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Devereux was suffering. Darcy felt sorry for what he was enduring, but he kept a close eye on him. It would be foolish to let down his guard. He might still attack. They needed to wait until the last possible minute if they wanted to identify the culprit. Darcy just hoped that Devereux would be able to last that long, and that the strain would not kill him.
In the cold, Darcy’s breath formed icy clouds as he waited for the next attack.
Devereux was on his knees now. His face was purple, and his eyes bloodshot with the effort. The crowd was beginning to mutter.
“What are you doing to him, Darcy?” shouted Timothy Tonkin, unable to keep silent. “You are killing him. Is the duel to the death? I thought the rules said it was not.”
Darcy raised his hands. “I am doing nothing at all. I have cast no spell. I am waiting for him to attack.”
Truth be told, he was getting worried about Devereux. The blood vessels in Devereux’s brow were bulging. Darcy did not know how much longer he would be able to stand by and watch Devereux go through this. He looked towards Matlock, who had returned after Elizabeth’s unfortunate intervention. Matlock shook his head. They could do nothing. They had to wait.
Then suddenly Devereux gave a roar and staggered to his feet, like a great wrestler rising to take his last stand. Sweat was streaming down his face. He gave a shake of his head as if to clear it, then pointed a finger. A thread of fire stretched from his finger towards Pickering, who was bent over as usual, reading a book.
Pickering looked up. His gaze met Devereux’s. Devereux began to gather the power to send a thunderbolt in Pickering’s direction. The spectators, confused, gazed with horror at this sudden turn of events. Had Devereux gone mad and mistaken his adversary?
As the fireball loped towards the old man, Pickering sprang to his feet. He abandoned his stooped, fragile image and began to run, his long beard flapping against the front of his robe, his hair flowing around him.
“Stop him!” cried Lord Matlock.
Darcy gave chase at once. A flash of Elemental fire stopped him in his tracks. He ducked in time, and a topiary behind him caught fire.
A gardener who was trimming a rose bush put out a foot to trip Pickering. The bearded mage fell onto the gravel pathway, hitting his head.
The illusion shattered. The white hair disappeared and was replaced by the long blond locks of a lady.
“Bring her here,” said Matlock.
The footman took hold of the lady to pull her up. She was shaking her head, dazed by the blow, but as she started to stand, she realized what had happened.
She looked backwards, and Darcy froze, preparing for an assault. A deep feeling of satisfaction spread through him.
It was Lady Alice.
“Keep up the Illusion, you fool!” she shouted.
Her gaze was directed at Lord Sudbury.
Pickering reappeared, but the Illusion was no longer stable. Lady Alice threw Sudbury a look of disgust, then knocked back the footman with a blast of Elemental air. Before anyone had time to react, she disappeared through the arched doorway of the enclosed garden.
Darcy went after her. As he emerged from the doorway, Lady Alice muttered a spell. She waved her hands and formed a small whirlwind. It picked her up and carried her away towards the front of the house.
“Stop her!” said Darcy.
Another of the gardeners dropped the rake he was using and tried to catch her as she went by, but he was blinded by the swirl of autumn leaves she flung in his face, and he was left clutching nothing but air.
Darcy did not pause. He would not let her get away, not when he had her within reach. That little whirlwind of hers would not get her far. Whirlwind transport spells were notoriously difficult to maintain.
As if in response to his thoughts, she set herself on the ground. As the small whirlwind settled, a thick fog rose from the ground to wrap itself around the house. The fog was like a white sheet, thick and murky. He could not see beyond his own hand. It was impossible to gauge distances through the white soup surrounding him.
It was not hard to guess her destination. She must be going to the stables. It was the only way she could possibly get away.
He headed in that direction, setting up a Tunnel through the whiteness so he could see where he was going. As soon as the stable came into sight, he built up Wards around it, making sure they were airtight so she would not be able to use Elemental magic to get away. The magic was just taking hold when he heard the clatter of hooves against the cobblestones. A ghostly figure of a horse carrying a lady in a green riding habit emerged from the fog, frighteningly close.
She must have had her mount readied and waiting. She had not gone to the stables.
She laughed.
“You should have bespelled the horses,” she said, “not the stables. You still have a lot to learn.”
As Darcy lunged forward to grab the reins, she threw a thunderbolt at him. Fortunately, she had overused her magic and it had weakened her, and Darcy was able to deflect it, but not before a spark burned through the sleeve of his shirt and into his skin.
He swallowed the cry of pain and struck out, sending a spell to block the horse from moving, but she had already spurred the horse onwards and disappeared into the fog.
Behind him, Matlock was chanting a Dispersion spell, and the fog was starting to disperse, but she was already riding through the Wards.
“Saddle the horses! We will give chase.” It was Timothy Tonkin.
Several of the Council members began to run towards the stables.
They would not be able to catch her, not without being seen by the whole neighborhood and having their cover destroyed.
“We cannot risk being exposed,” Darcy said, urgently. “Matlock. You must hold them back.”
Matlock was bent over double, trying to take control of his breathing. “I am not as young as I used to be.” But he nodded agreement. “You will have to shout.”
“Stop!”
They turned to look back, and Matlock raised his hand to get their attention.
“By the time you saddle the horses, Lady Alice will be long gone. We cannot take the chance of being spotted. We will send word to London. Hopefully they will apprehend her there, if she is brazen enough to show up.”
Darcy, only realizing now how much the duel had depleted his energy, staggered to the closest wall and leaned heavily against it, fighting dizziness. Then, a moment later, he felt a sharp stab of alarm as he remembered that Lady Alice had not acted alone.
“Is there anyone with Sudbury? I hope someone thought to prevent him from escaping.”
“Devereux and the gardener have him.” His uncle indicated Darcy’s neck and his burnt shirt sleeve. “We will deal with him. Better have the Healers look at your injuries.”
“I would rather speak to Sudbury first. I need to understand exactly what happened, and why he was trying to kill me.”
They returned to find that Devereux had blocked the arched doorway of the walled garden. Sudbury’s eyes widened when he saw Darcy’s grim expression.
Darcy walked straight up to him. “Look me straight in the eye, Sudbury, and explain to me why you wanted to kill me.”
Sudbury blanched, his usual calm demeanor gone. He took out his kerchief and mopped the beads of perspiration that mottled his forehead, looking anywhere but at Darcy.
“I never plotted to kill you. On my word of honor, I did not know this was going to happen. Lady Alice did not inform me of her plans..”
“Then you had better have a good explanation of exactly what you thought she intended.”
“When Lady Alice was banished from Founder’s Hall, I believed her innocent. She was never given an opportunity to defend herself, after all, and there was something shoddy about the whole business. So when she came to me in London to ask for my help, I agreed to help her impersonate Pickering. I thought she had every right to sit on the Council. I was the one who suggested Pickering as a new member. I knew he kept to himself. He has become a hermit, and few of us know what he looks like these days. That was all I agreed to. To help her regain her seat on the Council. I swear it. I had no idea she would be drawing on my magic for anything else, certainly not to attack anyone.”
He looked stooped and broken. He had aged ten years in the last hour.
“Then, today, she almost destroyed my magic. She would have used it all up if you had not caught her out. I had to maintain the Illusion of Pickering while she was using her own magic on Devereux. Do you know how difficult that is? She would have killed me. I do not even think it mattered to her if she had.”
He was genuinely stricken. Darcy did not doubt him, but he had been almost killed, and it was hard for him to feel any sympathy. The Council had ostracized Elizabeth for connecting with Bingley and the Waldons in a desperate moment as she was trying to stave off an attack. Yet here was Lady Alice, deliberately using Sudbury’s magic to fool the Council for her own nefarious purposes. She had certainly not hesitated to learn Elizabeth’s connecting skills and bend them to her purpose.
Sudbury was not finished yet. Now that he had a chance to talk, it all came pouring out. “I was the one who allowed her into Netherfield. I fixed the Wards so that she could come and go. I was willing to support her. We—she and I—that is—”
He fell into silence as he realized how much he had given away.
“So am I to infer from this that you and Lady Alice are lovers?” said Matlock, icily.
Sudbury flushed bright red. “Now look here—!”
No wonder they had found Lady Alice’s green riding habit in Sudbury’s bedchamber.
Matlock strode over to where Sudbury was standing and towered over him.
“You would do well to confess to it, rather than being accused of being a traitor and conspiring with the enemy to wipe us out.”
The color fled from Sudbury’s face. His skin turned a clammy shade of green.
“As a gentleman, I cannot confess such a thing.” He pursed his lips, finding dignity in sticking to at least this principle. “I hope there is still enough spirit of chivalry left in the Kingdom that I will not be compelled to do so. But I swear by my very soul that I would never, ever, sell my soul to Napoleon to defeat my fellow mages.”
His eyes darted from one Council member to the other in entreaty.
“I am loyal to the Kingdom, to King and Country. Yes, I should have asked more questions before I agreed to help her, but I would never willingly harm you, Darcy.”
His eyes sought Darcy’s and lingered. Darcy turned his face away, disgusted. He had to resist the urge to strangle the man. So all this mess had started because this man was in love with Lady Alice? He wanted to go over and shake the coward until his teeth rattled.
“You almost killed me, Sudbury. I might have died. Your definition of harm seems to be rather flawed.” Darcy was becoming more incensed the more he thought about it. “How could you say in one breath that you conspired with Lady Alice, and in the next breath, claim that you meant me no harm? How could you have meant no harm when Lady Alice prevented two Janus Mages from Bonding? Have you even considered what that meant? I was without a Janus Twin for several weeks. If the French had attacked during that time, I would have been unable to defend the Hall.”
“Lady Alice told me that you had not Bonded with Elizabeth Bennet because her blood was polluted.”
“Do you really think they would have married me to her if it that was the case?”
With the other Councilors listening to the conversation, Darcy wanted to press on. In trying to excuse himself, Sudbury seemed eager enough to point the finger at his lover. Now that he was talking, Darcy hoped to glean more evidence for a case against Lady Alice. Though whether Sudbury would be willing to do so in an official enquiry would remain to be seen.
As usual, Lord Matlock forestalled his next move. “Patience, nephew. The matter of the ring is outrageous, but that is not the subject at hand. Let us not assume that one is connected to the other, and treat them as separate incidents until we have a way of proving they are connected.”
Darcy took it as a warning that he should not follow this line of inquiry. Matlock usually had good reasons, but Darcy wished he had not been cut off. Could his uncle not see that, even if the incidents were unrelated, the damage that had been done was irreparable?
“Come, Darcy, you look like you are going to crumple to the ground any moment. You, too, Devereux. I suggest we take Lord Sudbury inside, then you should both go with the Healers and get some food and rest.”
He had forgotten his fatigue in the turmoil of questioning Sudbury. He had achieved what he wanted. Lady Alice had been uncloaked, and she had been the instrument of her own downfall. The Council could not turn a blind eye to her activities any longer. Anything else could wait.
The fatigue returned and he was not even certain he would make it to the house. But before he rested, he had to find Elizabeth, and explain to her what happened.
***
THE KEY TURNED IN THE lock, followed by the screech of a bolt. Elizabeth fixed her gaze wearily on the door, wondering what surprise was awaiting her now.
“Elizabeth?”
“Darcy?”
Darcy hastily locked the door behind him and pocketed the key. As he turned to face Elizabeth, she threw her arms around him. He pulled her to him and kissed her until she could barely breathe. She laughed giddily at the feel of him, running her fingers through his curls and luxuriating in the rapid beating of his heart. She could hardly believe he was there, right in front of her. He was alive!
“I am sorry, Elizabeth, truly sorry I put you through this. I wanted to tell you, but Matlock advised me against it.”
They were interrupted by the sound of someone clearing his throat. Darcy let go of Elizabeth abruptly and turned to the French mage, pushing Elizabeth behind him protectively.
Elizabeth could not help laughing.
De Riquer had a smirk on his face. “Mrs. Darcy and I were having a charming conversation before you came.”
It still astonished Elizabeth how Darcy’s eyes could turn from soft pools full of love to hard rocks in an instant. He turned to de Riquer, his eyes glinting.
“And what exactly were you discussing with my wife?”
“I was just about to make a proposition.” De Riquer’s voice held a hint of amusement. “Until you interrupted in such a dramatic and – I have to say— not very English way. I always thought the English did not believe in passion, but I have revised my impression favorably.”
“You have not answered my question,” said Darcy, coldly.
He was not quite as tolerant of de Riquer’s nonchalant manner.
“I do not choose to do so,” said Riquer, his eyes narrowing. There was steel there. Elizabeth was glad she had not seen that aspect of him earlier, when she was alone with him.
The two gentlemen eyed each other, taking each other’s measure. Elizabeth thought of the duel and cast around for a way to defuse the tension between the two males before things took an unpleasant turn.
“Mr. de Riquer has suggested that he might be capable of removing the spell that has been cast on Bingley and the others.”
Darcy’s eyes narrowed. De Riquer raised his brow and gave her an injured look.
“You were not meant to announce that, Mrs. Darcy.”
“If you wanted it secret, you should have told me.”
“We had not yet reached that part,” he said. “I would have preferred to keep it to myself so I could bring it to the bargaining table. Now you have brought it into the open, I suppose it can still provide me with some leverage. But I must set the terms for my negotiations. I will not deal with anyone but Lord Matlock. And Mrs. Darcy, if she is willing to participate.”
“Lord Matlock is not likely to meet with you. I cannot answer for Mrs. Darcy, of course.”
“As far as I can see, I am the only one with the bargaining power. I still have one or two tricks up my sleeve, and I have ways of putting pressure on Lord Matlock.”
Darcy was obviously in no mood to make sense of de Riquer’s speech. Admittedly, he had just fought a duel and had somehow miraculously survived. Elizabeth did not blame him. But she was taken by surprise when Darcy marched over to Riquer, grabbed hold of his meticulously knotted cravat, and pushed him against the wall.
“So you are the man who destroyed the mind of my friend Bingley. I will have you swinging on the gallows for this. Or better still, I might take the matters into my own hands. Why wait?”
Elizabeth squeezed Darcy’s shoulder to get his attention.
“Darcy. Perhaps you might want to stop and re-consider. De Riquer is offering to undo the spell.”
Reluctantly, Darcy released de Riquer but did not move away. He was tense, alert, his muscles coiled in preparation for attack.
“Can you undo the spell?” There was a warning in Darcy’s voice.
De Riquer put a hand to his collar and tugged at it. “I promise nothing.”
The unspoken message in the sullen words was clear. The Imperial Mage, or perhaps the new Royal Mage, would not discuss the matter with Darcy. She sighed.
Darcy gave a snort of disgust and strode over to her side.
“What incentive does he have to do such a thing? It is a trick, Elizabeth. Do not be taken in by it.”
She waited for de Riquer to answer, but he was busy fiddling with his cravat. He walked over to the mirror and uncovered it.
As he leaned forward to straighten his collar, Elizabeth stiffened. She knew what he was going to do next.
“Darcy!”
Darcy sprinted over, his hands reaching out to grab de Riquer, just as de Riquer smiled, winked at Elizabeth, and stepped into the mirror.