23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

A s soon as Elizabeth told them about Riquer's message, the castle erupted with activity. There were so many questions to be answered, so many decisions to be made, messages to be sent.

"Are you certain Riquer gave you the right information?" Colonel Fitzwilliam was the fifth person to ask her the same question. "Did he say Hythe?

"He did. It is the only thing I'm sure of."

Like last time, the message had been garbled, but he had repeated the word Hythe twice. At the back of Elizabeth's mind there was always some doubt. Was the message garbled because she did not know how to receive it? Was it the distance? Or – as Lady Alice had suggested, was it deliberate? How could she be sure of anything?

No. She would not doubt Riquer. Why would he put himself in danger to contact her otherwise?

They discussed Hythe as a possible landing place, and the advantage of the Military Canal that had been built specifically to stop Napoleon's mages from getting to London.

"Since they will be coming by sea, they will not be able to attack us by magical means, so we are safe from that until they step on the beach," said Lord Matlock. "We will be there to stop them, of course. But we will still be vulnerable to cannon attacks from their ships. In case the Royal Mages fail to block the attack, there are soldiers stationed on both the sides of the Canal, and we will send messages to all the mages in the area to gather along the Canal."

In case the Royal Mages failed to block the attack . The enormity of what that meant made Elizabeth's stomach clench. They could not allow it. They had to repel them.

She looked around her. All the faces were grim, and all of them reflected the same determination and the same recognition — that the time had come. Part of her still wanted to think it was all unreal, part of some strange, elaborate joke. How could the few people in this room stop an invasion?

"Well then," said Lord Matlock. "Any questions?"

Yes, thought Elizabeth, do you really think we could stop them? But she would never voice that uncertainty out loud.

As they stood outside waiting for the carriages to take them to Hythe, Elizabeth pulled Darcy to a quiet corner where they could stand and look out at the sea. It was a perfect day. The sea was calm, reflecting the early morning sun in little ripples of gold. It looked perfectly innocent. Tomorrow, this same sea would be carrying an enemy towards them.

It was true what Darcy had said. He had not meant it that way, but the sea was not to be trusted.

Darcy stared out at the sea, trying to bring his chaotic thoughts into order. He should have been better prepared for this, but he had been so set on returning to Pemberley that he had refused to accept the possibility of battle. He felt stupid and angry and bitter, all at the same time. His throat was so tight, he did not know if he would be able to speak.

The two of them stood there silently for a while, staring at the line on the horizon that marked the coast of France. It was unlike Elizabeth to be quiet, and he felt he had to say something. He did not know what – something reassuring or comforting.

"We are not going to Pemberley, are we?" he whispered.

The words clogged his throat. It was a terrible thing to say. That was not what he intended. How could he do such a thing to her, to take away the frail hope? He needed to help her be strong, to confront whatever it was that was coming.

She gave a resigned smile. "No, we're not. It was a good dream, but like all dreams, it has come to an end." Her voice was wistful. "But I am glad we had the dream, for a while at least."

He met her gaze, and saw his thoughts mirrored in hers – the intense disappointment, the anxiety, and the frustration at this sudden intervention. It was as if fate did not want them to be together.

"Let us cling to the hope that, once this is over, we will be free to go to Pemberley."

He took her hand, entwining her fingers within his.

"I would rather cling to you," she said, sending their interlaced fingers a significant look, "than cling to dreams that are built on sand."

"Sand?" said Darcy. "I think you must mean shingle." He tried to make a joke of it.

She turned to him, her eyes shining with tears and love. It broke his heart.

As the carriage rumbled away from Walmer Castle, Elizabeth told herself that she ought to sleep, but all her thoughts were on Darcy.

How much time did they have together? What would tomorrow bring? Was this carriage ride their last chance to be together?

She moved closer to him. She needed to feel him against her, to hear the beating of his heart, to listen to his breathing. There was a fierce urgency to it. She could not possibly sleep. She needed to spend this time with him. She would not sleep. Who knew what the future held?

She leaned her head on his shoulder. At first, she was conscious of her father and Lord Matlock being in the carriage with them, but then she no longer cared. It was more important to enjoy every moment of Darcy's presence. The steady drum of his heartbeat slowly reassured her. They sat close, relishing each other's touch, quiet and soft. The outside world receded as she let everything else go. He was her anchor. He was her whole world, right here, right now. He was all she needed.

The scenery grew more dramatic as the day went on. First they climbed upwards. Then they reached a plateau of undulating hills and flat grassy landscapes where sheep grazed and gazed at them, chewing lazily as the carriage passed by.

"See the flat edge of the grass there? It is very deceptive," said Mr. Bennet. "There is a sheer cliff there. If you kept walking past it, you would fall a long way down to the beach. Can you imagine that?"

"I cannot imagine it, and I do not wish to, either." Elizabeth stared at her father. "Must you talk about dying, today, of all days?"

Mr. Bennet's mouth twisted. "I only said if you kept walking. Since you are in a carriage, there is no danger of anything happening, is there? It is just that it looks so flat and green, no one expects to see a sharp drop — until you do. The white cliffs are striking. You will be seeing them soon, when we approach Dover."

His statement improved her spirits. Her gloomy thoughts gave way to excitement at the prospect of seeing the famous cliffs of Dover.

When she finally saw them, she gaped. Nothing had prepared her for the sight.

"I knew you would like them," said Mr. Bennet. "They're breathtaking, are they not?"

"And that is Dover Castle," said Lord Matlock, consulting the map he had spread out on his lap. "And next to it, you can just make out the Roman Lighthouse." He pointed. "It has stood there for close to two thousand years."

She stared at the lighthouse, trying to imagine the people who had built it. Did they imagine it would still be standing so many centuries later? How many storms had it weathered since Rome was an empire? It had been standing there, watching over the sea tirelessly while civilizations had come and gone.

Approaching Hythe, they made their way up a small hill and past a Norman church overlooking the sea. Elizabeth peered across the Channel at the French coast, which was little more than twenty miles away. Below them, she could see the line of Martello towers dotting the coast like sentinels guarding the sea. She counted eight of them. Even though they only held a handful of soldiers, there was a reassuring solidity to them.

On the other side, the straight line of the Military Canal that was built to protect Romney Marsh was clearly visible. Above it, amongst the trees, she could see the redcoats, busy hauling up cannons to the top and positioning them pointing towards the sea.

"That round building is Dymchurch Redoubt, our destination," said Lord Matlock. "It was built specifically in case Napoleon invades. They'll be firing on the Imperial Mages from there. It's a fortress and garrison. It can house around 350 soldiers and officers. If we stay here for a long time, we will lodge there, but for now, we will stay at the Bell. It is more convenient for us because it is closer to the beach where we need to set up our defenses."

Elizabeth's heart quickened. All this military talk was making everything more real. She had grown accustomed to fighting, but it had always been against other mages. That was something that left her with some measure of control, but cannons and garrisons were not something she had encountered before.

When they arrived, they found the fort a hive of activity. The cannons were being cleaned and repositioned, the area was being scoured for spies, and soldiers were being drilled. They were met by the commander in charge, Sir Robert Fremantle, an officer and a mage. He welcomed them without much fuss and gave them a quick round up of what was going on.

"Fortunately, we have prepared for this eventuality. The Admiralty has always considered Hythe a likely area for an incursion, which is why the Military Canal was built. With the overlooks we have set up, it will be virtually impossible for the Imperial troops to go through. I am in the process of stationing men along the Canal. They will have the advantage of being invisible while the boats will have to pass right under them. It is the perfect set-up. Meanwhile, we have minor mages and soldiers scouring the area to make sure there are no Imperial Mages waiting to ambush them. We will count on you as Royal Mages to do a more thorough magical sweep. I will send men with you to show you where you need to go."

They rapidly changed into their official Royal Mage robes that would keep them warm and be used during battle, then it was time to start their work of setting up the Wards, and planning their defenses to ensure the Imperial mages could not push their way onto the beach or sail their boats down the Canal.

"Once we are ready," said Matlock, "it will be a waiting game. We will have to depend on the Royal Navy to bring some of the ships down."

Being ‘ready' was hardly an easy matter to accomplish. There were not enough Warders — just Elizabeth, Darcy, Redmond, and Mr. Bennet. With Bingley, they would have been five, but he was not here. It was very likely they would have to stay up all night.

Elizabeth threw herself into her work, hoping to avoid that fate. The sea was a never-ending roar in her ears. The air was loud with the crunching of shingles as the rounded stones slipped underfoot. Very soon, as the jagged stones began to bruise her soles, the crunching began to vex her. Her half-boots – made of nankeen cloth — were no protection against the edges of the stones. Elizabeth felt inelegant. She was like a duck waddling from side to side as she found her footing.

To make matters worse, the waves were coming closer and closer as the tide changed, surprising her every now and then with a splash of cold water that soaked her stockings. The inclined slope of the beach, moreover, soon made her feet ache. All in all, she was tired and cold, and wanted nothing more than a warm fireplace and something hot to warm her insides.

It was, however, unlikely that her wishes would be satisfied. There was no time to rest, not until she was satisfied that she had woven a thick web that would protect them from attack.

Everyone threw themselves into their tasks. There was no room for error. Their only hope of defeating the Imperial Mages was to prevent them from reaching land.

They worked steadily together, weaving the threads of magic that would keep the enemy mages out. It was hard work. The beach was a wide-open area, vulnerable to attack, and it would take hours to weave something strong enough to withhold a full-force attack. There was nothing to protect them, nowhere to conceal themselves, no bricks and mortar to shield them. There was just their magic, and it had to be perfectly structured to withstand any magical attack that was thrown at them.

After a brief retreat to the Bell Inn for a dinner of cold cuts and pies, they made their way back to the beach, accompanied by a small army of soldiers carrying equipment for their vigil. The lights of the Martello Towers were visible. The fishermen's black wooden huts were outlined against the moonlit sky, huddling behind the fishermen's boats as if looking for protection.

Captain Laker had arrived by boat with a few of the men from Walmer. He was issuing instructions while the boatmen were setting out, presumably to spy on the French, while others huddled in small groups, organizing themselves and preparing for the fray.

"Should we allow them to do that?" said Lady Alice, loudly. "What if they warn the French that we are waiting for them here?"

"We will just have to trust they do not," said Lord Matlock.

"How can you be certain they are loyal to the Kingdom? They are all smugglers, after all." Lady Alice's contempt grated on Elizabeth's nerves. She was already tense enough. She did not need Lady Alice to cast doubt on the boaters when they depended on them for information.

"Not all of the boatmen are smugglers," said Lord Matlock, calmly. "But even if they were, we have been more than generous with our coin. I trust them that far at least."

"Then we have to hope the French have not offered them more."

"For heaven's sake, Alice," said Mr. Bennet, in a harsh whisper. "Must you keep talking? Do you want to turn the boaters against us? This is hardly the time to question their loyalty. They are risking their lives to discover if the French fleet is coming."

Elizabeth was distracted for a moment by his use of Lady Alice's first name, but she was otherwise occupied and did not dwell on it. She resolutely turned her attention to checking the Wards they had set up earlier, knowing how crucial it was to hold back the enemy.

First, she reached out to Darcy. His magic gleamed as it touched hers, and she basked in the gentle love that settled around her. Then she reached out to Redmond. As he joined them, she could sense his uncertainty and fear. She did not blame him, considering that he had almost died at the attack on Founder's Hall almost a year ago. Nevertheless, she could sense he was much stronger than he had been then. He had changed a lot since she first met him.

Meanwhile, she had to stop herself from peering into the darkness, looking for signs of invasion. Those watching from the Martello towers that dotted the coast would signal them if they saw anything. It was hardly logical to think that she would spot the enemy from the beach before they did.

When some clouds covered the moon, they were enveloped in darkness. The night stretched onwards to the horizon. The sea was a breathing mass of the deepest ink, indistinguishable from the sky. The black fishermen's huts on the beach had been swallowed up in the dark. The only lights were the castle behind them and the Martello towers where mages and military officers watched like hawks over the Channel. Not for long. Soon the moon emerged once again, casting a silver light on the beach, touching the whites of the waves with silver.

There came a point when holding the Bond became impossible. They had not completed their work, but if they continued without stopping, they would not be able to draw on their magic anymore. Elizabeth could feel Redmond's magic fading, but he was not complaining. Darcy was doggedly fighting exhaustion. It was up to her to put a stop to it.

"I think it is time for a rest. We need to rest to replenish our strength."

"We have not finished."

"I know, but it will not serve us well if we use every last drop of our magic and cannot defend ourselves if attacked."

Darcy sighed. Reluctantly, he withdrew from the Bond, followed by Redmond. They sent a soldier to fetch them some food. When he returned with some cold pies, Darcy and Elizabeth sat down on the rounded shingle, their bodies touching. It was not cold, but a cold dampness was seeping into her bones.

Lulled by the sea's lullaby, Elizabeth must have fallen asleep. She was woken by a loud grating sound. Startled, she dropped her blanket and stood up in alarm. The sound was an unfamiliar rhythmic grinding noise that was a contrast to the sibilant swish of the sea. It did not sound like carriage wheels.

"What was that?"

Suppose they were caught in a trap, and the French mages meant to attack them from behind instead of from the sea? How could they escape? It could be an ambush from both sides. She reached with her magic in panic, seeking unfamiliar magic signatures.

"'Tis the Scarecrow of Romney Marsh," said one of the boatmen. There was a rumble of laughter among the other boatmen.

Elizabeth was too busy trying to detect any unusual magic to pay them much attention.

"Could the French have crept up behind us?" she asked.

"It's just the windmill on Stade Street, madam," said another of the boatmen, kindly. "You should hear it when there's a storm. It shrieks fit to take your ears off." The other boatmen chuckled softly. "You needn't worry about the Frenchies, ma'am. We've got lookouts everywhere, and if they're sighted inland, we'll receive a signal."

Elizabeth wasn't foolish enough to ask what kind of a signal it would be, but she felt relieved. The smugglers knew their business more than anyone else. She had found no sign of anything unusual in any case.

As it so happened, the windmill had served a purpose, she was now wide awake, and ready to start working again. Not long after, Darcy joined her, and then Redmond. The night seemed to stretch on forever as they went back to setting up Wards and checking them for weaknesses.

It must have been close to dawn when a subtle change in the darkness caught her eye, and Elizabeth sat up straight in her chair, her heart beating frantically.

"Do you see anything?" said Darcy to her, in a quiet, tight voice.

Elizabeth looked out to the blotted ink of sea and sky, merged together into a single unit of the deepest navy. She strained her eyes, trying to pick out some movement or shape to break the darkness. She kept her gaze on the horizon, afraid to look away even for an instant. "I cannot see it when I look, but I sensed something ahead — a change in the darkness. Look straight ahead, then a little to your right. I feel there is something there."

"I trust your instincts." He peered out into the water.

Another time, she might have rejoiced that he had so much faith in her, but not now when it felt like the whole world was waiting. She hardly dared to breathe as she kept her focus on that elusive something out there.

A minute later, she shook her head. "It's gone. I must have imagined it."

"Maybe it was just a large wave."

"Yes. It must have been."

Relief made her feel giddy. She reached out to touch Darcy's arm. Instead, he gripped her hand, entwining his fingers with hers. The contact reassured her, making her feel warm and secure. It reminded her that they had each other, no matter what happened, that they were working together. They had done it before and survived.

To her right, Redmond shifted. "I wish they would come so it would be over and done with."

"Do you really?" said Elizabeth softly.

She did not want daytime to come. She wanted this time with Darcy to last forever.

"Perhaps they will change their mind. Perhaps they will not come at all." She could still cling to that hope.

To the left of her, Darcy squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Perhaps."

Redmond snorted. "If only that were the case."

Darcy came to full alertness as a warning shout came from the castle ramparts. Moments later, everyone congregated at the edge of the beach, just behind the Wards.

The boatmen had returned. They were shadows in the water, the soft strike of their oars hidden by the swish of the waves. The Royal mages gathered, ready to strike if necessary.

Darcy stood tensely, spell at the ready. He had already set up Wards around the mages standing on the shore, but he did not know if it would be enough. Lady Alice was right about the boatmen, even if saying it aloud was foolhardy. There was no trust between the smugglers and the military. The smugglers' loyalty was bought with silver, and if they had been offered more by the Imperial mages, it would be easy enough to smuggle some of the French mages in under cover of darkness, dressed in fishermen's clothes. He strained forward to see if there was any hint of magic, knowing Elizabeth was doing the same, but even someone as good as her may not be able to detect magic signatures on the water.

It was a perfect disguise.

The boatmen reached the beach.

"There's a fog behind us," one of them said, visibly shaken.

"It ain't natural," said another. "I never saw the like in my life."

"Like a giant shadow." Darcy recognized the man who told Elizabeth about the windmill.

"They're coming." There was panic in the man's voice. "Let us in."

"Let them in," said Captain Laker, vouching for them.

No one objected. Darcy had to believe Captain Laker could recognize them and distinguish whether there was something suspicious. He carefully lowered a small part of the Ward – a part narrower than a doorway – and let the men in one by one, with Colonel Fitzwilliam and Captain Laker checking each one of them before they were allowed through.

Then, like a huge wave, the fog rolled in.