Netherfield_Rogue Dragon_A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Maria Grace

  Elizabeth sobbed into her hands. Perhaps Papa was right. She had no business trying to do such work. Maybe it was too much for just a woman to handle, and she should leave it to the trained officers and scholars to manage. What was the Order thinking, sending her on such an errand? What would they do if she failed?

  Chapter 4

  Darcy steadied his horse and shaded his eyes, watching Walker cut through the grey-blue sky, just below the clouds, occasionally passing through a sunbeam that glinted off his vaguely metallic feather-scales. It would not likely rain this afternoon, but the sky definitely would not allow them to forget that it was apt to happen in the near future. As if anyone in all of England ever forgot that was a distinct possibility!

  Walker squawked and dove. Odd for him to be hunting now. It was not as though he had any reason to be hungry—and that had not been a terror-inducing predatory shriek, the kind that paralyzed prey. What was he about? Walker landed—what was that beside him? Or rather, who?

  Walker nudged the huddled woman until she permitted his head under her arm. She threw her arms around the cockatrice, sobbing. The only person whom Walker would permit such intimacies was Elizabeth.

  Darcy jumped off his horse and ran the final few steps, falling to his knees in the field’s tall grass beside them. “Elizabeth?”

  She turned to stare at him, face tear-streaked, eyes swollen.

  He wrapped her in his arms and pulled her close, cradling her head into his shoulder. “Whatever it is, you are not alone.”

  She sobbed harder, clutching at his jacket, rocking with the force of her cries.

  Had he said precisely the wrong thing? It would not be the first time. But it would be nice to understand his error so he did not repeat it. Perhaps he should not say anything. That seemed best, so he pulled her closer and held her tightly until the tears subsided.

  “I did not know to expect you. I thought it would be another two days before you came,” she whispered into his coat.

  “The weather and the roads were very favorable. I hope I have not disappointed.”

  She giggled, then laughed a little hysterically. “No, not at all. I am glad you are come.”

  “I cannot tell you how pleased I am to hear that.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “Will you tell me what has you here in the middle of the fields?”

  “I am just being a silly woman.” She lifted her face and blinked at the sky. Had she ever looked so much a damsel in distress as she did now?

  “There are few who would dare say that of you. I can only guess you have been in the company of one of them recently? Since I do not smell dragon, I imagine you just encountered one of the warm-blooded variety.”

  She snickered and sniffled at the same time, hiccoughing.

  He handed her a handkerchief. “I can hardly imagine Collins driving you to such a state. So that only leaves one candidate. What did your father have to say?”

  She dabbed her eyes and scrubbed her cheeks with the handkerchief. “He is incredibly stubborn and condescending toward what he does not understand.”

  Foolish old goat!

  “Do you wish to tell me about it here, or shall we talk as we walk back to Netherfield?”

  She met his gaze with an odd little quirked-brown one of her own. “Do not think I have mistaken it that either way, you expect I shall be telling you about it.”

  He brushed a stray tear from her cheek with his thumb. If only he could do something more to soothe them away. “If you do not wish to talk about it, I will not force the issue. But since we are partners in this matter, it seems like a reasonable course of action.”

  “Partners.” She leaned her head against his shoulder. “I like the notion of being partners. Yours is a rather uncommon attitude, I do confess.”

  Walker squawked conversationally, as though it were the commonest thing in the world for him to be privy to, much less participate in, such a tête-à-tête.

  “Chalk it up to having a Friend cockatrice who has always insisted that we were equals. It does cause one to think in rather unique ways.”

  She glanced back at Walker. “I knew there was a reason why I admired him so.”

  Her eyes suggested she was teasing. Pray it was so, lest he find himself jealous of a cockatrice.

  Walker bobbed his head and hop-flapped toward them.

  “As much as I value your company, you should go see Cait. She eschews flying more than necessary right now. If you catch her a fresh meal, I know she would receive you with great favor, but avoid the Netherfield rabbits.”

  “Excuse me?” Walker turned his head nearly sideways and gawked at her.

  Had he any idea of how undignified that expression was?

  “The local puck considers them part of her hoard.”

  Walker chirruped, nodding. That one did not interfere with another dragon’s hoard was simply a matter of courtesy—and keeping the peace. He threw himself into the sky and glided toward Longbourn.

  “A puck who hoards rabbits? I have never heard of such a thing. I thought they preferred shiny, glittery bits and bobs.” Good thing Quincy was far easier to please, or none at Rosings would have any peace from him.

  “This one likes fibers as well, especially warm ones. I think that is one of the things she likes about the rabbits, but that is only speculation. I will introduce you. She is a sweet creature, quite unlike the bundle of mischief that is Quincy.” No one else in his acquaintance ever used the word “sweet” to describe a dragon—it would sound disingenuous if they did. But from Elizabeth it was perfectly sincere.

  He stood and offered her a hand up. She took it, brushing the dirt off her skirt as she rose. He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. Perhaps that was too bold, but she was his betrothed—and she would let him know clearly if his attentions were unwanted.

  She smiled up at him—that special smile of hers that warmed his heart and stirred his spirit.

  “April is still away?”

  She pointed to a few distant specks in the sky and nodded, swallowing hard.

  He laid his hand over hers as they walked toward the house. “When my father died, Walker was not certain that he wanted to stay with me. I had grown up with him, but he was grieving my father’s loss as much as I. Walker left for nearly two months—I still do not know where he went or what he did during those months. Old Pemberley was failing and disliked company, so I could not turn to him. Even with all the other dragons on the estate, it was a very lonely, difficult time.”

  Her eyes squeezed shut, and she squeaked as tears flowed down her cheeks.

  Oh, not again! He stopped and pulled back. “Pray, forgive me. I should not have burdened you.”

  “No, no, it is not that, not at all.” She shook her head violently and clutched his hand. “You understand what it means for her to leave me. No one else does.” She crumpled and wept into her hands.

  What else was there to do but to wrap arms around her and hold her tight until she regained control? “I suppose when your best friend is a dragon, there are not many who can relate. I wonder if that was why April was so adamant that I should come back soon—she realized what was in the offing.”

  “You are the only person I have ever known willing to credit my fairy dragon Friend with so much forethought and wisdom.” She held his handkerchief to her face.

  They walked on, her head leaning against his shoulder. While it was deeply regrettable that April had left, was it wrong to be pleased she had given him these moments with Elizabeth in his arms?

  “Our banns have been properly read now.” He held his breath. Pray this did not upset her, too.

  “I expect the whole of Meryton will be glad to see you here. There has been speculation—”

  “That I might not return for you?”

  She tried to shrug away the suggestion with a labored smile that looked more miserable than merry. “You know how people are, and I am … well, considered something of an oddity.”

  Darcy threw back his head an
d laughed. “My dearest Elizabeth, if you are odd, then I can hardly imagine how I am regarded.”

  She looked up at him, brow arched, the edges of her lips curling up just a mite. “I suppose you are correct. It does make us an excellent match, then, does it not?”

  “Really? Is that what you think?” He stared straight into her eyes. Dear God, she meant it! “There are some things that need to be said that cannot wait. Is there a place we can sit?”

  She led him into a bit of woods and a broken-down folly. “Will this do?”

  Dappled shade enveloped them with the sense of a place not quite, but almost entirely forgotten. He sat near the middle of the bench, forcing her to sit near him. Perhaps a bit inelegant, but it did achieve the desired effect.

  He rubbed his hands together before his chest. “I realize that I often do not make a good first impression, and in our case, that impression was a lasting one. I am glad you no longer count my separating you from Pemberley as a blemish on my account.”

  She blushed and dodged his gaze. “I will always regret having thought that of you. It was impulsive and unfair of me.”

  It was far easier not to look at her as he spoke. “I admit it was not a difficult conclusion to draw. Had I been more open, more like Bingley or my cousin Fitzwilliam, perhaps it would have been easier for you to believe more rightly of my character, or at least approach me to discuss the matter.”

  From the corner of his eye, he watched her worry her hands and pick at her apron.

  “I do hope though, as we have worked together for Pemberley’s well-being, that you have seen a more positive side of me. I may not be the most agreeable of men, or one who speaks easily and clearly, but you cannot doubt my sincerity in matters concerning my dragon's welfare—and yours.”

  She rubbed her hands along her shoulders, though she did not seem cold. “Indeed I have seen that, perhaps most clearly in the way so many dragons respect and admire you. That speaks volumes for you.”

  He took one of her hands in his. “I admired you for quite some time before that day in the Dragon Conclave. I had hoped you would have realized it, perhaps understood the regard I had for you. You are so perceptive to the dragons; I thought surely I could not be more difficult to understand than they.”

  “And you would be very, very wrong.” She peeked up at him, the corners of her eyes betraying a hint of amusement.

  “So it would seem. I am sorry for that. Especially if it has given you pause to doubt the nature of our betrothal.”

  “You must agree that it is most unusual, considering the Order just passed new legislation limiting the powers of dragons to decide human marriage, then on its heels they all but order our own betrothal. And Mary and Mr. Collins’ as well. Do not forget them.” She rolled her eyes. Was that just for Collins or the entire situation?

  “I would rather forget him, thank you very much. But their circumstance does not alter the fact that we are to be married.” Dare he look into her eyes right now? Would her amusement continue, or would he find a core truth that he would rather not know?

  “I grant you, our betrothal was—is—rather peculiar.”

  “And entirely untoward—without so much as even a declaration of friendship from me, to be pushed into accepting an offer of marriage.” He threw his hands up.

  She looked away.

  Perhaps she did not want to hear more, but if he did not speak now, there might not be another chance. “I was a fool not to listen to Walker. He implored me—on more than one occasion—to tell you explicitly how I felt about you. I deferred, certain that you would not be interested or that it was neither the time nor place for it. Better moments would present themselves. As usual, Walker was right.”

  “I imagine he is aware of that.”

  “Yes. And he has not hesitated to let me know in no uncertain terms. He does revel in reminding me of what an idiot I can be.” He glanced over his shoulder. It would be like Walker to appear behind him just in time to hear such an admission.

  “They enjoy their shows of dominance, do they not?”

  “I suppose that is an advantage to having a fairy dragon as a companion.”

  “Ha! Is that what you think? Have you noticed the scars on my ears?” She covered both ears with her hands.

  “April is the only fairy dragon of my acquaintance to be so bold.”

  “I suppose you are right. Ladies generally prefer a milder disposition like Heather’s. April refused that sort of companion right from the start. She was quite ready to attempt to fend for herself rather than settle for a Friend who did not match her temperament. She thinks very highly of you, though.”

  He took both her hands and held them close to his chest. “I think very highly of you. I wish I had told you of my ardent admiration well before we stood before the Conclave and agreed to marry. I know you only accepted because of our Friends’ assurances and certainty in the match. I wish you could have accepted me on my merits alone.”

  She laughed. “You really think I would accept a man without the approval of my dragon friends?”

  “I have no doubt—you would not. Still, one does not substitute for the other. I would very much like for you to accept me for myself alone.” It was probably far too familiar a gesture, but he stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. So silky and soft.

  She smiled, and her eyes glistened. “Would it tell you anything to know that you are the only man April has ever approved of for me?”

  “I would still like to know I have your approval as well.”

  “I believe my chances of happiness, upon entering the marriage state, are at least as good with you as with any other Dragon Keeper, so you will do.” There was that playful quirk of her eyebrow again.

  “I will accept that, though I admit I was hoping for a bit more.” Hopefully he did not look as crestfallen as he felt.

  She gasped. “Forgive me! I am apt to resort to levity when I know not what else to say. My feelings are in such turmoil, I hardly know how to express myself. Does it say what you need to know that the days here have been increasingly lonely, and when I have considered what company I would most desire, I have come to the conclusion it is yours?”

  “Even above your dragons’? That is indeed a compliment.”

  “It makes me understand—a little—April’s desire to be with her own kind.” Her lip quivered as she spoke.

  Heaven’s above, had she any idea of what that expression—what those words—did to him! No man could be expected to endure such without responding.

  Her lips were warm and soft against his as she yielded in his arms, her arms twining around his shoulders. Could she feel his heart ready to beat out of his chest as he pulled her close? So right, so very right. This was where she belonged, where she had always belonged, where she must remain.

  Her breath came in short pants, ragged and hot on his cheek. Dragons’ Blood! If he did not find some control soon …

  “Chicken feet? Chicken feet!”

  They jumped apart.

  Two forest wyrms looked up at them expectantly, a bit of drool sliding down the male’s leonine fang.

  Elizabeth scratched their ears through their manes, still gasping for breath. She probably had no idea of what a picture she was presenting for him as she leaned down to reach them. “I am afraid not; we were not planning to come here today.”

  Their chins sank to the ground. Manipulative little creatures for sure. Still, the friendship of any local dragon was worth maintaining. Darcy reached into his pocket and removed a large snuffbox enameled with the crest of the Order in gold over blue. He opened the box and held it out to Elizabeth.

  Her nose wrinkled. “What is that?”

  “It is rather pungent, is it not? Those are the beetles Gardiner imports that made him a Friend of the Order.”

  The wyrms rose up almost as high as Darcy’s knees, sniffing and tasting the air with forked tongues.

  “Would these do for you?” He placed a dried beetle in front of
each wyrm.

  The wyrms sniffed the beetles all around, licked them several times then snatched them up. A little green goo dotted their lips as they crunched down on their prizes. They squealed in delight. No wonder the dragons had named Gardiner a special Friend of the Order.

  “More?” The male asked, a beetle leg and antennae hanging from the edge of his mouth.

  Darcy reached into the snuff box again, but Elizabeth stayed his hand.

  “You may have more, but you must promise to bring us news of the great blue one. Tell him we wish to meet him.”

  The pair skirted back, undecided. Darcy retrieved a second beetle for each and held them up in their sight.

  The female quivered and darted forward, eyes on the crunchy prize. “I will tell him.”

  Darcy set her treat on the ground before her. One did not risk one’s fingers to an unfamiliar dragon, no matter how harmless it might seem.

  The male grumbled and hissed. “He comes to the cellar every night waiting for your message. He is not happy you have not written back.”

  Elizabeth nodded, and Darcy delivered the prize.

  “You may tell him that he was very rude. I do not wish to be, so I am carefully considering my reply.”

  Whether or not the wyrm heard or cared through his beetle-fueled delight was difficult to tell.

  “Bring us more information like that and there are beetles and chickens’ feet for you.” Darcy snapped the snuff box closed. The smaller female wyrm wound herself around his ankles with a sound that was not quite a purr, not quite a growl, but it was friendly whatever it was, then disappeared into the forest loam. The male quickly followed.

  Darcy shoved the snuff box back into his pocket. “Does this sort of thing often happen to you? Dragons just showing up out of nowhere ready to answer your questions and throwing themselves at your feet.”

  “Regularly. For as long as I can remember.” She chuckled. “It occurred far more often after April befriended me. My poor father—I think I nearly drove him to distraction—he never knew what sort of dragon I would come across next. Did I ever tell you how I became friendly with a basilisk?”