Pemberley- Mr Darcy's Dragon

by Maria Grace

  Would that he have asked anything else.

  Lizzy hunched over, elbows on knees and heaved a heavy breath.

  “You have noticed something too, then?” Papa stepped closer.

  “I do not know what to make of it.”

  “Tell me what you see.” He crossed the room and sat on the low ottoman near her chair.

  “She has always been one to see the good and admire people freely enough. But usually she is far more reserved with her sentiments. Granted, it is true, she has liked a good many gentlemen, but none so quickly, or perhaps so much, as Mr. Bingley.”

  Papa chewed his upper lip. “I had come to the same conclusion.”

  “I do not know if I am glad for that or not. I should have liked it more to know that it was just me, and I could chalk the whole thing up to jealousy.”

  Botheration. That was not something she wanted to discuss, especially with him.

  The creases alongside his eyes deepened and corners of his lips fell. He laid his hand on hers, warm and heavy. “You carry a difficult burden my dear. I had always thought there would be a son to inherit Longbourn. One who would inherit my hearing as well as my estate. That would have left you free to follow your affections. I wish it could be so. I hope you understand that. I wish you did not have reason to be jealous of your sisters’ freedom.”

  She looked away. If he caught her eyes now, he would know far more than she was willing to admit. “I should say it is well, and that you need not worry.”

  “But you are a very bad liar.” He squeezed her hand. His veins stood out over the bent and knobby fingers. “You have been my strength, taking over for me as I have been able to do less and less. You are the true Dragon Keeper here, my dear. As much an honor as it is, it comes with a price.”

  “I know. Let us not speak of it for now. Jane is our current concern.”

  She felt his eyes on her, studying her. Would that he not do that! Could he simply accept her request?

  He withdrew his hand and turned his eyes to the ceiling.

  “It is possible that her attraction to Mr. Bingley is genuine, and we have no reason for concern.” She forced her lips into something that should resemble a smile.

  He tapped steepled index fingers along his lips. “As much as I would like it to be so, it is not wise to rely upon that possibility. Not with dragon chicks about and a stolen egg said to be in our vicinity.”

  “You think the dragons might be involved with Jane and Bingley?” Elizabeth looked over her shoulder.

  It was strange not to have April hovering close.

  “It is one of the best explanations for their very odd behavior.”

  “But who would be inclined to such mischief? I had the same thought, I confess, but there is none I could point to as a culprit.”

  Papa clucked his tongue. “I know. The Longbourn house dragons are too concerned with the chicks to make mischief.”

  “And Mr. Darcy’s cockatrice is far above such things. Besides, either one of us would doubtless have recognized his voice attempting to persuade Jane. His voice is very distinct. That leaves only Longbourn, who would hardly be bothered with such a game.”

  “True enough.”

  “So then, it cannot be dragon-wrought.”

  “There is another possibility.”

  A cold chill snaked down Elizabeth’s spine.

  He scrubbed his face with his hands. “Walker noted that an accurate accounting of the local dragons has not been kept. It is possible there is an unknown dragon in the vicinity.”

  “We know that there are wild fairy dragons and tatzelwurms in the woods. So certainly there are unknown dragons about.”

  “You know as well as I, they are unlikely candidates. On the whole, they are flighty and not willing to be bothered with something that should take so long to play out.”

  “Perhaps a cockatrice then?”

  Papa pushed to his feet, resuming is track about the room. “With Rustle and Walker about, we would know about the presence of another cockatrice by now.”

  “A cockatrix then?” Elizabeth worried her hands together.

  “We would have known about that even sooner. The females of their kind are so rare that their presence is always remarkable.”

  “Are you suggesting,” she rose slowly, pulling on the back of the chair for strength. “That there may be a major-dragon unknown to any of us roaming the countryside? Surely that is not possible. A wild major-dragon—”

  “Not necessarily wild, but perhaps a rogue, unattached dragon. There are estates in the kingdom abandoned by their dragons.”

  “Do your histories point to any possible culprits?”

  “I have found none.”

  “Would not Longbourn be aware of it? I cannot imagine him keeping that kind of news to himself. Not to mention, he is so territorial, he would not tolerate encroachment on his land.”

  “It does seem unlikely. But I have no other explanation.” Papa shrugged his bowed shoulders.

  She pressed her hands to her cheeks. “A wild dragon would have made himself known by now. None of the villagers have gone missing, nor have we seen any odd disappearance of livestock, all sure signs of a wild dragon. And one unattached is equally unlikely. I do not like to disagree with you, but I simply cannot see it.”

  “Still, there must be some explanation.”

  “Can Jane not like a man because he is uncommonly agreeable?” Elizabeth shrugged. “I find that the most plausible explanation.”

  “Perhaps, perhaps.”

  ***

  Bingley’s party returned from the ball in mixed spirits. Bingley declared he had never met with pleasanter people or prettier girls in his life. Everybody had been most kind and attentive to him. There had been no formality, no stiffness. With the most gracious help of Sir William, he had soon felt acquainted with all the room. And as to Miss Bennet—at this point in the conversation, it required all of Darcy’s self-control not to stuff his fingers in his ears and begin reciting Pemberley’s crop rotation schedule—Bingley could not conceive of an angel more beautiful.

  Mrs. Hurst and Caroline Bingley allowed it to be so, claiming to admire and like her. More maddening, they also pronounced her to be a sweet girl, and one whom they should not object to know more of. No doubt that meant, Miss Bennet—probably the entire tribe of Bennets—would be invited to spend a great deal of time at Netherfield.

  No, probably not the younger sisters whom all agreed were silly flitterbits. But impudent Miss Elizabeth Bennet would probably appear at Netherfield and remain a thorn in his side.

  ***

  The social exertions of the assembly kept Darcy confined away from company for two days full. Though he shared a very steady friendship with Bingley, there was a great contrast in their characters. Bingley had an easy, open ductility to his temper that made him a favorite in company. Bingley was sure of being liked wherever he appeared.

  Darcy was continually giving offence—or so he had been told often. He was considered—according to Uncle and Aunt Matlock—haughty, reserved, and fastidious, and his manners, though well-bred, were not inviting. Gah! If only those same ones who judged him knew what he had to endure!

  Company and crowds were an oppression to his spirit, weighing upon him, draining him like a wyvern drained its prey before consuming it. A few hours in company left him spent as a laborer in from an entire day’s work. Every nerve was left raw and throbbing; his ears ached from the noise assaulting preternatural hearing; his skin prickled and burned from the unintended contact inevitable when too many people tried to share the same space.

  He might as well drink an entire magnum of Madeira himself instead of attending a party. The hangover would be far less miserable.

  On the third morning after the assembly, Darcy rose early, took to his horse, and invited Walker to join him. A morning ride—a long one—would do a great deal toward setting his soul to rights once again.

  It had to. He had to focus on the task at hand. He
had six, maybe seven weeks before the egg hatched.

  If it did so without human presence, he would have no choice. He would have to turn from Dragon Keeper to Dragon Slayer. The sword he secreted in his horse’s stall in the barn would taste dragon blood. It was the only way to preserve the fragile peace between the species. But it would cost him everything.

  The Blue Order would expel him. That he could live with. But no dragon would tolerate his presence after he killed one of their own.

  Even if it was necessary.

  Walker would leave him, and he would have destroyed the greatest legacy of the Darcy family. The Darcy line would end with him. The dragons would ensure that, one way or another.

  Fitzwilliam Darcy, the last of the Pendragon D’Arcys.

  His horse broke into an easy trot along the bridle path. Stray branches slapped against Darcy’s shoulders, spraying him with still fresh morning dew. Morning smelt the same everywhere; fresh, new and hopeful.

  He needed hope.

  Walker flew lazy circles overhead. Wings outstretched, silhouetted in the morning sun, he was a magnificent creature.

  “You should not have insulted Elizabeth.”

  And an impertinent one.

  “How would you know anything of that?”

  Walker swooped low overhead. “You cannot imagine I would allow you into the public forum without keeping some watch over you. One can hear a great deal from the attic rafters. You were insupportably rude.”

  “I never asked you for your opinion.” Not that it mattered. Walker never held his tongue.

  “You should. I know a great deal.”

  “If you know so much, then tell me where our egg is, so we can be done with this affair and return to Derbyshire.” Darcy gritted his teeth.

  He had best watch his tone. Walker was as tense as he. If the cockatrice got offended—

  “She would be of great help, if you had not offended her.”

  “How would she help? She knows nothing of eggs and hatchings and firedrakes. What would she do? Is she a sleuth capable of ferreting out—”

  Walker squawked a sharp admonition. “She knows more about hatching than you do. The eggs on their hearth hatched a se’nnight ago. The house is a flutter with new chicks.”

  “Fairy dragons that you deem useless bits of fluff and nonsense. I am surprised you consider their hatching worthy of notice.”

  New dragons at Longbourn? Perhaps he should call. He had never actually seen a baby dragon of any kind. Walker had hatched into Father’s hands well before Darcy had been born.

  But no, Bennet was not likely to welcome him, particularly if he knew how he had spoken about Miss Elizabeth.

  Damn cockatrice was right again. But Darcy did not have to admit it aloud.

  “Their heads are full of gibberish and noise, I grant you, but they are observant little pests and can be useful for garnering information. Information which you clearly need.” Walker swooped a little closer.

  “Mind the horse. He will bolt if you scare him.”

  “You need a better horse. Get that Bingley fellow to help you find a colt. He has a good eye for horseflesh. I will help you train it properly.”

  “And what shall I do with this one?”

  “Eat it.”

  Darcy shivered at the bloodlust in Walker’s tone. “I need this beast, thank you. Go and dine on a muntjac. They are roaming the woods.”

  “I need Longbourn’s permission. They are his.”

  “Then go and ask. You have never been shy about such things before.”

  “He likes Elizabeth, and I do too. You offended her.”

  He liked her? Surely Darcy misheard.

  “I doubt she has told Longbourn such petty concerns. But I dare say, if you are so fond of his favorite, he will grant you hunting privileges simply for appreciating her.”

  “You should apologize.” Walker circled low, over Darcy’s head.

  “I have nothing to apologize for. You however are not helping me at all in our quest and that should be your bigger concern.”

  “There is something else you should know. I hear a voice. At least I think I do.”

  Prickles scoured Darcy’s face and he swallowed hard. “What kind of voices? There are fairy dragons all about. They chitter constantly.”

  Walker snorted and shook his head, glaring dangerously. “I would not bother about those. No, this voice is something different, something I have not heard before.”

  “You have spoken with every kind of dragon in England, even a few foreign visitors.”

  “That is what troubles me. I have not heard this kind of voice before. And it is very, very old.”

  Very old meant very powerful. And very smart. And very persuasive.

  Dragon fires!

  Old, powerful and persuasive usually equaled cranky, cold, and difficult. Very difficult.

  Maybe dangerous.

  “Are you certain?”

  “No.” Walker hopped from one foot to the other, his serpentine tail lashing around the branch so fast it whistled through the air. “I can barely hear the voice, so I am not certain.”

  “And that is not good?”

  “No, it is worse. My uncertainty makes me more certain.”

  Unknowns amongst the dragons were almost certainly dangerous, if not deadly for human and dragonkind alike.

  “Can you tell anything about it?” Darcy drew the back of his hand across his mouth.

  “It is not hungry, it is bored.”

  Darcy squeezed his eyes shut. A bored dragon was many times more dangerous than a hungry one. “Have you any idea what kind of dragon you are hearing?”

  Walker peered into the woods. “A wyrm of some kind, I think. Perhaps a lindwyrm, but I am not certain.”

  Darcy cursed under his breath. Horses were the lindwyrm’s favorite prey. Did his mount smell a lindwyrm? That would explain his horse’s general unease.

  “You know the militia will encamp in Meryton soon. Yesterday I saw troops arrive to build the barracks, they came with wagons of wood, already cut, barrels for nails, and enough men to make quick work of the process,” Walker said.

  “You believe that party might conceal Pemberley’s egg?”

  “It would not be difficult among all the paraphernalia they carried. But there is a fair chance that he will think the situation very safe and that the egg will not be as well guarded.”

  “So much the better for us then. We can be done with this business and be home.”

  “You know, wyrms of all sorts prey upon dragon eggs, too.”

  Darcy clutched his forehead. “Go to Longbourn, and tell him I request an audience.”

  “He would be more likely to see you if Elizabeth made the request.”

  “Just do as I ask.”

  Walker screeched and flapped away. At least he was being cooperative.

  Of course that was a bad sign, too. Only the deepest of anxiety over the egg would keep him from his favorite sport—taunting Darcy.

  Walker’s entreaties to Longbourn fell on deaf ears. For a se’nnight he paid daily visits to the wyvern, pleading with him to accept a visit from Darcy, but he was as intractable as his Keeper, Bennet.

  So, Darcy was reduced to skulking about the countryside like some highwayman stalking the militia’s building crew. With Walker’s help, he investigated every wagon, every barrel, every crate—anything that might conceal a dragon egg. They even investigated the stables and outbuildings of the public houses and taverns the troops inhabited. Walker detected traces of egg-scent in several places, but none held the egg.

  Either the men or their equipment had been in contact with the egg. But it did not travel with the advanced party.

  Damn and bloody hell!

  If only he could go straight to the regiment itself. But Matlock insisted any direct approach would draw too much attention and risk exposure. He was probably right. There was little to do but wait for them to arrive. Then he could contrive to get an invitation to visit and se
arch without drawing notice—or at least not so much that Walker could not create a persuasion against it.

  At least listening to the building crews’ conversations turned up the news that the regiment would be split between Meryton and Ware, so the efforts were not wholly misspent.

  Perhaps that information would have some value to Longbourn. Darcy dispatched Walker to make one more attempt with the wyvern.

  ***

  Darcy finished his morning ablutions and dismissed his valet. How much longer would Walker take? He stalked from one side of the spacious room to the other. The deep burgundy paper hanging was entirely free from dust and cobweb. The mahogany furnishings, masculine and heavy were polished to gleaming. Housekeeper Nicholls certainly did manage an excellent staff. Miss Bingley had not been resident here long enough to take credit.

  He sat at the writing table, near the window and stared into the horizon.

  At last! A dark figure, winging his way toward the house.

  Walker landed on the window sill and shook his head. He hopped from Darcy’s window to the mirror on his dressing table and flapped his wings. “I have never seen a creature so stubborn!”

  The mirror bobbed forward and back. Apparently Walker had forgotten it was not fixed like the one at home. He squawked and fluttered his wings, but the mirror would not come to rest.

  “That means a great deal coming from you.” Darcy steadied the mirror and swallowed back a laugh. Walker hated to be laughed at.

  Walker regained his balance and lifted his chin. “I am not so easily daunted, though. I have a plan.”

  Darcy winced. Walker’s plans were not always mindful of local law. He did not seem to understand one must not offend the local constabulary. Hopefully he did not intend for Darcy to steal a sheep or other delicacy to bribe the recalcitrant dragon.

  “Miss Elizabeth intends to pay a visit to Longbourn today. You should ask her to introduce you to him.”

  “I would rather steal a sheep.”

  “Pardon me?” Walker leaned far over the mirror to peer almost nose to nose into Darcy’s eyes. The mirror tipped forward.

  “I will not ask that woman for any favors, especially concerning the estate dragon.”