by Maria Grace
Talia’s hood rose a mite as she rose to tip-toes.
“My sister’s trunks, in the room upstairs, were you in them?”
“Not me. Nothing I want.”
“Are you sure? She has pretty shawls and stockings.” With that tone of voice, Elizabeth managed to make them sound tempting even to him.
“Too much trouble to unravel.”
“Have you any idea who would go in my sister’s trunks?”
“Warm-bloods? Wyrms like long things, perhaps them.”
Wild wyrms in the house? That would be rather odd. But what was not odd about the current situation?
“Might the blue one want them?”
Talia’s hood fully flared, and she hopped back, tail lashing. “No. No. No. He cannot go in the house.” She paced before the rabbit hole, teeth bared.
Darcy reached into his pocket for his snuff box and flicked it open as he pulled it out.
Talia’s hood slicked back, and she stood on her back legs sniffing and licking the air, drool pooling at the edge of her mouth.
“Thank you for your assistance. You have been very helpful.” He offered a beetle.
Talia savored it nearly as much as she had the blue wool. She was nothing if not appreciative.
Once she finished her treat she scuttled up to Darcy and stared into his face, one dainty paw resting on his knee. “I do not understand the blue one. He says he does not like you, does not trust you. He is wrong. You are friend.”
Darcy slowly reached to scratch between her wing nubs. She arched her back to accept.
“Do you know why the blue one says that?” Elizabeth’s voice was barely a whisper.
Talia sat up and shook, rather like a dog, starting at her nose and ending at the very tip of her tail. “Stupid.” She pushed the tin plate into the burrow and disappeared into the darkness.
Darcy helped Elizabeth to her feet.
She dusted her skirt. “I am perplexed. First he does not like me, now he does not like you? How can he possibly know you?”
“I did stay at Netherfield for some time. Perhaps I did something to offend him then?”
“There is no point in speculating. I have owed him a response, and I am going to offer it to him now.” She marched toward the house.
He hurried after her. There were moments one could see why Bennet might find her vexing. “Do you think it wise to ask so provoking a question?”
“No, probably not, but it is precisely what a dragon would do. That seems to be the best option we have. At the very least, it will continue the conversation and might even provoke him into granting us an audience.”
That look on her face! There was no stopping her, so he bit his tongue and followed. She was probably right, even if he had misgivings. Was this what life would be like with her?
Challenging for certain, but that was not a bad thing. It was probably very, very good.
Halfway to the house, an odd sound, part song, part screech echoed from high overhead. Elizabeth stopped as though frozen by a cockatrice’s scream, staring skyward. Colorful specks dove and darted through the clouds.
“A mating flight,” she whispered.
“Come, I see a bench near the cutting garden. We can watch from here.” He took her elbow and led her, her eyes never leaving the flight.
“April is there, up high, higher than the rest. You see there—the two rose colored ones cannot match her. The purple one—that is the male. You can see he is a little bigger and a bit faster, too.” She pointed.
“I have never seen such a flight before. Have you?” He slipped his arm around her shoulders—how could he resist?
“Occasionally. Fairy dragons have lived in the Longbourn woods for generations. Several springs I have been privileged to catch a mating flight as it happened. April would often watch with me and explain what I was seeing. One year Papa was with us. He had never appreciated April so much as he did that day. When we got home, he had me write notes on what we had observed. Later he used those notes to write a monograph on fairy dragons. He was very disappointed when the Order did not see fit to publish that paper. Fairy dragons were not considered important enough to be worth publishing about.”
“Does he still have the monograph?”
“I believe the original is still in his library.”
“Do you think he would be willing to allow me to read it? If Georgiana is to befriend a fairy dragon, I should like to know as much as I can about them.”
“I think that would please him.” She pressed her head to his shoulder. “Watch now as the leading female circles above the male—no! Pray no!” She jumped to her feet.
“What is wrong?”
“Those shadows? Do you not recognize the profile?”
He squinted into the bright sky. “Falcons?”
“They prey upon mating flights. The fairy dragons are too preoccupied to notice the danger.” She pressed her fist to her mouth. “I have seen so many … many …” Her voice trailed off.
“Wait, look!” A pair of dark spots raced toward the mating flight, his thundering heart matching their pace. “Walker!”
One spot became a blur, swooping down on the marauding falcon. A brief scream and the bird was impaled on Walker’s talons. He dove to the ground, quarry secured. Rustle replaced Walker, flying sentinel, watching over April.
“Rustle, too?” Elizabeth murmured through her fingers, tears pooling in her eyes. “They are without a doubt the finest of creatures. Cockatrice often prey upon these flights.”
“He would not permit harm to come to his Lairda April.”
“Sometimes I think the dragons will never cease to surprise me. Just when I think I know what to expect, they do something like this that totally changes my understanding of them. I am not sure even Lady Astrid will believe this.”
“It would not surprise me if Cait had her part as well, perhaps in helping to watch for the event itself. For creatures that are by their nature solitary, those three have become a very effective little flock. A flock that seems to include fairy dragons as well.”
“Who would have ever thought? I will have to write this down. It is too important to risk forgetting.”
A triumphant squawk filled the sky.
“The male has caught her now,” Elizabeth leaned into his shoulder. “April shall have her clutch.”
What she did not say, but her eyes spoke for her, was that she wished April might allow her to be part of that.
Chapter 5
Three days later, Elizabeth and Darcy stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the dark, dank cellar, staring at the scratches on the floor. Deep slither tracks framed the words, marking the creature’s girth—roughly what Darcy could circle with his arms. If accepted dragon lore was to be believed, then it was probably fifteen to eighteen feet in length. But that was only a guess.
“Am I reading this correctly?” Darcy pointed at the wispy dragon script highlighted by the dancing candlelight. “The man is not to be trusted. He carried a Dragon Slayer.”
“That is how I read it as well.” Elizabeth crouched down and stared at it again, but the fresh perspective did not alter the meaning.
They returned to the light and relative warmth of the house. The chill humidity of the cellar was not conducive to clear thought. Still in a bit of a fog, they meandered to the breakfast room. Who could have predicted the lindwurm’s response?
Darcy poured two cups of hot coffee, and they sat down in the restorative sunshine pouring through the large windows, away from the piles of unfinished work, books and paintings littering the table.
“How could he possibly know you carried the Dragon Slayer?” She wrapped both hands around the coffee cup, thawing her icy fingertips.
“Longbourn realized it before the hatching night.” Darcy frowned into his cup.
“You think Longbourn would have told him?”
“No, but I wonder how Longbourn knew.”
“I suppose one of the local minor dragons saw it and told him. They
are supposed to report alarming news to him. What could cause greater alarm amongst them than that?”
Darcy dragged the back of his hand against his mouth. “I do not like the notion that my every move is spied upon by unseen dragons.”
“It is an excellent incentive for one to remain on one’s best behavior, though.” She snickered and sipped her coffee.
“That is one thing we must see to—Pemberley must keep a proper census of the wild dragons on her land and maintain good oversight of them.”
“I completely agree, and since we can teach it to her so young, we have an excellent chance that it will become second nature to her, unlike Longbourn, who cannot seem to be bothered with such mundane tasks. Generally, he thinks very little of the small dragons on his land. They are a bother to him.” Keeping a very young dragon might indeed have some distinct advantages.
“The minor dragons are no different to a man’s tenants if you think about it.”
“That is a very good way to understand it. Not that I think it would make sense to Longbourn. Crusty old thing is entirely set in his ways. That aside, though, how else could the lindwurm know about the Dragon Slayer?” She looked toward the ceiling and chewed her lower lip.
“The only other possibility is that he must have seen it for himself.”
“Where did you keep it?”
“In the barn, buried in a bale of hay.”
“He could not have seen it in the barn. The horses would have alerted everyone to its presence.”
“The only time I removed the blade was when we left the ball to find Pemberley in the forest.”
“He had to be in the forest, then, with Pemberley and Longbourn.” Elizabeth rose and paced the length of the sunbeams on the carpet and back again, pressing her temples hard.
“There was a great deal of dragon thunder that night. Do you suppose it might have been Longbourn and the lindwurm challenging one another?”
“Is it possible the lindwurm stole the egg from Longbourn? That might be what they were fighting over, and she hatched in the midst of the process.”
“My horse was especially unsettled as we rode through the woods. I thought it was merely the noise and the storm, but the scent of the lindwurm might have caused it to bolt. The dragon could have easily detected the sword then. Quite easily.” Darcy rubbed his chin with his fist. “With no other context to understand why I carried such a blade, the creature could have rightly deemed me a dragon hunter.”
“Perhaps he thinks you have returned to complete the task.” Elizabeth perched on the edge of her chair. “That does put all this in a very different light. Very different.”
“If the lindwurm thinks I am a threat, would it be best for me to leave?”
She set her cup aside and laid her hand on his. “There has been plenty of opportunity for him to have acted upon a perceived threat, and he has not. If you think about it, he could have demanded you go, threatened—”
The windows rattled as a huge black shadow descended, pecking at the glass.
Elizabeth jumped, almost tripping over Darcy.
He flung the window open. “Walker!”
Walker swooped in and landed on the back of Elizabeth’s chair, back-winging for balance. “Come, you must come now.”
“Cait?”
Walker squawked ear-splitting, terror-inducing, tones.
A shiver coursed down Elizabeth’s spine. “Tell me exactly what is going on.”
“Your father has a nesting box for her in the study, but she has been pacing in and out and will not settle into it. She waddles like a duck, hunched over her belly which your father says is very hard—not as it should be. She has not eaten yesterday or today and has hardly drunk. Her feathers are dull and drooping—”
“That is not good, not at all. I will leave as soon as I gather my things. In the meantime, tell her she must drink water, as much as she possibly can, and tell my father to have Hill prepare warm water and bring the hipbath into the study.”
Walker blinked several times as though forcing his thoughts into a semblance of order. “Drink water, warm water, hipbath.”
“Yes, exactly.”
Walker launched toward the window, nearly clipping Elizabeth with the edge of his wing. Poor creature—only extreme distress could explain such clumsiness.
“I will ready the curricle.” Darcy disappeared before she could comment.
Later she must thank him for that. She ran to her chambers for her carpetbag and threw in her commonplace book containing her extensive notes on egg binding. From there she made her way to the still room for a bottle of witch hazel, a tin of pure lard, and a jar of lemon juice and egg shells she had prepared after talking with the poulterer.
Darcy met her at the kitchen door in Bingley’s curricle. The weather was ideal for the sporty vehicle that took much less time to ready than the coach. More importantly, it was designed for speed. In the hands of a skilled driver, nothing could get her to Longbourn more quickly.
Darcy proved a very skilled driver. Did he race curricles for sport back in Derbyshire? If not, perhaps he should.
They arrived at Longbourn house far more quickly than she would have imagined possible, and never once did she fear the curricle was in danger of overturning. It might have been good fun had their errand not been so urgent.
The Bennet’s coach, driven by Uncle Gardiner, pulled behind the curricle as Darcy was handing her down from the seat.
“Lizzy, dear! Whatever are you doing here? I had no idea you were coming! You have brought Mr. Darcy, too! You are most welcome, sir.” Mama trundled up to her.
“There is a matter we must consult with Papa upon. It came up rather unexpectedly; otherwise, we would have given you notice.” Pray Mama was not in the mood for protracted conversation!
“You are certainly welcome, but your timing is most awkward. I fear Kitty and I were just on our way out. You see, we are to call upon my sister Phillips. She has invited us to tea …”
Elizabeth looked over her shoulder. Rustle perched nearby, softly persuading Mama of the urgency of her departure. Persuasion might not be his strongest suit, but he was definitely sufficient to the task.
“Pray do not concern yourself, madam. Your hospitality is well-known, and I would not dream of you disappointing your most gracious sister.” Darcy bowed slightly from his shoulders. It would not hurt to add his persuasion to Rustle’s.
“You are most kind, sir, most kind. Perhaps I should go back in and ask Hill—”
“There is no need, Mama. I will see Mr. Darcy is made most comfortable.” Elizabeth pressed Mama’s shoulder to turn her in the right direction.
“You are such a dear girl. Very well. Kitty! Kitty! Hurry along now. We must not disappoint your aunt.” Mama kicked up a small cloud of dust shuffling to the coach.
Kitty met her there, and Uncle helped them both inside.
“This certainly makes things much easier,” Darcy muttered beside her.
“I certainly will not complain for it.” Elizabeth patted her bag and turned toward the house.
Mary met them at the door, pale and wringing her hands. “I am so glad you are come, Lizzy. She is in great distress, like a woman in travail. Can help her?”
“I hope so.” Elizabeth pushed past.
Collins paced the corridor outside, crossing in front of the study door, making it very difficult to enter. He mumbled something under his breath—probably something very stupid, and cringed as an unearthly shriek started from within the study and permeated the entire house. Maybe he was not entirely dragon-deaf after all—but one might have to be dead to not react to that sound.
Definitely best that Mama and Kitty were well away.
Another scream. Elizabeth’s skin prickled, the hair on her neck stood up, and she shivered. Yes, Cait was indeed in distress. She dodged around Collins and scurried into the crowded study.
At least Papa had moved the piles of books against the walls, leaving an opening around the nesting b
ox space, near the center of the room. While the effort to tidy was welcome, it did force everything together into the small island in the middle of the room almost too tight for her to work.
Cait, belly distended, hopped from the edge of the nesting box near the hearth, to the low windowsill, to the short footstool and back again. She waddled like Lady Lucas days before her youngest son was born. Papa stood just out of the way, brows tightly knit, eyes locked on the disheveled cockatrix.
Walker perched on the family dragon perch near the nesting box, acknowledging Elizabeth and Darcy with a nod. “She is here. You will not die. I promise you. Let her help.”
Cait looked up at him and screeched again, wings extended back as though diving.
Elizabeth covered her ears, the sound as heart-rending as it was terrifying.
“Help.” Cait waddled two steps toward her.
Elizabeth rushed to her. Cait wrapped her wings around Elizabeth and collapsed with her head on Elizabeth’s shoulder. She smelt oily and dirty which Cait never would have permitted under normal circumstances.
“So much pain. More than the last time,” she whispered in Elizabeth’s ear.
“Let me carry you to the nesting box. I will examine you and determine what to do next.” Gracious, Cait was heavier than she looked! Elizabeth staggered a bit but managed to ease Cait into the nesting box and arranged her in the hay. “Papa, see the hip bath is prepared in case we need it.”
“How warm should the water be?”
“Let Walker determine it. Make it as hot as you can comfortably tolerate—it should make you very relaxed and sleepy.”
Walker bobbed his head.
Elizabeth stroked Cait’s ruff smooth. “Mary, open my bag and give me the tin.”
Mary jumped to obey.
“Now Cait, I must feel for the egg and check for swelling. I fear it may not be very pleasant, but I shall be as gentle as I can. Can you control yourself?” Elizabeth popped open the top of the tin.
“No,” Cait threw her head back in a deep grimace.
“Then I must wrap your talons so that you do not injure me. I cannot help you if you lacerate my hands. Have I your permission?”
