Longbourn: Dragon Entail: A Pride and Prejudice Variation (Jane Austen's Dragons Book 2)

by Maria Grace

  “Of course.”

  His pencil was unusual, clearly made for a dragon’s paw. Thick and knobby, it conformed to his boney toes. “I have rarely seen characters such as these. It is a sample of very old script, but more than that, it does not seem to have originated in Britain.”

  “What are you saying—”

  A large man laden with a stack of books backed into her.

  She jumped. He stumbled, dropping most of the books.

  “Pray forgive me ...”

  “Mr. Darcy!”

  He dropped the final book and bowed. “Miss Elizabeth ... that is, Miss Bennet. I ... I had no idea of finding you here. Is your father with you?”

  “No, he is not. My trip was rather unexpected.”

  “So I have heard.” Walker landed on the table near the open books, ruffling the pages as he folded his wings to his back. “I went to Meryton and was most distressed to hear of your departure from there. We need you very much. Our trek here was our last resort to find answers.”

  April landed on the table next to him. He bowed to her and she to him.

  Drew’s forehead creased, and his lips retreated to bare his teeth. An expression of surprise, not aggression—at least not yet.

  She fumbled with her commonplace book and withdrew the letters from Pemberley. “My sister sent these to my aunt for safekeeping. They arrived just an hour ago. I assume these might explain Walker’s trip to Meryton?”

  “Yes, indeed.” He stooped to pick up the dropped books. “I came to the library in search of answers for Pemberley’s woes, but it does not seem there is a single useful one in all these pages.”

  “I cannot imagine I have anything to offer that you cannot find here.” She gestured to the many shelves. “I am sure Lady Astrid—”

  “Has been of no help. Nor has Sir Edward. Infant firedrakes are so rare, the situation is outside of their experience—”

  “He needs your help with Pemberley.” Walker gently wrapped his foot around her wrist.

  She grabbed the table and fell into the nearest chair. “Is she ill? Is she hurt? What has happened?”

  How could he be so negligent in so short a time? With Rosings and Lady Catherine to turn to for help no less! What kind of Dragon Keeper was he?

  “Nothing, everything.” Darcy raked his hair. “I have no idea.” He sank into the chair beside her.

  “Tell me exactly what is going on. Everything. No detail is too small.” She pressed her fist to her lips.

  “I took her to Rosings, her brood mother, and at first all seemed well. Rosings bonded with her, and she seemed to respond to Rosings. Only a few days later though, Pemberley started teething—”

  She clenched her fists and pressed them against the table. “But I told you exactly how to handle that, wrote it out in careful detail.”

  Pray let him not be so arrogant that he did not even read what she had given him.

  “And it was immensely helpful. My sister and I have both read your notes so often they have nearly been committed to memory. We followed your recommendations to the letter, and they brought her such relief.”

  Walker caught her eye and nodded just a bit. Mr. Darcy was not exaggerating.

  “I do not understand. What was the problem?”

  “My aunt began to step in, suggesting that Pemberley’s gums needed to be lanced—”

  “Tell me you did not do anything so barbaric—and dangerous!”

  He raised open palms. “No, no, I forbade it. But the threat frightened her, so I introduced Georgiana, my sister to her. She helped Pemberley write to you—”

  She clutched her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut. “And she is upset I have not written back.”

  He nodded. “Then my cousin Anne heard of the amendments in the marriage clauses and determined to show me that she was the Keeper that Pemberley needed.”

  “You are betrothed to a cousin?”

  “Only in Anne’s and my aunt’s minds.” He threw up his hands.

  He was in the same situation as she?

  “Anne made things dramatically worse. She nearly lost Pemberley’s dog and convinced her that you did not care for her anymore.”

  Elizabeth gasped and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. “No! I will right that immediately.”

  “I assured her of that.” Walker bobbed his head and shoulders. “But with everything else—”

  “What else happened?”

  Darcy groaned and scrubbed his face with his palms. “As near as I can put together, Lady Catherine’s cockatrix made some mention of Mr. Collins’ soon-coming wife. Pemberley took that to mean you would be coming to visit her directly. But then Collins wrote saying that he would not be returning with a wife at all.”

  Walker grumbled under his breath.

  Darcy rested steepled hands against his forehead. “Since then, Pemberley has refused her food, even taken to hiding from me and Georgiana. She ignores Rosings and has lost interest in the new puppy we brought her. The only creature able to reach her seems to be the old hound. I have no idea how long that will last. I have done everything I know to bring her around, but I am at a loss.”

  “Has she lost weight?”

  “I fear so.”

  “And her color?”

  “She is more pink than red now. Lady Catherine called upon Pemberley and ordered her to eat properly, but it made little impression on her.”

  “What kind of Dragon Keeper does such a thing? One does not order a distressed dragon to do much of anything. Especially a baby.” Elizabeth rose and paced along the table.

  Walker huffed. “Just get to the point, Darcy. The little thing sleeps and sulks in Rosings’ cave most of the time. She just lies on her nest and cries for you.” He poked Elizabeth with his wingtip.

  “Me? You must be joking. Certainly there is some misunderstanding. Is Rosings—”

  Walker leaned up and squawked in her face. “Contrary to what you might think from descriptions of her Keeper, Rosings could not be a better mentor or caretaker, far better than a typical brood mother. The problem is not her care or her Keeper. The problem is your absence.” He poked her again.

  “No, that cannot possibly be—”

  “It sounds like something called ‘attachment sickness.’ Minor drakes can suffer from it, but I have never heard of it in a major dragon. Who would think ...” Drew said softly. “It is very serious. There is a book—” He scurried off.

  “I have never heard of such a thing.” Darcy scoured his forehead with his handkerchief.

  “I have never heard of a name for it, but it sounds like something that affects some fairy dragons, too.” April hopped toward Darcy and jumped up on his proffered finger.

  He held her up as Elizabeth sat beside him.

  “When hatchlings make particularly strong attachments, like Heather to Mary, separating them from their Dragon Friend too early can leave them pining at the loss. Some never recover. Perhaps it is the same for minor drakes. They are known for being very affectionate, too.”

  “Here.” Drew dropped an open book between them with a dusty thud.

  Shoulder to shoulder, they peered at the handwritten text.

  ... pallor, loss of appetite, leading to loss of strength. In extreme cases, death follows.

  If the hatchling cannot be made to eat meat, bone broth and calves’ foot jellies may be offered. But the best remedy is reunion with the missing Dragon Friend. If the separation has been caused by the death of that Friend, sometimes a close family member may be substituted.

  “My heavens! That sounds like what you described in fairy dragons.” She chewed her knuckle.

  April landed on the page and examined the text closely as though she could actually read it. “I am glad to have a name for it: Attachment Sickness. You must write to Mary immediately and warn her!”

  “I will, tonight. Do not worry.”

  “I know it is a great deal to ask of you, Miss Elizabeth, Pray, is there any way you could come to Rosing
s Park and see Pemberley, and perhaps stay with her until she recovers?”

  “The text suggests it is her best chance for recovery.” Drew pointed at the page.

  “Yes, yes of course. I am staying with the Gardiners. We must speak with them, but I am sure they will supportive. He is solicitous after Pemberley’s welfare. He became quite fond of her on the journey to Kent. Drew, are there other books that might be useful to consult before we leave?”

  “Possibly.” He led Darcy away to the shelves

  She opened her commonplace book to a fresh page and pulled her pencil from her reticule. The receipt for bone broth was one she had not seen before, and if there was a chance it would help Pemberley, she could not risk forgetting it.

  ***

  Darcy glanced over his shoulder at the luggage wagon, squinting in the nearly noonday sun. Her trunk was still there, nestled between his two larger ones. He had not been dreaming.

  The weather was nearly perfect for travel, just a hint of crispness in the air and a bit of a breeze to keep everything fresh. The roads were clean and easy to traverse. All together a nearly ideal situation.

  A little too perfect. His stomach tightened again. Too many things had gone right recently. She had appeared like some Grecian oracle among the library shelves, ready and willing to come to his aid. Uncle Matlock always said it was a double-edged sword when Providence smiled too broadly upon one. There would always be a dear price to be paid for the favor.

  But to save Pemberley’s life, no price would be too high. If only it were not already too late.

  “Have a care, Darcy!” Walker cawed overhead. “That horse you are riding is going to wander off the road for a graze if you do not pay attention.”

  Darcy shook his head and steered his horse back toward the road.

  Walker was right, of course. He ought to pay better attention. For as little sleep as he had recently, he probably should have ridden in the coach with Miss Bennet and her Uncle, but somehow doing so felt like intruding on their privacy.

  No, that was not entirely true.

  Unless they were discussing Pemberley or dragons, she seemed perpetually annoyed with him. Taxing her patience when she was doing him such a favor seemed ungrateful.

  Walker landed on the luggage cart and beckoned Darcy to ride nearer. “I spoke with Rustle whilst you were dining with the Gardiners last night. There are things you should know.” His voice was low as he looked over his shoulder at the carriage.

  Darcy pinched the bridge of his nose. “And you could not tell me any of this last night?”

  “With you in a flurry of packing and planning? I hardly think you would have remembered anything I said, if you had even listened at all.”

  Starting well after midnight to pack for a journey at dawn probably was not the best of plans, but there had been little choice.

  He yawned. Probably best not dwell on just how tired he was right now. “What is so important for me to know?”

  “Do you wonder why she fled her father’s house?”

  “I assume it has something to do with Collins. Since he is not returning to Kent married, she probably refused him and is escaping her father’s temper.”

  “According to Rustle, Longbourn attempted to persuade her to accept while Collins was making an offer of marriage. He says also they believe her father complicit in the entire affair.”

  “Bloody hell! I would never have thought they would stoop so low.”

  Surely the Blue Order would not tolerate their Historian so flagrantly violating the Accords. If they knew. But did they?

  Considering her character, probably not.

  “It is utterly despicable on both their parts.” Walker flapped sharply. “Who could blame her for running? But now that she has spent so much time at the Blue Order offices, there are enough who know her whereabouts that word could make it back to her family. It would take little to trace her to Rosings from there. She might have very little time in which to help Pemberley.”

  “I cannot imagine her being willing to leave before Pemberley is safe once again.”

  Walker squawked, loud enough to make him wince. “Are you truly so thick?”

  He clutched his forehead. “Apparently with so little sleep, I am. Just come out with it.”

  Walker flapped his wings, shouting without volume. “You owe her a tremendous debt whether or not she is able to help Pemberley. If her family comes for her, you cannot turn her over to them. You must have some plan to keep her and her reputation safe.”

  He should have thought of that himself.

  If Bennet knew she was at Rosings, he would probably send Collins for her and with Lady Catherine to support the match, it would be exceedingly difficult for Elizabeth to deny him again, especially if Aunt Catherine promised her free access to Pemberley and the rest of the dragons at Rosings Park.

  “That is not the only thing you must protect her from. You must insure she does not fall under the influence of Wickham.”

  “Wickham?” The name sliced like a knife through his ribs. “What has he to do with any of this?”

  “How do you think she got to London? The minor drake that lives in the mews behind Colonel Forster’s house saw it all. He said that Wickham arranged for her to accompany him and Mrs. Forster’s maid to London, in the Forsters’ coach.”

  “Why would he continue to bother with her when she had no further connection to Pemberley and nothing of material value?”

  And why did it bother him so much to think of Wickham’s lascivious stare on her for hours on the road? It was probably just natural, considering what he had done to Georgiana, that any thought of him would be repugnant.

  “He heard her telling the Gardiner children dragon stories at Christmas and has deduced she is a Keeper. I am told that Wickham has also been seen in Meryton with her and April, trying to address April himself. Of course, she will have nothing to do with him—she is far more clever than the average fairy dragon. Even she can see Wickham is not finished meddling in the affairs of dragons.”

  Darcy dragged his hand down his face. That simply was not possible. His duties in the regiment should be keeping him too busy to have time or energy for any further mischief. They certainly would after he wrote several letters.

  “You should have told her the truth about Wickham long ago.”

  “And reveal Georgiana’s secrets? No, I promised her that no one would know she had nearly eloped with him.” Darcy drew a long breath and exhaled slowly. “I will see she is safe without exposing Georgiana. Besides, he is in Hertfordshire and we are for Kent. I do not see how he could affect Miss Bennet from there.”

  “He has poisoned her against you, you know.” Walker picked at something between his toes.

  The insult was not lost.

  “The truth will be out, eventually.”

  “Eventually is usually too late.” Walker muttered something insulting under his breath and took to his wings again.

  Apparently Walker’s his informant drake did not tell him what Clarington’s last letter had informed Darcy, that the militia would soon be leaving Meryton. At that point any remaining threat to the Bennets would be over.

  The bigger problem would be protecting Miss Bennet from her own family. Walker was right. He did owe her that. But how? He would find a way, somehow.

  That could wait, though. The more immediate problem was less than a mile in the offing and probably contributed more to Walker’s ill temper than either Wickham or Longbourn’s despicable behavior.

  Cait’s folly.

  Cockatrix, unlike their stodgy male counterparts, were by their very nature vain, prideful, and difficult. They considered most humans and dragons below their notice and did not hesitate to make that opinion clear. Cait would not appreciate another female, especially one that Walker respected, entering her territory, even if she was merely human.

  Perhaps it was best Walker had flown off.

  Darcy pulled up to the side of the coach. Gardiner slid open t
he side glass.

  “Before we go on to the manor, I must introduce you to Lady Catherine’s cockatrix. Her lair is just ahead.” He gestured toward the folly whose edge they could just make out around the bend in the road.

  “Walker has told me of her.” Miss Elizabeth peeked through the window.

  “He has told you?” Walker never spoke of Cait to anyone but him.

  A shriek from the folly pierced the air and a large black mass of feathers flapped toward them.

  Cait was a glorious creature in the air. Iridescent black feathers streaked with deep blue and purple caught the sunlight. Her wingspan was as large as Walker’s but looked larger for the length of her feathers. Long, slightly curling tail feathers trailed behind her, at least a yard long. She usually perched above ground to show them to their best advantage. But her true glory was the massive ruff of head feathers. Streaked with purple throughout, they stood straight out from her head, like a fluffy turban, often obscuring her eyes and all but the razor sharp tip of her beak. When one could see her eyes, they were shining onyx beads, following every movement in her surroundings. For all her stunning, showy looks, she was still a vicious predator not to be taken lightly.

  “Who do you bring into my domain?” Cait perched along the edge of the carriage’s roof.

  Technically, the domain belonged to Rosings, who tolerated Cait under most circumstances. But it never went well to mention that to Cait.

  Darcy dismounted and tied his horse to the luggage wagon.

  He approach Cait and bowed. “I bring help for Pemberley, the one she has been crying for.”

  “That heartless woman comes here? I will not tolerate her—abandoning a baby—”

  The coach door flew open, and a Grecian fury jumped out. Surely there were flames in her wake.

  Miss Elizabeth’s bonnet was gone, her hair, unpinned and flowing loose behind her in cascading curls that reached below her waist. She held the edges of her cloak in either hand. “How dare you! She was taken from me. I did not abandon her.”

  Darcy swallowed hard.

  Cait extended her wings and swooped to the ground.

  Elizabeth extended the edges of her cloak and bent slightly forward, matching Cait’s posture. They circled, gazes locked on each other.