Pemberley- Mr Darcy's Dragon

by Maria Grace

  Did dragons even feel those things?

  Whatever it was, it was dangerous, perhaps even deadly.

  Longbourn stomped. “It is her duty to tend me.”

  “It is a Keeper’s duty to see to their dragon’s needs. But it is also her duty to obey the Order, for the good of all human and dragonkind. That is why she was helping us find the egg.”

  “I have forbidden her. She is not to be endangered again.” His tail swung hard enough to break bones.

  “Then, pray, assist me. You are surely better able to search the caverns than I. Meanwhile, I can contrive to search the encampment again, something you are unable to do. Together—”

  “And what will you do with the egg once you find it?” Longbourn rounded on him, roaring.

  Darcy stood his ground, though his ribs rattled and knees turned to jelly. “Take it home—”

  “Then why do you have a sword, a Dragon Slayer blade?” Longbourn reared up extended his wings, flapping. Leaves and dirt swirled around them.

  A wyvern might only be the least of major-dragons, but his fury was awesome.

  Darcy held his breath and considered his words. He might have only one chance to explain. A wrong word and there would be nothing left of him to find.

  “What happens when an egg hatches without human presence?” Darcy asked very softly.

  “It happens all the time in the woods. Fairy dragons, tatzelwurms, cockatrices, there is even a tiny basilisk that shares my woods. Wyrms that pass for snakes, in the small lake the legend of the giant, one eyed—”

  “Those are minor dragons. When they do not imprint on humans, they want nothing to do with men—and think nothing of attacking them. Since they are small, though, they do little harm. But a major-dragon? Humans are easy prey.”

  Longbourn folded his wings across his back. “It is a crime for a Dragon Friend to kill a dragon.”

  Good, he was listening.

  “When it is a dragon who has imprinted on humans, it is a crime of the worst shade. But not so in defense against a wild dragon.”

  “You would kill the dragon of your Keep?”

  “Not if there were any other choice.”

  “You would be anathema to all dragon kind. Reviled, stalked ... even paying with your life.”

  “I know the consequences.” Darcy clenched his fists. “I suffer them each night in my sleep. But if that is the price to be paid to keep the Pendragon Treaty, then I will pay it. It is the cost of hearing dragons.”

  Longbourn huffed over him, spittle dripping from his lips.

  “I want more than anything to return that Dragon Slayer to the Order, untouched by dragon blood, and to restore Pemberley to its rightful Keep.” Darcy counted ten long breaths.

  Longbourn stepped back.

  Cool, fresh air blew against Darcy’s face, chilling the sweat on his neck.

  “I will assist you. Then you will be gone. I want the Dragon Slayer, the egg, and you away from my territory.”

  Darcy bowed. “It will be as you say, then, Laird. I am most grateful for your assistance.”

  “I will begin now. Rustle, assist me. You know the smell of the egg.” Longbourn turned sharply.

  Darcy jumped away from his pounding tail. It would be difficult to search without a dragon companion—nearly impossible. But to argue about that now would be beyond foolish.

  “The cockatrice will bring you news.” Longbourn disappeared into his cavern.

  “Tell Gardiner I am in the service of Longbourn and the nature of our task.” Rustle called over his shoulder as he disappeared after the wyvern.

  Darcy sank down on a convenient stone, and scrubbed his face with his hands. His cheek burned and bled where the venom had landed. The shoulder of his coat was now frayed away, the lining showing through. And he had no companion dragon to convince his valet it was nothing to be concerned over.

  When would Walker return?

  At least Longbourn had agreed to help. That was the material thing.

  He pushed up to his feet, knees arguing all the way. His vision wavered. Another bath was in order immediately. Afterwards he could worry about the Dragon Slayer in the barn, Miss Elizabeth’s condition, and how he was going to search for the egg amongst a camp full of soldiers.

  After another bath, which would cost him in considerable vails to the staff, Darcy headed downstairs. He needed something far more substantial than the bread and cheese he had begun his day upon before he could face any more dragons—or men. Thankfully a cold luncheon had been laid out in the small dining room, and the room was empty. What more could he possibly ask for? Such good fortune could not last long though, so he sat down to sate himself before Miss Bingley appeared.

  Bingley sauntered in. “Finally taken to lying abed and enjoying a bit of a respite, I see? Never thought I would see the day. I am heading into town in a bit. Care to join me? Colonel Forster invited me to dine with himself and his new wife. He included you in the offer.”

  Darcy nodded vigorously, struggling to choke down his bite. “Yes, yes, I should be happy to join you.”

  “Do not choke yourself, man, have a care. I have never seen you excited about a social engagement. Are you feeling well? What happened to your face?”

  Darcy touched his cheek. “Dull razor. My man nearly scraped my cheek clean off.”

  “Ah good, thought your bird might have finally taken a dislike to you.” Bingley laughed and sat down.

  “I suppose that is some sort of canny remark about—”

  “About your general deportment in society. Yes, you are starting to develop a reputation as a curmudgeon, and you are far too young for that. Save it for your dotage. Really, Darcy, I insist you come down off that high horse and actually enjoy yourself. The ball is the perfect place for that. You must attend.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, I have already requested a set of dances from Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

  “You have? Excellent, I am proud of you.” He clapped Darcy’s shoulder. “I had not thought it likely, but you are showing some real promise of being tolerable in company. Are you finished eating? Shall I call for the horses?”

  How rapidly Bingley’s mind leapt from one idea to the next.

  “Yes, do.” Darcy wiped his mouth and set his napkin aside. “I shall meet you in a quarter of an hour.”

  ***

  The ride to Meryton was blissfully uneventful. Just the opportunity Darcy needed to regain his composure and consider how he might obtain unimpeded access to the encampment, without dragon persuasion. Several families from Pemberley and Lambton had men in that regiment. Perhaps if he offered to bring letters home for them, or to write to those families himself and report on the excellences he found. Either might suit. Perhaps even offering to write a letter to Clarington, praising Forster’s efforts in the full Colonel’s absence. That had potential as well.

  Meryton’s main street was cobbled and quaint. It had not the traffic of a larger town, but it was sufficient to be called bustling. Neat country shops lined the street, with proud window displays to catch the eye. More refined than Lambton, but not up to the standards of Derby.

  Bingley pointed toward the windows of a millinery shop. “I believe, yes, I am sure of it. Those are the Bennet sisters. Come, we must pay our respects.”

  Before Darcy could suggest otherwise, Bingley’s horse was already moving in that direction.

  What else was there to do but follow?

  Darcy could only make out four Bennet sisters. The middle one was missing. Had she gone to tend Longbourn? Would he tell her Darcy had been to see him? Could he expect an angry summons from Bennet in the offing? A message to Gardiner was definitely the first order of business when he returned to Netherfield.

  Miss Elizabeth stood slightly away from her sisters, near a tall man who looked vaguely familiar. They had never been introduced, but his face ... yes! Richard had pointed him out in London just a few months ago. Aunt Catherine’s new vicar. He was heir to some sort of e
state and she, as always, was looking to extend hers and Rosings’ influence among the Blue Order.

  Dragon fire! Was he heir to the Bennet’s estate? He hardly needed one more Bennet to complicate matters.

  Bingley called out a salutation and Miss Bennet answered, bringing the entire group close enough to converse.

  April launched off Miss Elizabeth’s shoulder and started toward Darcy.

  “My dear cousin, do you not think it wise to leave your pet behind when you walk? A cage would be a far more fitting place for it. Really I think it unseemly—” the man said.

  “I do not like him at all. I am not a pet.” April cheeped, circled once around Darcy and returned to Miss Elizabeth’s shoulder. “Has Rustle returned?”

  Darcy nodded, looking toward Bingley and Miss Bennet.

  “Has the egg been recovered?”

  He shook his head.

  “Is there hope?”

  Miss Elizabeth glanced at him from the side of her eye.

  He nodded.

  “Gardiner will call on you later.” April tucked herself into Miss Elizabeth’s generous hood.

  So the heir of Longbourn estate could not hear dragons. No wonder Longbourn was in such a temper. Bennet could not be any happier than the dragon about this either. That certainly explained his generally ill temper.

  A flash of red just beyond the little group caught his eye. Two officers ...

  “Denny! You are back!” Miss Lydia shrieked and beckoned the two red-coated men toward them.

  Bloody hell! Wickham!

  His innards knotted and his pulse pounded in his temples. How often had he considered what he would say to Wickham should they meet again? None of that was possible in this company.

  “I have indeed returned from my errand, and with my friend, and our much-missed supplies in tow. May I present to you, Mr. Wickham.” Denny bowed with a flourish.

  Wickham stepped forward and bowed. “I am enchanted to meet such a lovely party of ladies.”

  Miss Lydia and Miss Kitty tittered.

  Wickham entertained them with his typical inanities, the ones which young females found so enchanting—that Georgiana had found so enchanting.

  A fresh course of loathing raced through him.

  His horse shied.

  “I thought you a better horseman, Darcy,” Wickham called.

  Miss Elizabeth stared wide-eyed from Wickham to Darcy and back.

  “Imagine meeting you here. Who would have thought you would deign visit a town where the militia might encamp.” Wickham laughed, encouraging the young women to join him.

  Darcy gritted his teeth, feeling eyes staring at him.

  “How is your sister, is she well?” Wickham winked and grinned.

  “She is doing very well. Richard and I are very pleased with her new companion.” One who might never permit Wickham access to Georgiana again.

  “When you write to her next, offer her my greetings, will you not?”

  Darcy grunted.

  “Always so formal, so proper, you would not even consider it, eh? You are so attentive to everything in your Keep ... keeping, are you not? How is Pemberley? It has been so long since I have seen—”

  Enough! This was not to be borne!

  Darcy dug his heels into his horse’s side and rode away at a smart clip.

  Wickham had always been far too brash, too bold. Why should that have changed now? But to gloat about his sins in front of company, some things were beyond the pale.

  But now he knew that Darcy was about. What would that drive him to?

  It would have been better to keep the secret a little longer, but there was little to be done for it. Best dine with the colonel and get as close to the militia as he could.

  ***

  Later that evening, Papa’s coach conveyed all five sisters and Mr. Collins to Aunt Philips'. Mama gave up her seat in the coach to him, clearly deeming it far more necessary for him to spend time with his cousins than for her to mingle with the officers. While it was pleasing not to have to fend off Mama’s advice on how to be most appealing to the officers, Mr. Collins’ comparisons between Papa’s equipage and Lady Catherine’s were almost as tiring.

  His single-minded adherence to the topic continued when they reached Aunt Philips’ house. He was immediately so struck with the size of the rooms and the furniture that he declared he might almost have supposed himself in the small summer breakfast parlor at Rosings. At first blush, Aunt Philips found the comparison less than gratifying and did little to conceal her offense. When he went on to explain what Rosings was, who was its proprietor, the splendor of its drawing-rooms, and that the chimney-piece alone had cost eight hundred pounds, her ire dissipated.

  Given the look on her face following his explanations, she would hardly have resented a comparison with the housekeeper's room. Considering how much she was like Mama, Aunt Philips was probably already planning who among her neighbors she should share the story with on the morrow.

  In the midst of Mr. Collins' next monologue, Mr. Wickham walked into the room, bringing with him a breath of fresh air and the greatest hope for pleasant conversation Elizabeth held in some time. Compared to the other officers, he was far beyond them all in person, countenance, air, and walk, as they were superior to Mr. Collins.

  She was hardly the only one to notice. Though nearly every female eye in the room was turned on him, he sat beside her. She blushed at the implied compliment.

  Good sense cautioned her not to become fond of him. It would only end with heartbreak. But with Longbourn's recent treatment of her, and the discovery that Mr. Collins was all the things she dreaded, some solace was required.

  What harm could a single conversation occasion?

  “How far is Netherfield from Meryton?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at the lively game of lottery tickets behind them.

  Lydia and Kitty laughed raucously at something one of the officers said.

  “On the order of two miles, quite an easy distance.”

  “Would you know how long Mr. Darcy has been staying there?”

  “Slightly more than a month. Do you wish to call upon him? He is a man of very large property in Derbyshire, I understand.” She raised an eyebrow and cocked her head.

  Would he take the hint or was she trespassing too much upon his privacy?

  “His estate there is a noble one. A clear ten thousand per annum.” The corner of his lips drew up in a handsome expression. “If you are interested in his affairs, you could not have met with a person more capable of giving you certain information on that head than myself. I have been connected with his family from my infancy.”

  From infancy? Was he somehow related to Mr. Darcy? There was some resemblance about the jawline and the brow. “Indeed? I would never have guessed.”

  “You may well be surprised, Miss Bennet, at such an assertion, after seeing the very cold manner of our meeting today. Are you much acquainted with Mr. Darcy?”

  She lowered her voice and leaned a little closer. “As much as I ever wish to be. I have spent four days in the same house with him, and I think him very disagreeable.”

  He seemed very pleased with her answer.

  “I have no right to give my opinion, as to his being agreeable or otherwise. I have known him too long and too well to be a fair judge. It is impossible for me to be impartial. But I believe your opinion of him would astonish those who know him. He has very fine connections you know.” He hunched his shoulders and ducked his head, leaning a little closer to her.

  “Perhaps he does, but he is not at all liked in Hertfordshire. Everybody is disgusted with his pride. You will not find him favorably spoken of by anyone. Even on my slight acquaintance I count him to be an ill-tempered man.”

  Wickham only shook his head and glanced at the ceiling, tapping his lips with his fingers. “Do you think him likely to be in this country much longer?”

  “I do not know how much longer it will take him to conclude his business here. I hope your
plans will not be affected by his being in the neighborhood.”

  “Hardly. I plan to enjoy all that Meryton has to offer. It is not for me to be driven away by Mr. Darcy. If he wishes to avoid seeing me, he must go. We are not on friendly terms, and it always gives me pain to meet him, but I have no reason for avoiding him.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest.

  “That you would say so suggests there is some serious tension between you.”

  “His father, the late Mr. Darcy, was one of the best men that ever breathed, and the truest friend I ever had. I can never be in company with his son without being grieved by a thousand tender recollections. This Mr. Darcy’s behavior to myself has been scandalous, though. I believe I could forgive him anything and everything if that might prevent his disappointing the hopes and disgracing the memory of his father.”

  Elizabeth bit her tongue. As much as she would like to press further, delicacy required she hold her peace.

  He glanced about the room, pausing to observe each group of his fellow officers, and sighed a bit wistfully. “A military life is not what I was intended for, you must understand. Circumstances have now made it an eligible option as I have been a disappointed man. My spirits will not bear solitude. I must have employment and society, and I might find both in the regiment.”

  “Might I ask where your earlier hopes lay?”

  “The church ought to have been my profession. I was brought up for the church. I should at this time have been in possession of a most valuable living, had it pleased Mr. Darcy. His father bequeathed me the advowson of the best living in his estate. He was my godfather, and excessively attached to me. He meant to provide for me amply, and thought he had done it; but when the living fell vacant, it was given elsewhere.”

  Godfather? The preferment he directed toward Mr. Wickham suggested it might be more. A natural son perhaps?

  “Good heavens! How could his will be disregarded? Why did not you seek legal redress?”

  He shrugged and shook his head. “There was so much informality in the terms of the bequest as to give me no hope from law. A man of honor could not have doubted the intention, but Mr. Darcy chose to treat it as a merely conditional recommendation. He asserted that I had forfeited all claim to it by extravagance, imprudence, any behavior of my own he might not have liked. No doubt you are well aware of how easily his disapproval may be earned.”