by Maria Grace
Too bad he could not do the same.
Why Aunt Catherine insisted on a “morning audience” was beyond him, especially when she was usually the last one in attendance. At least Anne did not usually bother with breakfast. One de Bourgh woman in the morning was enough for any man to cope with.
Arriving just before the start of the Christmastide season had offered him a welcome reprieve from many of her usual, intrusive audiences. The social calendar was so full with events to be hosted at Rosings and events in the village that she, at least in her own mind, had to oversee given the absence of her parson, that she had not a moment to spare for her nephew.
Not that he particularly wanted one, either. The help offered by the resident dragons was not only more welcome, but quite possibly more useful. For the most part.
He poured himself a cup of coffee and retrieved Fitzwilliam’s letter from his pocket. Hopefully it would be good news.
Settling into a soft-but-lumpy chair near the window, he held the letter in a sunbeam. Fitzwilliam’s hand was difficult to read on the best of days.
Georgiana had not recovered her spirits yet, but she was improving and had agreed to travel. That was a good sign. Before Darcy had left for Meryton, she would not even leave her chambers.
Fitzwilliam and Georgiana would arrive in a fortnight. Good. Good. He would have someone to share both the necessary work at Rosings Park and the tending of baby Pemberley. He leaned his head into the chair and closed his eyes.
Miss Elizabeth had made caring for the drakling look effortless, absolutely effortless. She always understood Pemberley’s moods, her wants and needs, and addressed them almost before she cried. But without Miss Elizabeth, it was not nearly as simple. Between himself, Rosings, Walker, and Cait, they could barely keep up with Pemberley’s demands.
A sunbeam warmed his face, almost soporific in its effects. He would not trade the privilege of keeping Pemberley for anything, but he could easily have done without the perpetual exhaustion. Too bad one could not hire a wet nurse or a nursery maid for a juvenile dragon.
Oh, the look Miss Elizabeth would give him for even having such a thought!
“Wake up, Darcy!”
He jumped out of his chair, nearly upsetting his coffee and dropping his letter. “Aunt Catherine. I did not hear you enter.”
“Of course you did not, you were sleeping! Where have your manners gone?”
He maneuvered around the over-furnished room and pulled her chair out from the table.
“Forgive me. Pemberley has been exceedingly demanding of late.”
She sat and arranged her skirts. “Mark my words Darcy. You will spoil that creature if you are not careful. Rosings—”
“Rosings has said no such thing.”
“A brood mother is always too partial to her offspring.” She flicked her hand, the corner of her lips wrinkling in a half-frown. “Cait is in agreement with me.” She flipped open a napkin and laid it in her lap.
“Speaking of Cait—”
“I will not have that discussion with you again, Darcy.” She rang the little silver bell for the maid. “Not another word.”
He slipped into the chair beside her. “Yes, Aunt, many more words. Walker is tired of her aggressive displays and demands. You must encourage Cait to more demure behavior if she has any desire—”
“Of course he will sire her next brood, just as he has the last two. It is his duty. It unites our two houses, just as your marriage—”
“That is another matter we have yet to discuss, but one problem at a time.”
“There is nothing to discuss. You will both do as you are told.” She slapped the table, rattling the glasses.
“Cockatrices do not mate for life. Walker is under no obligation to choose your cockatrix this time.” He folded his arms over his chest, settling in for what would, no doubt, be a long conversation.
“Their brood from ten years ago produced such superior specimens that he cannot pass up the opportunity—”
“Yes, he can, and he will. She is driving him away, and I will not have it. I need his help here with me. Pemberley needs him as well. You will call Cait off or—”
“Or what, Nephew? With what will you threaten me?” She canted her head to the left, eyes narrowing in an expression she surely learned from Rosings.
“Or I will do it myself.”
That got her attention.
She sat up very straight, eyes wide. “You will do nothing of the kind. I will not have a broody cockatrix upset by your impulsive behavior. Do you have any idea what kind of damage she could wreak if unsettled?”
He raised an eyebrow and stared at her.
She huffed a breath through puffed cheeks. “I do not understand what has made you so disagreeable, Darcy! You barely attended any of the Christmastide affairs. You have hardly shown your face outside your room at all.”
“I have had a dragon to attend. My time has been spent, not in my chambers, but in hers.”
“So you complain, rather constantly. How did you manage when Pemberley was newly-hatched?”
“I had help from Miss Elizabeth Bennet, daughter of the Blue Order’s historian. She is well versed—”
“Bennet, Bennet. That name is ... ah yes, I have it now. That estate, Longbourn, is entailed upon my vicar, Collins.”
“Indeed it is, despite the fact that Collins is entirely dragon-deaf and immune to persuasion.” He rolled his eyes although it was probably a bad idea in her presence.
She grunted her disapproval. “Very unfortunate, that, especially when he is rather a gudgeon. Rarely have I met a man who holds his own opinions so loosely, particularly in response to a female voice. Do you happen to know if he has made an offer of marriage yet?”
“I do not think so.” His brow knotted tight enough to ache.
“That fool had better get on with the process before the Blue Order finalizes those ridiculous liberal mandates. Really, what can they be thinking, permitting a Keeper to marry outside of a dragon’s consent?”
“As I understood it, those new rulings also require that an alternate Keeper be present so that the dragon would not be without.”
“Foolishness. Perhaps a young thing like Pemberley might be willing to do so, knowing no better, but an old dragon—bah! Dragons must be allowed to choose their own Keeper. There can be no other way.” She waved her hand, nearly knocking over her tea cup. “Rosings determined that I should marry Sir Lewis, and it did us no harm.”
It had not done them any favors, either.
“You young people are far too selfish, not submitting to your superiors as you should. You should take a lesson from Collins. I told him that he should choose a wife from among the daughters of the estate, trusting of course that Bennet would steer him toward the correct one, as it were, to satisfy the dragon with the entail. Thus, everyone’s problems are solved. Not only that, but I have discharged any inconvenient debt you might owe the man for his assistance in returning Pemberley to you.”
He dragged his hand down his face. Aunt Catherine did so love to be helpful.
“Now about Pemberley. It is high time I meet her. I insist. I will set things to right.”
She was half right. It was time she met her youngest guest, but there was little chance anything would be set to rights.
***
Of course Aunt Catherine required a change of garments before leaving for the dragon’s lair. A walking dress, he was informed, was the proper attire for one to call upon dragons.
Thankfully Miss Elizabeth had no such notions when rushing out from the ball to rescue Pemberley. He really ought to replace that gown for her. It was the least he could do.
Rosings’ cavern lay along an overgrown path, deep in the woods along the west side of the estate, well away from the grazing pastures, small farms, and tenant houses. Although Rosings would never violate the Accords and harm an accidental trespasser, she was grouchy by nature, and no one wanted to make her grouchier.
Cait fl
ew out to greet them whilst they were still a hundred yards off. She was a spectacular example of a cockatrix in her prime, covered in glossy black feathers, punctuated with deep purple along her head ruff and deep blue under her wings. Her head ruff was so full and fluffy that it was hard to make out her face. Only the tip of her razor-honed beak stood out. She boasted tail feathers so long that they often dragged on the ground when she perched. If one considered looks alone, it was hard to understand Walker’s adverse reaction to her, especially since she had chosen him.
“You have deigned to grace us with your presence.” Cait landed in front of them and bent her head toward the ground, but her wings were still spread.
Cockatrix sarcasm at its finest.
“Do not take that tone with me. You well know I have been occupied. I should have thought that the two of you could manage a baby between you. Especially considering that you have raised two broods already.” Aunt Catherine flipped her skirts at Cait.
“Mine did not have teeth, and, I assure you, feather scales are not nearly so arduous to grow as teeth are.” Cait flapped her wings and took off, trailing her tail feathers over their shoulders.
She must be tired and worn, too, stooping to such obvious insults.
Aunt Catherine gathered her skirts and stormed into the hillside cavern.
At some point long ago, small cracks had opened up in the ceiling, just enough to let some light through, but still overgrown enough to keep out the rain. He paused a moment for his eyes to adjust. At last, he could make out a broad expanse, swept clear by a dragon’s tail. Along the nearest wall, a pile of soft leaves and underbrush formed Pemberley’s nest where she lay fitful, whining softly. Several yards away, Rosings stretched out across the ground, forelegs thrown over her ears.
“Cowntess,” Aunt Catherine called.
How she loved those reminders of rank, her own and her dragon’s.
Rosings rose to her feet and shook. Starting at her head, it progressed down her shoulders, her wings, to the tip of her tail. A small cloud of dust stirred. Darcy sneezed into his handkerchief.
The firedrake cowntess, was an exemplar of her kind. Like Pemberley, she was various shades of red, from pale red at her underbelly to deep red, nearly purple, along her spine. As sharp as Cait’s beak, her talons reflected the meager light. Her smooth scales, dusty now, shone when freshly cleaned. Nose to the base of her tail, she must have been fifteen feet long with another eight feet of tail behind her. Fully extended, her wings probably spanned over twenty feet. She only flew on moonless nights, so no one alive now had actually seen her in flight. She was a very private creature.
“Lady.” Rosings bobbed her head, and Aunt Catherine curtsied.
How very different this meeting was from the warm, almost intimate greetings that Miss Elizabeth shared with her Dragon Friends. At first, Elizabeth’s manner had seemed so odd, so improper to him, but now Aunt Catherine’s words and actions seemed too stiff and formal.
“Will you introduce me to your guest?”
Rosings rolled her eyes. “If she will see you.”
“Pemberley is much taxed by teething right now.” Darcy hurried to her side.
“I shall determine that for myself.” In a swish of skirts, Aunt Catherine stormed toward the nest, Rosings barely half a step ahead.
“You should rise and greet your guest.” Rosings nosed Pemberley.
Pemberley lifted her head blinking. “She is not her. I want her.”
“What is the drakling blithering about?”
“Nothing to be concerned with. She spent a great deal of time with Miss Bennet—”
“Yes, her!”
“And is having some difficulty adjusting to her removal.”
Aunt Catherine snorted. “That is why nursery maids should be changed out often. It is always a problem when youngsters get attached.”
“May I present my aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh?” Darcy gestured toward her.
“She is not her.” Pemberley looked away.
“You will not be rude to my Keeper.” Rosings slapped the tip of her tail on the ground.
“Yes, Cowntess.” Pemberley clambered to her feet, eyes down. “Greetings, Lady.”
“That is better.” Aunt Catherine nodded, still scowling. “Now, I have heard your teeth are troublesome.”
“I no have teeth.” Pemberley turned her face away.
“Yes, but you will soon. Now open your mouth and let me see.”
“No.”
“I insist. Do as you are told.”
“No.”
Darcy edged closer. “Now, Pemberley. If she—ah ‘her’—asked you, would you do so?”
“Yes.”
“Then please do so now. Lady only wants to see.” Pemberley opened her mouth.
Hopefully she would not bite.
Aunt peered into Pemberley’s mouth, but stopped short of putting her hand inside. She did have baby fangs after all.
Aunt Catherine turned her back on Pemberley. “There is no doubt the trouble is teething. But that is very good because now we have a solution.”
“We do?”
“Of course. All she needs is to have her gums lanced to reveal the teeth, just like any infant. I shall make arrangements for it immediately. Perhaps Cait can do it. Her talons might do very nicely.” In a swish of skirts, she bustled from the cavern.
“What she mean, ‘lance?’” Pemberley tucked her head under Darcy’s arm.
“It is a surgery to free your teeth from your gums. It is often done for babies as I understand—teething is very dangerous, you know.”
At least it was for humans, but who knew if it was for dragons?
Miss Elizabeth probably would.
“No, it not dangerous. It itches. It hurts. Make it stop. I no want Cait talons in my mouth. I will bite her.” She rustled her wings.
That usually signaled the beginning of a tantrum.
Lovely.
“You must not bite. You know that.”
“Rosings say I can if someone hurt me.”
Technically she was right.
“Cait is your friend.”
“No, she not. She thinks I am vex ... vexanamous ... vexatious. I not know what means vexatious, but it not sound good.”
“She thinks Walker is vexatious too, and she likes him a great deal.” He scratched under her chin.
She took his wrist in her mouth and gummed it, whining. “Make better.”
He took her face in his hands and pressed his forehead to her. “I will find some way to make it better soon.”
Pray he would be able to keep that promise. If only Miss Elizabeth were near.
***
“Cousin Elizabeth.” Collins’ voice slithered down the back of her neck, raising the tiny hairs in an itchy prickle. “Are you ready to join your sisters and me?”
“Yes, we should leave directly.” She brushed past, not waiting for him to follow.
Kitty and Lydia raced on ahead. What was a three-mile journey when officers were waiting on the other side?
Their brisk pace offered a delightful boon. Who would have thought Mr. Collins unable to walk vigorously and talk at the same time? He huffed and puffed, unable to string together more than a pair of words at a time.
Under such pleasant circumstances, the distance passed quickly, and the buildings of Meryton’s main street rose up before them.
“Oh, look! Officers!” Lydia pointed at a cluster of red coats standing near the haberdasher’s window.
Kitty took off at a run, kicking up a faint trail of dust in the cool, clear air.
Elizabeth drew a breath, but what point in trying to curb them? They would not listen, and it would only look bad to any who observed her shouting at them.
“You should check your sisters.” Mr. Collins huffed and panted, sweat glistening on his forehead and cheeks. “Their unrestrained behavior does not look well upon you or your family. It will lead to ruin, I am afraid. There are those among the community who al
ready speak unfavorably about them.”
“I wonder that you would take so seriously the word of one who would speak to you in such a familiar and inappropriate way.” She shrugged and hurried ahead.
Who had he been listening to? Probably Lady Lucas who considered Charlotte an excellent prospect for Mr. Collins. But to stoop to such untoward means? Perhaps Lady Lucas was not the sort of friend that Mama thought her to be.
He muttered something she could not make out. No loss, it was not likely to be very sensible.
Lydia looked over her shoulder, squinting in the bright sun, and waved at Elizabeth to join them. She hastened her steps, not so much to run, but enough to ensure that Mr. Collins would not easily catch up to her.
“See whom we have found—almost the entire company.” Lydia looped her arm through Denny’s on the right and Carter’s on the left.
Kitty hung off Chamberlayne’s arm. Wickham stepped a little closer to Elizabeth and cocked his head.
“Walk with us—we are off to the vintner’s, the butcher’s, and the chandler’s.” Lydia pulled her escorts down the street.
Elizabeth and Wickham fell into step behind them.
Heads turned, probably at the sight of so many red coats. Still, it was disconcerting to be noticed by so many.
“Your sisters are quite energetic.” Wickham chuckled under his breath, lacing his hands behind him.
“That would be one word for it, perhaps not the one I would choose, but it is an apt description.”
“What word would you choose to describe them?”
“Oh, no, sir, you will not trick me into displaying those things which I do not wish to reveal—at least not so easily.”
“Ah, Miss Bennet, you ascribe to me motives and subtlety that are far outside my purview. I am but a humble soldier, madam, not a clever-tongued gentleman.” Did he just wink?
She laughed. April nipped her ear.
Why? She had only laughed at his joke. And his smile. And the twinkle in his eye.
“I see you have your pet with you. Do you bring her with you everywhere?”
“Not everywhere, to be sure. The cold temperatures do not agree with her any more than they do any small ... bird. Too much time in the house bores her, I fear. It is dangerous for one so small to go out alone, so we satisfy her curiosity by walking out together.”