Pemberley- Mr Darcy's Dragon

by Maria Grace

  “No! Do not hurt her!” Elizabeth hurtled toward the hatchling.

  “Get away! It will kill you! It is wild.” Longbourn roared. “I will not have you injured again.”

  Elizabeth flung herself between Longbourn and the baby. “No!”

  The baby cried and pushed her back, shredding her skirt and slicing her arm with a forepaw.

  Longbourn lunged for the hatchling, but Elizabeth covered it with her body. “I can save her, I can. Give me a chance.”

  The hatchling paused and stared into her face, nearly nose to nose with her. Stunning green eyes blinked, almost as though it understood her.

  “Yes, that is right. Let me help you. I will free you from the eggshell.” She slowly reached toward the baby’s wings.

  The hatchling backed up, tripping over its own feet.

  “Your name is Pemberley, did you know? May I call you that?” Elizabeth inched closer.

  Pemberley cocked its head and blinked at her.

  “You see, you know your name.” Elizabeth stroked Pemberley’s glistening cheek. “Now let me help you.” She grasped the edge of the eggshell with both hands and tore it. “Stretch your wings now, it should rip free.”

  Bits of eggshell flew, spraying cold egg slime across Elizabeth and Longbourn. Two oversized wings flapped free, knocking Elizabeth to the ground. A sharp claw on the edge of one wing cut her cheek.

  She cried out and pressed her hand to her face.

  Pemberley edged closer and sniffed at her cheek and arm, her little forked tongue peeking through her lips.

  No, she could not taste human blood!

  Elizabeth ripped off her petticoat. “Let me clean you up. You will feel much better.” Pushing to her feet, she held up the muslin for Pemberley to sniff.

  Pemberley poked her head through the fragile muslin. Elizabeth scrubbed her face and neck with the tatters.

  The undergrowth rattled and something broke through. Rustle dove for it.

  Longbourn bellowed.

  “Get away from it! It will kill you!” Mr. Darcy drew a huge sword.

  A Dragon Slayer.

  He lunged for the baby, Walker close behind.

  She wrapped her arms around the hatchling. “No! She is imprinting now, give her a chance.”

  “She?”

  Walker landed on the ground nearby.

  “Look at her face closely. Look at Pemberley. Give me your cravat. She needs your scent.” She held out one hand, the other stroking Pemberley’s face.

  Darcy fumbled with the knots, nearly strangling himself as he handed it to her.

  Elizabeth rubbed Pemberley’s face with the cravat. “Here is your Keeper. Smell him. You must know him. You have surely heard his voice. Talk to her, Mr. Darcy, quickly.”

  Darcy stepped closer. “Ah ... she is right. I am your Keeper. I will take you back to your home and nothing shall ever threaten you again.”

  Pemberley’s eyes widened. She recognized his voice!

  At least he had done something right and talked to the egg before it was stolen.

  The hatchling reached out her head and touched his shoulder.

  “Clean her face with your cravat,” Elizabeth said.

  Darcy carefully brushed away the last remnants of the egg slime. “You are remarkable Pemberley.”

  Pemberley squawked and turned toward Elizabeth, reaching her forked tongue toward the blood trails down Elizabeth’s arm.

  Elizabeth jumped back. “She must not taste human blood. Not now! We must have meat for her! Longbourn—”

  “No! Rustle come!” Walker launched, Rustle in his shadow.

  Darcy embraced Pemberley’s head, pulling it toward him. “Be patient just a moment, little one. You will have plenty to fill your belly.”

  “That is right, keep talking to her, call her by name. Tell her yours.” Elizabeth backed a way.

  Pemberley wrenched around in Darcy’s grasp and staggered toward Elizabeth. “No leave me!”

  Elizabeth’s eyes burned and her vision fuzzed as she threw her arms around the scaly neck. “No one is going to ever leave you. Your Keeper is here to take care of you.”

  “Keeper?” Pemberley nosed the side of Elizabeth’s neck.

  She guided Pemberley toward Darcy. “Keeper.”

  Darcy embraced the hatchling and stroked her head. “Keeper.”

  The cockatrices burst through the trees and dropped bloody chunks of meat at their feet.

  “Pray Laird Longbourn, help us retrieve the carcass,” Walker called.

  Longbourn grumbled and stomped off behind Walker.

  “What is it?” Elizabeth pulled one piece closer. “Horse? How?”

  “Yes. I will explain later. How do I feed her?”

  “Cut it up in small pieces. Hatchlings are greedy in their hunger. She will choke herself if you do not restrain her.”

  Darcy unsheathed the Dragon Slayer. “At last! A good purpose for this!”

  He hacked the meat into hatchling-sized bites.

  Pemberley lunged for the meat, drool dripping from her fangs. Elizabeth restrained the hatchling. “She needs to have the first bite from your hands.”

  Darcy hesitated, but she could hardly blame him. Any sensible person would fear for the safety of their limbs near dragon teeth.

  “She will not recognize you as Keeper if you do not feed her.”

  He scooped up bloody gobs of meat and held them out for Pemberley. She gobbled as fast as he could offer them.

  Pemberley stopped for breath and looked longingly at Elizabeth. She picked up a sliver of meat and placed it in Pemberley’s mouth.

  She swallowed it whole and peered at Elizabeth, leaning close to her injured cheek. “Hurt?”

  “It is nothing to worry about, dearling.” Tears flowed down her face.

  “Heavens, she is right!” Darcy leaned closer. “What might I do for you?”

  “Do not worry, this is a good thing. You must see what this means! She has imprinted. She understands human blood is a reason for concern! She is safe!” Elizabeth wrapped her arms around Pemberley’s neck and sobbed into her shoulder.

  Darcy leaned back on his heels, panting. “You are certain?”

  “She knows my blood is an injury, not food. What more certainty is there?” Elizabeth dried her eyes on her sleeve.

  “I had no idea this was possible.” He dragged the back of his hand across his mouth.

  “Nor did I.”

  “Then why—”

  “I just knew—I cannot explain. If you knew there was the smallest chance you did not have to put that blade to use, would you not have taken it?”

  “I am ashamed I did not know to even try. Why did the Order not even mention the possibility?”

  “It is not in the lore. Just something I suspected from the hatchings I have seen. It could have turned out very different.”

  “Hungry.” Pemberley looked from Elizabeth to Darcy and back.

  Dragon-thunder boomed through the trees. Why was Longbourn bellowing about now? There was a small basilisk that lived in the Longbourn woods. Did he need to be that loud to scare it off?

  “We must get you to a safer place, then there will be more to eat.” Elizabeth said. “We should get her to Longbourn’s cavern. Pick up the egg shell too. That should not be left where it can be found.”

  “Will Longbourn permit her there?”

  “He is only a Laird. She is a Vikontes, if I recall my genealogies correctly. He should be honored to host her, and even if he is not, it is his duty. He will fulfill his duty. Help me now.” She urged Pemberley to her feet.

  He wrapped his arm around the drakling’s shoulders. “Come along now, you need a nice safe place to eat. Follow Miss Elizabeth. She knows where to go.”

  Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder. Something in the tone of his voice and in the look in his eyes was very sincere and kind. Perhaps he would make a decent Dragon Keeper after all.

  ***

  Pemberley grew tired well before th
ey reached Longbourn’s cavern. Darcy picked her up and carried her the rest of the way. She wrapped her neck over his shoulders and rested peacefully in his arms, gentle and trusting as a lamb. Miss Elizabeth walked just behind him, stroking Pemberley’s head and cooing encouragements to her when she became restless from hunger pangs.

  How close had he come to following the Blue Order’s protocols and destroying this creature that now clung to him like a child? Could he ever repay the debt he owed Miss Elizabeth? She had faced down a major-dragon to save Pemberley. Was there any other who would have—could have—done such a thing?

  But how had such a thing happened? The egg was supposed to be safe in Longbourn’s keeping. How could he have permitted it to hatch without warning any of them that it was imminent? Would he have intentionally endangered Pemberley? As capricious as the wyvern could be, that seemed extreme, even for him. But if not that, what had happened?

  Maybe Miss Elizabeth would know. But it would be difficult to ask without sounding ungrateful, and that would not do. Better not to have an answer at all than to risk insulting her.

  “There is the cavern. Give her to me now and make up a bed for her of soft leaves and sand.” She reached for the hatchling, wincing.

  Fresh blood dotted the cut on her arm. The wound was more serious than she had let on. It would require some kind of treatment tonight. But how?

  Pemberley shifted easily into Miss Elizabeth’s arms, though the drakling must weigh at least half as much as she.

  Moonlight streamed into the cold cavern, past the initial overhang, a good ten feet inside. Darcy grabbed a fallen branch, still covered with leaves and used it as a broom to pile soft sand against one wall. Several arm loads of leaves and Miss Elizabeth pronounced it sufficient. He took Pemberley from her and arranged the hatchling in the nest.

  She whined. Piteous cries of hunger reverberated against the stony walls.

  “Stop that racket.” Longbourn lumbered up behind them, dragging the horse carcass.

  Walker and Rustle landed beside it and began shredding it with beaks and talons.

  “I did not invite—”

  Elizabeth marched toe to toe with the wyvern, fury wrapped around her like a cloak. “A Vikontes does not require an invitation to stay with a Laird. You will do your duty toward her. I will not hear another word about it.”

  “You will stay with the baby?” Longbourn pulled back slightly and looked her in the eyes.

  “Of course I will. A baby so young cannot be left on her own.”

  Longbourn snorted softly. “You do not expect me to leave, do you?”

  “No, you are a host and must provide for our guest. That horse will not last very long. She will need more meat, until the time of great hunger has passed. Muntjac will do very nicely for her.” She crossed her injured arm over the other and squared her shoulders.

  No creature with any sense about it would deny her anything when she wore that expression.

  Longbourn scratched the dirt and bared his fangs.

  Darcy gathered handfuls of the gory meal and presented the pieces to Pemberley. How fast could she manage to swallow the gobbets and just how many could she consume?

  “You expect me to hunt for the drakling, too, I suppose.” Longbourn’s mouth turned down in a draconic version of a frown.

  “If you do not, I shall bring her mutton myself.”

  “She cannot have my sheep.” He stomped and the ground trembled.

  “Then provide her muntjac.”

  “But you will stay?”

  Miss Elizabeth edged back slightly. “I will stay.”

  “Scratch my ears.” Longbourn presented his head near her hand.

  She hesitated, hand trembling.

  Why?

  Longbourn whined almost as insistently as Pemberley.

  Miss Elizabeth capitulated and scratched behind his ear. He leaned into her. She squealed and edged back, clutching her injured arm to her ribs.

  “You are hurt!” Longbourn reared up. “The drakling—”

  “Baby clumsiness, that is all.”

  Longbourn sniffed at her arm and face. “It smells bad. Like death.”

  How could it? Firedrakes had no poison.

  Miss Elizabeth closed her eyes. “It must be turning septic. Dragon wounds often do. Rustle, fetch Rumblkins from the house, quickly, please.”

  “I will bring him straight away.” Rustle flew into the darkness.

  “What do you need the furry rat catcher for?” Longbourn asked.

  “Have you ever seen a tatzelwurm’s wounds get infected? Rats bite them all the time and yet they do not suffer infection. I am convinced that there is something about the way they lick their wounds that keeps them safe from it.”

  “I have never heard such a thing.” Darcy offered Pemberley the last piece of meat. She sniffed at it, eyes half closed. She turned her head aside and fell asleep.

  “You should have your fill while you can, Walker. These will be busy days for all of us.” Miss Elizabeth wavered slightly.

  Walker tore into the carcass with all the fury of a hungry dragon. It was not a pretty sight.

  Elizabeth wavered and Darcy caught her elbow. She limped as he helped her to sit. She was a sight, covered in dirt, blood and egg slime, her ball gown in tatters and her dancing slippers long since gone from her feet.

  “She needs water, Laird Longbourn, and warmth.”

  “I will bring water. Start a fire if you can.” Longbourn turned into the depths of the cavern.

  Darcy pulled his fire starters out of his jacket pockets and stripped off his coat. “Pray take this. You are chilled.”

  She allowed him to wrap it over her shoulders. “Do you always carry flint and steel in your pockets? It seems an odd thing to bring to a ball.”

  “I suppose so, but having been once stranded by a lame horse in the winter, I am never without.” He chuckled.

  “Pemberley will need the warmth, too. The fire should be near her. She will sleep several hours—no more. When she awakes, she will be famished.”

  Darcy helped Miss Elizabeth move to Pemberley’s side, then went out to gather tinder and kindling.

  By the time he had a fire going, Longbourn returned with a bucket of water. Where had the wyvern got a bucket and ladle?

  Darcy ladled out some water and offered it to Miss Elizabeth. Her face was flushed and eyes fever bright. She took it, but without her usual energy.

  Walker hopped to her and touched her forehead with his wing. “She is hot. This is not good.”

  Longbourn shoved his nose between Walker and Miss Elizabeth. “She must be made well!”

  Elizabeth touched his nose. “No tempers now, I have not the strength for it.”

  “I will bring Gardiner.” Walker flew off.

  “Perhaps you should wash your wounds,” Darcy said.

  “You cannot stand to be idle, can you?” She propped herself on one elbow.

  He wrung his handkerchief out in the water and handed it to her. “It is not my long suit.”

  She dabbed at the slash down her arm, now swollen and violently red. “I am afraid this color does not look well with my gown, or what is left of it.” Her laugh ended in a grimace.

  Rustle swooped in, with Rumblkins just a hairsbreadth behind. The tatzelwurm slithered up to her, purring loudly.

  Pemberley stirred and lifted her head.

  “Pemberley dear, may I present my friend, Rumblkins of Longbourn’s Keep.” Elizabeth beckoned the tatzelwurm into her lap.

  He climbed up and touched noses with Pemberley. He rubbed against her jaw with the top of his head. She flicked him with her long forked tongue.

  “Hungry,” Pemberley cried.

  “Come here, and I shall feed you.” Darcy moved toward the carcass.

  “No. Stay her. She needs.” Pemberley wrapped her neck across Miss Elizabeth’s shoulders.

  “Rumblkins is helping me. Go with your Keeper. I will be here when your belly is full.” Miss Elizabeth
stroked Pemberley’s head and whispered something in her ear.

  Pemberley carefully crawled off her nest and leaned against Darcy’s leg. She looked up, mouth open, so much like a baby bird. One that guzzled down raw horse meat, pounds at a time. He dropped another chunk in her mouth and scratched her chin. She rumbled happily and rubbed the top of her head against his leg.

  Rumblkins climbed higher in Miss Elizabeth’s lap and sniffed her cheek. “This is not good. But I can clean it.”

  “I would be grateful.” She clenched her fists, steeling herself.

  Rumblkins’ forked tongue was raspy as a cat’s and opened her wounds anew. They bled and he lapped up the blood. A thoroughly disturbing image. But the cuts looked better when he was finished. Her cheeks glistened with wet trails, though she never voiced her discomfort. Ever thoughtful, she was probably trying not to upset Pemberley. Rumblkins curled up in her lap, purring loudly.

  She ran her hand over his head, paying special attention to the spots behind his tufted ears. “Thank you my friend.”

  Belly distended, Pemberley’s eyelids drooped. She crawled back toward the sandy-leafy nest and nudged her head under Elizabeth’s arm. Rumblkins scooted to make room for her on Elizabeth’s lap. A moment later, all three were asleep. Longbourn lay down beside them, head on his paws and closed his eyes as well.

  Darcy sat back on his heels and stared. What a peculiar tableaux. Though beyond disheveled, Miss Elizabeth had never been more attractive, surrounded by the creatures that adored her.

  It was easy to see why they did. She understood them, knew them in ways that no dragon lore had ever revealed. She laid down everything she had for them.

  Remarkable.

  Stunning.

  She was a Keeper suited to a dragon of royal stock, like Pemberley. Why did her family and her connections have to be so shocking?

  The fire flickered. It was getting low.

  He forced himself to his feet. Best tend it now.

  Dragon bones, he was tired. Weary to his very marrow. Weary, but relieved. Maybe that was it. The tension that had held him together all these weeks was finally relieved, and now all that had held him together was unraveling.

  Thankfully Longbourn’s tantrums had knocked down enough deadfall that firewood was easy to find. He fed the fire, cut some more meat against Pemberley’s next feeding, and collapsed near the fire.