Chapter 5
Elizabeth’s heart started to pound. As they entered the carriage for their return to Founder’s Hall, her limbs were shaking and her skirt caught on one of the steps. She managed to wrench it out without tearing it. The fumbling proved providential, because it spared her waiting for Darcy to sit down first. After he had spoken so badly of Riquer, she could not bear to be close to him. Instead, she crumpled into the opposite seat, next to Lord Matlock. Darcy quirked his eyebrow at her, but she looked away, unable to talk to him — to anyone for that matter. She wrapped her hands in her skirts to hide their trembling.
She had betrayed her friend through the very act of defending him. What a fool she had been! She flinched inwardly as she recalled how awed she had been to be asked to contribute, how proud of the responsibility, while all the time, she was walking blindly into something she did not understand. No one had askedRiquerif he would be willing to return to France.
She had been appointed advisor to the prince, and she had fallen at the first hurdle. Why had she not understood theconsequences of her words? Going over the whole conversation again in her head, she wondered how else she could have responded. She had been flattered that the Prince Regent had taken her opinion seriously, but in retrospect, she felt like her answer was a forgone conclusion. The prince must have known she would defend Riquer. In fact, he had implied as much at the beginning.
Darcy's eyes bore into her. She shifted uncomfortably, feeling trapped in the small space of the carriage. For the first time in a long time, she longed for Longbourn, where she could wander around at will and restore her good humor with a brisk walk. The ride was endless, the air in the carriage stifling. Fortunately, Lord Matlock must have noticed her turmoil, because he deftly introduced a conversation about Council matters. He and Darcy began an argument over one of the Council member's opinions, and she was left to her own devices.
When they left the carriage at Founder’s Hall, Elizabeth hurried out, seeking the privacy of her bedchamber, afraid to encounter Riquer and look him in the eye after what she had done.
She heard footsteps behind her.
“Elizabeth?”
At first, she continued, too irked to talk to him. Then a light touch on her should brought her to a standstill. Darcy came around and stood in front of her, blocking her way. Her first instinct was to brush past him.
“You are upset with me,” he remarked, reaching out to envelop her hand in his, “because I spoke against your friend to the prince. But—”
“Iamupset, but not just with you.” As she spoke, she realized it was true. “I was thinking about Riquer.”
Darcy winced. She had phrased it badly.
“We have left him with no choice but to rejoin the Imperial Mages. I wish—” Again, she did not want this to come out wrong. “I wish I had not contradicted you. Not because I think you are right,” she added hastily, “but because I should have asked for the chance to think about it more. Then I could have sounded out Riquer to see if this is what he wanted to do.”
Darcy spread his hands out in a hopeless gesture. “How much choice do any of us have?” he said hoarsely.
“He took refuge here. He changed sides. What if the French brand him a traitor and kill him?”
She waited, seeking his reassurance. Perhaps she was not seeing the whole picture. Perhaps she was exaggerating the danger.
“If they believe he has revealed secrets to our side, they will undoubtedly execute him,” said Darcy, his voice was dispassionate, his words a flat statement of fact.
Hearing the reality stated so starkly increased her sense of panic. She could not be as dispassionate as Darcy. Riquer was a close friend. They shared a common experience of being strangers amongst the Royal Mages, who were often more interested in bloodlines than Talent. Of course, she knew that their connection was forged out of necessity. The reality was that Riquer came from a prominent noble family, and in his native country, his situation was very different. Over there, Elizabeth would not be any more welcome in his world than she had been in this one. But for now, they were allies, and she took comfort in his clever observations and their joint amusement at the oddities of the Mage Council. Darcy did not understand her perspective. He had spent a large part of his childhood at the Academy. He took so many things for granted.
So Riquer could be executed. The possibility appalled her. All this could have been avoided if she had asked the Prince Regent for more information before answering his question.
“If it happened, I could never forgive myself. I would always blame myself.”
Darcy shook his head. “You cannot think of it that way. Being part of the Royal Mages means exposing ourselves to danger. The risk is always there.”
“Does it not bother you that he could be killed?”
“It does bother me, as it bothers me that I might be killed in battle,” said Darcy. “We are all fighting the Imperial mages. We go where we are needed. It could happen to any of us. You cannot hold yourself responsible if he dies in the fight against Napoleon. This is war.”
It was a sensible approach, and Elizabeth was grateful to Darcy for phrasing it this way. She felt calmer. Yet the moment she thought about Riquer’s reaction, her anxiety returned, and she was filled with dread. Part of her resented Darcy for not caring.
Sensing her agitation, Darcy draped his arm around her and folded her into the warmth of his body. “I am not unfeeling, my love. I am simply pragmatic.”
He tucked his finger under her chin and looked into her eyes. She squirmed, uncomfortable at having her vulnerability and the chaos of her emotions exposed for him to see.
“You think I do not understand, but I know only too well the consequences of guilt, Elizabeth. You have no idea how wracked by guilt I was when I lost my Twin. I tore myself apart thinking of all the things I could have done to save him. It almost destroyed me.”
His eyes darkened as he spoke. He ran his finger along the length of her jaw, but Elizabeth could tell he had retreated into a grim place in the past.
She had forgotten about Cuthbert – or at least, she had pushed him to the back of her mind. She recalled now what Darcy waslike when she had first met him, so withdrawn, so devastated by Cuthbert’s death. He had come a long way since then.
“The situations are different,” she said, “You could not have done anything to save Cuthbert. In my case, I could have done something different. I should have realized what the Prince was asking.”
