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It was petty of Elizabeth to miss her early morning training with him after their quarrel. He knew she was furious at him, but he would have expected her to set her anger aside. She knew the importance of these sessions. She could not decide to absent herself based on how she was feeling.
He had thought her better than that. Well, he would train without her. It would not be the first time he had worked alone. He did not need her to be there.
But no matter how hard he tried to focus his attention, it was impossible to set aside his vexation. Training her, and training with her, was the one bright spot in his day. As it was, they were spending very little time together, and even though he kept the training strictly impersonal—despite the irresistible temptation to do otherwise— at least they were alone for the short hour in which they practiced.
Darcy enjoyed their sparring sessions – the play of their magic, their connection. It was a wonder to him. He had worked with magic before, but he had never had a partner where every session forced him to extend himself, to rethink the way he did things. Even when he was filling in the gaps in her knowledge, she always reacted unexpectedly. She challenged him about everything.
It was not always easy. There were still moments when he had to draw on his reserves of patience to deal with her. Elizabeth never allowed him a moment of peace, one way or the other.
And now she had decided to punish him for refusing to indulge her in her obsessive need to vindicate herself from injuring the three Warders.
Well, Darcy was not one to waste a training session. He went ahead with his exercises, and then reviewed some of the spells from The Compendium. He even tried modifying one of them – a spell to dispel smoke – but it was ineffective without Elizabeth. One day, he would take the time to learn her method of magic, but for now he had to depend on the Bond between them. He was surprised how hollow it felt to work alone. Only a short time ago he had been perfectly satisfied with the magic spells he had learned over the years. Now he felt as if there was something missing.
Of course, there was something missing. He missed Elizabeth. He did not like starting the day without her.
He would see her at breakfast, he decided, and they would go to the Conservatory to talk. For now, he had to concentrate on his training.
***
WHEN DARCY ENTERED the Great Hall, Jane was sitting in her usual place, with Bingley next to her. Elizabeth had not come to eat, again. He hoped she was not so foolish as to weaken her magic by refusing to eat.
He strode over to where Jane was sitting and bowed politely.
“Good morning, Miss Bennet. Is Elizabeth unwell? It is not like her to miss her breakfast.”
Jane’s brow wrinkled.
“She was not in bed when I woke up.” She blushed. “I thought— that is— I wondered if—” Her face turned crimson. “I thought she might be with you.”
It was his turn to frown. Surely Elizabeth had told her sister how things stood between them? She must have known they had disagreed. Perhaps she had thought Elizabeth wanted to reconcile with him.
“She was not with me. Do you have any reason to believe so?”
“Her bed was not slept in.”
Alarm flared up as he noticed something he ought to have noticed before. He had not even searched for Elizabeth’s signature, but now that he did, he could tell it was gone. The sense of loneliness he had felt this morning was more than her absence at training. It was her absence everywhere.
Why had he not noticed it earlier? The answer was simple. He had assumed the worst of her.
He reached out quickly with his magic to try and sense her. There were lingering signs of her that his magic could pick up, but nothing to reassure him. She was not at Netherfield, as far as he could tell.
“Could she have gone to Longbourn to consult with Mr. Bennet?”
Jane’s face was crumpled up in worry.
“She would not go out without telling anyone. I am certain. Lydia might do such a thing, but not Lizzy. She would know we would worry.”
His heart started pounding at the very real possibility that something terrible must have happened. He had no idea what, but Elizabeth was missing. The idea that somehow someone had been able to break into Netherfield and capture Elizabeth might seem like madness, but it was the only logical explanation that sprung to mind.
Jane was looking as white as a sheet. He sought to reassure her.
“It is unlikely that the French have abducted her. If they were able to break through the Wards, they would not have hesitated to attack us all.”
He could have kicked himself when he realized that he had spoken his thoughts aloud and that, far from reassured, Jane had gone even whiter, and looked like she might faint.
“My conclusion must be that she is on the grounds somewhere. Perhaps she was trying a new spell and overtaxed herself. We will simply have to find her.”
Jane nodded, the light of determination coming into her eyes. Darcy was relieved. He had not lost his ability to rally the troops in an emergency.
“We will form a search party and we will find your sister.” He noticed now that his hands were trembling. He was also trying to rally his own spirits. He could not bear to consider any alternative.
Jane pushed back her chair and stood up. “I will go and talk to the apprentice mages. Perhaps someone saw something that will be useful.”
Darcy nodded. “Please find a way to do it without alerting them she is missing. We do not want to alarm anyone.”
The last thing they needed was widespread panic.
“I will do my best.” She was still in shock. Darcy wondered whether she should do anything, but surely it would be better than leaving her to worry about Elizabeth.
Darcy would of course have to inform the Council so a search could be mounted. They would determine whether and how to inform everyone else. He did not care at this point. His only concern was finding Elizabeth.
Seeking out his uncle, Darcy found his signature. He was in the breakfast room. Within minutes, Darcy had apprised him of the details of the situation.
“Are you absolutely certain she is not in the building?”
“She did not sleep in her bed, and there are no recent traces of her anywhere.” Darcy could feel the tug of her magic everywhere in the building, but the traces were weak and fading fast. They were several hours old.
Despite Darcy’s assurances, Matlock sent tendrils of his magic to find her, which was absurd, and a waste of time. Darcy was much more in tune with Elizabeth than his uncle could ever be. Still, part of him hoped he was mistaken, and Matlock would find her.
“Anything?” he asked, his heart in his mouth.
“Nothing.”
Any hope he might have had shriveled up and died.
“I had better call for a meeting.”
“Our time would be better spent looking for her. You know the Council will just argue.”
“Leave it to me. I will give orders for a search, then I will call for the meeting. This concerns us all. We must discover what happened.”
Footmen were dispatched to find the members of the Council. Darcy wanted to go outside in case Elizabeth had been outdoors and taken ill, but Matlock would not hear of it.
“We had better organize a search of the grounds. If she was injured outdoors, unable to return—”
Imagining Elizabeth in pain and stuck outside all night in the cold wrenched his heart, but it was far better than the alternative.
At least he had a goal. “I will go outside and begin the search.”
“I strongly suggest you stay indoors. If someone abducted her, they may be using her as bait. They would expect you to go out to look for her. If she has been abducted, that is. If not, we will find her and bring her back, and it will soon be sorted out.”
The thought that they were baiting him had crossed Darcy’s mind. He felt completely useless, not being able to search for Elizabeth himself.
Matlock nodded grimly. “Leave it to me. Meanwhile, you can do something useful. Search Elizabeth’s room to see if there are any clues.”
***
THERE WAS NOTHING IN Elizabeth’s room except emptiness. The perfectly made bed signaled her absence. If they had slept together, if they had adjoining rooms, would it have made a difference?
Jane being there had not made any difference. Elizabeth had not returned to her bedchamber last night.
Once he had searched under the furniture and inside the small escritoire for any clues, he sat on the bed and picked up the pillow. Her familiar scent filled his nostrils—the same soap he had inhaled when they were in the carriage together, mixed with her own sweet aroma. He buried his nose in the soft folds of the down feathers and breathed in deeply, fighting the sense of panic and heartache that washed over him.
The door handle clicked. Darcy put down the pillow quickly, hoping against hope that it was Elizabeth. But the door creaked slowly open.
Elizabeth had no reason to be creeping around. Darcy drew a breath and began to mutter a defensive spell to protect himself in case of attack.
Then Jane stepped in.
He dismantled the spell and relaxed back onto the bed.
She looked relieved when she spotted him.
“Oh, it is you, Mr. Darcy. I was worried it might be someone else. Have you discovered anything?”
“Nothing.” He wondered if he should ask her the same question, but concluded that if there was any news, she would have told him.
Still, he could not help it. Perhaps by asking questions, she might recall something useful.
“Did anyone see her after dinner?”
“The last time anyone saw her was in the training room with you, yesterday.”
Was this his fault, somehow? Was there something different he could have done to prevent it?
He sat on the bed, her scent lingering on his skin. Then he pulled himself up. There was no point in hanging around here. There was work to be done.
He would have her found, if he had to go to the ends of the world to do it.
***
JANE COULD NOT BELIEVE the change that had come over Mr. Darcy. She had known he cared about Elizabeth, but she still saw him as unapproachable, sometimes even cold and forbidding. The agitated person in front of her was very far from being any of those things. No one could doubt that he was a man very much in love, very deeply so.
She could feel the turmoil inside him. She was tempted to offer him a Healing, to bring him some calm, but she did not think he would welcome it. She was too shy to ask. She did not wish to cause offence by pointing out that he was too distraught to have any clarity of mind. If Elizabeth was missing, he would need it.
“There must be some explanation.”
It was a woefully inadequate response, but what else could she say?
“What explanation could there possibly be?”
Darcy was not looking for assurances, he was looking for answers. Jane tried to come up with some logical possibility, but nothing came to mind.
“I do not have one, but my sister is resourceful. She will find her way back to us, whatever the situation.”
She had to believe that. The alternative was inconceivable.
Rather than being reassured, Darcy grew even more disturbed.
“You do not understand, Miss Bennet. You have not yet encountered the danger of battle. I have recently lost two people close to me.” He slumped down on the bed, wild-eyed and forlorn. “I do not know what I would do if something happened to Elizabeth.”
“We will find her,” she said, as much to herself as to Mr. Darcy. “But meanwhile, perhaps we can dispense with formalities. You may call me Jane.”
“Very well, Jane. And you may call me Darcy, as your sister does. Let us sit and think of all the possibilities. Two heads must be better than one.”
***
THE SEARCH OF THE GARDENS yielded nothing. It was extended to the grounds, and the apprentices were sent out to help. They were told that Mrs. Darcy had been out riding and her horse had returned without her. Darcy could see them through the window of his bedchamber, and he could hear them shouting to each other and laughing. It was a game to them, a chance to miss their lessons and be outdoors.
He should be out there looking.
There was a knock on the door. Before Darcy could respond, Matlock charged in.
“While everyone has been distracted outside, I have managed to send some of my most trusted servants to ask questions and to look inside for anything useful. We have searched the bedchambers of all the mages so far. A maid spotted a lady entering one of the mages’ chambers last night. We have questioned the maid, who reported that she found a pile of lady’s garments in the wardrobe when she went in to make the bed. I need you to identify those clothes for me. Tell me if they belong to Elizabeth. The person who found them left them undisturbed, and we have placed a Lock on the cupboard to prevent anyone from removing the contents.”
Elizabeth’s clothes? In a male mage’s room?
“Before you fly off at the handle, Darcy, there may be extenuating circumstances. We do not know what happened. But we need to handle this with the utmost discretion. No one must know.”
Darcy growled. “If I asked for a shilling every time someone said the words ‘no one must know’, I would become a rich man.”
His uncle chuckled. “You are a rich man. I would even venture to say you are in possession of a fortune.”
Darcy was in no mood to laugh. As they walked down the corridor to the mage’s room, Darcy’s thoughts were swirling around in his, going round and round in circles.
“Incidentally, I have sent for Richard and asked him to bring several of his men. It might be wise to have some military presence here.”
It was certainly advisable to do so, but if Elizabeth had been harmed, it would be too late for her.
As they entered the bedchamber, Darcy’s heart began to hammer.
“Whose bedchamber is this?”
“I cannot say anything at this point. Once you have identified the clothes, I will determine what to do next.”
What did it mean? Did it mean Elizabeth was under some kind of compulsion? Had someone promised her information about Bingley’s affliction? What did it have to do with her disappearance? Was the villain – whoever he was – responsible for kidnapping her? Had he tried to conceal her identity by hiding her clothes?
His blood ran cold.
Matlock began the process of undoing the Lock. The spell was a convoluted one, involving several different sub-spells. It would have been impossible for the owner of that cupboard to remove the Lock.
For Darcy, it was an agony of waiting. He wished the Lock could have been much simpler. The more he waited, the more his anxiety grew. His uncle was slow and methodical, but for once, Darcy did not appreciate those qualities. He was seized with a strong compulsion to push his uncle aside and undo the spell himself. He had to force himself to be patient, to wait, to listen to Matlock mumble the words while he waited for Elizabeth’s fate to be determined.
He tried not to imagine all the possibilities, but it was impossible not to fear the worst. He shook his head to dispel the images that rose to his mind’s eye unwanted. He tried to breathe, but his breath came out in little gasps.
Finally, after an eternity of waiting, the Lock opened. His uncle put his hand to the plain iron key—such an insignificant key, considering what might be inside—and turned the key with a soft click. He pulled open the door and searched at the bottom of the cupboard for the clothes.
Darcy could bear it no longer. He shoved past his uncle and tossed the contents of the wardrobe onto the floor.
They were undoubtedly women’s clothes. He hesitated, afraid of what he might find, then bent down to pick them up.
He took up the first item: a warm ermine muff. He had never seen Elizabeth wear such a thing, but he could not really tell, because he had not spent much time with her outdoors.
Then he picked up the lady’s gloves, searching for a familiar identifying mark. Elizabeth had kid gloves much like these. But so did many ladies. He turned them over and examined them carefully. There was no way to tell.
Then his gaze settled on a green pelisse. His heart spluttered. He did not even try to steady his hands as he picked it up. Time came to a standstill. In the carriage, Elizabeth was wearing a high neck green pelisse just like this, with military trimmings. Darcy knew very little about fashion, but he knew it had been velvet, because it had felt soft against his skin. He wished he had paid more attention to the details.
Full of dread, he held it up and shook it out to see the whole. He had to force himself to look. It made him physically sick.
As he held it up, the skirt split away from the jacket. It was a riding habit, a skirt with a habit jacket, made in the military style. It was not a pelisse at all.
He started to grin.
“Have you finally lost your mind, nephew?”
His grin widened. “It does not belong to Elizabeth.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“Because Elizabeth does not ride.”
Matlock took a deep breath. “Thank heavens!”
Darcy nodded, buoyant with relief.
“So what do we do with the rest?”
“I suggest we return the clothes to the cupboard. The clothes were neatly folded when I took them out, and before you mangled them. You will have to return them to the same condition.”
“I do not have the slightest idea how to fold clothing, especially women’s clothing.”
“I am sure you can approximate it.”
“Why do I have to do it? You were the one who saw how the clothes were positioned to start with.”
Matlock gave a frustrated sigh. “If you had not thrown them to the ground in such a frenzy of impatience, we would not be in this situation now. Sudbury must not know that we have been looking through his private things.”
Ah, he was in Sudbury’s bedchamber. The thought sobered him up and the impulse to laugh deserted him. They were rifling through Sudbury’s things. How had matters come to this?
“I wonder who the clothes belong to.”
“I will not ask questions. A man is entitled to some indulgences. Not all of us are sworn to celibacy, as I suspect you are, nephew.”
Darcy’s ears burned. “Not celibacy.”
“I know how difficult all this must be for you. And I can see how much you have come to care for her.”
“If something happens to her—” He swallowed the lump in his throat. He would not be able to live without her. When had she become so completely indispensable to him?
“It will not come to that. We will find her. Pull yourself together. You do not want any of those Council members to know how much she means to you.”
“Do you think I care about that at this point?”
“You have to care. For Elizabeth’s sake. If people like Devereux know that you love her, you may as well hand over your power to him. He will use it against you, and milk it for all it’s worth.”
Matlock was right. Elizabeth had always been a bone of contention. It had been so since the moment she stepped into Founder’s Hall, looking confused and headstrong and more than a little angry at him.
He needed to keep his wits about him if he was going to beat them at this little game of theirs.
“Come, let us find you some brandy to steady your nerves.”
“My nerves are perfectly steady, thank you.”
“Then come and keep me company while I steady my own nerves.”