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It is a truth universally acknowledged that mages are always in need of a Ball. Not a fireball, of course, but a Dance. Even the younger apprentices spoke of nothing but the upcoming dance for the next ten days.
Then finally the evening of the Ball arrived. As Elizabeth and Darcy stood in the waiting line to make their entrance, she felt a throb of excitement. It was glorious to see all the mages, young and old, male and female, looking resplendent in dazzling gowns and coats, topped by their scarlet cloaks. It was the closest Elizabeth had ever been to understanding her sister Lydia’s obsession with Royal Mages.
Beside her, Darcy was looking impeccable in his perfectly tailored jacket and the red robe that flowed behind him. Elizabeth could not stop stealing glances at him. He was by far the handsomest of all the gentlemen mages at Netherfield.
As he caught her gaze, he leaned to whisper in her ear. “All the young ladies in the ballroom will be green in envy at my beautiful wife.”
“That is because they are wishing they could be in my place, walking in with you next to me.”
“No. It is because they could never hope to shine as brightly as you do.”
Darcy’s words may have been a slight exaggeration, but Elizabeth knew she looked prettier than she had ever been. She was wearing a primrose satin dress threaded with gold, trimmed with tiny rosebuds. Lady Alice had chosen it, as she had chosen all of Elizabeth’s wardrobe when she had first arrived at Founder’s Hall to be married. One of these days, Elizabeth would have some new clothing made in Town, but for now, she could not possibly cast away fashionable clothing that she had never worn. Besides, much as she disliked her, Elizabeth could not fault the former Council Member’s taste. The colors were flattering, and they also matched with her scarlet cloak, which was fastened around her shoulders with the golden clasp of the Royal Mages.
Beside her, Jane looked more sedate, dressed in a manner more appropriate for a young unmarried lady. She was wearing one of Elizabeth’s white satin dresses with a delicate leaf pattern and a fringed sash. Emily and Jane had both worked on altering the dress, and it showed off her slender figure to perfection.
Then their names were announced, and it was time for Elizabeth and her companions to press forward.
“Are you ready, my love?” Darcy took her hand and tucked it under his arm.
“I am.” She was as excited about the ball as her younger sisters Lydia and Kitty would be. It was absurd, of course, but the Ball was such a welcome diversion she would be a fool not to make the best of it.
Elizabeth surveyed the ballroom as she entered, her hand on Darcy’s arm. The tables and chairs had been removed, and the ballroom was transformed beyond recognition.
Caroline Bingley’s Conjuring spell had transformed the space into the familiar Great Hall at Founder’s Hall, along with its Gothic windows, the arched ceilings and the rich colored tapestries that hung on the wall. She had gone one step further. Gold and red banners and standards were suspended from the ceiling. They swayed and fluttered as if in a light breeze. Lining the walls were knights in armor standing guard, raising their lances or flourishing their swords from time to time, to the absolute delight of the younger apprentices, who were watching them expectantly to see what the imaginary knights would be doing next.
“How wonderful!” exclaimed Jane, her eyes shining as she gazed around her. “I never expected anything like this! I must congratulate Miss Bingley on her work.”
“Of course,” said Darcy. “Let us do so without delay.”
Elizabeth had mixed feelings about Miss Bingley, but it would certainly be churlish not to thank her for the remarkable Illusion, especially when one of the knights tipped his lance and handed Jane an illusory ribbon. Jane giggled and pretended to take it. Elizabeth watched as Miss Bingley made one of the knights shake his metal fist at a boy who was pretending to pry away the knight’s sword.
The three of them strolled in the direction of Miss Bingley, who was sitting alone. She was concentrating on sustaining the magic, muttering the words of the various spells. She barely looked at them as they drew close.
“I am sure you have already received many compliments about the beauty of the Illusions you have created,” said Darcy, “but allow me to congratulate you anyway.”
Miss Bingley gave an unladylike snort. “You are the first. It is expected of Conjurers to mount such displays when we are not at war. In any case, I did not do it to receive praise. I did it to celebrate my brother’s recovery. If it makes him happy, I am content.”
Elizabeth looked over to where Mr. Bingley was standing. He was more serious than he used to be, and he did not seem to smile as much, but he looked full of life.
“Is he completely recovered, as far as you can tell?”
“He is.”
Elizabeth’s gaze settled on some of the older apprentices gathered to the side of the hall, looking self-conscious in their official robes. For some, it was their first dance. Two of the young ladies had the frightened look of deer caught in the light of a lantern. Elizabeth left Miss Bingley to her work and excused herself from Darcy, taking Jane with her. It might be difficult, but she needed to prod some of the older boys to ask the young ladies to dance. Even if the young ladies were from prominent families, they were alone here, with nobody to guide them in their first steps.
As she and Jane started to move in the direction of the apprentices, Lady Hazelmere approached, accompanied by Lord Westwood and Lady Mary.
“Mrs. Darcy, Miss Bennet,” said Lady Hazelmere. “On behalf of all the Healers at Netherfield, I would like to express our apologies for having misjudged you both. We were too quick to jump to conclusions. It was just that, with the three Warders struck down so suddenly, and the rumors that were circulating, we took the easy way out by pointing the finger at Mrs. Darcy.”
Elizabeth did not want to be ungracious, but having regarded Lady Hazelmere as a friend, she had been badly hurt.
“Thank you for your apology,” she said, trying to sound light and careless. “Now that we have that over and done with, I hope we can all enjoy the rest of the evening.”
Elizabeth’s response must have sounded uncivil, because Jane interceded hastily. “Thank you, Lady Hazelmere – and all of you. Everyone was under considerable stress.”
“We were indeed. And we have something we wish to say to you specifically, Miss Bennet. We are impressed by the fact that you were able to discover Mr. Bingley’s Entrancement. It is the sign of a highly skilled Healer. We would therefore like you to undergo Academy training. Lady Mary has offered to take charge of it. Would that be acceptable to you? It would not guarantee that you would join the Royal Mages, but you will receive official training.”
Jane smiled brightly. “Thank you, Lady Hazelmere, and thank you Lady Mary. I would be happy to accept your offer.”
The three Healers took their leave and moved away. Elizabeth’s anger at the Healers’ treatment melted away. If they made her sister happy, she could not very well hold a grudge.
Jane’s nature was not inclined towards displays of excitement, but Elizabeth knew her sister was thrilled.
“Did you hear that, Lizzy? I am to train as a Healer. It is a dream come true.”
“Congratulations, Jane. I am very happy for you.”
“They are really very nice, Lizzy. They were just reluctant to admit a stranger into their ranks.”
Just then, Mr. Bingley looked in their direction and caught Jane’s eye. She blushed very prettily. Lizzy raised her brow. Jane may have turned Bingley down, but it was clear he had made an impression on her.
“I see Mr. Bingley is looking in this direction. What will you do if he asks you to dance?”
“I cannot refuse him. Not after he was so kind as to offer to marry me.”
“Of course not.”
“What is it, Lizzy? Why are you smiling?”
“Am I? I am simply enjoying the Ball. I love to dance.”
***
DARCY LOOKED AROUND uneasily as the music struck up a cotillion. He would have liked to dance with Elizabeth, but he would probably be expected to lead someone like Lady Ashcombe out for the first dance. The rules of the dancing floor often escaped him. He had never understood why a gentleman was obliged to open a ball with ladies of higher rank, or how he could give consequence to young ladies merely by dancing with them.
He did not dislike dancing in principle. He just did not understand why Society made every aspect of it wrought with possible missteps. He preferred not to dance with anyone unless he was well-acquainted with her, and he found it difficult to manage ladies’ expectations. He knew how to dance, of course, because all the Academy mages received lessons from dancing masters, but he failed to see why Society attached such importance to the dancing itself.
To his intense relief, Matlock did not come up to him and order him to dance with anyone, but his delay meant he could not invite Elizabeth now because he would be forced to push his way to the other end of the Hall where she was standing. He was still debating with himself whether to do so when Bingley came up to him.
“I am trying to determine what to do. Do you think it would be appropriate to ask Miss Bingley to dance, Darcy? I would not wish to provoke any more gossip about her than I already have.”
Darcy was glad someone else found the rules slippery. At least he was not the only one.
“I do not see why anyone would object, as long as you do not stand up with her for more than two dances.”
“Very well, then,” said Bingley, looking relieved. “I will ask her for the next dance. But what about you? Why are you standing here so stupidly, Darcy? Why are you not dancing?”
“I have not decided whether to dance or not.”
“What about that young lady over there?” said Bingley, in a teasing manner. “She is very handsome. I believe she will make a perfect partner.”
Darcy looked towards Elizabeth, his heart flapping like a bird’s wings at the sight of her. She looked enchanting, the gold in her dress shimmering at her slightest movement.
“I am not entirely certain my wife would find my attempts at dancing tolerable.”
“Darcy, she is tapping her foot with the music and longing for someone to ask her. If you are afraid to do so, then you are a worse ninny than I thought.” Bingley gave him a little push. “Go on, Darcy, before someone else claims her for the dance. I see de Riquer heading in her direction. I imagine he would be happy to oblige.”
That was all the motivation Darcy needed. The former Imperial Mage may have won the day, but Darcy would be dashed if he would allow him to charm his wife.
***
AS ELIZABETH AND DARCY stepped onto the dance floor, Elizabeth reveled in the sight of her tall, handsome husband. The smallest graze of their gloved hands sent a cascade of sensations through her. When the dance steps parted them, she felt as if a series of fine threads were stretching towards him to draw him back. Perhaps his magic called to her as much as his body did. She could no more resist it than she could stop her blood from coursing through her veins.
Yet here he was, a mercurial gentleman full of contrasts – light and shadow, warmth and coldness, closeness and distance – that were always warring inside him. Just as his dark curls were a bold contrast to the white tip of his starched collar and the chiseled cheekbones a contrast to the softness of his lips. Would Elizabeth ever get to know this husband of hers, who was still in so many ways a stranger?
He danced with the same smooth grace she had admired when he was fighting during the duel, but without the dangerous edge. He was approaching dancing with as much focus and attention as he gave to casting spells. She had to find some way to ease that intensity, to communicate to him the joy and lightness she herself was experiencing.
She knew one thing about him for certain. He liked to be teased. It was a stroke of luck for her that he had a sense of humor, for she dearly loved to laugh.
“I enjoy dancing with you, husband,” she said. “You make a perfect partner. Maybe it is because we practice together in the training room.”
Her comment surprised him, which is what she intended. The intense expression vanished from his face and laughter fluttered in his eyes.
“I would hardly compare dancing to sparring,” he replied, his lips twitching. “Besides, sparring has a distinctive advantage. I can spend time alone with you.”
“Fie! I thought I was seducing you with my graceful figure and elegant dance steps.”
Storm clouds raced across his eyes. “You seduce me by simply existing, my love.”
His thumb stroked her palm as they executed the steps of the dance together. She shut her eyes and smiled, surrendering to the music and to a glow of happiness.
***
THE END
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TO BE CONTINUED...
Elizabeth and Darcy’s challenges will continue in Book 3 of Mr. Darcy’s Magic.
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