Netherfield_Rogue Dragon_A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Maria Grace

  An hour later, Darcy paced along the parlor windows, staring at the pounding drops that ran down the windows. A few made their way inside to puddle on the window sill. Did Elizabeth have such protection against the tempest?

  “You may as well stop pacing, Darcy.” Bennet did not even look up from his book as he sat near the fire with several candlesticks behind him for extra light. The table beside him held half a dozen more volumes.

  How pleasant that he was entirely content with the current situation. Darcy, however, was not.

  “You may as well sit. Pacing is not going to bring her back any sooner.” Fitzwilliam nursed a glass of brandy near the fire while Earl slept in the crook of his arm. But the way he rolled the glass between his palms—he was no calmer than Darcy.

  “No, it will not.” Bennet grumbled as he resettled himself in the wingchair like a cold drake trying to get comfortable. “What is more, you ought to get accustomed to this sort of behavior. She has been doing these things all her life. I doubt you will have any more luck bringing her under regulation than I have.”

  “What are you talking about?” Darcy faced him, leaning against the window frame. Best keep a little distance.

  “Where dragons are concerned, she has been uncontrollable since she first heard them.” Bennet slapped his book shut and tossed it on the table.

  “That is a very strong description.” Fitzwilliam wrenched around in his chair to look at both of them, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

  “For good reason! One afternoon when she was five years old, she sneaked out of the nursery and overheard Rustle and Gardiner discussing a Blue Order matter of importing dragon goods. That evening after dinner, her mother could not find her to put her to bed. Gardiner and I found her sitting on the floor of my study with Rustle, discussing what treats dragons preferred as though it were the most normal natural thing. What kind of child—what kind of girl child—sees a cockatrice for what it is and strikes up a conversation instead of running for cover?”

  Gracious, what would his daughters be like! Perhaps they needed to employ a nursery maid with a Dragon Friend. Elizabeth would probably see nothing amiss to have a minor drake rocking a cradle whilst a fairy dragon sang the baby to sleep. What kind of a household would they have?

  Fitzwilliam snickered into his hand, probably thinking the same thing.

  “You think it funny?” Bennet slapped the arm of his chair. “Try raising a child who has no compunction about introducing herself to every local dragon, wild or imprinted. It was one thing when it was limited to fairy dragons and varieties of wyrms. But no, she managed to find a basilisk to acquaint herself with!”

  “A basilisk?” Darcy feigned surprise for Bennet’s sake.

  “The creature had a reputation for ill-temper among the Conclave on the rare occasions he showed up. He generally refused to speak to the Keeper’s daughters, and barely interacted with the Keeper himself. But Lizzy?” Bennet slapped his forehead. “The creature tried to scare her off. Instead of having the sense to retreat, she curtsied, introduced herself, and had the foulest tempered dragon in the county telling her stories of the Keep that even the Keeper had never heard!”

  Which Bennet was probably all too happy to write down and add to the existing dragon lore. Would Bennet think differently of the matter if she had been his son and heir engaging in such boldness? Darcy dragged his heel across the carpet.

  “On that same trip, she managed to befriend, against my express wishes, the most irritating, ill-mannered excuse for a flutter-tuft fairy dragon and brought her into my house to disrupt the delicate balance that must be kept with non-hearing members of the household!” Bennet panted for breath.

  “You can hardly blame her for that. Dragons choose their Friends as they will.” Fitzwilliam glanced down at Earl.

  Had he ever looked at another creature with so much tenderness? Collins was not the only man affected by Earl’s entrance into the world.

  “Perhaps so, but she has no respect for propriety, for order, for etiquette. Even her initial introduction to Longbourn was on her own terms, reckless and improper.”

  “Perhaps that is what has made him so fond of her.” Fitzwilliam winked at Darcy.

  “I have never seen a dragon so insistent upon a Keeper before.” Darcy tapped a finger against his lips. “Perhaps that is why—dragon’s blood, it is about the salt!”

  Bennet leaned into his chair, brow drawing into deep, defensive furrows. “What are you talking about?”

  “Now I understand, and it is despicable.” Darcy crossed the distance to the fireplace in four long, purposeful strides. “What kind of Dragon Keeper are you?”

  “What are you talking about, Darce?” Fitzwilliam covered Earl with his free arm.

  “Instead of providing Longbourn salt to hoard, you convinced him to take Elizabeth instead. That is why you had been so bloody insistent upon her marrying Collins and not seeking her own choice. You could not risk her leaving the estate. Elizabeth became his hoard as much as Talia is hoarding those rabbits in the garden!” Darcy clenched his fists.

  “Just wait until Pemberley discovers her own penchant for hoarding—firedrakes are known for it. Then you will not be so quick to judge. Or perhaps your income is vast enough that you may provide whatever she demands. Mine, however, is not.”

  “It is your responsibility to provide for your dragon’s hoard.”

  “Insofar as I can afford, sir. That is clear in the Accords. Insofar as I can afford. When one has a wife and daughters who do not hear, one cannot explain that the money, which might have provided them with the style of life they believe themselves entitled to, must be diverted to satisfy a hoarding dragon.”

  “So you frittered away your income on ribbons and bonnets while your dragon went without?”

  “Not entirely without. He received a portion every year.”

  Darcy took another step, looking down upon Bennet. “And Elizabeth? You traded your daughter like some fairytale princess to be sacrificed to a dragon!”

  “You have no right to pass judgement on what you do not understand. You, who have never found your income lagging behind your needs, are in no place to condemn me for what I had to do.”

  “Modernizing your farming and improving your livestock never came to mind, I imagine. Or were they too much effort for you?”

  “I will not discuss this matter further—”

  When had it started hailing? Sharp pecking sounded as though it would shatter the glass in the center window.

  Fitzwilliam jogged to the window and threw it open. Walker tumbled in, wet and cold. Darcy scooped up a pile of towels near the fire, placed there in hopes of just such an arrival.

  While Darcy dried Walker, Fitzwilliam prepared a glass of hot water and brandy. “Here, that should warm your bones.” He placed the glass on the floor near the window.

  Walker picked up the glass with his beak and drained it in a single swallow. “Much better. I could use another glass, though.” He hopped to the fire and spread his wings. “Damned hard to fly when one gets waterlogged.”

  “I was surprised you stayed out in this weather so long.” Darcy dried Walker’s wings.

  Walker turned over his shoulder and looked directly into Darcy’s eyes. “I could not find her.”

  “What do you mean, you could not find her? She is probably in some cave or even in Longbourn’s lair, vexing girl.” Bennet stared into his lap, muttering.

  Walker turned very slowly and leveled a predatory gaze at him. “Do you think me so lax that I would not have checked all those places already?”

  “There are dozens of them on the two estates—the hills are full of caves and crevasses that could shelter someone from the weather.”

  “Yes, there are. I have enlisted the assistance of no less than half a dozen local wyrms and Talia to search them all.” Walker spoke slowly, distinctly as one did to a very young child.

  “Because wyrms are such reliable sources of information and so
likely to do what they promise.” Bennet rolled his eyes.

  Walker folded his still dripping wings to his back and hopped to the arm of Bennet’s chair. “They will do it for Lady Elizabeth.”

  “Lady Elizabeth? She is now ‘Lady Elizabeth’ to you? What grand act has she done to deserve that moniker?”

  “Yes, she is, and you would be wise not to question it. Other men might take pride in having a daughter so well regarded by dragonkind.”

  “Would she be so well regarded if dragonkind realized that she was hardly a prodigy? The disobedient girl has been making things up as she went, consulting farriers, poulterers, and nursery maids for her wisdom.”

  Walker growled, low and threatening. The hair on the back of Darcy’s neck prickled. Earl stirred, squawking softly in his sleep. Did Bennet not recognize the danger he courted?

  “I would thank you to take that up with her, not with me. I have warned her on numerous occasions that she was treading dangerous ground, but she has ignored me. Now her secret is out, perhaps you will help bring some sense—”

  Walker lunged and snapped at the air in front of Bennet’s face.

  Bennet jumped back, knocking his chair down behind him.

  Walker extended his wings and he landed on the floor before Bennet. It was never a good thing when Walker made himself big. “Do you think Cait or I care where her information came from? It saved Cait’s life—or do you not seem to grasp that she was at risk of being torn apart from the inside? Would you wish that fate upon anyone?”

  “You are exaggerating. The egg could have been broken—”

  “To kill our chick? Yes, that is an excellent option. What matter where her insight comes from when she is right?”

  “And what about when she is wrong?” Bennet recovered his composure and staggered forward. “So far she has been lucky with her potions for scale mites and talon rot, but one day her unconventional methods will fail, and a dragon will be hurt or die. What then? Will you still honor her or will dragonkind turn on her for her upstart caprice in applying insights learned from lesser creatures to dragons?”

  “You think so little of us?”

  “Dragons have a reputation for temper for good reason.”

  “Perhaps because of the constant disrespect we face from you warm-bloods.”

  Bennet and Walker stared perilously at one another. Did he not realize Walker could kill him with a single stroke of his talons? Perhaps that was where Elizabeth’s nerve came from.

  Fitzwilliam cleared his throat. Conspicuous, but not ineffective. “You said no trace has been found?”

  Walker turned to him and bobbed his head. “None. The only hint came from a rock wyrm who said that he saw her following a path recently created by the blue one.”

  “The lindwurm?” A cold knot settled in the pit of Darcy’s stomach.

  Fitzwilliam clapped his hand to his mouth and spoke through his fingers. “That sounds as if he laid a trap for her!”

  “The rain has washed away the path, but as soon as the weather clears, the wyrm has promised to show me where it led, but it is difficult to predict how far that will get us. Any tracks the lindwurm might have left will be gone by now.”

  “They move very quickly and through terrain most major dragons cannot.” Fitzwilliam chewed his knuckle.

  “You believe it has Elizabeth?” Darcy swallowed hard.

  “Considering the French dragons I have known, if it had meant to hurt her, it would have done so and left us evidence to prove its power. Given that it knows about the Dragon Slayer, I would assume it wants to use her to negotiate its own escape.”

  “Dragon Slayer?” Bennet grabbed for the edge of the upturned chair.

  “Demand answers from the Order, not me.”

  “But Earl—”

  “I have promised Fitzwilliam I shall see to his care and find an appropriate Friend if it becomes necessary.” A promise Darcy hoped he never need fulfill.

  “How could you present yourself as his Friend knowing—”

  “Because I insisted.” Walker snapped close to Bennet’s knee. “Enough of this talk. None of it is useful in finding Lady Elizabeth.”

  “In this weather, what else is there to do? It is not as if anyone can go out in the pitch dark and rain.” Bennet struggled to right his chair.

  “The map room.” Fitzwilliam slapped his knee. Earl opened one eye to offer a reproving look.

  “We should begin immediately.” It was not as though he would get any sleep tonight anyway. “We should have sufficient antidote with what Mary gave me before we left Longbourn.”

  “This is a foolhardy effort. No one has ever counteracted—”

  “How exactly would you know? Have you read every tome of dragon lore in existence? Are you certain it would have been written down if it had been attempted?” Fitzwilliam stroked the top of Earl’s head.

  What an education that young cockatrice was getting. At this rate, he would likely be even more cynical than his father!

  “We are not asking you to put yourself at risk or even for your approval. Only help us read the maps when they are decontaminated. It seems the least you can do to help your daughter.” Such a man he would have as father-in-law.

  “Leave Earl here with me, you cannot risk exposing him to the poison.” Bennet reached toward Fitzwilliam.

  “I am not sure I can risk leaving him with you and your hidebound notions. But it seems I have no choice.” Fitzwilliam muttered as he rose and carefully transferred the sleeping chick to Bennet’s arms.

  Chapter 9

  Pressed hard against the lindwurm’s cool body in the lightless gloom, time and distance lost all meaning. Only the scraping slithers of his scales against the walls of the rock tunnels gave her senses an anchor.

  All the creature had to do was leave her in this darkness, set her down and abandon her, and all would be lost. A creature who would snatch her up and take her captive was certainly the sort capable of deserting her. Exactly the sort of creature—warm- or cold-blooded—with whom she had no experience. The sort of creature Darcy and Fitzwilliam expected the lindwurm to be.

  What was that? Her eyes must be playing tricks. How could there be a glimmer of light in this pervasive, stony blackness? But no, it was there, growing larger. She fought for a better view, but Netherfield only held her more tightly. Was he humming to himself?

  Surely, that was not possible. Dragons were not musically inclined. It was a sort of self-satisfied sound, not so much aggressive as simply irritating, but definitely melodic and vaguely familiar. Had Mary been practicing that melody recently? Yes, she definitely had. Was he dangerous or just vexing? Probably both.

  The light grew and flickered, a familiar yellow-orange. A fire? Why would there be a fire in his cavern? He needed neither the light nor the heat …

  “Go with her.” Netherfield set her down none too gently and pushed her toward the fire. She stumbled, blinking in the constricted ring of light that barely reached the walls of what seemed only a wide spot in a tunnel.

  Odd, this was hardly a proper lair. Dragons liked to be comfortable. These walls were rough, likely to scrape his hide, and the floor too uneven for easy rest. This space had the hallmarks of a temporary shelter, well away from his actual lair.

  At the far edge of the firelight, a heap of pale fabric shuddered.

  “Lydia?”

  “Lizzy?” A dirty face peeked up.

  Elizabeth swept her into her arms and glared over her shoulder. “What you have done here is completely untoward. Why would you hold an innocent girl hostage?”

  Netherfield reared back, his expression shifting from satisfied to perplexed. But not aggressive, at least not yet.

  “You can talk to him?” Lydia scrabbled back as if seeing yet another monster in the room.

  “Of course, I can. No different to you.” Patience. Now was an appropriate time for patience. After all, Lydia knew nothing of dragons nor the Blue Order. What a shocking manner to learn of them, e
ven worse than Collins’ first encounter. “Is he the first such creature you have spoken to?”

  “Not exactly.” Lydia leaned in close to whisper. “You will certainly think me daft, but did you know Mrs. Hill’s cat speaks, too?”

  “Of course, he does. He is a minor dragon. All dragons speak.”

  “Our housekeeper’s cat is a dragon? He did look rather odd when he asked me for a dish of cream. How long have you heard these beasts?”

  “As long as I can remember. Mary can hear them, too.”

  “Ahem.” Netherfield coughed and crossed his forearms over his chest. “I believe you asked me a question. Do be good enough to permit me to answer.”

  “We will come back to this, Lydia. I have a very great deal to tell you.” Elizabeth curtsied toward Netherfield. “Forgive my rudeness. Do go on.”

  “Thank you. The girl is not innocent. I am holding her for my own protection.”

  “Lydia, what have you done?”

  “Why do you accuse me?” Lydia wrapped her arms around her waist and huddled down. “Truly, I have done nothing, not to deserve this.”

  “If you did not threaten Netherfield, then who did?”

  “The deaf one.” Netherfield bobbed back and forth as though preparing to strike at prey.

  “Wickham did not take you to elope?”

  “No. When he came from Brighton, he was certain there was a monster living at Netherfield. He said Colonel Forster gave him leave to try and find it.”

  “That is why you were practicing ciphers! Wickham dared not write to you about such things plainly! Is that why you came to Netherfield in the first place?”

  “Well, no, not exactly.” Lydia scuffed her heel along the sandy floor. “Mama is so bossy! Suddenly, the idea came to me: how much fun it would be to have an entire house under my own command. So I went to Netherfield. Not long after, though, I started hearing voices from the cellar.”

  “You persuaded her to come to Netherfield! You brought her into all this! How dare you?” Elizabeth stomped—granted probably not the most politic response at the moment, but who could blame her?

  Netherfield’s shoulders hunched like a scolded little boy. “I was lonely. Longbourn did not want her there, so it seemed she would not be missed.”