10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

D arcy awoke with a renewed sense of purpose. He had reached a conclusion in the middle of the night. He could not continue waiting around and hoping for something to change for the better. That was what had brought him to this point. He needed to seize his future in his hands, and bring about change himself. Accordingly, he had decided to talk to his uncle first thing in the morning and request permission to leave.

Now that he had decided to act, the sense of hopelessness lifted, and he was filled with surge of optimism. He walked down the corridor with a spring in his step. Elizabeth may not have agreed to go with him to Pemberley, but when she thought about it, she would be bound to agree that it was the only solution. Then, at last, they would truly be husband and wife, and he would stop feeling as if fate had dealt him a raw deal. A heavy load had been lifted off his back. He felt light and carefree for the first time in years, as if walking on air.

Two passing apprentices grinned when he greeted them.

"Nice hover spell, sir!"

Darcy looked down and was astonished to find he was, in fact, floating on air. It was exceedingly embarrassing to have cast a spell without even being aware of it, but he nodded back at them as if it was deliberate.

"It's always good to keep practicing," he said, with an air of authority.

The two apprentices looked at each other, then spoke the words of the spell, trying to rise off the ground. They failed, but they kept trying. What had he started? Soon half the apprentices would be trying to hover in the hallways, and they would say Mr. Darcy had given them permission.

He supposed there were worse things to worry about. It would not do them any harm. It might even hone their skills.

But it was harmful to him . He could not go around triggering spells without even noticing. This was one more reason that pointed to his exhaustion. He could not continue to work relentlessly and face danger without taking some time away from it all.

It was a perfect example to present to his uncle. Darcy never lost control, and he intended to bring that up when he introduced the idea to his uncle. If necessary, he could even go so far as to argue that he was a danger to himself and others if he was not in full control of his magic.

He reached Lord Matlock's office and rapped neatly on the door.

"How may I help you, Nephew?"

Now that push came to shove, Darcy felt his throat grow dry. It was one thing to plan something in the middle of the night, another to make it a reality.

"I have come to talk to you about going to Pemberley."

His uncle's brows lifted so high they almost touched his hairline. "Have you, by Jove?"

Darcy scooted forward in his chair and leaned his elbows on his uncle's desk. "As you know, Elizabeth and I were married more than a year ago. But we were never given the opportunity—" he hesitated as he tried to think of a tactful way to phrase it, "—to go on a honeymoon."

"Honeymoon?" his uncle repeated. He made it sound trivial.

His dismissive attitude angered Darcy. "Very well then, if you prefer a more official term, I would like to request military leave for rest and recuperation. All soldiers take leave during war. I do believe we have earned the right to take some time off, especially after the service we performed for his Royal Highness the Prince Regent, and for the King."

"I see," said his uncle, neutrally. "And how long do you expect this – leave— to last?"

A year, he would have said, but his uncle would never agree to that.

He answered carefully. "A few weeks, possibly. I am hoping that Elizabeth will come with me to Pemberley. She would of course stay there longer, in case – well, in case of an heir."

"An heir."

His uncle's apparent need to repeat Darcy's words was vexing, but Darcy curbed his irritation. He was prepared to argue his case all day if necessary. At this point, he could not tell from his uncle's expression whether he approved or was completely against it.

"I cannot keep going into battle, each time wondering whether I will be back. Pemberley needs an heir. It is common sense."

Then, as his uncle curled his eyebrow, he added. "What is the point of cultivating the Bloodlines if we allow them to die out? We are Janus mages. Do you want our magic to disappear?"

It was an argument better made to Lady Alice and some of her cronies on the Council, but it was a solid one. If his uncle did not care about his and Elizabeth's well-being, then he had to care about losing the chance to breed more Janus mages.

He was growing more resolute by the minute. He would not back down on this. Being with Elizabeth, having a proper marriage, was more important than anything else. He felt it in his bones.

Matlock looked out of the window. "If we are defeated by Napoleon, all the Bloodlines will be destroyed. Or used for Napoleon's nefarious purposes. Will Pemberley stand alone?"

"The war may drag on for years, Uncle, and you know it. We will need new mages to continue the fight."

"How very noble of you to offer to produce them!" His uncle's voice was packed with irony. "And in the meantime, what about the Prince Regent's plans for Mirror magic?"

That was a question Darcy was fully prepared to answer. He had consulted his maps and identified possible locations for telegraph towers. He had brought the maps with him, and was prepared to go over them in detail.

Satisfied that he had a good answer, he explained his idea of setting up relay towers from London to Derbyshire.

Lord Matlock listened without interruption. "I suppose it is doable, though perhaps not in the time frame we need. Still, we have no idea how quickly we will need them. If necessary, I suppose you could be recalled."

"Exactly." He tried to contain his excitement. His uncle was considering the idea seriously.

"I see you are determined to make this work. And you could certainly make the case that you and Elizabeth have achieved so much in a short time, you deserve shore leave, so to speak. And you do have your duty to Pemberley to consider." His uncle fell silent. "I know you will hound me if I refuse, so I will not stand in your way. However, it is up to you to convince the Council. It is not up to me to decide. You will need their permission."

Darcy wanted to cheer, but he refrained. If Lord Matlock had not refused him, it was very likely the Council would also approve his request.

"Thank you, Uncle."

"I am behind you, Darcy. I know very well how patient you have been. I do commend you on that."

"It was not by choice." Darcy warmed to his uncle's praise.

"Still, you have dealt with it well. Except for that one unfortunate time." Darcy wanted to object. How was any man expected to react when his wife appeared in her nightgown? But he had won over his uncle, and he did not want to ruin things by arguing.

Lord Matlock rose to his feet. "Make sure to attend the Council meeting this afternoon. I will bring up the question of military leave for you, though I have a feeling I will be opening a Pandora's box. Then I will leave it up to you. Good luck!"

Darcy could scarcely believe his ears. It was going to happen! He was going to fulfil his dream! All he needed was resolve and a strong argument to present to the Council.

Elizabeth was going to be so surprised! She would be over the moon when she heard. He had to go and tell her at once.

The two of them would be going to Pemberley after all.

When Elizabeth came out of her lesson with a group of younger apprentices, she was surprised to see Darcy waiting for her. She was used to seeing him in the doldrums, but he was obviously in high spirits. The transformation was so remarkable, it took her breath away. He was so heartachingly handsome. His dark eyes were sparkling, and a radiant smile was spread across his face. She wanted to run and kiss him, but her students were filing past them.

She waited until the hallway was empty, then walked up to him and slid her hands around his neck. She ran her fingers through his thick curls and brought her lips to his.

He kissed her. It was a quick, hard kiss that told her more about his state of mind. He had something to say, and he needed to tell her at once.

"I have news for you," he said, stepping away from her. "I have spoken to my uncle, and he has given me permission to address the Council this afternoon. I will ask them for permission to go to Pemberley."

She had not expected that. She did not know what to think.

"So Lord Matlock has given you his support?"

"He has." He beamed at her.

She turned away, trying to collect her scattered thoughts. She had not expected Darcy to do anything until they had spoken. She did not blame him, but she wished he had not done it without talking to her first. At the same time, it made her happy to see him so animated, so excited about his future. Her heart went out to him.

"Elizabeth, do you realize what this means? We will have a chance to be together, finally!"

His enthusiasm was infectious, and she opened the door to the possibility. She imagined what it would be like to be away from Founders' Hall, to live in a home where her life was not ruled by clocks and bells, where she would not be at the beck and call of Councils and princes.

If the Council approved the request, then perhaps it was meant to be?

He took up her hand and kissed her palm. "The meeting is this afternoon at three o'clock. I will come to you afterwards to let you know the verdict. Where will you be?"

"I will wait for you in the training room at four o'clock."

After he left, she paced the room, picking up objects and putting them down again. Darcy was so set on the idea that she could not bring herself to object. But when it came to it, would she agree?

She wondered yet again why it had to be all or nothing with him. He had been adamant since she met him about not taking risks, and he had stood by it. But there was more than their marriage at stake.

It was unfortunate that she was the only Mirror mage in the Kingdom, but there was no escaping that. It could well be that the fate of the whole Kingdom depended on her. How could she possibly set that aside and agree to leave unless Darcy had already built the relay towers?

At the same time, how could she refuse Darcy – the man she loved with all her heart – something that would make him so happy?

By and large, Elizabeth did not consider herself indecisive, but Darcy had given her an impossible choice, and she did not know what to do with it.

Darcy entered the Council chamber filled with a mix of anticipation and dread. His whole future depended on how well he presented his case.

While the rest of the Council members mulled around, waiting for the arrival of Lord Matlock, Darcy was doing his best to stay calm and collected, but his chest felt tight, and he was finding it difficult to breathe. Mentally, he reviewed all the arguments he intended to present and prepared for any objections the Council members might raise. Satisfied that he had covered all the possibilities, he looked towards the clock on the mantelpiece. It was fifteen minutes past the hour. The meeting was supposed to start at three o'clock. How unfortunate that his uncle had chosen today, of all days, to be unaccountably delayed! Darcy hoped he would not have to keep Elizabeth waiting to hear about the verdict.

The clock chimed the quarter-hour. The Council members were growing restless. Trying not to fidget, Darcy considered starting the meeting without Matlock, but he did not want to disadvantage his case. His uncle's support was important. At the very least, it would show that the Head Mage did not have objections. It may even sway one or two people.

When Matlock entered the room, Darcy expected him to turn towards him. Instead, Matlock's lips were pulled in a tight line, and he looked around the room.

"My apologies for my tardiness, but I have just received word from the Home Office. We have received news through the relay towers that Napoleon is organizing a major invasion. We can expect a large fleet to set out within a few days."

"That is hardly a cause for alarm," said Devereux. "The Navy will defeat him soundly – again – and that will be the end of it. Another Trafalgar. He will be decimated."

"Hear, hear!"

"Bring them on!"

"In any case," said Lady Hazelmere, "It is not something that impacts the Royal Mages. Mages can't do magic on water."

"True, but it appears the Prince Regent is concerned that this time, he will be sending mages, with a planned landing further north. He has asked that we send a few of our best mages to repel them, and to ensure they do not set foot on our soil. Frankly, I welcome it. I have been hoping for a long time now that if we bide our time and wait for Napoleon to become overconfident, then we can win this war, once and for all. If we can intercept these mages, we might be able to get rid of them, and weaken the enemy substantially."

"Has there been word when this will happen?"

"Not yet. It could be days, it could be weeks. But he has asked us to prepare contingency plans. We should be ready to move when we receive an order."

"In other words," said Devereux, "we need to do nothing at all. It all sounds very vague. You said weeks, but it could well be months."

"Let us hope so. It would give us more time. But there is no doubt that tents have been set up, and people have been arriving at Boulogne. We cannot dismiss the threat completely."

He looked around. "I will inform you the moment I hear something new."

Now that his business was over, Darcy looked hopefully at his uncle, waiting for him to bring up Pemberley. But his uncle merely dismissed the Council and agreed to meet at the same time tomorrow.

He had trusted his uncle. He had believed Matlock was willing to help him. Now Darcy even questioned whether Matlock had ever intended to bring the topic to the Council. After all, he had mentioned Pandora's box. Perhaps the Head Mage wanted to keep that box locked rather than being inundated with requests for military leave.

Darcy lingered until Matlock finished talking to some of the Council members and left the room, then followed after him, trying to reign in his ire.

"Ah, Darcy. I had the feeling you would come after me."

"Rightly so," said Darcy. "Why did you not raise the issue?"

"I had something more important to discuss."

"Could it not have waited until after I received permission to go to Pemberley?"

Lord Matlock stopped walking and turned to face Darcy. "I am sorry to have been the bearer of bad tidings, and to have ruined your possibility of marital bliss, but do not kill the messenger. It is my role to put the Kingdom first. I cannot give you special treatment. Hopefully, it is another false alarm, and there is nothing to it. Then you will still have your chance at happiness."

He put his hand on Darcy's shoulder. "It is a matter of ten days or two weeks at the most, and then you can do as you please."

Darcy shrugged the hand off. Disappointment was choking him. "As Devereux phrased it, those ten days could extend into months," he said, bitterly.

"I am sorry. If we receive the order, the Prince Regent has made it clear he expects you and Elizabeth to go."

"Ah, so instead of going to Pemberley we are to face danger, yet again, while you stay here, safe and sound." He was snarling. He could not help it. The sour taste of betrayal was too strong to reign it in.

"As it so happens, I will not be staying here. I have told the Prince Regent that I will be accompanying you."

Darcy stared at his uncle. "But you are the Head Mage. Surely you cannot put yourself in that situation?"

"If Napoleon's mages manage to land, the Academies will fall." Matlock's voice was harsh. "You are not the only one who is tired of the status quo. I, too, am tired of waiting. I would rather go and meet the enemy head on than cower here, waiting for the roof to fall in again."

Elizabeth paced up and down in the practice room. She had dismissed her apprentices early, too distracted to focus on performing magic. Instead, she had decided to perform some of the warming exercises in the hope it would help her think more clearly. So far, it had not. She had yet to work out how she was going to respond to Darcy if the Council gave its permission, and it was drawing closer to four o'clock.

Then suddenly, it was too late. There was a sharp rap on the door, and Darcy strode in.

One look at his face told her everything. His jaw was clenched, and his hands were scrunched into fists. He carried himself with the air of someone who had suffered a serious blow.

He stared at her from across the room, his expression saying it all.

"They turned you down."

He did not answer at first. Instead, he went to the leather armchair at the corner of the room and threw himself down onto it. He rubbed the back of his neck, then dropped his head back, crossed his arms across his body and stared up at the ceiling.

"I did not even have the chance to present my case," he said, between clenched teeth. "We received word from Whitehall that we are to head to Kent. It seems an invasion is imminent."

Now that it was over, she felt it as a loss. The disappointment felt like ashes in her throat, though a part of her had never believed it could happen. It was a far bigger blow for Darcy, who had convinced himself it was possible.

"I am so sorry," she whispered, going to him and sitting on the arm of the chair. She did not touch him, sensing that he was too agitated to welcome it.

"I thought all I had to do was to talk to the Council and it would be decided. I was a fool to think it could work."

"You have more faith in the Council than I do," she said, trying to make a joke of it.

But Darcy was not even listening. "I have learned one thing today. We are crucial, but we are also dispensable. No one cares about our wellbeing. We will be sent to fight again. If we survive, there will be some silly award ceremony. If not—" He left the thought open.

It was only now that she registered what he was saying. None of this was about the Council. It was about the danger of an invasion.

"But what did they say? About the invasion? Why do they want us to go to Kent?"

"As if I care," he said. "Something about troops being gathered in Boulogne."

He really had taken leave of his senses. "Darcy, this is bigger than all of us. Are you not worried about what will happen?"

"At the moment, I would not care if Napoleon himself arrived on our doorstep."

And with that, he stood up, marched to the door, and slammed it behind him.