by Maria Grace
How dry and rough her scales had become. Her color was even more faded along the crest of her head.
“Why her not write? I want her.” She thumped her tail.
Georgiana stroked her neck. “Shall we write another letter?”
“Why? Her not answer.”
“Sometimes letters take time to be delivered. Perhaps she is busy with Dragon Keeping?” Georgiana shrugged and looked at him as though he might have an answer.
“Longbourn no like me. He not let her write?”
“I do not know. I had not considered the possibility.” Darcy stroked his chin. “I am sure you will have a letter from her soon.”
“No! She not like me anymore.”
He patted her neck. “You are tired and hungry. You must eat something, then we will talk.”
“No want.” She slid her head off his lap and tucked it under her wing. She whipped her tail across the nest.
“Brother look!” Georgiana gasped.
Dark streaks lined the nest. Blood!
“Please, still your tail. Let me see.” He lifted her tail and squinted in the meager light.
The underside of her tail was lined with blisters, many broken and bleeding.
Georgiana leaned into his ear. “Miss Elizabeth wrote of those too. She said dragons are apt to injure their tails when they are upset. They lash their tails and cause the blisters. She recommends a salve for it. Shall I make some?”
“Yes, yes, do. I will stay with her.”
Georgiana hurried off.
Walker swooped in and beckoned Darcy to him.
“I will be right back.” He jogged toward the cavern entrance and hunkered down near Walker.
“I have good news. I found the hound and two of the tatzelwurms are bringing it to the barn. I do not think it has eaten for days. I believe some food and water and perhaps some rest shall set it to rights.”
“I can hardly imagine more welcome news.”
“You do realize, it would still be far better if Lady Elizabeth were here.”
“I hardly see how that can happen.” He rubbed his eyes with thumb and forefinger. It was not as though the thought had not already occurred to him.
“Either you are being facetious or stupid. With you it can be difficult to tell.”
Darcy grumbled under his breath.
“You know she would do anything for Pemberley. If you were to write asking for her to come—”
“I know you cannot appreciate the human conventions that prevent me from doing so. If she would simply answer Georgiana’s letters, then we might extend an invitation. But until then, propriety requires—”
“Propriety be hanged. You have a drakling that has made herself sick missing Lady Elizabeth. She has not eaten in days because of Anne’s ill-conceived interventions, and now she has torn her tail into a bloody mess because of it all. Just how much worse are you going to permit this to get before you relinquish your pride and seek out the help you know you need?”
Darcy sat back on his haunches. “How am I to do that?”
Walker smiled a slightly eerie cockatrice smile. “That is all I needed to hear. I will go to Meryton myself and talk with her. No letters necessary. Rosings and I have talked, and she has extended an invitation herself. We both know Miss Elizabeth is unlikely to ignore a draconic invitation. With any good luck, I shall have her here in a se’nnight.”
Darcy swallowed hard. A se’nnight. That was too long and yet not long at all. She would be there with him again, and everything would be returned to rights.
For Pemberley.
And maybe for him, too.
“Have I your approval?”
“Yes, go. Pray though, take a moment and give Cait a take-leave before you fly off. She has complied with Aunt Catherine’s requests and deserves your courtesy.”
Walker chittered something under his breath in dragon tongue. “Fine.”
He flew off, and Darcy returned to cradle Pemberley’s head in his lap. “It will be well very soon, little one. It will be well.”
“I want her.”
“So do I.”
***
The Forster’s carriage paused to allow traffic to pass.
“You never told me your ultimate destination. Perhaps it is time to instruct the driver?” Mr. Wickham asked.
April flapped and stomped on Elizabeth’s shoulder. “Do not tell him. I do not trust him.”
“After the service he has offered us, so willingly—why do you persist in your distrust?” She whispered and laid her hand on April’s back.
“Because I am not charmed by an easy smile and attractive features.” She nipped Elizabeth’s ear, lightly, but enough to sting. “You did not tell Mary where you were going. Why should you tell him?”
She did have an excellent point. Mary would be heartbroken if she trusted Wickham with what she did not trust her own sister. And April was likely to make sure Mary knew.
“I would like to go to the place where St. Mary Hill Road and Tower Street meet.” Halfway between the Gardiners’ home and the offices of the Blue Order, she could reach either by an easy walk.
“What is there for you?” Mr. Wickham did look vaguely hungry for more information, but then who would not?
“Pray allow me my privacy, sir. I do not wish to discuss the matter.” Or rather her dragon did not.
“I am wounded that you do not trust me. Have I not been a good friend to you?”
April pecked at her ear. That one probably drew blood.
“Indeed you have, sir, and I am deeply indebted to you for your assistance. However, I must insist, press me no further on the matter.”
His expression shifted several times, but his easy smile returned. “Of course, I would never intrude upon a lady’s privacy. Forgive me. Consider it a mark of my regard that I am concerned for your safety.”
“His regard you can do without.” April snorted. “As for your safety, I still question that.”
“You are very good, sir, and I deeply appreciate all you have done on my behalf. I pray you, though, make no mention of my travel to anyone.”
He pressed his hand to his chest, and his shoulders sagged a little. “You have had my promise on that matter. I am wounded that you would even think it necessary to say more.”
“Forgive me, sir. I have no wish to cause you pain when you have been so very good to me.” She bit her lip.
April growled.
“Pray do not worry for my feelings. I merely feel responsible for your well-being. It would be a constant weight on my mind if I were not certain you were safely delivered to your destination.”
“Can you not see he is trying to persuade you as surely as that voice from the cellars was? If he does not stop, I will scratch his eyes out!”
She scooped April up and cupped her hands over her. “Be assured, I know this part of London quite well, and there is nothing to be concerned for. I fear my little friend is becoming much agitated by the carriage. It would be best for us to depart as soon as possible.”
He sighed and rapped the roof. The carriage slowed, and Mr. Wickham gave the driver instructions. “The driver says we should be there in less than a quarter of an hour.”
“None too soon.” April picked her way back up Elizabeth’s shoulder and ducked into the folds of her hood.
The familiar edifices along Lyme Street as they turned on to Fenchurch Street seemed to soothe some of April’s agitation. It was nice to be surrounded by the familiar once again. The coach slowed and stopped.
“Are you certain I cannot take you farther?” Mr. Wickham opened the door and stepped out.
“I thank you for everything. I shall be very well from here.” She picked up her carpet bag.
He handed her out and climbed back into the coach.
“Walk in the wrong direction until he is out of sight.” April pressed tight against Elizabeth’s neck.
If that would quell the fairy dragon’s fears, then so be it. It could hardly hurt her to st
retch her legs a bit before setting out for the Gardiners’.
The streets were crowded, as London nearly always was, but the air had a cool, crisp note, bracing and refreshing after the confines of the coach. Dodging hurried pedestrians not looking where they were going was almost fun.
April tapped the back of her head twice. “They are gone now. You can go on to Gracechurch Street.”
“I think I know how a carriage driver feels now.” Elizabeth sidestepped a mother and children and turned to go back in the direction she had come.
“You would rather have me fly on my own? I am happy to do so, you know.” She flapped her wings.
“This is hardly a safe place for you to fly, and you know it. There are enough birds of prey here to whom you look like a tasty blue snack. Best keep covered until we reach the safety of the house.”
April chirruped and pulled the green hood over her until only the tip of her beaky snout remained visible. One mention of birds of prey was usually enough to quell all arguments. She dreaded them like nothing else, even cats.
Elizabeth shifted her carpet bag to the other hand, gathered her skirts, and picked her way across the dirty street. Even if there had been a street sweeper available, she could have hardly justified paying him. Best reserve her limited funds for what was truly essential. And who knew what that would be?
Her stomach lurched as she dodged a group of children dancing around a peddler’s cart. She had never walked alone beyond the borders of Longbourn. Even in Meryton, she always had one of her sisters or a maid with her. But now, she was alone, completely alone.
Worse still, she knew no dragons to call upon here. How strange and insecure it felt to be without their constant and reassuring presence. Certainly there were dragons in London, but she did not know them. They were not her friends. Not yet. Perhaps if she stayed long enough, though, she would come to know them. She had met many dragons, major and minor, traveling with Papa and became friendly with most of them. These could not be too different, could they?
She turned the corner to Gracechurch Street. The Gardiner house was at the center of the street, the finest, most prominent one. A bright blue door, distinctive iron railings with swirls in the vague shape of dragon scales, and the steps freshly swept. How many times had she visited there? Always it had been a warm, welcoming place.
Would it be so now?
There would be no way to know until she asked. She drew a deep breath and pulled her shoulders back. If she could not feel confident, at least she could look the part.
She marched up the stairs and rapped the brass, dragon claw knocker against the freshly painted door.
The door opened to reveal the Gardiners’ housekeeper. Tall and positively gaunt, her sharp nose and chin always gave her a severe expression even when she smiled. She jumped back half a step and blinked rapidly. “Miss Elizabeth? I was not told you were expected.”
“Good day, Mrs. Hart. Indeed, I am not expected.”
Mrs. Hart gaped a moment, then seemed to regain her senses. “Do come in. I am certain the mistress will be very happy to see you.”
The door closed behind her, and April poked her head from her hood.
“And the little blue one, too! We have a little red one what looks just like her now, you know.” Mrs. Hart smiled. She extended a finger to ask permission to scratch April under the chin.
Though she looked perpetually irate, the housekeeper and the fairy dragon had a long and cordial relationship. April favored anyone who would ply her with honey, and Mrs. Hart delighted in the fairy dragon’s soporific song.
Ladylike footsteps descended the broad marble stairs. “Lizzy?”
“She just came to the door, madam. I was on my way to get you.”
“Of course, of course. Lizzy, where is your father?” Aunt Gardiner caught her hands, and Phoenix launched from her shoulder to join April in her hood.
She swallowed hard and turned away from Aunt’s seeking gaze. “He is not here.”
“Is he off to the Order’s offices? Should we expect him for dinner?”
“He is not in London.”
“Then your sisters, perhaps? Is your carriage pulling around to the mews? Shall I notify the grooms?”
“No, I have come on my own.”
Aunt gasped and caught her by the elbow. “Come, we must talk. Mrs. Hart, see that Lizzy’s room is made up for her.”
The housekeeper curtsied and scurried away. Aunt led her to her private sitting room and closed the door.
The small room at the back of the house looked out over the back garden. Flowered paper hangings covered the walls, a close match for the dainty pillows on the chairs around the low table. Neat, feminine, and functional—everything in the room reflected Aunt Gardiner.
Elizabeth sat near the window. “If Uncle is at home, you may want to bring him in as well. It might save repeating the entire story.”
“I will be back in a moment.”
Elizabeth unfastened her cloak. Phoenix and April flitted to a fairy dragon-sized perch—an elegant wrought iron affair painted white—on the tea table.
Phoenix fluffed his feathers, making himself as big as he could. Did he even realize that he was barely more than half April’s size?
“Was Longbourn a bully again? I expect I need to have a conversation with him.” He snorted and narrowed his eyes. It was probably meant to be a threatening expression, but he looked too much like little Samuel.
He would be offended if she laughed, so she held her breath and bit her lower lip.
“You will hear it all soon enough, my fiery little friend.” She soothed the ruffled feathers along his back. “How do you find London?”
Rustle swooped in through the open window. “He would find it much more appealing if he were not required to always have my company whilst leaving the house without the Gardiners.”
“You would fly in London alone?” April gasped.
Phoenix puffed out his chest. “Of course, there is nothing to fear.”
“You had best learn that the skies here are not safe. You would cause the family great grief if you were made a snack by some marauder,” April chittered.
“Perhaps he will listen to you. He ignores me.” Rustle preened his wing.
“You had best listen to him.” April hopped closer and pecked his needle-like beak.
Elizabeth coaxed him to her finger. “You are such a brave little thing. But you must remember that if something happens to you, you will not be here to protect the children or Mrs. Gardiner. It behooves you to listen to your elders. You may be big and strong, but you have not their experience and wisdom. Remember, listening to their wisdom is your best teacher. Is that not the prime tenet of the young dragon’s code?”
He huffed a sound that she would have thought required fleshy lips to make. “I am no fool.”
“I did not say you were. By listening to them, you may prove you are not.”
Fairy dragons were decidedly cute when they glared whilst pouffed and fluffy. No wonder few Dragon Friends took them seriously or even tried.
The door flung open and banged against the wall.
Uncle Gardiner stormed in. “Lizzy! Maddie tells me you are here alone. Pray tell, what has happened?”
Aunt followed him in, and they sat on either side of her.
The tale should not have been so difficult to tell. It was just a set of facts—cold, hard facts. But those facts lodged in her throat, rasping and tearing as she struggled to divulge them.
“Of course you may stay with us!” Aunt Gardiner covered her hands with hers.
“As long as may be necessary.” Uncle laid a heavy hand on her shoulder.
Good news, even very welcome good news, should not make her cry. Nor should it leave her sobbing and gasping for breath.
But it did.
The fairy dragons flew to her shoulders, drying her tears in their fluff. Rustle perched on the back of her chair and extended his wings over her. Dear soul, every bit as protective
as her aunt and uncle.
“I only wish you could have sent us word, let me come for you.” Uncle worried his hands together. “I dread to think what could have happened alone on the road with that Wickham fellow. I can only imagine how desperate you must have been to have taken such a risk to come to us.”
“He was everything gracious and gentlemanly. Truly.”
Aunt clucked her tongue. “I am grateful for the service he rendered you to be sure, but neither of those words is an apt description of the man. Now is hardly the time for that discussion, though.”
“We must visit the Blue Order as soon as possible, tomorrow if I have my druthers. A formal complaint must be filed.”
“Surely nothing about Longbourn can be important enough to bother the Order. He is only a country wyvern, without title or influence.” Elizabeth studied her hands.
“But your father is Historian of the Order, and that alone makes all matters pertaining to Longbourn significant. Even if that were not the case though, it seems yours will be the first case to test the new laws, and thus precedence-setting. And that is very, very significant.”
***
The next morning, Aunt Gardiner brought several dresses to Elizabeth’s room, a snug, tidy little space on the same floor as the children’s rooms. Though she was hardly the only one who stayed there, Aunt included touches that were just for her: a looking glass, a nesting basket for April, a favorite coverlet, embroidered in lavender flowers. It felt almost like home.
“I cannot imagine you were able to pack very much in just your carpet bag. Hopefully some or even all of these will fit you. It is so much easier to face people when one feels herself dressed adequate to the occasion.”
Elizabeth picked out a deep blue gown and held it against her chest. Each was well made and fashionable but not presumptuous, just like Aunt.
“I have not been able to wear that gown since Samuel was born. Let me help you put it on.”
Elizabeth twirled in front of the mirror. Though a few small alterations would be necessary to perfect the fit, she could certainly wear it as it was.
“I had thought to have it remade, but it fits you so well, you must have it. These others should fit you as well. I insist on you having them. You should wear the blue one today.”