Elizabeth placed her hand on his arm. The feather-light touch was enough to make him realize he was becoming too agitated.
"You cannot blame your uncle,” she said gently. “Heis not the one keeping us apart. He has merely assigned you extra duties. How else was he to punish you?"
"There are other ways," he replied, his jaw tight. Why was Elizabeth siding with his uncle now?
"Name one," said Matlock.
Darcy considered other possibilities. "I cannot think of anything on the spot."
His uncle gave Darcy a look which would have quelled him when he was a boy. It reminded him of his aunt Lady Catherine, who had been a formidable task-setter. It no longer had the power to frighten him now, but he felt foolish for having raised the issue at all. What was the point of confronting his uncle? He had exposed himself, and all for nothing.
"If you think of something better, I would like to hear it,” said Lord Matlock. “I would apply it to future situations, should they arise. I am sure you would not prefer to be flogged."
Leaning back against the plush cushions, Darcy closed his eyes and clamped down on his resentment. He felt the seat next to him dip. Elizabeth’s skirts rustled as she drew closer, the familiar scent filling his world.
She meant to comfort him, but instead it increased his torment. How could he have her so close and not be able to draw her to him? He sat upright, holding out against thetemptation to melt against her, aware of his uncle's presence and the mage outriders accompanying them. Knowing they were in the Prince’s carriage forced him to behave with propriety. It was what was expected.
He was tired of doing what was expected.
It took only half an hour to reach Carlton House, but the trip was interminably long. Darcy was never so glad of anything when the carriage stopped, and the liveried footman opened the door.
Elizabeth was relieved to leave the carriage behind her and enter Carlton House. The tension in the carriage had been dreadful, with Darcy's resentment filling the whole space. He had not even put his arm around her when she snuggled against him.
She understood what he was going through. She shared his vexation. It seemed like everything was conspiring to keep them apart. Yet at the same time, she felt their time together was wasted. How much nicer it would have been if he had interacted with her, instead of sitting like a wooden board, staring through the window in stoney silence.
They were announced to His Highness. To her surprise, he was alone. It was a testament to his trust in them, and Elizabeth was humbled by it.
“Your Highness.” She curtseyed deeply.
“You may call me Prinny – at least in private. All my friends do. Considering that the two of you saved my life, I think you are more entitled to do so than anyone else, don’t you think?” He nodded towards Lord Matlock. “You did not save my life, but you saved my father’s so I will extend the same permission to you.”
It seemed preposterous to be calling the prince by a nickname, but she was not about to argue. “Very well, Your—Prinny.”
“I will get down to business quickly. I am sorry to summon you so suddenly, but I have received notice through the telegraph relay system that there are fleets amassing at Boulogne.”
Did the prince expect a strong reaction? Elizabeth left it to her companions to voice it. She had heard too many false alarms for her to feel anything. Since the Battle of Trafalgar, when Napoleon had been soundly defeated while attempting to cross the English Channel, there had been speculation about when he would attempt it again. Every now and then, the newspapers would be a awash with news of some new contraption being built by the French.
“I have had conflicting reports about Boney’s intentions. The semaphore system set up by the army says one thing. The spies say another. Whitehall has its own ideas.” He looked weary. “I was wondering if you have any means of discovering anything else through that mirror magic of yours. As I witnessed the other day, you have made remarkable strides, Mrs. Darcy. We are taking interest in your capabilities.”
She took a deep breath. “Legend tells us that Mirror magic was used for scrying in the past – looking into the future or spying on someone -- but unfortunately, magic of that sort no longer exists, if it ever did. What Riquer has been teaching is very different. I could potentially spy on someone, but that depends on many considerations. Whether they had a mirror. Whether I knew where they were. Whether they are outdoors. And of course, there would have to be someone on the other side who would be watching all the time. Unfortunately, it is very complicated. It is not nearly as practical as one might think.”
“You could not train one of my spies, I suppose.”
“As I mentioned when we had dinner, Riquer and I have tried to teach others, with very little success. Mirror magic doesnot depend on spells alone. It is a Talent, and it seems very uncommon here. Perhaps we lost that form of magic over the years through breeding.”
Elizabeth carefully did not state her opinion about the Royal Academy’s tendency to prefer bloodlines over new forms of magic. She could only imagine how many types of magic had been lost as a result of narrow inbreeding.
“And this is your assessment of the situation as well, Matlock?”
“It is, Your Highness.”
“It is most unfortunate. It puts us in an awkward situation. I do not think it practical to send Mrs. Darcy to France.”
He had considered sending her toFrance? Even thinking about it sent Elizabeth into a panic. Next to her, Darcy made a strangled sound. It was astonishing that the Prince had entertained the possibility in the first place.
“I certainly agree with that conclusion,” said Lord Matlock, firmly. “Mrs. Darcy has many Talents, but espionage is not one of them.”
Prinny waved his hand dismissively. “We have already discarded the idea.”
