Not against your kind heart, thought Darcy, as his lips touched hers.
Chapter 7
Darcy was training two apprentices in advanced spell-making when he received a note summoning him to an urgent Council meeting. Since he already knew what it was about, Darcy was tempted to ignore the summons. However, his uncle might discuss Riquer's assignment, and Darcy wanted to get a sense of how people reacted to sending Riquer back to France. It would help him determine if he was the only one who was suspicious.
He arrived as his uncle entered and called the meeting. "I know everyone has other matters to attend to, so I will make this short. I took the unusual step of calling a meeting because Whitehall has advised me that an invasion by Napoleon is imminent. We need to be on alert."
"That is hardly a matter of urgency," said Devereux, with his usual bullish directness. "We have been anticipating an invasion for many years now."
He earned several snickers in response.
"True enough." Lord Matlock's tone made it clear that this was not a time for Devereux's usual theatrics. "However, we have been told to expect orders from the War Office very soon."
A clamor of questions rose up.
"Quiet, please!" he said, using magic to magnify his voice. "I have no further information. I do not know what the orders may be. I wanted to convey the message. Until we hear more, we should increase all safety drills and prepare our students for the possibility of an attack shortly. There is word that Napoleon may attempt to cross the English Channel."
If Matlock thought that was the end of it, he was very much mistaken. Devereux was in no mood to let this go. "You don’t say! For years, there have been rumors of Napoleon invading the Kingdom. The press has been particularly inventive about some of the plans he allegedly devised. Most of them were frankly unworkable. Remember when he supposedly planned to dig a tunnel under the Channel?”
Even Matlock had to laugh at that particular concept.
“And what about the ridiculous plan of sending an army of balloons across the Channel? Even the lowliest sailor who has sailed the Channel will tell you the prevailing winds would render such a scheme impossible."
“Hear, hear!” Several voices expressed agreement.
“And what about they said he was building a flotilla that used windmills instead of sails to power the boats?”
Again, everyone scoffed at the idea.
"Yes, yes. What you say is all very true. They are ridiculous schemes bound to failure." Lord Matlock shrugged. "However, bear in mind that, because of such madcap ideas, it is impossible to anticipate Napoleon's next step. All we know is that Boulogne is suddenly a hive of activity. Hundreds of tents have been set up, and carriages are arriving with supplies. It is not conclusive. Unlike last time, when Napoleon assembled two hundredthousand men, the numbers gathering at Boulogne are much smaller. However, whatever is happening, we cannot afford to ignore it."
Darcy had been waiting for Matlock to mention Riquer, but he did not. As the meeting turned into a discussion of the likelihood of an invasion, Darcy's thoughts began to drift. Like almost everyone in the room, he was not particularly alarmed. No matter how ingenious his ideas, Napoleon would be foolish to try and cross the Channel again. He had been soundly beaten at the Battle of Trafalgar the last time he tried it. Mages were very useful on land – and the idea of bringing hundreds of mages over was frankly terrifying – but they were helpless on large bodies of water. They would have to land first before they could accomplish anything.
His thoughts turned instead to Elizabeth. All this constant anxiety was taking its toll. She had been so distressed yesterday about Riquer, Darcy had wanted nothing more than to envelop her in his arms and take her to his bedchamber to comfort her. Yet he could not. He could not do anything to make his wife happy. All he could do was watch from the sidelines. She talked about feeling helpless, but what about him? He was powerless to do anything to help her.
His love for Elizabeth was a constant ache. In the past, he had honestly believed the poets exaggerated when they wrote about love as a torment. Now he knew they spoke the truth. He was so weary. Weary of longing for her company. Weary of looking at her from afar. Weary of waiting. He had fallen in love, and not for a moment did he wish that undone. But the nagging ache that gripped him whenever he saw her was becoming harder and harder to endure.
He did not notice that the Council meeting had ended until everyone rose and moved towards the door.
"Are you unwell, Darcy?" His uncle asked, his eyes concerned.
"I am as well as can be expected." His jaw was clenched so tightly, his head was hurting. "Considering I am not allowed any time with my wife." The words came out more barbed than he expected. His uncle would consider it a continued attack on his idea of a punishment. Good. Let him think that. He was reaching the end of his tether, and he wanted his uncle to know it.
His uncle's punishment had made him feel like a child. True, discipline was essential, but Darcy was not some reluctant soldier unwilling to fight unless threatened with punishment. He had dedicated his life to the Academy. He had faced death to save everyone else. He had never slacked, never questioned his role. He had always pushed himself to excel, in order to serve the Kingdom better.
He turned on his heel and walked onwards, oblivious to his surroundings, consumed by his feelings. Bright sunlight greeted him, and he blinked, disoriented, as he felt the soft touch of grass under his feet. Had he left the castle without even noticing?
The Gothic columns surrounding him told him he had unwittingly found his way to the cloister. His eyes were immediately drawn to a bench where he had sat not too long ago, and memories came flooding over him.
He had not been here since the memorable day Elizabeth had returned his wedding ring and asked him to annul their marriage. A sense of desolation came over him. What would he do now if he lost her? It would devastate him. Why was he thinking that way, in any case? There was no reason to suspect that she did not want to be with him. She was in love with him. He did not doubt her affection for a single second. Still, here he was, thinking about losing her.
Perhaps jealousy did have a hand in it after all.
He forced himself to consider that possibility. Hewasjealous that Elizabeth spent so much time with Riquer. Darcy did not doubt his own worth. But Riquer had something to offerElizabeth that Darcy did not. Elizabeth craved new forms of magic. She wanted to explore beyond the limits of what she had learned so far. That was where he felt he was failing her. He may be one of the most powerful mages in the kingdom, but he could not move beyond the same spells he had learned when he was a child.
He had to acknowledge it. He was staid and solid andboringin his steadfast adherence to the tried and true. He had resisted change when he had first met her. She had introduced her own magic and he had refused to accept it. Then Riquer had appeared, offering her exactly what she needed – the opportunity to expand herself into new forms of magic.
Yes, he was jealous of Riquer. Not because he doubted Elizabeth's love, but because he doubted himself. He mightwantto learn new things, but it did not mean hecould. He wanted to grow – to stretch the limits of his abilities, but he had perfected what he had been taught for so many years, it was hard to make that leap. The magic he had learned worked. He knew it worked. Thousands of mages had used it. Remaining steadfast to what he had learned was the only certainty he could cling to.
