The week is flying by and we’re up to Chapter 3! If you haven’t read the previous chapters yet, please follow the links to catch up. Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2. Release day is Friday, July 11! I’m trying to get everything up and ready for launch, so when I have a preorder link, I’ll post it on social media and here.

Now, for the cover! I couldn’t resist adding Herne into the cover. He’s a reindeer in real life, but it was the best white stag photo I could find

Now, onto Chapter 3!

Chapter 3

1st October 1811

“Oh, Mr. Bennet! Do you not see that this would be a marvellous thing for our girls?”

Her mother’s cries carried out of the library and into the hall. Elizabeth paused and breathed deeply for a moment. She had once again returned from her walk to one of her mother’s fits. They occurred more and more often these days. She could not escape them it seemed.

After steeling herself, she stepped inside her father’s sanctuary, and her mother sneered. Whatever words were to come would not be good. Elizabeth’s body tightened.

“And what are you doing about finding a husband? When your father dies and we are cast out, do not think I can keep you. If you had been a boy—”

Papa held up a hand. “Do not say it, Mrs. Bennet! As for my visiting Netherfield, we know little of the gentleman who has leased the property. He and his family may not be magical. We must tread with care. I shall speak to Sir William. I heard he has called on them.”

“What do I care if they are magic or not?” Her mother’s voice had become shrill. “I shall not have the funds to keep your daughters when something happens to you. They must be wed. I shall not have it any other way. I insist you go and go now!”

Elizabeth crept around her mother to sit in her preferred chair. If she said nothing, her mother might forget her presence for the time being.

“I have your tea, Mrs. Bennet,” said Hill as she entered quickly with a tray. 

“When did I say I wished for tea?” The housekeeper remained so patient with Mama when she was like this. Such a skill was one Elizabeth desired. Her equanimity was difficult to maintain when her mother’s ire was so often directed at her.

Papa stood and moved a book so Hill could place the tea tray on the desk. “I ordered it. Now, sit and take a cup, my dear.”

With a flounce and a huff, her mother sat then accepted the tea from the housekeeper. After her first sip, she opened her mouth to continue her vitriol, paused, and rested her hand with the cup in her lap, a frown marring her pretty face.

“What was I to say? My mind is so foggy all of a sudden.” Mama blinked and looked down into her tea.

“Do not worry yourself over such triflings,” said Mrs. Hill. “I believe you were about to remove to the parlour to attend to your needlework. Miss Bennet is sewing clothing for the Smith’s new baby. You could join her. Would that not be lovely?”

“I am embroidering a tablecloth for the dining room, with five-petaled lilacs. Those are for good fortune, you know.”

“You showed me your progress two days ago if you recall. The piece shall be beautiful when it is finished.” Mrs. Hill aided Mama to stand and placed a hand upon her back as she helped her from the room. “If you would like, I can bring the tea for you to drink while you work.”

“Yes, thank you, Hill,” said Mama as they departed. Hill closed the door after returning briefly for the tray.

“I am pleased you did not employ Jane to calm her. Jane exerts herself too much to care for Mama.”

Her father dropped back into his chair and leaned forward against the desk, rubbing his temples. “I agree. I am attempting to do better. Jane will not be with us forever, and we must learn to do for ourselves.”

“So you have had the same visions?” She was not prepared for Jane to leave, but the day was coming if the glimpses Elizabeth had seen were correct. How she would miss her dear sister when she was married and gone!

“I have seen a little. I only know she is to marry a fair-haired gentleman.”

Elizabeth leaned against the arm of her chair. “Mr. Bingley I have heard him called in mine. He is a very happy fellow from what I have seen.” He never failed to wear a wide grin in her visions.

“He does seem to be that,” said Papa. “Mr. Bingley is also the name your mother just used for the gentleman leasing Netherfield. I suppose there may be something to her rantings.”

“And it is also likely they are from a magical family.” The assumption was one that could be made. Her father would not sanction a marriage between someone without magic and one of his daughters. He could not take the risk that someone would inadvertently notice one of their talents and accuse them of witchcraft. Such an unequal match was dangerous.

Papa dipped his chin to look at her over his glasses. “Have you seen Fitzwilliam since the equinox?”

She shook her head. “No, but I have reason to believe he will find me out walking at some point.”

“Will you allow him to get to know you? Lady Anne and Darcy were excellent people. I cannot imagine they raised their son to be anything less. I could never part from you for someone unworthy.”

Through the window, the leaves falling from the trees caught her eye. The last thing she wished for was an arranged engagement, but what if this Mr. Darcy was indeed well-suited for her? She might regret rejecting him without giving him an opportunity to prove himself. “I feel I should see if we are a good match first.”

“I fear there are few who would challenge your quick mind. Fitzwilliam was intelligent and talented, even at a young age. While we awaited your birth, Darcy and I both worked with him. He exceeded all of my expectations at that time. From what I heard from his father in the years following, the young Darcy continued to impress his father with his skill.”

Elizabeth could not help but fidget. She had withheld a few details when she had told her father of their meeting. Could he provide insight into the questions she had from that night?

“What are you holding back, my dear?”

She almost laughed at his perception. He always knew when she kept secrets.

“Well, as we approached the stones on the equinox, the vibrations from the altar greeted me at the edge of the wood, but so did other sensations—strong ones—and they strengthened when I spoke to him. Could I be sensing his power?”

He sat back, his gaze penetrating. Could he see through her? “You are accustomed to sensing magic. The hum is what one characteristically feels, and the strength can vary based on the other’s talent. I would venture this is more than the usual, but what, I only have suspicions. You and Fitzwilliam will need to discern that meaning between the two of you. Since the sensations greeted you when you entered the forest, I am sure it must be more than mere attraction.”

Her cheeks heated. “I would rather not discuss any attraction with you, Papa.”

With a laugh, he picked up a book near the edge of the desk. “I feel the same, Lizzy. I feel the same. Come, I believe we were to review a few more advanced protective charms today. If we are to make any progress, we should begin.”

~*~

30th September 1811

“Sir,” said the butler. “Mr. Bennet of Longbourn.” The servant shifted against the door as the gentleman being announced stepped into the drawing room.

Fitzwilliam had to hold his breath for a second not to chuckle. Since he had little recollection of the gentleman from his youth, his father had oft times described Mr. Bennet to him as resembling the illustrations they had once seen of Merlin, without the long robes, of course. Mr. Bennet wore a suit that appeared at least five seasons old, and his hair was cropped closer to his head, just as Fitzwilliam would have expected. He even had a longish sort of beard.

Bingley stepped forward with his usual jovial countenance. “Mr. Bennet, I am pleased to welcome you to Netherfield. May I present my good friend Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, my brother-in-law, Mr. Reginald Hurst, his wife Mrs. Hurst, and my sister Miss Caroline Bingley.” Bingley gestured to each as he introduced them then he motioned to the couch. “Please do sit. I have been eager to get to know all of my neighbours.”

As Mr. Bennet took the offered place on the couch, their guest tilted his head for a moment while he glanced about the room, his lip curved ever-so-slightly on one side. The expression was not so dissimilar to the one Elizabeth wore from time to time on the evening of the equinox. If he had to guess, Mr. Bennet was amused by them all. How much could the gentleman perceive from the brief time in their proximity? His father once said Mr. Bennet was rarely fooled by people. Fitzwilliam could not wait to ask for Mr. Bennet’s opinions of his friends.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintances,” said Mr. Bennet. “I hope you are enjoying the neighbourhood. Meryton is small, but we are an amiable lot.”

Bingley nodded with his hands clasped together in his lap. “The few I have met thus far have been quite agreeable. I have heard from more than one person that Longbourn borders the Netherfield lands. Is that true?”

“Longbourn is approximately a two mile walk south through the fields. Netherfield’s lands stop at Oakham Forest as you near the west side of the property.”

Fitzwilliam cleared his throat. “The forest is part of Longbourn, is it not?”

“Yes,” said Mr. Bennet. “The Bennets have owned Oakham Forest for centuries.”

Miss Bingley tittered. “I confess to knowing little of property, but would not the land be more profitable if you were to clear it and use it for farming or livestock?” Mrs. Hurst gave a slight cackle. The lady said little and usually followed her younger sister’s lead, and Miss Bingley would never see the value in trees. She possessed a weak talent and placed more emphasis on status and money. 

“Caroline, you know very well that trees are valued in our circles.” Bingley leaned forward and glared at his sister. He could attempt to exert her to behave, but whether she responded was unlikely. Miss Bingley listened to no one.

Mr. Bennet watched the exchange, his eyes bright and darting from one person to the next. “I have heard the owners are seeking to sell Netherfield. May I enquire if such was mentioned to you, sir? I know the neighbourhood is concerned of who might purchase the property.”

“With good reason,” said Bingley. “None of us wishes to be accused of witchcraft. Meryton is one of the few magical hamlets remaining near London. I find the town enchanting, and it would be a shame if the neighbourhood did not remain as it is. Do you know how long it has existed?”

Mr. Bennet relaxed into his seat and crossed his ankle over his knee. “Meryton is recorded as having existed in the Domesday Book. I have documents stating the Bennets were gifted their land in the 6th century. I assume the town came into existence not long after.”

Miss Bingley’s nose crinkled as though she smelt something foul and looked at Mr. Hurst who mirrored her sister’s expression. They would never see the value of such a place.

“’Tis that old?” asked Hurst. He was already in his cups, so thankfully, he had not said anything more thus far.

“How fascinating!” Bingley grinned from ear to ear. A surge of what could only be described as joy filled Fitzwilliam, and he steeled himself to force his friend’s emotion from his body. Bingley needed to control himself. The elder Bingley son had been the heir, but he had died five years ago. Bingley was, as a result, head of his family, but with no more than the mere talent of being able to project his happiness onto those around him. The magic suited him. Bingley was so pleased with everything and everyone, it was almost contagious.

A chuckle came from Mr. Bennet. “’Tis an interesting gift you have, sir.”

Bingley reddened. “Forgive me. I had not intended—”

Mr. Bennet held up a hand. “I am not offended. Spreading happiness to others is harmless. I would wager a little joy could do many a great deal of good.”

“Well, Darcy is helping me learn to control my outbursts. They occur less often than they once did.”

“Bingley was often exhausted and drained from the power he was exuding,” said Fitzwilliam. He could recall Bingley’s eyes being red-rimmed and lined with dark circles. Holding in his emotions had been difficult at first, but Bingley had practiced and become more proficient. 

“Forgive me, Mr. Bennet, but I must ask,” said Bingley. Fitzwilliam had to keep from laughing. Bingley wore an expression that made him appear almost like an eager puppy. “But I have heard mentioned that you have five daughters—all reputed to be rather pretty.”

Bennet’s eyebrows shot up. “I do have five daughters, and I believe they are all beautiful in their own way, but I am hardly impartial. My eldest is Jane, then comes Elizabeth, Mary, Kitty, and Lydia.”

“I heard they are all out?” asked Miss Bingley.

“Their mother insisted upon it, so yes, but I would not approve of an engagement for Kitty or Lydia as yet. They are still too silly to understand a lifelong commitment.”

The clock in the hall chimed and Mr. Bennet stood. “Well, I should be returning to Longbourn. Will we see you at the next assembly? I believe it is in a little over a fortnight.”

“Yes,” said Bingley, beaming. “I should be pleased to go.”

“Good.” Bennet stepped forward and offered his hand. 

After Bingley shook it, he held out his arm towards the door. “Let me walk you out.”

Fitzwilliam stood. This was the opportunity he required. “I shall join you.”

His friend shook Bennet’s hand one more time at the front door, but Fitzwilliam stepped outside with Mr. Bennet and walked with the gentleman to his carriage.

“You look just like your father did at this age,” said Mr. Bennet. “I would have recognised you instantly in a crowd. You do have your mother’s eyes and nose, however.”

Fitzwilliam laughed. “Yes, Mrs. Reynolds tells me the same quite often. Has Elizabeth told you of our meeting?”

“She did, but should you not call her Miss Elizabeth?”

“Yes, I should, yet the glimpses I’ve had over the years of her have been frequent enough to make me feel as though I know her. I assure you; I shall address her properly when we are in company.”

The older gentleman dipped his chin with a slight smile. “From what Elizabeth has told me, you intend to court her instead of relying upon the arrangement. Well done, young man. My daughter can be wilful, and she was not best pleased at the idea of marrying a stranger.”

“I dreamt of your conversation of our engagement.”

“A fortuitous foresight I would say,” said Mr. Bennet.

“Yes, I have known of this most of my life while she has not. I am uncertain whether she has had visions of me, so she may not have any attachment. I shall not know more until I can talk to her.”

“She speaks little of what she sees. I have impressed upon her the importance of allowing the future to unfold as it will.”

Fitzwilliam nodded. “Yes, I would not have spoken of the matter unless I was assured it had already happened.”

Mr. Bennet clapped him on the shoulder. “Knowing your father as I did, I am sure you would not. Since I would prefer you to wed my daughter over anyone else, I shall tell you she takes walks every morning, usually in Oakham Forest. She likes the stones and visits them often. There is also a willow near the brook where she seeks solace on occasion.”

“Will she not object to you revealing her sanctuaries?”

He grinned with a slight chuckle. “Most certainly.” He wagged a finger. “But ensure you win over that beast of hers. Herne is quite protective of her.”

Fitzwilliam allowed a quirk of his lips. “She named him Herne?” Herne was said to be a ghost with antlers who haunted Windsor Forest in Berkshire. The name was appropriate.

“She thought it fitting.”

“Well, he did not take issue with me speaking to Elizabeth the night of the equinox festival, but I shall be prepared nonetheless.” An apple or carrot would be appreciated by the stag, would it not? He had never left treats for the deer on Pemberley grounds, but his horses appreciated those particular foods.

“You could see him?”

“Yes; I could also sense the protection spell, but I could not miss him when I approached the forest.”

Mr. Bennet looked at him over his half-moon spectacles. “How fascinating! If I may ask: your friend, Mr. Bingley—I have sensed that he is a good sort of gentleman?”

With a frown, Fitzwilliam shrugged one shoulder. “He can be capricious, but he is not one to do evil. His brother was the heir, but he died five years ago. He was thrown from his horse.”

“How tragic,” said Mr. Bennet.

“Yes, and Bingley was left to take up the mantle. He may have difficulty finding a wife who is willing to settle for a talent, but he is a good fellow. Why do you ask?”

Mr. Bennet waved a hand. “No reason, really. Just wanted to ensure my sense of others is still working properly. But I should go. My wife was in an ill temper when I departed, so I should return.”

“Of course. I hope Mrs. Bennet is feeling better.”

“Thank you, Fitz. . .” He laughed and shook his head. “I should call you Darcy now, though it is strange to do so.”

When Mr. Bennet climbed inside his carriage, Fitzwilliam stepped forward to close the door. “I shall see you soon, sir. Good day.”

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