A cheerful crackling blaze erupted from the logs, instantly chasing away some of the room’s chill.
That settled, Darcy looked around the room as if he had never seen it before. He did not avail himself of the armchair opposite her, nor did he choose the other end of the sofa. Instead, he remained standing, that careful distance between them, his posture radiating guarded formality as he waited for her to elaborate on whatever urgency had driven her to breach this divide.
“Mr Darcy,” she began, in a voice steadier than how she felt, “As you have doubtless concluded for yourself, any efforts at teaching me to control my magic have been largely unsuccessful. So I propose a different approach.”
He nodded slightly, a signal that he was, at least, prepared to listen.
“We are not using our strengths. You possess undeniable control. Your magic is a perfectly honed instrument at your disposal. Yet I believe in terms of sheer power, I possess the greater amount, regardless of how unruly it is.” She paused here, curious if he would challenge that assertion. When he remained silent, she pressed on, “But what if, rather than persisting inthe futile endeavour to make mine like yours, we utilised our individual strengths as one?”
His expression shifted to an almost reluctant intellectual curiosity. “You propose a conscious merging of our magical efforts? You, as a conduit of power, and I, the director?”
“If you must put it in such terms,” she said, a hint of a smile in her voice, “then yes.”
“But it cannot be done. One cannot wield another’s magical power. That is a fundamental tenet.”
His words stung, but as Darcy continued to look deep in thought, she realised that his response reflected not immediate dismissal of her words, but rather weighed in the consideration of established arcane theory.
“Perhaps customarily it cannot be done,” she said, “However, our circumstances are anything but customary. We possess a connection between us, do we not? A bond forged by the Concordance.”
He felt it too, she saw that in the sudden tension of his posture. That constant thrum of energy that was always present between them.
Darcy tilted his head to a side, a gesture of intense, inward focus on his face, and shesensedthe slight probing of his mind against the fabric of that arcane connection, testing its strength, its nature, and its almost terrifying potential.
“I do not believe such a thing has ever been documented,” he said, with the air of one attempting to recall every text he had ever read on the subject, “Even the ancient texts detailing the Concordance make no mention of it.”
“But is that not the nature of true scholarly pursuit? To question the established? To venture beyond the comfortable boundaries of what is known and deemed possible?”
Darcy paced the room. “There are considerable perils inherent in such an undertaking. The entire premise hingesupon my ability to master and direct a magical force that is not my own. Should I prove unable to do so, the release of such untamed energy could prove catastrophic.”
The arrogance of his words!Elizabeth thought, though she prudently kept the observation to herself. His immediate assumption that the success or failure rested solely uponhisability, uponhiscontrol, as ifherown agency,herown power, were entirely inconsequential!
“But,” he added, “I cannot deny that the idea has significant merit. And I do believe a little hazard is preferable to continuing failure.”
Elizabeth exhaled slowly, allowing the biting retort that had formed on her tongue to fade, unspoken.
He had agreed.
Darcy glanced at the mantle clock. “I can understand now the urgency that compelled you to seek me out at such an hour. I confess I am eager to attempt it immediately, however — ”
“As am I,” she said quickly.
“ -however,” Darcy continued, a glimmer of amusement touching the corners of his lips, “I am rather fond of this room and would not wish to see it up in flames or beset by a tsunami.” His tone turned brisk. “If you are amenable, I advise you to don a warmer pelisse and sturdier boots. I have an idea.”
He led her out onto the Pemberley grounds.
It had felt incredibly strange, almost illicit, to move through the darkened hallways of Pemberley with Darcy, their footsteps hushed, coats hastily thrown on over their haphazard attire, as if they were errant children engaged in some nocturnal escapade.And yet, she reminded herself firmly, this was their home. They had every right to wander its grounds, even at this unseemly hour.
Their path took them towards an open expanse that Elizabeth had not previously explored. Even under the wan light of the moon, it was evident that this was a place the Blight had touched. The earth felt barren beneath her feet, a deadened patch of land where only the hardiest, most tenacious weeds continued to cling to a precarious existence.
Yet, as Elizabeth looked more closely, she discerned the ghostly outlines of what might once have been a well-tended, lovingly cultivated flower garden – the almost invisible ridges of forgotten beds, the skeletal remains of what might have been rose trellises, all now surrendered to the insidious creep of decay.
The night air was biting with the Derbyshire frost, yet Elizabeth felt a curious warmth suffusing her. “How do we begin?” she asked, her magic now thrumming with an eager, almost joyful anticipation.
“I believe that the element of air would present the most prudent starting point. It is the safest, or at least, the least overtly destructive, should my control prove insufficient. Clear your mind. When I say so, I would like you to release your energy. You do not need to provide a specific direction or a specific intent. Simply let it flow through you.”
She reached inward, seeking that core of her magic, the vibrant energy that was so uniquelyhers. The magic surged, a powerful tide of raw elemental energy.
Air.She focused on the essence of it, the whisper of a summer breeze, the roar of a winter storm, the breath of the living world.
