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For those of you catching up with this for the first time, this story is written in round robin form by our authors, but the plot was chosen by readers on the Fantasy Reads for Austen Fans Facebook page. They voted on the main story line (second chance at love), magical system (animal familiars), setting (a magical library), original character (Darcy’s valet who is also his magical mentor), magical creature (griffin), and more.

Our authors are: Abigail Reynolds, Victoria Kincaid, Melanie Rachel, Sarah Courtney, Lari Ann O’Dell,  and me, Monica Fairview.

Last week, Darcy made his third and final request to the Library.  It’s time to discover what that request will be. Is it possible for Darcy and Elizabeth to find a happy ending?

Don’t forget to check in next week when Victoria Kincaid gives us the finale.

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Chapter 25

 

Elizabeth felt as if she was seeing the world through a thick mist, but as she walked away from Mr. Darcy, her emotions began to stir. Very carefully, making sure there would be no unexpected consequences, she withdrew from her magical connection to the Library. As her magic shrank, the other Librarians receded to the background and reality came rushing in.

Mr. Darcy was leaving again. Seeing him had cut into her, through and through, threatening to strip her of all her defenses. And now her heart was shredding into tattered ribbons on an old scarecrow, weathered and bleached of all color.

She shut her eyes, willing herself to keep an iron control. She could not afford to feel. The last few days she had been working like an automaton, her body an empty shell, an mere imitation of herself. If she stopped to think about her loss, it would be very difficult for her to find the strength she needed to do her work.

Her only consolation was that she knew it would pass. She had gone through all this before and knew that it would get easier. It would never go away completely, but the impact would dwindle. The wound would turn into a scar, itching and tugging, constantly reminding her of what she had lost, but with time, it would fade.

Though she was sorely tempted, Elizabeth would not go to him. She had bid farewell to Mr. Darcy already. She fought against the tightness in her chest, the bile that burned in her throat. The books stirred in response, and she had to ruthlessly shut down all thought. She dwelled on irrelevant things, like the oranges she received as a thank you gift from a supplicant who had a hothouse. They were a rare luxury. She had meant to send them back but had been too caught up in Library business. Just as well. She needed something nice to distract her. In a few minutes she would go and peel an orange, slowly and carefully. She imagined the sting of the juice on her tongue.

Anything rather than think of Mr. Darcy.

But as she turned to request the oranges, she realized Mr. Darcy had not moved, and suddenly his words broke through her haze. She snapped her attention back to him.

“Another request?”

What was Darcy thinking? In the entire history of the Library, only one person had used up all three of his requests, and he had come to rue that day. Having that last request might have prevented his life being cut short. It deprived the world of a brilliant philosopher.

She had not yet completed her withdrawal from the Library. It responded to her worry by creating a whirlwind. Books rose in the air in agitation and came hurtling towards her.

Your Eminence. Stop this immediately. Abraxas’ voice broke through the turbulence and steadied her.

She raised her hand in time to stop a book from striking her in the face and took a long, measured breath. She had to rein herself in. She was not Elizabeth. She was the Librarian.

As the Library settled back down, the books lining up neatly on the shelves again, she glanced towards Darcy to make sure he was not injured. He had backed himself up against the wall, but appeared unharmed. Abraxas was standing in the doorway, radiating disapproval.

She took refuge in ritual. Mr. Darcy had a request. She needed to answer it. Returning to the familiar chair, she opened her mind to the ancient wisdom of the Library and to all the knowledge passed down the generations. Once she was certain she was back in control, she uttered the traditional words.

“Tell me what you wish to know, Mr. Darcy, and I will do what I can to fulfil your request. How may I help you?”

Darcy took a deep breath. “There is a great deal of work to be done, and it is my understanding that many Librarians train a curator to help them in their research and to—” he paused and swallowed before continuing, “—take over in case of unforeseen circumstances. My magic is strong. I can be an asset to the Library. I am willing to undertake the training to take up such a position. I want to dedicate my life to the work of the Library. I have come to ask for the position of Curator. That is my request.”

The moment Darcy stopped speaking, Elizabeth cut off her mental connection to the Library. The sudden withdrawal brought an agonizing pain stabbing through her head. She pressed her fingertips to the side of her temple, trying to ease it. Her emotions reeled drunkenly as she tried to grasp the enormity of what he had just said.

He wanted a position in the Library. It had to be the most foolhardy, irresponsible thing she had ever heard in her life.

She stood and strode over to him, ignoring the pain piercing her head.

“What in heaven’s name do you think you are doing, Mr. Darcy? Have you lost your mind completely? Did your time in Faerie rob you of your senses?”

“William,” he answered, serenely. “You should call me William now.” He took up both her hands in his.

She pulled them away. “No.”

“No? You do not want to call me William? Very well, we will use one of my middle names.”

How could he joke in such a supremely flippant manner?

“I will not allow you to do such a foolish thing.”

His eyes flashed. The careless façade dropped. He looked hurt and angry. What did he expect? That she would sing his praises for such a singularly rash decision to throw away his whole life?

“I am sorry to disappoint you, Your Eminence, but I have already done it.”

“You have not yet received a response.”

He raised his brow. “I may be mistaken about this, but I was under the impression the Librarian cannot refuse a request once it has been entered into the records.”

She did not deign to answer. There had to be a way out. She tried to concentrate through the pounding of her head. True. His question had already been submitted. Even if she did find some reason not to take him on as a curator, he would still have used up his third request.

She spun and walked away from Mr. Darcy, out into the courtyard. The sun glinted at her, blinding her after being indoors for so long. Her head throbbed. She squeezed her eyes shut and breathed heavily, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

Why did Darcy have to do such a stupid thing? She shook her head and tightened her fists in sheer frustration and dismay. Foolish, foolish man! How on earth was she supposed to repair the damage now?

“Elizabeth?”

She had not heard his footsteps as he approached. Twisting her body away, she refused to look at him. Something warm and damp trickled down her cheek. She wiped it with the back of her hand. Tears.

She was crying.

“Elizabeth?”

His hand settled on her arm. The touch was light, but it rippled through her body. She shrugged it off and wrapped her hands around herself, folding her shoulders forward and leaning away from him.

“Elizabeth.”

It was the third time he had said her name. There was something binding about it. It forced her to turn around and confront him.

“You should not have done it.” Her voice was heavy.

“It is done.”

“Not yet.”

But she knew it was inevitable. He was right. She could not refuse what he asked. She had no reason to, nothing that would convince the Library, at any rate. He was a good candidate for a curator. He had all the necessary qualities. He was perfect.

The fight went out of her.

Instead, she began to imagine what it would be like to have him here, by her side.

“But how can we live together here, day after day, and—”

“—not marry? That would be very improper.” Darcy looked at her tenderly. He reached out and hooked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “It seems Abraxas has found a solution.”

Elizabeth looked towards the old griffin, her eyes narrowing on him.

You knew about this. You planned this. It was not a sudden impulse on Darcy’s part, then.

We were not certain until today.

Who is we?

Hespera and I. There was a smugness to his voice.

Hespera? So you did not plan this with Darcy?

There was a rumble of amusement. We kept him informed of our progress.

She did not know how to feel about any of this, so she focused on what was important.

Are we allowed to marry?

There is a requirement for the Librarian not to marry, of course, and that cannot be overcome. However, the rule says specifically that the Librarian may not take a husband or wife outside the Library. I have researched the matter thoroughly, and the wording is always the same. As confirmation, Hespera consulted with King Malus, and we just received confirmation. He has agreed that the stipulation only applies to marrying outside the Library. It is irregular, of course. But you must consider that there are few people who would wish to live within the confines of the Library. Mr. Darcy is sacrificing a great deal to do so.

I know.

Darcy was watching her, his eyes grave. “Has Abraxas explained to you that it is possible?”

“He has, but I am not yet convinced.”

Even as she spoke the words, a strange sensation spread through her body. A sense of buoyancy and lightness she had never experienced before. A lifeboat on a gray, raging sea. She held it back. She could not allow herself to believe such happiness was possible, not at the expense of everything he held dear. And yet.

“You cannot give up everything for me.” She whispered the words, because, even though it was the thing she wanted most in the world, she could never ask it of him.

“I am giving up nothing. Pemberley is an edifice, a building. I will not deny that I love it, but I cannot love a building more than I love you. For me, it is nothing more than an empty husk if you are not there.”

The words shuddered through her, tempting her, urging her to accept. She stood firm against their allure.

“But who will take care of it? Who will inherit it? You cannot simply relinquish it! It has belonged to the Darcys for generations.”

“And it will continue to do so. Georgiana will need somewhere to live, now that she no longer has a familiar. Between her and Galon, the estate is in excellent hands. As for the future, we shall have to see.”

There was a promise in the depth of his eyes and her heart lurched. Children. It had never been a possibility for her, not since she had come to the Library.

“But what about your position in society? Your power?”

“Power? How can you ask me this? You have seen what the pursuit of power has done to my aunt. It created a monster.”

“You are not a monster, just because you have power.”

“I am glad you do not think so.” The corner of his mouth curled.

She pursed her lips, refusing to laugh. She had to convince him.

“What about your family?”

He frowned. “It is a loss, I agree. I do not know when I will be allowed to see Georgiana again. I will miss her sorely.” He smiled. “But do you really think I would be willing to give you up so I can spend time with my sister?”

She shook her head. “You are making light of it. I know what it means to be confined to the Library. I have missed my family more than I can say.”

“Would you give it up, to return to Meryton and live at Longbourn? Do you long to join Society? To dance at a ball and wear fine dresses?”

Female vanity raised its head. “Are you hinting that my dress is not fine?” It was a ridiculous question, given the circumstances.

His eyes skimmed across her, examining her with a boldness that made her flush. His gaze was intimate, brushing across her skin like a physical touch. She shivered in response, her senses tingling.

“Your dress could not be more perfect.”

She could not doubt his sincerity. His eyes held a strange warm light. Flustered, she took a step backward, trying to hold onto some measure of rationality. She would not let him distract her. It was up to her to prevent him from making a huge mistake.

She tried to recall what they were talking about. Ah, yes. He was asking her if she wanted to join society.

“I have no interest in London Society.” She considered the things she did miss. Dancing. She loved to dance. “When I first came here, I was obsessed by the need to prove myself, to prove that Lady Catherine was mistaken, and that my magic was strong. Since then, I have seen that I can make a difference in the world. There will be Librarians after me, but I know that while I am alive, I want to do my part in helping others. I could never give that up for a few dances and events in the London Season. But you – would you want to miss them all?”

“As you know very well, I am not particularly fond of dancing, and I do not feel comfortable around strangers.”

He crossed his arms and planted his feet, waiting for more questions from her. She tried to think of objections, but she had run out of possibilities. The tension left her body and she trembled.

She had never even allowed herself to dream they could be together. It was too overwhelming to take it all in. Desperate, she clutched onto one of the fears that had kept her awake at night.

“I thought you would hate me for—.” Her voice cracked. “—for what happened to Lady Catherine. I thought you would never forgive me for what I did.”

She looked down, hiding her face, afraid to see his expression.

Darcy put his finger under her chin and tilted her face up.

“I could never hate you, my love.” The truth shone out of his eyes. His voice was deep and tender. “If anything, I admire you for your courage to do what had to be done. My aunt created devastation and chaos in her wake. She decimated crops, caused earthquakes, and destroyed the livelihoods of thousands of people, and all for nothing beyond her personal gain. She used her position as Patroness to eliminate any mages that were strong enough to be a threat. She destroyed us. Those years she stole from us can never be replaced.”

Still, Elizabeth felt she owed him an explanation. “King Malus offered her the choice between the waters of Lethe and death. She chose death. I tried my best to convince her to drink the waters, but she did not wish to suffer the indignity of losing her power and position.”

Elizabeth needed him to understand how it was, that she would not have condemned Lady Catherine to death if there had been another a choice.

“Lady Catherine was a fool, and you were far too merciful.”

A sob made its way up her throat as a terrible weight of guilt was lifted from her.

“Are you sure you want to spend your life in the Library? Will you not grow tired of it one day, and regret it? You cannot leave, once you take your oath.”

“It is no ordinary library, you know. It is an enchanted library. I would be delighted to spend the rest of my life exploring what it has to offer – with you.” He paused and stared at her, his gaze humble and open. “If you will have me.”

The walls she had set up to protect her crumbled. She had wished for this possibility for so long, she was afraid to wake up and discover it was a dream.

“I have longed for those words for five whole years,” she replied. “My answer is yes, yes, and yes. Three times.”

The words inscribed themselves in a warm light in the air between them.

Darcy reached out and crushed her to him. She buried her face in his shoulder, reveling in his scent of cedarwood and bergamot and something bluntly masculine, and wished she could stay there forever.

Abraxas spoke into her mind. Have you resolved things between you?

She stiffened. Darcy felt the change in her body and released her.

Abraxas. Go away.

Not until you answer.

Very well. We have resolved things.

Then you had better grant him his request.

She could not possibly turn into the Librarian, not when her feelings were so raw. Not when she was ready to soar with joy.

Give me a few minutes.  

“Is there anything the matter?” Darcy examined her intently. “Did you think of something else to object to?

“No. It is Abraxas. He wants to know what is happening.”

He groaned. “Will we never have a moment’s peace?”

“It is the price we will have to pay. Are you—”

“Do not ask me again if I am prepared to pay it.”

“Very well, I will not. Besides, there are compensations to being giving up your life outside. You may have given up Pemberley, but you have gained the world. Come with me and I will show you.”

She took his hand, leading him out of the courtyard, through a dark passageway, and down a worn circular stair into an octagonal room full of doors. Doors on every wall, sometimes two or three of them. Stone doors, wooden doors, doors in every style, ancient and modern. She took him to one decorated with ornate curls of filigree. There, she came to a halt.

“Are you certain you want to come with me?” she asked, with a hint of mischief. “How do you know where I will lead you?”

“You hold my life in your hand. Just being with you like this, breathing the same air as you, is a treasure beyond my dreams. I want to luxuriate in your presence and never let you go. And to do so, so much more with you.”

He ran his fingertip along her palm. She gave a little shiver and he laughed, pleased to see her reaction.

A blush stained her cheeks as she opened the door and were met by a climate that could not be England. They stepped through, hot, dry air meeting them. Loud sounds and unfamiliar scents filled the air. As she leaned back against him, surveying the scene, she could feel his heart pounding.

“Where are we?” he asked in a hushed voice.

“Alexandria,” she said with a touch of pride. She pointed around her. “This is the site of the old library that existed in the third century BC. It was burnt to the ground, but the fae managed to salvage many of those ancient tomes and hold them underground in structures that rival the burial tombs of the Pyramids.”

She stepped away from him, wishing they could stay. “We cannot linger today, but we will return.” She tugged at him, pulling him back through the doorway and up the spiral stairway. “When we have time, I could show you worlds you cannot imagine. From the Library, we can travel to many lands. We could visit the ruins of Babylon, take a stroll beside the Taj Mahal at dusk, explore the steppes of Russia, or visit Pompeii any time we choose. We can even step into Faerie, if we have permission. Maybe we can visit that glowing field of flowers again.”

They had reached the top of the stairs. Darcy grimaced. “I would prefer not to face any questions by King Malus ever again.”

Elizabeth’s mouth curled upwards. “At least he gave us your sister’s cure.”

“He did, and because of him, I discovered the depth of your love. I do not regret a moment of our time there. If we had not gone on that quest,” he whispered, “I might never have known this happiness. You say you are giving me the world, but you are the world to me.”

He trailed his thumb along her jaw. “Besides, there are other ways for us to entertain ourselves.”

“Are there?” She meant to be playful, but his earnest gaze drove the laughter away. She did not know whether to be terrified or exhilarated.

“There are,” he murmured, his lips suddenly so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. “Would you like an example?”

“I would.” Then all words dried up as his lips moved to touch hers. It was a tentative touch, a question, so full of tenderness that her tears welled up with joy. Her knees weakened and she took hold of his collar to steady herself. Her fingers found the rapid drumming of his pulse at the corner of his jaw. Encouraged, he deepened his kiss.

Sometime later – a long time later – she emerged from the warmth of his arms into the light of reality.

“I have to return. There are supplicants waiting for me,” she said, her voice full of regret. “And I have not yet approved your request.”

“You will.” His voice was deep and soothing. With a special smile meant only for her, he pressed her gently back into his arms. She snaked her fingers to the spot where his dark curls met the sinews of his shoulder and gave a sigh of contentment.

This was the true meaning of happiness. She had everything she could ever want, right here at her fingertips.