7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

D arcy was training two apprentices in advanced spell-making when he received a note summoning him to an urgent Council meeting. Since he already knew what it was about, Darcy was tempted to ignore the summons. However, his uncle might discuss Riquer's assignment, and Darcy wanted to get a sense of how people reacted to sending Riquer back to France. It would help him determine if he was the only one who was suspicious.

He arrived as his uncle entered and called the meeting. "I know everyone has other matters to attend to, so I will make this short. I took the unusual step of calling a meeting because Whitehall has advised me that an invasion by Napoleon is imminent. We need to be on alert."

"That is hardly a matter of urgency," said Devereux, with his usual bullish directness. "We have been anticipating an invasion for many years now."

He earned several snickers in response.

"True enough." Lord Matlock's tone made it clear that this was not a time for Devereux's usual theatrics. "However, we have been told to expect orders from the War Office very soon."

A clamor of questions rose up.

"Quiet, please!" he said, using magic to magnify his voice. "I have no further information. I do not know what the orders may be. I wanted to convey the message. Until we hear more, we should increase all safety drills and prepare our students for the possibility of an attack shortly. There is word that Napoleon may attempt to cross the English Channel."

If Matlock thought that was the end of it, he was very much mistaken. Devereux was in no mood to let this go. "You don't say! For years, there have been rumors of Napoleon invading the Kingdom. The press has been particularly inventive about some of the plans he allegedly devised. Most of them were frankly unworkable. Remember when he supposedly planned to dig a tunnel under the Channel?"

Even Matlock had to laugh at that particular concept.

"And what about the ridiculous plan of sending an army of balloons across the Channel? Even the lowliest sailor who has sailed the Channel will tell you the prevailing winds would render such a scheme impossible."

"Hear, hear!" Several voices expressed agreement.

"And what about they said he was building a flotilla that used windmills instead of sails to power the boats?"

Again, everyone scoffed at the idea.

"Yes, yes. What you say is all very true. They are ridiculous schemes bound to failure." Lord Matlock shrugged. "However, bear in mind that, because of such madcap ideas, it is impossible to anticipate Napoleon's next step. All we know is that Boulogne is suddenly a hive of activity. Hundreds of tents have been set up, and carriages are arriving with supplies. It is not conclusive. Unlike last time, when Napoleon assembled two hundred thousand men, the numbers gathering at Boulogne are much smaller. However, whatever is happening, we cannot afford to ignore it."

Darcy had been waiting for Matlock to mention Riquer, but he did not. As the meeting turned into a discussion of the likelihood of an invasion, Darcy's thoughts began to drift. Like almost everyone in the room, he was not particularly alarmed. No matter how ingenious his ideas, Napoleon would be foolish to try and cross the Channel again. He had been soundly beaten at the Battle of Trafalgar the last time he tried it. Mages were very useful on land – and the idea of bringing hundreds of mages over was frankly terrifying – but they were helpless on large bodies of water. They would have to land first before they could accomplish anything.

His thoughts turned instead to Elizabeth. All this constant anxiety was taking its toll. She had been so distressed yesterday about Riquer, Darcy had wanted nothing more than to envelop her in his arms and take her to his bedchamber to comfort her. Yet he could not. He could not do anything to make his wife happy. All he could do was watch from the sidelines. She talked about feeling helpless, but what about him? He was powerless to do anything to help her.

His love for Elizabeth was a constant ache. In the past, he had honestly believed the poets exaggerated when they wrote about love as a torment. Now he knew they spoke the truth. He was so weary. Weary of longing for her company. Weary of looking at her from afar. Weary of waiting. He had fallen in love, and not for a moment did he wish that undone. But the nagging ache that gripped him whenever he saw her was becoming harder and harder to endure.

He did not notice that the Council meeting had ended until everyone rose and moved towards the door.

"Are you unwell, Darcy?" His uncle asked, his eyes concerned.

"I am as well as can be expected." His jaw was clenched so tightly, his head was hurting. "Considering I am not allowed any time with my wife." The words came out more barbed than he expected. His uncle would consider it a continued attack on his idea of a punishment. Good. Let him think that. He was reaching the end of his tether, and he wanted his uncle to know it.

His uncle's punishment had made him feel like a child. True, discipline was essential, but Darcy was not some reluctant soldier unwilling to fight unless threatened with punishment. He had dedicated his life to the Academy. He had faced death to save everyone else. He had never slacked, never questioned his role. He had always pushed himself to excel, in order to serve the Kingdom better.

He turned on his heel and walked onwards, oblivious to his surroundings, consumed by his feelings. Bright sunlight greeted him, and he blinked, disoriented, as he felt the soft touch of grass under his feet. Had he left the castle without even noticing?

The Gothic columns surrounding him told him he had unwittingly found his way to the cloister. His eyes were immediately drawn to a bench where he had sat not too long ago, and memories came flooding over him.

He had not been here since the memorable day Elizabeth had returned his wedding ring and asked him to annul their marriage. A sense of desolation came over him. What would he do now if he lost her? It would devastate him. Why was he thinking that way, in any case? There was no reason to suspect that she did not want to be with him. She was in love with him. He did not doubt her affection for a single second. Still, here he was, thinking about losing her.

Perhaps jealousy did have a hand in it after all.

He forced himself to consider that possibility. He was jealous that Elizabeth spent so much time with Riquer. Darcy did not doubt his own worth. But Riquer had something to offer Elizabeth that Darcy did not. Elizabeth craved new forms of magic. She wanted to explore beyond the limits of what she had learned so far. That was where he felt he was failing her. He may be one of the most powerful mages in the kingdom, but he could not move beyond the same spells he had learned when he was a child.

He had to acknowledge it. He was staid and solid and boring in his steadfast adherence to the tried and true. He had resisted change when he had first met her. She had introduced her own magic and he had refused to accept it. Then Riquer had appeared, offering her exactly what she needed – the opportunity to expand herself into new forms of magic.

Yes, he was jealous of Riquer. Not because he doubted Elizabeth's love, but because he doubted himself. He might want to learn new things, but it did not mean he could . He wanted to grow – to stretch the limits of his abilities, but he had perfected what he had been taught for so many years, it was hard to make that leap. The magic he had learned worked. He knew it worked. Thousands of mages had used it. Remaining steadfast to what he had learned was the only certainty he could cling to.

Unfortunately, he also knew with absolute certainty that the fate of the Kingdom depended on the Academy adapting and changing. How could they hope to compete with French mages when they were using many different types of magic unknown to the Academy?

He knew it was unreasonable, but he resented her training with Riquer. He knew it was essential, that it may one day save his life and the lives of many others, but he wished it was otherwise. He trusted Elizabeth completely, but what man would not be perturbed in such a situation?

He was not truly married. He was in a state of limbo, waiting for something to happen, for him to have a chance at happiness, but unable to do anything about it.

The Royal Mages were asking the impossible of him. They had forced him to marry Elizabeth, but deprived him of the ability to enjoy the marriage bed. It was like being in the Navy, crossing the ocean, deprived of women's company for months. Yet even sailors were allowed to go ashore when they stopped at ports of call, and were granted leave to return home when the voyage was over.

The fact was, he needed Elizabeth. He needed to live with her as her husband – to experience what it meant to be together. What was wrong with wanting to lead a normal life? To share a breakfast table. To ride across green meadows. To fish in the river on a warm summer's day. To sit alone with her on a snowy night, his head in her lap, warmed by the fireplace. To wake up with Elizabeth at his side, her body warming his, her dark curls fanned across the sheets.

He closed his eyes, blocking out that vision. He had to do something soon, or he would go mad.

He had always believed in sacrifice, in bowing to circumstances. But there was a time when he had to fight for what he loved. For the woman he loved. He could not continue to smother everything that was meaningful in his life in the name of duty. He wished there was a way to reconcile the two, but he had thought long and hard, and he had not found a way.

If he did not care for her, it would have been a different matter. It was an arranged marriage, but he had fallen deeply and utterly in love with his wife, and that was torment.

He could not bear it a moment more. Enough was enough.

Then suddenly, he had the solution. He knew what to do. It was time to take a stand. He would ask Elizabeth to leave the Academy and go with him to Pemberley.

As soon as the idea entered his head, he knew it was the solution to all their problems. He could not keep putting off his dreams. It was very simple. He loved Elizabeth. She was his wife. They needed to be together.

Feeling as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders, he took off a run to find Elizabeth, full of determination and hope.

"I want us to leave Founder's Hall and go to Pemberley."

Elizabeth stared at Darcy, stunned. Had he taken leave of his senses? "That is impossible, Darcy, and you know it."

"Why should it be impossible?" His voice was a harsh cry. "Even the lowliest foot soldier is entitled to go home on leave. Do we not deserve the same?"

It was all so sudden, she did not know quite how to react. Part of her was thrilled at the idea, another part was horrified. She had always considered Darcy a measured man who did not give in to impulse. If anything, he would always err on the side of caution. It almost felt like the gentleman standing in front of her was a stranger.

"Darcy, I dream every night of us finding peace and being together. I would love nothing more than to be alone with you at Pemberley, to enjoy—" she blushed "—our marital pleasures together, and perhaps find ourselves blessed with children." Her skin tingled as his eyes darkened in response to her words. She swallowed hard. "I would love that more than anything."

He stepped forward and grabbed her hands. "Then let us do it. It is within our reach," he whispered. "This war will probably never end in our lifetime. It is like the Hundred Years War. The French and the English cannot seem to find peace. We cannot wait until we are old in the hope that we will be able to go home. Let us find our own peace."

She clung to his hands, tempted to throw all caution to the winds. She wanted this, with every fiber of her being. He was dangling a tantalizing dream in front of her, and she was one step away from taking it.

She wondered how he had come to this decision. Could it be that, as Mary and Emily had mentioned, he was jealous? Jealousy was a strong emotion. Much as she did not want to give credit to the possibility, it was the only explanation which could account for this inexplicable behavior.

It was not something to be taken lightly. He was acting on an impulse, but the consequences would last them a long time. She felt uneasy. They both needed time to consider whether this was the right course of action.

Someone had to be the voice of reason. It would be so easy to say yes, but she could not let herself be swept into this sweet insanity. She had to resist temptation.

"What about the Prince Regent's plan? I am the only one who can execute it."

She carefully avoided mentioning Riquer. This was about them – her and Darcy. She did not want to bring up the elephant in the room.

Darcy nodded. "I already have an idea. There are plenty of towers dotting the countryside from London to Derbyshire. I will hire the best officer engineers to choose and set up relay towers, and I will pay for the necessary officers to man them."

Even with the best engineers on earth, it would be impossible to set things up so quickly. Not only did they need to obtain the equipment, but men had to be trained to use the system. In time, it could be done. But Riquer would be leaving very soon, and she had to stay in touch.

Even if it could be done, there were other reasons to hesitate.

"What about the Academy?"

"The Academy existed before us, Elizabeth. It can exist after us."

It was hard to believe that Darcy was willing to brush everything aside like this. She suddenly began to tremble. All this, he would do for her!

"It does not mean we will never come back to the Academy," he said, his eyes burning into hers. "We can have some time together, alone, to give us a chance to enjoy each other and our marriage."

"And if I am with child?"

"Then we will stay together until our child is born. We will set the child up in the nursery at Darcy House, and we will visit regularly."

He almost made it sound reasonable. What if she said yes?

"Say yes, my love."

Yes. Yes. It was what she wanted more than anything in the world. Her mind reeled with the possibility. Her mouth opened of its own accord to say the word that would change her life.

But then the real world came crashing down on her. She remembered that she was the only mage in the whole Kingdom who had the ability and training to receive messages from Riquer, who was going to France at great risk to himself. How could she face the Prince Regent after it was her recommendation that had sent him to France in the first place? And how could she explain to Prinny that she no longer wished to do this?

She stepped back, disengaging her hands from Darcy's.

"I need time to think about it." Her voice was strained.

Darcy examined her intently. "Why?"

She hated having to say this. "Because both you and I have to be absolutely sure this is what we want."

Then she fled, rather than face him as the excitement faded from his eyes.