Page 15 of Transforming Mr. Darcy
“Miss Elizabeth?” It emerged so much like a honk that Elizabeth was surprised she understood her name. She stepped into the alcove, grabbed a candle from the wall sconce, and held it up.
Before her stood Mr. Darcy. As the meagre light fell upon him Elizabeth saw that his right arm was not an arm at all, but a wing, covered in snowy white feathers.
“I could not go back to my room in this state,” he said, raising the wing. His eyes implored her to help him. “What is happening to me?”
“I do not know,” she responded honestly, reaching out to take his human hand. “But I will help you if I can.” She would not step away from Mr. Darcy when he was in such a state, but she wished that she could. Instead, she could only watch helplessly as his head jerked back roughly.
Mr. Darcy’s lips began to stretch.
Elizabeth was frozen in shock, and the candle slipped from her hand. The flame was out before it hit the floor. Mr. Darcy’s exclamations of surprise and panic escaped in hoarse, muffled trumpet blasts and she clapped her now-free hand over his mouth.
It took less than a second for Mr. Darcy’s lips to flatten and elongate. A dab of orange in the middle spread until Elizabeth was pinching closed an orange beak bordered withblack. A knob rose from it at the same time white feathers began to cover Mr. Darcy’s head and face. His fine clothing was absorbed into the snowy white feathers except for the area around his eyes which turned as black as his tailcoat.
Something tickled her palm where she held Mr. Darcy’s hand, and she looked down. More feathers. Mr. Darcy grunted, the sound strangled, and the beak slipped from her hand as he began to shrink.
It was in every way horrible. Elizabeth buried her face in her hands, but after a moment, she straightened. “Courage, Elizabeth,” she said and lifted her hands away.
A male swan with a long, elegant neck was running back and forth at her feet, flapping his wings in agitation.
“Mildread,” Elizabeth whispered, her stomach roiling. She bent down towards the bird. “Shh,” she begged him urgently. “Please, be quiet.”
Her fairy godmother appeared near the stairs. She crossed her arms over her chest and laughed. “I think he makes an uncommonly handsome swan. It should satisfy even Mr. Darcy’s pride. Swans are royal creatures, you know.”
The swan hissed.
“Oh,” Elizabeth said, bending to check his feet before her hand touched her forehead. “He is not registered. The crown could claim him. Howcouldyou?”
“It should protect him from anyonebutthe crown,” Mildread pointed out. “Surely they are not going to send a royal shepherd to Hertfordshire for one swan.”
“Someone could capture him and take him to London! What are we going to do with him?” Elizabeth asked, panicked. “We cannot allow anyone to see him in this way. You must change him back.”
“Not I,” Mildread said, shaking her head. “Once the spell is released, it must be completed.”
“How long will he be a swan?”
“Forever,” the fairy said, twirling the pewter wand in her fingers.
The swan stilled for a moment before it began to flap its wings menacingly.
“What?” Elizabeth cried. “No, that cannot be!”
“Of course it can.”
Elizabeth leaned forward, resigned. “You said the spell could be completed. Tell me what I must do to release Mr. Darcy from this,” she whispered, waving at the swan, “thismadness!”
Mildread clucked at her. “Why would you wish it? Mr. Darcy is nothing to you.”
“He is a fellow human, Mildread,” Elizabeth pleaded. “He deserves to live his life the way it was intended.”
“Hmph.” Mildread’s lips twisted one way, then the other. “There are several ways to complete this spell. One takes a week. Another a hundred years.”
Elizabeth refused to believe that Mr. Darcy would be a swan for a hundred years. “How are we going to keep this a secret for a week?” Elizabeth’s mind was racing. Where could they possibly hide? What would happen when Mr. Darcy was missed?
“I suppose you shall have to keep him safely out of sight.”
She gazed down at the swan. “This is a nightmare.”
Mr. Darcy honked. She took it as agreement.
