Chapter 5

Above a week later, Darcy still could not expunge the image of Elizabeth with her hair growing wild from her head. Nor could he forget the intense connexion forged between them; it was like touching her soul, the essence of her person laid bare to him, and he very much liked what he saw. He already knew that she was witty, charming, and caring, but now he was equally aware of her tender heart and its vulnerabilities. Never had he seen a person so wholly before.

And never had he experienced a Familiar connexion so intensely before, either. Every lad spent his adolescence enamoured of the charms, both physical and magical, of the fairer sex, and at school most of them had dallied with ladies who were less…exclusive with said charms. Darcy had not the depth of experience that many men could boast, but he had touched a woman’s bare skin before and it had been nothing like what he had felt in that glancing brush with Elizabeth. There was far more to their bond than the average, he was sure of it.

Unfortunately, she had rushed out of the room before he could articulate any wish to court her, either to the lady or himself. He had been befuddled in the aftermath of such rapture and had not entirely come back to his senses until much, much later. He meant to seek her out, but so far had not been granted the opportunity due to his extensive deliberations—on what, if anything, he should do—the muddy weather, and his responsibilities to Bingley. Ironically, he wondered if this was the anticipation his friend felt during his separation from Miss Bennet.

“Mr Darcy, do come away from the window. You would not wish to exacerbate your illness.”

Startled, Darcy turned to find Miss Bingley at his shoulder, a simpering smile fixed upon her face. He must become more accustomed to other signs of her approach; since donning Elizabeth’s magical lavender, her wretched scents had ceased to alert him of her impending presence.

“I am quite well where I am, I assure you, madam. Indeed, I have felt much better of late.”

“Oh? I am glad to hear it.” Contrary to her words, a wrinkle appeared betwixt Miss Bingley’s brows and he thought her displeased. Perhaps she had been anticipating fawning over him longer?

The clock on the mantel chimed the hour and Darcy dismissed himself to dress for their outing. They were due to dine with the officers at five o’clock, which he was not especially looking forward to but it was at least preferable to enduring Miss Bingley and her pretensions.

Elizabeth was sitting in the garden of a morning, attempting to direct her thoughts away from Mr Darcy, when a bluebird landed upon the open pages of her book. It carried a note in its beak and so Elizabeth knew it must have been sent by Jane, who had gone to Netherfield the day before and not returned. Alarmed to receive a missive instead of her sister in person, she tore into it with trembling fingers. The handwriting within resembled Jane’s, but was shaky and blotched in places, barely legible.

My Dearest Lizzy,

I find myself very unwell this morning, which I would have imputed to my getting wet through yesterday, but Mr Jones has declared my malady to be magical in nature. I do not wish to importune you, but he feels it necessary to call upon your services, so I must beg you to come to Netherfield.

Yours, &c.

PS: I ask that you come in all haste, for I have just learnt that whatever afflicts me is catching. Mr Bingley, the Hursts, and many of the servants have also taken to their beds.

She was on her feet before reading the last word and off to her father’s study to request the carriage.

Elizabeth arrived at Netherfield Park with as much quickness as possible and was bustled inside by a haggard-looking footman who appeared ready to collapse himself. She was glad that she had insisted upon no escort other than a maid, whom she told to wait in the carriage, for whatever malady was at the heart of this calamity could easily spread to the residents of Longbourn if they did not maintain a careful distance from it.

She was led into the breakfast room where she discovered Mr Darcy pacing and Miss Bingley sipping tea with apparent calmness, a pale maid seated in the corner for propriety’s sake. When she entered, Mr Darcy halted and offered her a deep bow while Miss Bingley rose for a shallow curtsey. The gentleman appeared worried, but otherwise healthful, and the lady entirely unafflicted. Odd that they are the only two members of the household unaffected by whatever has struck down those around them, but I suppose Mr Darcy is protected by my lavender. Miss Bingley, however…

The situation was so urgent that there was no time to contemplate her suspicions, but she would puzzle them out later after the immediate crisis had passed. It would not do to make accusations without proof, especially if they create a false distraction. Elizabeth asked the whereabouts of Mr Jones.

“He is attending to Bingley at the moment,” replied Mr Darcy. “I shall send a footman—if I can find one—to alert him of your arrival.”

“Lead me to Jane at once and I shall see what can be done. You may tell Mr Jones he can find me there.”

Elizabeth thought she heard Miss Bingley scoff, but she was already following Mr Darcy out of the room and up the main staircase.

A few hours later, Jane was resting peacefully with a bouquet of lavender at her bedside. She had, indeed, been suffering from the same malignancy which had previously afflicted Mr Darcy and a posy of magic-imbued lavender had done much to restore her health. She required sleep and some time for the magic to do its work completely, but Elizabeth felt that she would be well soon.

Leaving Jane in the care of one of the few ambulatory maids, Elizabeth descended to the main floor in order to give her report. She was required to stop midway down in order to fight off a wave of dizziness, a common effect of expending too much energy all at once, but made it to the entry hall without further incident. When she asked the whereabouts of Mr Darcy and Miss Bingley, she was directed to a drawing room by the same footman—now looking much better with a boutonniere similar to Mr Darcy’s attached to his livery—who had welcomed her earlier.

Inside, she found the pair of them just as she had before, with Mr Darcy pacing and Miss Bingley calmly seated. The same maid, looking improved with a sprig of lavender in her cap but still rather green, sat near her mistress while Miss Bingley attempted to persuade Mr Darcy to join them.

Mr Darcy turned at Elizabeth’s entrance and made directly for her. “What news?”

“I believe the household suffers from the same sort of miasma that previously afflicted you, sir, and so I created some more lavender to combat it. Jane is much better, and Mr Jones informs me that Mr Bingley and the Hursts are also resting comfortably. He has gone down to the servants’ hall to see what he can do for them.”

Mr Darcy’s shoulders drooped slightly, relieved of some invisible tension. “Thank goodness! Then the situation is in hand?”

Elizabeth bit her lip and glanced towards the window, where the sun was slowly sinking in the sky. In short order, it would be gone altogether and her ability to absorb its nourishing rays extinguished until the morrow. “Not entirely. I have managed enough for Jane, Mr Bingley, his family, Mr Jones, and a few others, but there are still so many servants to procure for and I am afraid that my abilities do not stretch that far. Without sunlight to regenerate my energy stores, I am even more impotent.”

Miss Bingley snorted, then flicked open her fan to belatedly cover it.

“What do you mean?” Mr Darcy asked, brow folded in concern.

“I mean that, in order to grow my plants, I require the elements a plant needs to thrive: sunlight, water, food…to say nothing of my own bodily demands for sleep. I worry that this miasma will have done its horrible work before I am able to produce enough lavender.”

Mr Darcy, ignoring Miss Bingley and her rolling eyes, pressed, “Is there nothing we can do?”

“I have been thinking about it and there is one way.” She swallowed down her trepidation before saying, “We could…that is, you could act as my Familiar and the energy boost would be enough to enable me?—”

Miss Bingley snapped her fan closed and stood. “Absolutely not! I see what you are about and I will never allow it, not under any circumstances.”

Elizabeth, prepared for this opposition, was calm in her response. “I understand your objections and I am not especially eager to ruin my own reputation, but I can see no other choice if we are to save everyone. The longer foul magic lingers, the more likely it is that someone will die from it and that is a risk we simply cannot take.”

“Nonsense! Your scheme is obvious. You mean to entice Mr Darcy into marrying you with your wanton wiles. Well, I say again that I shall not allow it, not in my house, and if you so much as hint at it again I shall have you thrown out! Do you hear me?”

“And how, pray tell, would you manage that? Your toxic odours have felled the entire household! Who is left to throw me out?”

Miss Bingley staggered back as if physically struck and Mr Darcy, who had yet to weigh in on the debate, gaped at her.

I had not meant to announce it with so little finesse. I must be more tired than I thought.

“What do you accuse me of?” Miss Bingley demanded with a gasp.

“Not of any particular intent, I assure you, but it seems clear to me that you are the source of the contagion,” Elizabeth said. “Is your Gift not the ability to create scents? It is not so far-fetched to think you could create one, either accidentally or on purpose, which proved poisonous.”

“That is preposterous!”

“Then why are you the only member of the household unaffected by it?”

“Why—I—Mr Darcy is also resistant to the ailment!” The lady pointed a quivering finger in her guest’s direction before jabbing it at Elizabeth. “As are you! Really, it is pure coincidence that I, too, am impervious.”

“No, Mr Darcy is protected by the lavender I gave him last week.” Elizabeth fought the urge to blush at the recollection for she needed to maintain a stern bearing to counter Miss Bingley. “As for myself, I gain a certain amount of protection to magical ailments through my Gift. Ask anyone around Meryton and they will tell you the same. You are the source and I would think that you would wish to do anything possible to undo the havoc you have wrought.”

“No, you are wrong! Mr Darcy?—”

Miss Bingley turned to the gentleman, her expression pleading with him to defend her, but his grim aspect brought her up short. “Miss Elizabeth’s conjectures sound entirely logical to me, madam. Have you, either by accident or design, caused this?”

Stomping her foot, Miss Bingley screeched with rage. “I was only trying to entice you, but you did not respond like you were supposed to! You started avoiding me, so I put more power into my efforts, only for you to complain of being ill all the time. Then, you were not even affected at all! I tried harder and harder, but all I achieved was making Miss Bennet faint, and then Louisa, and…and…”

It sounded to Elizabeth like Miss Bingley had allowed her temper to get the better of her and had unintentionally caused an epidemic. Angry people are not always wise and she certainly proved as much in her scheme to lure Mr Darcy with her poisoned perfume.

Mr Darcy took a step back from Miss Bingley before saying, “I believe it is best for you to separate yourself from the rest of the household until such time as Miss Elizabeth and I are able to procure enough lavender for everyone. I shall inform your brother of the facts on your behalf and I am certain that he will do what he can for you.”

Miss Bingley—face pale against the burnt orange of her gown—stared with naked betrayal at the gentleman she had attempted to bewitch into offering for her. Elizabeth would have felt some sympathy for her if her ambitions had not caused so much harm, or if she had shown an ounce of remorse for it. As it was, neither of them stopped the lady when she stormed from the room.

With Miss Bingley and her venomous airs gone, Mr Darcy turned to Elizabeth. He held out his bare hand and entreated, “Shall we?”