Page 9 of Fitzwilliam Darcy Undone
All the way to his room he fumed. Not at Caroline Bingley, but at himself. How could he hold the two Bingley sisters in such contempt when he’d sunk to the lowest form of cad and seduced a maiden in her dreams? With his heritage and lineage came great power and he’d abused it the first time lust took hold of his belly and tied it in knots. As soon as he reached the privacy of his chamber and locked the door, he shimmered out of time and space to Lord Matlock’s house in London.
His uncle barely glanced up from his desk when Darcy materialized in his study.
‘What drags you from the wilds of Hertfordshire, nephew?”
“How does my sister fare?”
Lord Matlock carefully placed his quill into the ink pot and clasped his hands together on top of his desk.
‘She pines.” He raised a hand when Darcy started to speak. “Rest easy, Darcy. Not for Wickham. She pines for her innocence lost. Her eyes were cruelly opened and I fear for the time she turns sixteen. If she learns then she has no magic, her grief will double as she knows he’d have cast her aside as she had no use, other than a well-funded dowry. If she does have magical ability, her fury is such she may launch her own vendetta against the cur. Either way, she has been altered considerably.”
“Damn Wickham and his unholy war against my family.” Darcy paced as he growled out the words.
“The only thing which tempers his hand is the fact his magic is learned, not inherited. His greatest desire to beget an heir with magical power and mold that poor child to do his bidding.”
“I’m surprised he attempted to seduce Georgiana before her sixteenth birthday. There’s no guarantee she’ll have magic.”
“He took a calculated gamble on not only her cherished childhood memories to make him desirable, but on the fact your lineage is impeccable. There are only a handful of families who trace their magic back so many centuries.” His uncle closed the ledger book he’d been writing in and leaned back in his chair.
“In truth, there are not many of us left. Miatharans are not known for having large families. We are slowly fading into extinction.”
“Our numbers dwindle each generation. As you well know, all sons born from magical parents have the gift. It’s the daughters that are harder to track. Their abilities only show up on their sixteenth birthday. Over time, as the human population grows and previous members retreat and retire into obscurity, it’s harder to track of all their progeny. Especially if the parents don’t wish for their secret known by anyone, including other Miatharans.”
Darcy strode to the window and gazed out onto his aunt’s rose garden. Should he confide in his uncle that he’d met a young lady that stirred him like no other? He had no idea how long he’d remained in that pensive mood until his uncle spoke again.
“You have no idea how many times I wished I had the familiarity you have with Richard.”
Darcy turned to face his uncle. “Why is that?”
“Because then I could speak to you wherever you happen to park that tall carcass of yours and not wait for a polite letter every quarter with boring details of your estate, or how much you detest balls along with society in general.”
His cheeks burned in shame. He was a terrible correspondent. The silence must have gone on too long for his uncle because he continued, “I don’t believe your visit was only to check up on the welfare of Georgiana. I think you’ve met someone in Hertfordshire who tempts you.”
Darcy turned back to the window not knowing how to explain.Yes, someone tempts me. In fact, Uncle, I stole into her bedroom, entered her dreams and ravished her like a licentious rake. Would his uncle collapse at his desk from apoplexy? First, Miss Elizabeth was a gentleman’s daughter and therefore not magical. Second, no Darcy had ever married a woman who did not have magic and he couldn’t, absolutely couldn’t be the first one to break an eight-hundred-year tradition.
At Darcy’s continued and prolonged silence, his uncle said, “I see. Well, nephew, when you are ready to talk about her, pray return. Perhaps now is not the right time.”
It was with great relief when he shimmered back to Netherfield, away from his uncle’s all to knowing gaze. He had to get a handle on these feelings. Lusting after Miss Elizabeth would be detrimental to his mental and physical health. As he strode from the room to join Charles for an afternoon ride, he muttered, “I shall conquer this. I shall.”
Chapter Four
A few days following the Assembly, the Netherfield party joined other leading families and Colonel Foster of the ___shire militia for dinner and cards at Lucas Lodge. The younger set, determined to have their fair share of enjoyment, had entreated Miss Mary Bennet to play a few songs they could dance to. Soon a few young ladies and gentlemen had lined up awaiting the first chords to begin. Mary ran her fingers over the keys and played a lilting melody to warm up and stretch her fingers.
Darcy, propped against the window, heard the familiar music and moved to watch Miss Mary play, noting there were no sheets of music in front of her. When she paused briefly, he asked quietly, “Where did you learn this melody, Miss Mary. It is delightful.”
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy.” She ducked her head and blushed bright red from his attention. “I heard Lizzy humming before her walk this morning and determined to teach myself the melody. It is not complete. I have yet to ask her to hum the rest.”
Stunned into silence, he gave her a polite half bow and retreated back to his station by the window. How could Miss Elizabeth remember the melody from the waltz they’d danced to? He’d wiped her memory, did he not? He most definitely remembered standing at the foot of her bed, reciting the ancient words. And he knew he’d done the required hand gestures, a requirement for the spell to work. Then, how could she remember the music?
The more he learned, the less he knew and his thoughts were consumed by a dark-haired sprite with emerald eyes dancing opposite a man he’d decided to dislike.
“I can guess the subject of your reverie...”
Darcy closed his eyes and wished himself anywhere but here, standing next to Miss Bingley. With great effort he reined in his frustration and answered her in a tight voice, “I assure you, you cannot.”
God would roll back the stars before he revealed his inner thoughts to Caroline Bingley. If she knew how much pleasure he derived at the sight of a light figure and fine eyes brightened by dancing, his time at Netherfield Park would become a living hell.
“I’ve known you for almost three years and see how much you disdain this company. It’s insupportable that Charles will not quit this dirt trodden village and return to Town.”
