The young gentleman smiled amiably and took up his spoon. A footman came at once with the soup, but instead of Mr. Bingley helping himself, the footman ladled the soup for him. Her instinct as a healer roused, she threw him a few glances, trying to assess the nature of his affliction. He was smiling pleasantly, but his eyes were clouded. He could see her, but she could not tell if he was aware of her presence. Intrigued, she determined to discover how conscious he was of his surroundings.
Jane watched him, puzzled. He seemed perfectly capable of doing things for himself. How was it, then, that he did not seem able to connect with anyone? She thought of that encounter in the sick room.
“Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Jane Bennet,” she said to him.
He continued to eat, ignoring her words completely.
“What is your name?” she said.
There was no indication that he could even hear her. She sighed.
“Perhaps you think me uncivil. Let us do this the proper way, then. Lizzy, perhaps you can introduce me to the young gentleman?”
“Of course.” Lizzy wiped her mouth on her napkin.
“This is Mr. Charles Bingley, a Talented mage who was injured in battle.”
Jane puzzled over this. The young lady who had spoken earlier had spoken of an affliction. Lizzy was talking about injury. Had he received a head wound? Had Lizzy accidentally struck him?
“Is this a recent affliction?”
“It has been almost three weeks.”
From the way Lizzy dropped her voice, and the tightness of her expression, it was clear this was not a topic her sister wished to discuss. But she was used to pushing her sister for answers, and some instinct told her it was important for Lizzy to talk to someone about it.
“Did it happen as that young lady said? Were you inadvertently responsible for his injury?”
“That is what many believe,” Lizzy replied, bitterly. “Possibly everyone, with the exception of Darcy.”
The vehemence in her voice suggested to Jane that was a bone of contention between her and some of the other Royal Mages.
“Do you believe it to be the case?”
“Yes – no. No. Not directly. I do not believe I caused it, but—. Never mind. Let us just say that it might be the case.”
It was not like Lizzy to shy away from discussing things, but then Jane did not know her sister as well now as she used to. Lizzy had been through experiences Jane could not imagine, and even though they had spent several weeks together when Lizzy returned home, she had already changed in subtle ways even then. She was certainly more serious.
A spoon clattered to the ground next to her, and she turned to find Mr. Bingley looking around for it. She bent down and picked it up without thinking, but then felt foolish because she could not give it to him to use in any case after it had been on the ground.
As she straightened, she found Mr. Bingley’s gaze fixed on her face. She recognized the look. She had seen it on enough gentlemen’s faces to know it was admiration. Apparently that was one aspect of his character that had not been affected by his affliction. His instincts were intact, if nothing else.
“I will ask a footman for another spoon, Mr. Bingley.”
Already his mind had already wandered elsewhere. He was trying to find his spoon and growing vexed that he could not find it. The smile dropped and he looked lost.
Jane hastily drew the attention of the footman, who quickly provided the missing spoon.
The smile returned, and Mr. Bingley resumed his eating.
Jane felt her stomach clench in dismay. How could an injury strip a gentleman of so much? The only mercy was that he was not aware of it. Or at least, she hoped not.
“Is there no cure?”
She whispered the words, not wishing to upset Mr. Bingley, just in case he could understand what she was saying.
“Nothing the Healers have done has made the least bit of difference.”
“Is he the only one?”
