Power and Prestige: A Fantasy Austen Retelling (Magical Regency Book 1) Page 2

  Magical abilities? What could he mean? Sure, Gynelle had a naturally good temperament...but she wasn’t magical. How could he know what magic existed? And how could he be so fastidious? To not interact with anyone who did not prove magical—he’d have to forego acquaintances with everyone in Meryton. This part of Hertfordshire boasted no mages of any sort.

  “She did not hint of any ability to me,” Blythesome beamed, “but I feel like she just must be magical. Regardless, I say she’s lovely.” Blythesome’s profile smiled and nodded eagerly, “Her youngest sister, they say, is a skilled dancer, so if for no other reason, you ought to ask her…”

  “Good heavens, have you heard her speak? When someone opens their mouth and inserts their foot, even if it is a light, dancing foot, I cannot abide such nonsense.”

  It was a harsh sentiment, but it did contain some truth.

  Blythesome smiled, undeterred. “There is the middle daughter. Master Lywin informed me she is a heb, having no power, like his own children. Notwithstanding, I danced with her already and a quicker wit or more pleasant girl you won’t find anywhere.”

  Cassia stifled a wince as the pompous man stole a glance over his shoulder in her direction and then faced his head forward, with a lowered tone.

  “Oh Blythe. She is neither powerful enough, handsome enough, nor witty enough to tempt me. You waste your smiles. Go bestow them elsewhere.”

  Cassia’s voice caught in her throat. How dare he. The air around her felt cold and oppressive suddenly, despite the warm ballroom.

  Cidel looked away swiftly and clenched her skirt.

  She had heard it too, then.

  Cassia dropped her voice to a tiny whisper. “Do not be uneasy for me, Cidel. No part of me wished to dance with him before he spoke such things and this has solidified that I do not wish to dance with him now.”

  “They say he owns half of Derbyshire.”

  “The miserable half,” said Cassia as she stood and walked away.

  Gaius Darkwood inched further away from his friend and surveyed the room.

  Blythesome turned back to the dance as that Retton sister, the middle one, with the dark curls passed him. Gaius had just declared her unremarkable, but their eyes caught for a moment, hers wide and intense.

  They were very fine eyes. Hazel-brown, with hints of gold.

  She quickly looked away but he continued to watch her, noting her majestic gait. The smoothness of it reminded him of his favorite winged creature, the one he had known since childhood, who usually remained at Derbyshire. The one who had brought news, yet again, of sensing his stolen relic. For half of the next set, he almost wished she was his partner.

  But he held strong, not dancing once. Two sets later he found himself next to Blythesome who had somehow been reeled into Mistress Retton’s net.

  “My Gynelle has been a favorite in Hertfordshire for years,” she claimed, with too much confidence. “One young man did wish to marry her. He wrote a few fine poems…”

  The middle sister looked mortified at such a telling, nearly shielding Miss Retton from her mother as and the color in Miss Retton’s face had heightened considerably.

  Finally Miss Retton’s sister thrust her hand out and cut off her mother. “And that was the ruin of it, you see.” She looked around the group with a small smile, glancing quickly past her mother’s frown until her eyes rested on his own.

  Miss Cassia. Apparently the bold one, possessing the brightest eyes. Brown, but almost flecked with gold. Maybe he imagined the flecks.

  Gaius found himself talking before he could stop himself. “I thought that poetry was the very mode to encourage affection.”

  Miss Cassia smiled, which proved bewitching in itself, “Perhaps a healthy, solidified love. Words do hold power for those who wield them well. But in this circumstance, such prose had an adverse effect.”

  “Then what, pray tell us, can one do to encourage affection?”

  “Dancing,” she said, taking her sister by her hands, “even if one’s partner is not as powerful or beautiful as you would like.”

  Gaius’ shrewd eyes grew narrow. She curtsied, excused herself, and sailed away with her older sister across the room.

  Did she really just use his words against him? He, the richest and most powerful man in the room? Didn’t she comprehend who she was dealing with? He knew how to craft his words and use his magical ability so people wished to capitulate to him. He shook his head. He wouldn’t let her affect him. He came to support Blythesome. And to find his relic. If he ever had to interact with this Miss Cassia again, he’d make sure she understood his power.

  And yet there was something to those eyes.

  Chapter Two

  “And then,” cried Mistress Retton, “He danced a second time with our dear Gynelle. You missed it while you were occupied in the card room. Can you believe it, Master Retton, of all the good luck and fortune?”

  “Yes, yes, dear,” he said, gesturing for Alyria to pass him the bread, “Shall I order her wedding gown today or tomorrow?"

  “Ohhh!” cried Mistress Retton as her utensil pummeled the potatoes on her plate. “You shall not be the one to order wedding clothes! And of course not, at least not yet, Master Retton. I simply mean to say he is very close to falling in love with her,” she finished, thrusting a forkful in her mouth for effect.

  “It is entirely possible, mama,” said Cassia, “that someone does not fall in love after one dance.”

  With a more subdued tone Gynelle added, “And no matter our dancing, I think it wise to not jump to any conclusions…”

  At this the bell rang and the manservant brought in a letter to Alyria from the newly married Mistress Laine inviting her to tea again.

  “May I go mama?” Alyria said, clutching it. The girl loved anyone who doted on her, and this Mistress Laine treated Alyria as an especial favorite.

  “Of course,” said Mistress Retton. Alyria bounded out of the room to change her gown.

  Cassia found herself again wanting fresh air. “I am going for a walk. Does anyone wish to join?”

  Master Retton had already retreated to the study, and Cassia knew too well her mother detested such exertion. “I will come,” said Gynelle.

  “Walk toward Netherfield, ladies,” their mother admonished as they donned their bonnets.

  “I actually wish to take her suggestion,” said Gynelle, as they linked arms.

  “So be it,” said Cassia and they set out toward the south hill between their two properties.

  Finally alone, Gynelle spoke freely. “He really was a good dancer, Cassia. So much more refined than the usual gentlemen I dance with. Yet he complimented my skill, which I think isn’t much.”

  “Gynelle, you are always underestimating yourself. I saw you, and you were radiant last night.” Cassia wished she could instill more confidence in her sister. She was so meek, unassuming, and kind, which were the best of qualities but sometimes she sold herself short. Cassia opened her mouth to say more, when she saw three men on horseback a quarter mile away.

  “Do you think—” Gynelle broke off suddenly. Cassia didn’t even need to turn fully to notice her sister’s blushing cheeks.

  A long gangly arm waved at them, its owner shouting, “Hello!”

  Within a minute the gentlemen closed the distance.

  “Good-day,” said Mage Blythesome. “What a pleasure it is to see you two out of doors.” The girls curtsied, and Cassia wondered who the third young man could be. Blythesome meddled with his hat but tried for more conversation. “Oh forgive me.” Mage Blythesome gestured toward the man to his left. “Miss Retton and Miss Cassia allow me to present to you High Mage Darkwood’s cousin. Mage Colonel Caliazo of London.”

  Cassia had taken note of the additional rider’s agreeable countenance. The man possessed a tan complexion and tight curly hair and bowed his head as he touched his hat.

  “I had just arrived, so they were showing me the grounds. But please, no need for the long title. Colonel wil
l suffice,” said Colonel Caliazo. His smile was quite genuine. The man didn’t wish to draw attention to his Mage status. Cassia liked him already.

  “We are terribly sorry to interrupt your ride,” said Gynelle, her shoulders lifting with her nerves.

  Cassia wished to rescue the situation, but Blythesome dismounted from his horse. “Not at all! We would love to join you on your walk, if you’ll have us.”

  Cassia couldn’t help but notice the way Darkwood’s mouth drew into a tight line. He had little patience for his friend’s new interest, but dismounted his horse all the same.

  The party continued on, Gynelle and Blythesome chattering nervously and lagging behind as Cassia walked on more quickly with both Darkwood and Caliazo to her right.

  After a long silence from the back half of the party, Colonel Caliazo spoke quietly to his cousin. “So no ley lines in Netherfield, Dark?”

  “None that I’ve felt or that are well mapped. Meryton seems quite void of magic.”

  Was that all these men cared about? A ley line, Cassia knew, was an invisible river of magic that ran through different parts of England. She understood magical abilities depleted with repeated use, but a person could draw more power or refresh theirs when a strong ley line was nearby.

  Caliazo stopped a moment and looked past his cousin at Cassia. “Forgive me for even speaking about that. It was just what we were discussing when you came upon us.” He smiled as he continued his conversation. “Have you lived in Meryton all your life?”

  Cassia was grateful for some kind of conversation directed toward her, though it felt odd speaking over the somber obelisk of a man between them. “Yes. My father prefers it here. He isn’t too fond of, well I suppose ley lines and all you spoke of just now, so Meryton suited his fancy. And Longbourn is a good house.”

  Caliazo nodded and Darkwood peered at her with intense disapproval. Cassia brought her hand up to the tip of her nose. A raindrop had somehow made it past her bonnet and the sky darkened quickly.

  “I did not expect rain,” Gynelle called toward her sister. Gynelle never expected anything contrary, not even in rainy England. They could turn back toward home, but Cassia knew they were closer to Netherfield than Longbourn by a good mile.

  “Will you both come to Netherfield?” an increasingly wet Blythesome called over the rain. “You may stay until it passes.”

  Cassia had just crested a hill and Netherfield could be seen a half mile away.

  “Thank you so much,” Cassia heard Gynelle say.

  At least the rain and the necessity to hurry made it so she didn’t have to keep up a conversation with High Mage Darkwood so near. He was too sullen, not apt to easy words.

  Cassia knew she was the faster walker, but it wasn’t until she and High Mage Darkwood and Colonel Caliazo came up the park that she realized Gynelle and Mage Blythesome had trailed even farther behind.

  “I do hope they come quickly,” Cassia said quietly, “or Gynelle might catch a chill.”

  “Yes, that is true,” said the sedate voice of High Mage Darkwood. “May I fetch you a blanket, and one for your sister as well?”

  “Oh, yes, thank you.” said Cassia, surprised at his awareness.

  Colonel Caliazo had stopped near them and seemed to study Darkwood for a moment. A warm breeze seemed to brush her cheek for a moment. It almost smelled of peppermint. Soon Caliazo was at her side.

  “I am so sorry about the rain,” he said. “Your dress—the hem is nearly ruined with mud.”

  “It is no matter,” she smiled. “I often go walking in this dress.”

  Darkwood returned with blankets and Cassia wrapped one around her. They still stood on the threshold of the entryway, waiting for Gynelle.

  Colonel Caliazo stepped closer to Cassia, but High Mage Darkwood’s long stride beat him to her as he extended his arm. “May I escort you inside?”

  “I had better wait for my sister.” At such a statement, the pompous High Mage Darkwood’s haughty brow furrowed. She guessed he wasn’t often turned down. She marveled he would even offer. The cousin seemed much more amiable, but his arm was not the one before her.

  “Are you sure? It is drafty here.” She watched his right hand ball into a fist as it hung at his side.

  “Yes quite, sir. I have a strong constitution. I often walk alone in the country and am not afraid of rain.”

  She saw him peer at her, seemingly miffed at her audacity. He then stared intently and rubbed his right thumb against the index finger in agitation.

  “You are sure?” he pressed. Cassia thought she felt something tangible, like a brisk wind, blow toward her face, pressing into her, and then rebounding away again. His eyes focused on her own.

  She nodded and smiled and said in an easy voice, “Gynelle is almost here.” Then something else, something warm and swishy, and slightly of peppermint brushed her neck, from the Colonel’s direction. Their eyes met and he smiled at her. Caliazo looked from herself to Darkwood.

  A small grunt drew her eyes back to Darkwood in time to notice his eyes widen in frustration, his angled jaw clenching. Something grew tense and strange between her and High Mage Darkwood, but luckily Gynelle came inside then, Blythesome’s arms nearly propping her up.

  “It was ever so slippery,” Gynelle said, clearly fatigued, her dress entirely bespeckled with mud. “Thank you, Mage Blythesome, for your help.”

  “Here, let me assist you inside,” he said, not leaving her. Darkwood handed the other blanket to Blythesome who placed it on Gynelle. “Let us take your sister to more comfortable rooms,” said Blythesome as he led Gynelle to the banister. Luckily it was a short flight of stairs.

  At the top of the stairs, Cassia let herself finally glance from her sister to Darkwood and Caliazo who stayed below. High Mage Darkwood rubbed his fingers against his palm as he paced the floor. Colonel Caliazo did not move, standing quite composed and whispered something quietly to his cousin.

  Again she felt a gust of something pass through the stale upstairs air. If she could have quantified it, she’d have said it felt cold and jagged. It also carried a weight, like it pressed against her, but only for a moment. She couldn’t be certain, but she felt it came from Darkwood’s presence. Why did he seem always disapproving of her? She didn’t trust him, that was certain. She would focus on Gynelle and stay as far away from him as possible.

  Gaius Darkwood was sure the temperature of the house had risen ten degrees since he entered it with Miss Cassia Retton. His nerves hadn’t calmed and he paced in an agitated mess.

  No girl had ever refused his arm before. And no one had ever not found his ideas agreeable when he used his magic on them. How had his powers not worked with Cassia?

  Caliazo turned from the stairs and looked at Gaius. “Miss Cassia seems a smart, pleasant girl.”

  “Perhaps,” was all Gaius could muster. Why had his cousin noticed her good qualities?

  As soon as it stopped raining, he would find his horse. He needed to ride.

  As far as his valet had informed him, very few people in Hertfordshire had any magical abilities. Miss Cassia Retton was not one of them—he had been informed about the Rettons specifically. Her father had an ability for the word, retaining knowledge of everything he ever read, but for some reason had not used his ability in any special way for several years. He had been ranked a master as a young man by a local authority, but Gaius found it strange the man didn’t use his power. Master Retton’s eldest daughter had the wonderful attribute Blythesome noticed yesterday, of contagious amiability, though it was so underdeveloped no one but a very skilled mage would recognize it as a magical ability.

  The Lywins were all hebs, having no discernible magical ability. The rest of Mistress Retton’s family had no magic, either. There weren’t even the occasional anomalies that sometimes manifested themselves in a non-magical family.

  So if anyone could have challenged or fought against his strong magic, it shouldn’t have been her. His gift was business acumen, with an a
bility to persuade people to believe and have confidence in whatever he said. He could create mental pressure, artfully moving, weaving, and bending a person’s thoughts to more closely align with his own, like a subtle push of persuasiveness they were unaware of. He could never control their minds, but he could make his ideas seem much more appealing. So he had rubbed his thumb and fingers together, trying to persuade Cassia to take his arm, but she had refused. Outright!

  Even powerful high mages thought his ideas clever when he employed his subtle magic. This ability was a secret his family had bartered from Merlin in the beginning, unlike most magical families whose magic manifested in various abilities. This ability hadn’t always been used for good, and its draw had surely had its effects on his family. His mother had it in spades, and his aunt too.

  The Rettons, he was informed, did not have their girls presented before a magistrate to assess their magical title of mistress. And with no present ability, of course their family employed no governess to hone the girls’ talents. Surely no one in Hertfordshire had gone through the schooling of those with true ability to master their power and present themselves for magical ranking.

  Caliazo had watched him think for another moment but must have sensed the brooding man wanted to be left alone, for he stepped into the drawing room.

  Gaius opened the front door, stepping onto the patio in the rain. His thoughts drew him back to the fine eyes, their dark amber hue almost glittering with gold, and the sure, quick tongue of Miss Cassia. It couldn’t be possible she had abilities no one knew about; he would have felt it if she had.

  But his abilities hadn’t worked just then, a gentle press of a good idea. Instead, it had swirled away—turned back somehow. That had never happened before.

  It frightened him.

  By the late evening it was determined Gynelle had indeed caught a chill. A letter was dispatched to Longbourn, and Blythesome urged the sisters to stay until she was well enough to be moved.