Page 25 of Transforming Mr. Darcy
The hooting behind them quickly drowned out the squeaks. In a rustling of wings and a blur of brown feathers, the owl shot past, dipping to the earth and then rising, a small mouse clutched in its talons.
Elizabeth’s mouth had dropped open, but she shut it and swallowed. “Mildread will take her back to Netherfield,” she assured the swan, who simply cocked his head to one side. “She will not hurt her.” Miss Bingley could not have known what she was doing when she blundered into the middle of their spell.
She dropped to her knees and held the swan close. “Mildread says there is another way,” she whispered. “Please do not give up hope. We will break this spell, Mr. Darcy. We will.”
Mr. Darcy made a sawing sound, like a snore. He made it several times before Mildread dropped back down before, still in her owl form. “I daresay Miss Bingley will cause no other problems.”
The snoring continued.
Mildread giggled.
“What?” Elizabeth asked.
The fairy smiled. “That is the sound of a swan’s mating song, my dear.”
What good was a flirtation when Mr. Darcy would be a swan forever? She struggled not to give way to her tears again.
“How did she even remember that Mr. Darcy was staying with them?” Elizabeth asked. “You said . . .”
“I also said the magic was not as strong as it should be—and, unfortunately, Miss Bingley’s delusions of grandeur were stronger. She has been nosing around for days, but until now she had not wandered so near the lake.”
Elizabeth nodded. What she truly wanted to know had nothing to do with Miss Caroline Bingley. “You said there was another way to restore Mr. Darcy to himself?”
“There is,” Mildread said slowly. “But you will not like it.”
Chapter 9
Miss Elizabeth was speaking to the owl again.
Darcy flapped his wings and then folded them in as he lowered himself into the water. Swimming helped him think.
He had never really considered what might happen if the spell was not broken. Miss Elizabeth’s certainty had been contagious. She had done everything she could to fulfil the requirements of her fairy godmother, no matter how eccentric. To have it come crashing down around them through the interference of Miss Bingley, a grasping schemer if there ever was one—it was too much. He would never forgive the woman for her meddling.
Not that it mattered now.
He glanced back at his heart’s desire. Miss Elizabeth was alone, though the owl was now perched on a branch just above her. Miss Elizabeth held out her hand, and an apple appeared. That was odd. There were no apple trees here. It was as though she had plucked one from the air.
Miss Elizabeth stared at the apple. “I just take a bite?”
“One bite is all it takes,” he heard a voice respond. He craned his long neck to see who might be speaking.
It was the owl. The owl had never spoken before. It had only hooted.
Had Miss Elizabeth been speaking with Mildread all this time? The same fairy who had trapped them in this nasty spell? She could not be trusted! Miss Elizabeth should certainly not eat anything the fairy gave her—he had to stop her.
“Then what happens?” Miss Elizabeth asked.
“Then he will be free, and you will sleep.”
No! Elizabeth!Blast this damned honking. Hehadto make her understand.
“One hundred years?” Miss Elizabeth asked, straightening her shoulders.
There was a pause. “Yes,” the owl said.
Darcy spread his wings out wide.
Miss Elizabeth took a breath. “Mr. Darcy will be himself again? He will be able to return home?”
