself!
But he had given her no true reason to hope, she told herself, remembering how closely he had guarded his secrets and opinions. It would be better altogether to put aside such thoughts and focus on the reality of her life now — which became much easier when Jane and Mr. Bingley’s engagement was announced and much time was spent contemplating and discussing this happy event.
Soon life at Longbourn had settled into a quiet routine, with Jane and Mr. Bingley spending most days and moments together, Mary and Kitty sequestered in magical education and getting along quite well — for Lydia was still in Brighton and as such the house had grown far more harmonious — and Elizabeth spent her time making herself as useful as she could after escaping to her walks for hours at a time.
During this time it was only the knowledge of her impending trip to the Lake District with her aunt and uncle and anticipation of this diversion which kept her from running mad, she was sure. But despite her own restlessness, a kind of peace had settled over Longbourn, until a most unusual situation arose to disturb it.
The first indication of upheaval was a visitor named Mr. Tidwell, who arrived unannounced at their home one morning requesting an audience with Mr. Bennet, and who returned three more times over the next few weeks, each time conversing with the patriarch for several hours at a time. Mr. Bennet was secretive about these meetings, but the sisters deduced that the strange man was an attorney, surely come to discuss the entail. After the fourth such visit, the sisters — but not Mrs. Bennet — were called to the study before breakfast.
“I have been an indolent man who has rarely taken action, as one of you has recently reminded me,” he began, staring directly at Elizabeth who, though blushing slightly, refused to look away in guilt. “But I am also a lucky man, who often has fortune find me. The gentleman who has been in and out as of late has brought me some news of a most peculiar sort, pertaining to the entail.”
“Are we able to break it?” Kitty asked breathlessly from her perch next to Elizabeth. Mr. Bennet shook his head.
“No, no, unfortunately not. It is binding, and as such you have no legal right to inherit this house. However, as I have come to learn, you do have a legal right to the magic tied to the land, which is why I have been granted permission to unbind it.”
The shock and surprise that the sisters expressed cannot be properly described, but Elizabeth was the first to regain her composure and press for details.
“It is a rather lucky thing that the magic of our family is tied so strictly to our lands, you see, because there are some rather arcane laws that prevent a man of non-magical lineage from holding possession of magically bound land,” Mr. Bennet said. “Since Mr. Collins possesses not an ounce of magic in him, he legally cannot inherit the land while it is bound.”
“But father, do you mean you must prove our magic in court?” Elizabeth asked. “We will be publically outed, our secret known far and wide.”
“The man who came to meet with me is a Mr. Tidwell, who specializes in magical law, specifically practicing in the magical courts in London. Many years ago my father petitioned the courts, and even the Midnight Parliament, as you know, Lizzy, but to no avail. But it would appear news of our situation reached Mr. Tidwell, and he offered his assistance. I agreed, and, as a result, he has succeeded in petitioning for our land to be unbound. Our magic will be whole once more, and untethered.”
“So it is unbound, just like that? Truly?” Jane asked breathlessly as Elizabeth asked, “How did he know about our situation?”
Mr. Bennet shrugged.
“I suppose they keep records of such things. I hardly care how he found out. But yes, Jane, it is to be done, and you should be very happy for it.”
“Doesn’t it seem too easy though, father?” Elizabeth asked, ignoring his tease. “Just as things seem bleak, a stranger appears with a miraculous clause that heals some of our troubles, without us even endeavoring for help? What does this mean for it to be unbound? When will it be done? Would it have been possible to prevent Mr. Collins from inheriting if we did not unbind the land?”
Her father sighed and sat back in his chair, rubbing at his head.
“I have always called you clever, but you ask vexing questions, girl. I have no answers; f
ate has smiled upon me and I am not one to demand an answer as to why. You have worried about losing your magical inheritance, and now it shall be intact; go and be happy.”
Though she was relieved, it was difficult to overcome her curiosity for how such an occasion had come about, and a suspicion nagged at the back of her mind. But she had barely begun to formulate a full idea when Mr. Tidwell returned, accompanied by two other gentlemen. The party did not stay for tea, much to Mrs. Bennet’s distaste, but instead rode out promptly with Mr. Bennet, apparently to check the property line regarding a “legal matter.” But the girls knew the truth of it, and thus, sequestered alone in the garden, Elizabeth, Jane, Mary, and Kitty were all together when the spell that had bound generations of Bennets to Longbourn’s land was cut, and their magic was freed.
It was a very strange feeling, like being set adrift, and for several days the girls struggled to feel centered and focused. The morning after the land was unbound, each stayed in bed claiming a head cold, for they felt lightheaded and disconnected. Their attention to daily matters was poor, and small magic — even tricks as simple as lighting a fire — seemed to escape them, until one day Kitty cast a magical fire so strong that it lept from the candle and onto the nearby drapery. Mary, who had attempted to nurture several plants which had been trampled in the lane by the gate, accidentally caused a veritable forest of wildflowers to spring up from the earth, fully in bloom. It seemed that only Elizabeth had not yet attempted to test her own power, for she was determined to abide by her promise to herself and Mr. Darcy to not practice any longer — and besides, she did not fully trust herself to utilize this fuller power, for though she could not understand why, she knew that her power source had grown.
An Unnatural Inheritance: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Page 28
