part0014

T he next fortnight passed in a whirlwind. Her days were spent at the Blue Order, divided between the Royal Physician and the Chief Scribe, the vast library of the Order—lost in research, mostly related to ancient forms of dragon script—and a variety of tea and nuncheon invitations, offered by Dragon Friend and dragon alike.

Never had she felt so at home. If she was not sharing her own draconic observations, she was sitting at the feet of an elder—human and dragon—learning from theirs. Almost the entire library was open to her, with experts ready to assist her study. And when her eyes were too tired to read, there was always a dragon at the ready to keep her company. Tea with dragons, several times a week! Who would have thought?

In the evenings, she returned to the Gardiners’ home to keep company with the children, plying them with as many dragon stories as they would hear. On occasion, a minor dragon—and sometimes even their Dragon Friend—would come back and join them for dinner or tea, expanding their acquaintance and giving the children and Phoenix valuable experiences in socializing with other dragons.

That was probably a very good thing for all of them, Phoenix in particular. Good manners did not seem to come to him naturally. But being a hatchling, and the novelty of a male fairy dragon, was enough to earn him a great deal of leniency—as well as several volunteer dragon-tutors. Several female fairy dragons were already expressing interest. He was well on his way to attracting his harem.

That topic Aunt Gardiner could explain to the children herself.

At night, she fell asleep whilst battling her own musings. Was it right to be so happy when she had run away from her home and abandoned her duties to her family and dragon?

One morning, Elizabeth rose particularly early and carried her newest dragon script reference and commonplace book down to the morning room. Lady Astrid had given her special leave to take it from the library. There was a particularly useful table she wanted to copy. With it there was every chance she could finally make some headway into understanding the Netherfield paintings.

April cheeped from her cage and tucked her head back under her wing. Poor little dear was still exhausted from Barnwines Chudleigh’s salon the prior afternoon. A fairy dragon invited to a salon? What a sight!

The Gardiners’ morning room was plainer than Mama’s—a testament to the fact that the children often joined their parents there. The paper hangings—yellow with blue flowers—were a mite faded and dated, but they captured the feelings of spring skies and sunshine, making the room warm and cheery on even the dreariest winter morning.

Aunt Gardiner was already at her place at the morning room table, sipping her tea and reading what looked like yesterday’s afternoon post.

“After the late hours you kept last night, I am surprised to see you awake so early.” Aunt chuckled and poured her a cup of tea.

She held up her precious book. “I do not wish to wear out my welcome at the library, as it were. I should like to return this tome as soon as possible.”

“You have your eye on another, I assume?” Aunt cocked her head and lifted an eyebrow.

Elizabeth chuckled and opened her books.

“You might want to wait a moment on that. I received a letter from Mary that I am certain was intended as much for you as it was for me.” She handed the letter to Elizabeth. “She mentions a friend called Heather that she believes might be a mutual acquaintance. I can only assume she is referring to you.”

She rubbed her forehead. “I told her I would write to her under that name.”

“But you have not, I imagine. The Order has kept you quite busy?”

“Do you think me quite horrible for not writing yet?”

“No. I am glad someone from Longbourn cares enough to write to us, though. I would have thought your mother or Jane would have told us—”

“I expect there is some persuasion going on. Mary—and Papa of course—are probably the only ones currently aware that I fled.” Somehow that thought left a little pang in her belly.

She unfolded the missive. Mary’s hand was neat and regular, like a teaching page to copy. Her letters never deviated from the correct form, not even once. Every ‘e’ looked exactly like every other one. None of Elizabeth’s hurried scratching or the fancy swoops and curls she added when she was delighted with what she wrote. No, Mary was eminently legible and proper.

Jane and Mr. Bingley are engaged. Uncle Phillips has just finished the settlement papers. Mama, Jane and Lydia, and even Kitty on occasion, have spent a great deal of time at the dressmaker’s, ordering Jane’s wedding clothes. Mama should have liked to go to London to visit Uncle’s warehouses there, but Papa has forbidden it. He cites time and budgets as his reasons, but I am certain there is something else on his mind.

Although I think he is happy with Jane’s situation, he has been wholly cross these recent weeks, and I fear it will not improve soon. I am sure you will not be surprised to learn that Mr. Collins has made Lizzy an offer of marriage. Rather than accepting it as we all expected, she has fled Longbourn, and none of us know where she has gone.

Rumblkins, Heather, and I have Mama, my sisters, and Mr. Collins convinced that she was suddenly called away to tend a sick relation—an old, wealthy and well-connected aunt. The kind of relation that Lady Catherine would heartily approve of her waiting upon.

I know what you are thinking now. Mr. Collins still does not respond to Heather’s persuasions, but he listens to me well enough. For the moment, they are all placated and asking very few questions.

Papa and Longbourn know the truth of Lizzy’s absence, though. She believes them to have been in league, trying to exercise draconic persuasion upon her. But they both insist they are innocent. I fear it will be a rather hopeless business. They will not be moved to apologize because they believe they have done no wrong. She is not likely to return unless they do.

I hope she is happy and safe wherever she is. Heather and Rumblkins are well and have become fast friends in the absence of Elizabeth and April. I am not sure Rumblkins is the best of influences upon her. He has taught her some mischief that I am working hard to train her out of. Luckily Mr. Collins finds it amusing to see a cat and a bird at play.

I believe Mr. Collins is content, for the moment, to await Lizzy’s return, but he will soon be required back at Lady Catherine’s side. I do not know for how long he will continue to wait, though. The future of Longbourn estate hangs in the balance. I know Papa is deeply concerned.

Jane’s wedding is planned for a fortnight hence. They will be taking a honeymoon trip to the Peaks—a full six weeks I am told. In an odd turn of events, Kitty, and not Lydia, is going to go with them. Since Miss Bingley will be moving back to London immediately after the wedding, taking the Hursts with her, the house will be left without a mistress for some time. Lydia has taken it into her mind that she will oversee the house whilst Jane and Bingley are away. Odder still, Mama and Jane both agree. I do not know what to make of it.

“It seems a very odd thing, does it not? It is not as if the housekeeper cannot manage to keep things running in the absence of a mistress for a few weeks.”

“I hardly think any of them believe this to be a learning opportunity for Lydia. Perhaps she sees it as an opportunity to get away from Papa’s temper?” How bad had things become in her absence?

“He can be unpleasant when cross.” Aunt Gardiner nodded but looked unconvinced.

“And do not doubt he is that. Mary says the fate of Longbourn is hanging in the balance.” She propped her forehead on her hands and swallowed the acid at the back of her tongue.

“Perhaps she has bought into the same rhetoric that your father and Longbourn proclaim.” Aunt grumbled under her breath.

“But what if—”

Aunt rapped the table with her knuckles. “You have been torturing yourself with that idea long enough. I want you to go to the Order today and ask that question of Lady Astrid, ask her to introduce you to Minister of the Keeps and Minister of the Blue Court to get their opinions as well. In fact, if you tell Lady Astrid your concerns, I think she would arrange a tea for all of you to discuss the matter.”

“I … I could not. It would be presumptuous. I dare not ask so much.”

“My dear, she drafted much of the language in the amendments to the marriage clauses. I am certain she would welcome any opportunity to discuss it.”

“She was permitted to—”

“To compose the legislation, yes, she was. You can imagine it might be very satisfying for her to talk with another woman about such things.”

Elizabeth rubbed her forehead. “It is still difficult to believe such things can happen.”

Aunt hid a chuckle behind her hand. “Where do you think the Bluestockings derived their name?”

Elizabeth’s eyes bulged. “Surely not!”

Aunt shrugged, lips curved in a tiny smile.

The housekeeper scurried in with the morning post on a silver salver.

“Another letter from Mary? Here, this is definitely for you.” Aunt passed a thick missive to her.

She opened the seal and a pile of sealed letters tumbled out.

These came for Lizzy some time ago, but Papa has kept them hidden away in his desk. I believe his intent has been to burn them. I think that unfair. She deserves to have letters directed to her. Would you please keep them safe until such time as we find her?

Elizabeth’s face went cold. Three, no four letters with the return direction listed as Pemberley, Rosings Park, Kent. Though they were written in a young woman’s hand, they were no doubt from little Pemberley.

The poor dear, she must be thinking terrible things because her letters had not been returned! Hopefully it was not already too late to remedy—

“Are you ready to go, Lizzy?” Uncle stuck his head into the morning room, shrugging on his coat.

Elizabeth tucked the letters inside her commonplace book and gathered her books. “As soon as I get April and my pelisse.”

Uncle escorted her to the Order and promised to return for her that afternoon. Everything she had planned for the day would wait until she read her letters in the library and penned her response. Perhaps she might even press one of the messenger dragons into service to deliver them immediately.

Just inside the door, Drew, a minor drake she frequently saw in the library, nearly ran her over.

April squawked and scolded, hovering close to Drew’s long green nose. “Open your eyes! Get your nose out of your book, and watch where you are going!”

Elizabeth picked his book off the floor and handed it back to him. “You read dragon script?”

“Read, write and tutor it.” He bowed, bending his front knees to drop his head and shoulders below hers.

Why of all times did she have to run into the very scholar she needed now?

“I have never met a dragon who could write before.”

Drew puffed up a bit. “It is not a common accomplishment among dragon kind. It requires a certain disposition—”

“And thumbs.” April snorted and flittered back to Elizabeth’s shoulder.

“Opposable digits are helpful, but be assured, it requires more than just that to be a true dragon scribe. I have yet to meet the tatzelwurm who can write.” He raised his head just a little higher than Elizabeth’s, glaring at April.

“Perhaps I might ask your assistance. I have been studying dragon script, but I am in a terrible muddle sorting the vowel markings from the accent marks.”

The crest on the back of his head lifted. Oh, he was a proud fellow.

“I would be honored to be of assistance. It can be a difficult point to decipher, especially if the script was not written neatly in the first place.”

“Perhaps we might find a worktable in the library. I can show you the sample I am struggling with?”

Hopefully this would not take very long. He did not seem the long-winded type.

Drew followed her to the library where they found a large table, brightly lit by a sunbeam.

She laid out her commonplace book and the two books she had been consulting on the matter. “Here is the sample I have been trying to decipher.” She pointed to a segment she had copied from memory from one of the Netherfield paintings and another similar one from the map room. “It seems like this book from the library and this one from Papa’s collection are at odds with one another. This one says I should read this character as a vowel, the other says it is an accent mark, but it cannot be both—”

Drew squinted at her commonplace book. “Forgive my boldness, but it can be both.”

“I have never heard such a thing.”

“The way you formed this character, is it an exact copy of the original?” He tapped a word with his neatly trimmed talon.

“I wrote this from memory, but yes, I think it is accurate.”

Drew gazed at the characters, turning this way and that, until his head was nearly upside down. “This is very, very interesting. May I copy it?” He fumbled in his satchel for a journal and a pencil.

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 …”

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?”

“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.

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.

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 Rosings 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.

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 the 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 approached 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.

Cait screamed, sending chills down Darcy’s spine. Somehow Elizabeth matched the sound.

Beside him, Gardiner lunged forward. “No.”

Darcy stayed him. Coming between two females vying for dominance would only escalate the conflict. For all her pomp and show, Cait could be deadly. They would all be fortunate if no blood was spilt.

Cait pecked at the ground near Elizabeth’s feet. Any rational creature would have jumped aside. Elizabeth stomped near Cait’s tail feathers.

Walker circled overhead. “Elizabeth, no!”

Cait squawked and took to her wings. She cawed at Walker and dove at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth dodged, catching one of Cait’s tail feathers as she did.

Cait seemed to halt midair, screaming.

No one, human or dragon, touched Cait’s tail feathers.

Elizabeth pulled her down with just enough force to ground her, but not pull the feathers out.

Cait pulled up to her full height and rotated slowly, displaying her full glory in a sunbeam.

Elizabeth raised the edges of her cloak and spun, her hair and cloak whirling behind her in a display equally glorious.

A bead of sweat tricked down Darcy’s temple. He ran a finger under his collar. Such a woman! She would probably be embarrassed to know he had been watching. But then again, maybe not. Where dragons were concerned, she had shown little self-consciousness.

Cait launched and folded her tail back. She was about to dive.

Elizabeth ran three steps toward her and leapt at Cait, screaming and cloak-wings flapping. How had she perfectly mastered a cockatrix shriek?

Cait faltered and back-winged, retreating. Elizabeth held her eyes a moment longer, then dropped the edges of her cloak and stepped back. Cait landed at Elizabeth’s feet, wings wrapped around her body, and touched the ground with her beak. Elizabeth brushed the top of her head ruff with her cloak, a gracious and gentle acknowledgement of her victory. By all rights, she could have decimated her rival’s feathers, marking her as the inferior female for all to see.

Rosings would approve, and Pemberley would only adore her more for her kindness.

Elizabeth’s face glowed with the flush of dominance and a sheen of sweat. She turned to him, hair and eyes still wild. “Pray sir, would you introduce us properly?”

Darcy jumped. “Of course. Miss Bennet, may I present Cait, Dragon Friend of Lady Catherine de Bourgh?”

Cait bobbed her head. Would she hate him now for witnessing her defeat?

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance. May I present April,” Elizabeth looked toward the coach and beckoned her forth, “my Dragon Friend?”

Thankfully, the little flutterbob had kept out of the dominance display. She landed near Elizabeth’s feet, well away from Cait, and bobbed her head.

Cait nodded an acknowledgement, honoring Elizabeth by recognizing something so inconsequential as a fairy dragon.

“I will make Rosings aware of your arrival.” Cait flew off in a flutter of feathers.

Several ruff feathers floated to the ground.

Mr. Gardiner rushed to Elizabeth’s side. “That was an incredibly foolhardy, dangerous thing to do.”

Walker landed on the front corner of the coach squawking and scolding. “Have you any idea of what she could have done to you?”

She scooped up the loose feathers. “Yes, I do. But I am not willing to live in the shadow of a dominant cockatrix, even briefly. I am surprised you tolerate it.”

Walker snorted something that sounded very much like a laugh. He would never have tolerated such a remark from anyone else.

“Is this the kind of greeting we are to expect when we reach the house?” Gardiner handed her a small reticule and she retrieved a set of hair pins which she held in her teeth. She began smoothing and twisting her hair.

Darcy gulped. Somehow this seemed far too intimate a moment for so public a setting.

Walker looked at him and smirked. “The Lady is far more conventional in her displays. But she does prefer to be the superior female in the room.”

“That is good to know. At least I do not need to fear having my eyes scratched out when I meet her. That is something.” She tucked the final hairpin into place.

“Elizabeth!” Gardiner gasped. “Please remember we are entering refined company. Moreover, I am bringing her the goods she ordered. I have no doubt she will welcome—”

“A merchant? You will be lucky not to be ushered to the servants’ entrance and housed with them.” Walker snorted again. “Only those, like Collins, who believe she has something to offer them consider her refined.”

Darcy clutched his temples. Yes, dragons were direct, but this was a step too far.

“Do not be embarrassed for Walker, sir. I quite understand how dragons talk about people. I know what they have said about my family. In that we are equal.” She curtsied and returned to the coach.

His face flushed. Their families equal? Of course, they were not. But perhaps to the dragons they might be.

Gardiner followed and in short order, they set off toward the manor.

Darcy mounted and followed the luggage wagon where Walker perched. “She blames you for taking Pemberley away.”

“I had gathered as much.” He rubbed his eyes with finger and thumb.

“That does not bother you?”

Of course, it did—that she should be in the world, thinking ill of him.

“There is little I can do about it.”

“You could tell her the truth.” Ah, Walker’s school-master voice.

“I will not; it is not best for her.”

“And you know what is best for her?” He flapped sharply, his serpentine tail lashing.

“In this case, it is obvious.”

“You are so full of yourself, Darcy.” Walker flew off.

Probably in search of Cait. How ironic, she would probably be much better company for the set down Elizabeth had delivered.

When her uncle handed her down from the carriage at the front of the manor, Elizabeth looked as tidy and put together as she had when they had left the Gardiner house that morning. How was that possible with no lady’s maid or even a mirror? No other woman he knew could manage such a feat.

The butler showed them in to the small parlor Lady Catherine favored during the spring. Stuffed and over-decorated like the rest of the house, he was told it demonstrated good taste and refinement. He and Fitzwilliam secretly believed it demonstrated the ability to hire a good staff to keep the dust at bay. At least Elizabeth would probably enjoy the dragon images on nearly every surface.

“So, you have returned, have you Darcy?” Lady Catherine rose from her seat nearest the fireplace. The taffeta of her gown rustled. She was dressed to preserve the distinction of rank, from the cut and blue hue of her gown, to the grand dragon signet she wore, all who saw her should know exactly where they stood.

“I have, madam, and I have brought back—”

“The source of your problem in the first place.” She slowly approached Elizabeth, eyes narrow, examining her.

Elizabeth lifted her chin and held Lady Catherine’s gaze.

“If you consider me the source of the problem, then, madam, I shall take my leave. It is not my habit to stay where I am unwelcome.” Elizabeth curtsied and turned away.

“Not so fast there, young woman.” Lady Catherine stomped and stormed after her, cutting her off at the doorway.

Gardiner opened his mouth, but Darcy stayed him with an open hand.

“I pray you importune me no longer. There is just enough time for us to make it back to London before dark if we leave immediately.” Elizabeth sidestepped.

“I have not dismissed you yet.” She lifted and arm to block Elizabeth’s way.

“I require neither your acknowledgement nor your dismissal. I come on Rosings’ invitation. Cait has gone to announce my arrival.”

“Cait? I hardly imagine—”

Elizabeth reached into her reticule, pulled out several of Cait’s feathers, and allowed them to float down to Lady Catherine’s feet. “I fear her dignity may be a bit bruised at the moment. She will probably not bear it well. You might consider offering her a special treat tonight. I know cockatrix are particularly fond of muntjac, if you have any on the estate. Giving her leave to hunt one, perhaps with Walker’s company, might go a long way in soothing her temper.”

“Impudent girl, presuming to tell me how to manage my cockatrix.”

“One does not manage a cockatrix, madam. One negotiates with a cockatrix and finds peaceful ways to live with one. But manage, never.”

Lady Catherine’s jaw dropped, and she broke eye contact. Was it possible? Lady Catherine conceded?

“It says a great deal of you, Lady Catherine, that you have been able to coexist so amiably with one for so long. A cockatrix is a particular companion and as choosy in their Dragon Friends as they are their broodmates.” Elizabeth stooped to retrieve the feathers and handed them to Lady Catherine.

A small, slow smile bloomed over Lady Catherine’s features.

Heaven’s above, she was impressed—annoyed to be sure as well, but she was impressed.

“May I present Miss Elizabeth Bennet? You know her uncle, Mr. Gardiner.” Darcy cut in.

“So, then, Miss Bennet. Assuming you choose to grace us with your presence, you will see to Pemberley’s needs?”

“As much as I am able, madam. I am anxious to see her.”

“I suppose that is a signal that I should see your things sent to your rooms and arrange for someone to show you the way to Rosings’ lair.”

“If you please, madam.”

Something on Elizabeth’s face hinted that she was about to suggest that Lady Catherine perform the service herself. Probably best that she had found the self-control not to say that. It might have been too much.