part0015

“Please, come this way.” Darcy gestured toward the door. “I hope you do not mind if we leave through the kitchen. It is a much more direct route.”

He led her to the back of the house through pretentious and over decorated corridors. Mama would have found it spectacular and overwhelming. Elizabeth found it difficult to breathe.

What relief to enter into a spacious kitchen, bustling with activity. A dainty little zaltys—with bright green scales, shiny black eyes, and long, lush eyelashes—curled in a basket on the generous hearth. The basket blanket had been embroidered with a dainty “B.” Monogrammed blankets for the house dragons?

The zaltys lifted her head and stared at Elizabeth.

“I shall introduce you when we return. We are to see Pemberley now.” Darcy spoke softly and bowed from his shoulders.

A kitchen maid glanced over her shoulder and smiled. Did the staff think him dear or daft? It was difficult to tell. Still, his attention to the little dragon was pleasing.

The zaltys flicked her tail amiably and lay back down.

Interesting. The little dragon liked Darcy.

So did April, and Rustle, and Rumblkins.

If he was such an irresponsible Keeper to Pemberley, why did they tolerate him?

From the back door, they took a western-leading path.

“Is there anything more you can tell me about Pemberley’s condition?” She fought to keep her voice pleasant. That was the ladylike thing to do.

He kicked a small rock out of the path. It skittered into the undergrowth. “Her tail blisters have not healed. Georgiana made up the salve from your notes and has been applying it several times a day. But since Pemberley continues to lash her tail about, they have only got worse.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“Better than a fortnight, I think. It began when Georgiana’s letters were not answered …”

Had he intended that as a slap in the face? His expression did not suggest so.

“I wish I had known sooner.” She chewed her knuckle as they hurried down the narrow, deeply shaded path. If only she had not run off, she might have received those letters when they arrived.

Surely Papa would not have prohibited her from responding. She could have advised them on Pemberley’s care and even offered the little dragon words of encouragement in her own hand. The entire situation might have been averted had she not been foolish and impulsive.

They paused at the mouth of a large cavern, perhaps half again as large as the entrance to Longbourn’s cave. Shuffling and rasping sounds filtered from within.

She edged a little closer and peered into the darkness, barely making out a nest to one side. The tip of a lashing tail poked just above the edge of the nest, along with the crest of Pemberley’s head. But there was no acknowledgement, no reaction to their approach at all.

How utterly unlike the little drakling she knew. Her stomach twisted into a tight knot. What had she done!

“Cowntess Rosings,” Darcy called.

Scrapings and heavy footsteps approached, and a flapping of feathers that surely must be Cait.

Cait landed on a rock jutting from the cavern entrance. A mature, red firedrake poked her head out of the cavern. Stately and ancient, she was a presence not to be taken lightly.

“Cowntess Rosings, may I present Miss Elizabeth Bennet.” Darcy gestured toward her.

Elizabeth folded her cloak around her body and curtseyed deep, knee to floor, head bowed.

Rosings stepped closer and sniffed Elizabeth thoroughly. “You smell like wyvern.”

And the firedrake smelled vaguely like sulfur.

Elizabeth slowly rose. “Our estate dragon is a wyvern, Cowntess. I expect everything at Longbourn smells like him.”

The corner of Rosings’ mouth lifted. Probably as close to a smile as the old dragon ever got. But at least it was a good sign.

“You are ‘her?’”

Rosings pointed toward the nest with her chin. “The one the baby calls ‘her.’”

“I am afraid I do not actually know what she calls me. May I and my Friend April enter?” April peeked out from her hood.

“A fairy dragon?” Rosings sneered.

“Indeed, Cowntess. Walker calls her Lairda April.”

Rosings blinked and peered closely at April.

April hopped to Elizabeth’s shoulder, covered herself with her wings and bowed.

“That is saying a great deal coming from Walker. You may both enter. Announce her, Cait.”

Elizabeth stopped mid-step. That was a different protocol, but well within Rosings’ right to regulate her territory as she saw fit. Not every dragon ignored protocol the way Longbourn did.

Cait glided to the edge of the nest, perched and peered inside. “Get up and look. ‘Her’ is here.”

The tail tip and head ridge disappeared into the nest with a plaintive cry. Rosings pointed at the nest. Elizabeth ran toward it.

Pemberley huddled in a tight ball, whimpering and shaking.

“Dearling, it is well now. I am here, and everything will be all right.” Elizabeth climbed into the nest and tried to embrace her.

Pemberley pulled away. “No! You no like me now.”

“Of course, I do.”

“You no write me. You no want talk me. You not like me.”

April perched on the edge of the nest and trilled softly. Pemberley unfurled a little.

“That is better.” She scratched under Pemberley’s chin. “Something happened, and your letters were hidden from me. I only received them yesterday.”

“How that be?” Pemberley lifted her head a little. Darcy had been right, her color was very bad, and her eyes dull. “Who did that?”

“It does not matter. I have read them all now and came myself to answer them. That is what matters.”

“I want know who took my letters. Grouchy Longbourn?”

“I do not honestly know. I was in London when they arrived.”

“A big place with a library of many books of dragons. I … I went to there to learn more about baby dragons.”

“Like me?” She pressed her head into Elizabeth’s side. “You not forget me?”

“Never. I could never do that.”

“You still like me?”

She took Pemberley’s face in her hands. “My darling, I love you very dearly and always will. I cannot tell you how I have missed you and longed for your company. I am so happy to be here with you now.”

Pemberley squeaked an odd little sobby-sound and wrapped her neck around Elizabeth’s waist. Elizabeth returned the embrace.

Cait and Rosings exchanged glances, simultaneously skeptical and somewhat pleased. Clearly neither of them had a great deal of patience for the cranky baby.

“There now, that is much better. Much, much better.” She held Pemberley and rocked for several minutes. “I have heard you are teething.”

“Keeper gave me and Dog bone. I like bone. I like chew.” Pemberley sent an adoring look toward Darcy.

He colored and looked aside. Funny, he often wore the same uneasy expression in company in Meryton.

“May I touch your new teeth?”

Pemberley started. “You no cut me? Lady want lance—cut—me.”

“Heaven forfend! I would never do such a thing. Do you not trust me anymore?”

Pemberley whimpered and opened her mouth.

It smelt of lavender, peppermint and clove. Thank heavens! Darcy had been following her instructions.

She massaged Pemberley’s gums with the heel of her hand. Hard knobs poked from just below the surface.

“That feel good!” Pemberley muttered, Elizabeth’s hand still in her mouth.

“Will you allow Keeper and I to do this for you until your teeth come in?”

Draklings purred? She had never read or heard that before. One more thing to add to her commonplace book tonight.

Elizabeth beckoned Darcy nearer. “Now if we are to do this for you, you must promise never to bite, even if there is an accidental pinch. Sometimes there is one when a tooth pokes through. Remember, your baby fangs can do great damage if you bite.”

“I not bite—not you or Keeper.” Pemberley rubbed her head against Elizabeth’s waist.

“All right, then open. I will show Keeper what to do.”

Pemberley opened her mouth wide, a gaping maw equipped with sharp baby fangs in the front and red swollen gums behind.

“Take your hand like this.” She curled her fingers tight and pressed the heel of her hand forward. “Rub the hardest part of your hand against her gums, going in parallel, not against them. It is even better to add a few drops of peppermint and clove oils, but it can be done without.”

At least he did not hesitate when she urged him to try. His hands were big and a little clumsy, but Pemberley seemed to trust him implicitly. That was a good sign.

But it was in the nature of babies to trust. Darcy was lucky for that. An older dragon would not have tolerated an inattentive Keeper. Darcy’s willingness suggested he was only ignorant, though, not willfully ignoring the little dragon’s needs. Perhaps there was time to right the wrongs done here after all.

Pemberley purred again.

“Does that mean she is happy?” Darcy asked.

Elizabeth tried not to roll her eyes. “Are you happy, Pemberley?”

Darcy offered her a handkerchief to wipe her hands.

“I think you shall have your first set of teeth within a fortnight, a month at most.” She wiped her hands and returned the handkerchief. A firedrake’s saliva was viscous, sticky stuff, designed to protect when they exhaled flame.

“I still have bones, too?”

“Of course, you may.”

“Dog, too? Dog like bones. Want meet Dog?”

Darcy bit his upper lip, probably trying not to chuckle. “We would certainly like to see Dog.”

Pemberley clambered out of the nest and waddled off deeper into the cavern. He helped her climb from the nest, and they followed Pemberley.

“This Dog.” Pemberley gently bumped an old hound with her nose.

He licked her face and wagged. Beside him a puppy yipped and wagged, climbing over Pemberley’s neck.

“This Puppy. Have Dog and Puppy, now. I like Dog and Puppy.” She nuzzled the puppy.

“A puppy, sir? What made you present her with one?”

Was his face coloring?

He shrugged. “It seemed a sound idea. To ensure she has a warm companion.”

He was right—and she probably would have tried it herself had it occurred to her. But who had ever heard of a dragon keeping a pet dog? One more addition to her book.

“Rosings Park has a shepherding drake who helped me find one with the right disposition.”

She knelt beside the dogs and played with them. “They are delightful creatures. Have you thanked Cowntess Rosings for allowing you to have them with you?”

Pemberley hung her head.

“Then you must do so now. Go on.” Elizabeth pointed toward Rosings and Cait.

Rosings nodded somberly. Cait snickered under her breath.

“Good manners are especially important when one is a vikontes. We must ask Cowntess Rosings to begin to teach you. Those things are easiest to learn when one is small.” She stroked under Pemberley’s chin.

“You teach?” Pemberley looked over Elizabeth’s shoulder.

“Of course, I will. ‘Her’ is quite correct.” Was Rosings laughing under her breath?

Cait swooped past and landed on ledge in the wall. “It is time for her to retire to her chambers in the manor now.”

Pemberley wound her neck around Elizabeth in a choke hold. “Her not go!”

“Stop your complaining little one, and be a proper hostess.” Cait squawked. “You can come with us—”

“Pray forgive me, Cait, but is that wise?” Darcy asked.

“Come.” Cait’s voice turned shrill. Pray let her not screech! Pemberley did not need to be frightened now!

Rosings grumbled under her breath. “The feathered one is correct. You should come.” Rosings lumbered deeper into the cavern.

Elizabeth unwound Pemberley from her, but laid her arm over Pemberley’s shoulders. They followed Rosings down a dark passage. Once her eyes adjusted, the trickles of light from cracks in the rock above were just enough to be able to see a step or two ahead.

The tunnel was just wide enough for Rosings to pass without scraping her wings against the rock, so she, Pemberley and Darcy were able to walk abreast comfortably. Cait flew behind them, gliding from one wall perch to the next.

“I have no idea. I have never been in this tunnel.” He turned to Elizabeth. “I thought Fitzwilliam, my cousin, and I had traversed every passage at Rosings Park when we were boys.”

“So, there are yet some secrets kept from you, sir?”

“It appears so.”

Why was he smiling at her like that? He was a well-looking man to be sure.

And one who took Pemberley away from her, only to the baby’s detriment. That she could never forget. Or forgive.

The rocky corridor opened up ahead of them into what looked like household cellars.

“Are we beneath the manor?” Elizabeth asked.

“Indeed. Come.” Rosings headed toward what looked like firelight coming through a very wide doorway on the far side of the cellar.

“Those are your chambers.” Cait glided past and into the open door.

“I am to stay in the cellar?”

Darcy shook his head, gaping.

“I had supposed Walker to be exaggerating when he suggested that sort of welcome as likely.”

“I cannot imagine that is what my aunt truly intends for you.” Who would have thought him capable of such an expression? His sheer astonishment alone was worth spending a few nights in a cellar.

“Be quiet Darcy, that is precisely what Rosings intends,” Cait called from inside the room.

Uncle would not be pleased when he learned of this. She bit her lip. If they had to, she and Uncle could take rooms at the inn in Hunsford.

Rosings nudged her into the room. Three steps in, she stopped and stared, slack jawed. Darcy halted beside her.

The chamber was twice as large as the elaborate parlor Lady Catherine had seen them in, and the ceiling at least twice as high. All the normal accoutrements of a bed chamber filled the room, fine elegant furniture, but not nearly as ornate as what she had seen at Rosings manor—far more to her taste, if truth be told. It seemed to all be pushed up near the walls, though, leaving large open areas throughout the room, like many of the rooms at the Blue Order.

Rosings ducked her head and shuffled into the room.

“These are quarters for my guests. I hope they are satisfactory.” Rosings seemed to smirk.

Elizabeth curtseyed. “I am honored to be your guest.”

“Do not sound so surprised. You did not expect you would have to stay in Pemberley’s nest, did you?” Cait laughed.

“It would have been acceptable to me, to be able to stay near her.”

Rosings laughed hard enough to make the walls rumble. “Pemberley may stay here with you.” She pointed toward a drakling-sized rug laden with clean hay.

Pemberley gave a happy squeal and waddled toward the hay. She leapt and landed in the middle of it, sending hay flying. Good that the fireplace was on the opposite side of the room.

“Be warned, the baby snores.” Rosings snuffed.

“My father does too. I am accustomed to it.”

“What will you do with her?”

“The first thing is to see that she starts eating again. Once her color is back, and her hide is in good condition, we will begin following the recommendations for dealing with attachment sickness.”

“What is that? I have never heard of it.” Rosings scowled.

Perhaps she did not like the reminder that she did not know everything. Her Keeper certainly would not. “It is something young drakes are susceptible to. We think that the peculiarities of her hatching have made her vulnerable to it. But there is every reason to believe we shall be able to remedy the problem.”

“She will always want you.”

“That may be so, but it does not have to make her ill.”

“You should simply stay with her.” Rosings punctuated her statement with a flick of her tail.

“That is not easily managed.”

“I do not see why. She is a vikontes. Her needs outrank those of any wyvern.”

“But she already has a Keeper, and I am Keeper to another dragon. One simply cannot order away a dragon’s Keeper to another dragon.”

Rosings snorted. “Foolish nonsense. For all we have to tolerate from you warm-bloods, we should at least have a choice of which warm-bloods we associate with.”

Darcy shot her a warning glance.

Ah, Rosings was one of those who did not favor the changes in the Accords. All the oldest dragons probably felt similarly. Now was not going to be the best time to present the case from the “warm-blood” side of things. Considering that Lady Catherine was her Keeper there might never be such a time.

Rosings tossed her head. “If you require a human attendant, the bell on the mantel will alert her. Behind the red door is a stairway. Use it to reach the ground level of the house when Lady requires your presence. As far as I am concerned, you need never go there, though Lady may try to demand it. I leave that to you to settle. Darcy, see that Pemberley is not disturbed by Lady’s demands.”

Darcy briefly shut his eyes. Was that his attempt not to roll his eyes in Rosings’ presence?

“I will leave you now to enjoy the quiet of my lair. Cait will attend you if you need anything further.”

“I will what?” Cait dove past Rosings face as she swooped from one side of the room of the other. “I am not a servant.”

“I am not the one who lost my feathers to her.” Rosings shambled out.

Cait stared at her, feathers in full fluff.

“Rosings says that to taunt you.” Elizabeth kept her voice soft and level.

“She says that because she is an arrogant firedrake, so full of herself—”

“That she will make sport with the finest creature on the estate, simply because she can.”

Cait cocked her head sharply. “Precisely! You understand!”

“I do, and perhaps you might find that Walker would as well.”

“You think so?” Cait flipped back her head feathers to reveal her eyes.

“Cockatrice dignity is something only another of your kind would truly understand. I think you would find him rather sympathetic. If, of course, you approach him properly.”

Cait pretended to preen her wing. “And how might that be?”

“I have found cockatrices as a rule are rather no-nonsense fellows. Present your wounds of the day in simple terms, without swooping or shrieking, and in as few words as possible.”

Beside her, Darcy’s jaw dropped.

“He barely listens to me if I shriek. He would ignore me all together if I were quiet.”

She shrugged with a little flourish of her cloak. “My quietest sister, Jane, consistently receives far more attention than Lydia who shrieks constantly.”

“Truly?” Cait peered at Darcy, challenging.

Darcy edged backward. “Ah, yes, I am certain Miss Elizabeth’s observations are quite correct.”

“And you think it would please Walker?”

Darcy dragged his hand over his face. “I dare say it might.”

“Nothing else has worked.” Cait flew out.

“Walker may hate you for this.” Darcy grumbled under his breath.

“More likely he will thank me. He is as ready for a broodmate as she. Have you not noticed all the signs in him?”

“There are signs?”

Elizabeth pressed her temples. “Males become as broody as the females.”

“That is not included in any of the dragon lore I have studied.”

“Truly, I wonder at how little scribes have seen fit to write about. Shall I write it all down for you?”

“I would be grateful.”

How had he missed the sarcasm in her tone? Well it would serve him right when he was deathly embarrassed by all the detail she would have to include.

Pemberley waddled up to them. “You stay here now? With me?” She wrapped a wing around each of them.

“You, Keeper, and I shall have a nice long visit. Are you hungry?”

She bobbed her head from side to side. “I hungry.”

“Would you care for sheep or—” Darcy asked.

“I like sheep. Bring Dog and Puppy here, too? I want them play her.”

He patted Pemberley’s head. “Of course. I will see to all of that. Pray excuse me.”

“Keeper good.” She pressed her head to Elizabeth’s chest. “You like him?”

“I … I … he is your Keeper. What more needs to be said?” She cradled Pemberley’s head.

Vexing, perplexing man. How could he be so different among those at Rosings from how he was everywhere else?

For the next three days, Pemberley tolerated no separation from Elizabeth, nearly panicking when Uncle Gardiner came to take his leave. It required half a day to reassure her that Elizabeth would not leave with Uncle Gardiner in a dog cart with a dog of her own.

Outside of that one instance, keeping constant company with the drakling proved no hardship. Darcy’s constant presence, though, proved awkward at best and annoying the rest of the time. His very diligence and politeness made him most aggravating. He plied her with questions about Pemberley, Walker, Cait, and every other dragon he knew. And it seemed he knew quite a number.

Just how many dragons were there at Rosings Park? With Dragon Friends among the servants, not like Mrs. Hill who thought of Rumblkins as a cat and an ordinary pet, but genuine dragon-hearers recognized by the Blue Order, there seemed to be a dragon just about everywhere one turned. And if not an actual dragon, multitudes of dragon imagery filled every nook of the house. Who could have imagined such a place?

A steady stream of visits from the household and other estate dragons provided a welcome distraction, and many opportunities to teach Pemberley how to interact properly with minor dragons—a lesson Longbourn had never learnt.

Good to his word, Darcy brought Blanche, the little kitchen zaltys down for an introduction, along with her friend Quincy. That little puck was all mischief and good intentions; so much like the Gardiner children she felt a brief pang of homesickness for them. Wellsbey came by from the fields to check on the puppy, though it seemed a slim excuse to gain an introduction. He was a good, steady sort of drake and Darcy treated him with the same respect he showed every dragon. Darcy even welcomed a rather frenzied, pell-mell visit from a group of barn tatzelwurms that made Rumblkins seem calm and reliable.

How was it then that he could be so good to dragonkind and so horrid to mankind? It made no sense. Why would he tear Pemberley away from her only to insist on reuniting them? Why would he do everything he could to ruin Wickham, when he was so generous with the dragons?

Heavens above! The man even brought a special supply of buttons just to keep Quincy happy—and not cheap ones, either. Each was unique and chosen to match the dragon’s tastes. Who did that while impoverishing a childhood friend?

The more time she spent in Darcy’s company, the more vexing the dichotomy became.

On the fourth day, Lady Catherine sent Darcy with an invitation to compel her to take nuncheon with the rest of the company at Rosings Park.

“Pray forgive the rather forceful language of my aunt’s invitation. She feels the loss of your company greatly.” Darcy looked vaguely uncomfortable.

One could only imagine exactly what Lady Catherine had said.

“Not as much as Pemberley will.”

“I have asked Wellsbey to take her and the dogs for a bit of a ramble. There is a small clearing in the woods near Rosings’ lair that will give them a secluded spot to stretch their legs. It will also give Blanche an opportunity to come down with some of the other minor dragons to clean Pemberley’s nest.”

“I did not realize Blanche was a maid.”

“She is not, but as the housekeeper’s Friend, she takes pride in the house and wishes to see the same standards below stairs as above.” He smiled, a kind smile that approved, not mocked, the concerns of the little dragon. “It is difficult to persuade the maids into making a proper dragon’s nest. As you well know, some persuasions are far easier to achieve than others.”

Did he know about what Longbourn had tried? Her cheeks flushed.

“I hope it will not be an imposition upon you, but I should very much like to introduce my sister and my cousin Fitzwilliam. They are very anxious to meet you. Pemberley has convinced Georgiana that you are some form of angel incarnate. Walker has Fitzwilliam believing you are some sort of cross between a sage and a saint.”

“And you would have me come and disabuse them of their outlandish ideas?” She laughed.

April landed on her shoulder and chittered in her ear. “Mind your manners!”

Alas, she was probably right.

“Far be it from me to call my Dragon Friends liars.” He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. “Shall we?”

He held open the red door and ushered her up the steep stairs. At least the stairs were properly deep and regular, not a typical, cheaply made servant’s staircase. It would be easier to face Lady Catherine, not having just risked life and limb picking her way up a dangerous staircase.

“Does Rosings often entertain guests of her own invitation?” she asked.

“I do not know for certain, but I do not think so—not recently in any case. I believe Sir Lewis’ father was quite well connected in his day. Rosings was more apt to entertain then.”

Elizabeth chewed her lip. Perhaps she had taken Rosings’ invitation a bit too lightly.

Nuncheon was served in a large parlor on the west side of the house. The yellowy-gold paper hanging with the dragon scale pattern must have been especially printed for the room. Why did Lady Catherine seem to need to occupy every surface in the house with dragon imagery? Or was it simply the product of generations of proud Dragon Keepers, each one adding to the next?

Lady Catherine was in deep conversation with an overdressed young woman and a more plainly dressed older woman who seemed to be her companion. The famed Miss de Bourgh and Mrs. Jenkinson she had heard so much about from Mr. Collins? The younger woman looked like Lady Catherine, sharp in all her features, but lacking the classic beauty the vicar attributed to her. Little surprise he would overstate her virtues. Her genteel temper and gracious character were probably overstated as well.

Which might be why Pemberley took such a dislike to her.

From a settee in the opposite corner of the room—with feet in the shape of dragon paws clutching a sphere—a young woman, possibly not yet out, and a confident-looking young man beckoned. Both shared something of Darcy’s profile.

Darcy strode toward them. “Miss Elizabeth, may I present my sister, Georgiana and my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

They rose, and Georgiana curtsied deeply. Fitzwilliam made a very smart bow.

“I am very pleased to meet you.” She curtsied and sat in a chair near the settee.

Darcy brought another chair close and joined them.

“May I ask; how is Pemberley?” Georgiana ducked her head and bit her lip as she spoke.

Given the adoring way she looked at Darcy, it was more likely that she was shy than she feared speaking out in his presence.

“She has been eating well the last few days and her color has returned. I think she is very much improved.”

Georgiana clapped softly. “I knew you would be able to help her. After reading all that you have written, I just knew.”

The hero worship in Georgiana’s eyes was sweet, but a bit much.

“Your friendship means a great deal to Pemberley. She misses you. I think it would be very appropriate for you to begin visiting her again.”

“I would so enjoy that.” Georgiana glanced at Darcy who nodded.

“Something I would never have thought to hear you say.” Fitzwilliam chuckled, turning to Elizabeth. “You know, she was in mortal dread of dragons until she began reading your notes.”

“Indeed, sir? You have just revealed your nature. You are either a flatterer or one prone to exaggerate. In either case, I shall have to weigh your words very carefully.”

Georgiana gasped, eyes wide.

April nipped her ear.

Fitzwilliam threw his head back and laughed. “It seems your little Friend does not agree with you. I believe she thinks more highly of me than you do.” He offered his hand for April to perch.

April flittered to his finger and offered her chin for a scratch.

Such a fluffle-bob to be moved so easily by a compliment.

“What is that you are saying, Fitzwilliam? What is it you are talking of? What are you telling Miss Bennet? Let me hear what it is.” Lady Catherine half-rose in her seat and stared at them with narrowed eyes.

“We are speaking of music, Madam.” Fitzwilliam flashed a warning gaze toward her. It shifted to mischievous as he turned it on Darcy and Georgiana.

April warbled a little tune, looking proud of herself indeed. Little show-off.

“Of music! Then pray speak aloud. It is of all subjects my delight. I must have my share in the conversation if you are speaking of music. There are few people in England, I suppose, who have more true enjoyment of music than myself, or a better natural taste. If I had ever learnt, I should have been a great proficient. And so would Anne, if her health had allowed her to apply.”

The overdressed girl beside her dipped her head with a demure smile and straightening of her shoulders.

Gracious, did she think Lady Catherine’s remark was praise?

“I am confident that she would have performed delightfully. How does Georgiana get on, Darcy?” Lady Catherine’s eyes narrowed as she glanced at Elizabeth.

Darcy cleared his throat. “She does very well, thank you. Pray forgive me, sister, as I know you do not like praise, but her piano master believes her the most accomplished student he has ever taught.”

She must be very accomplished to earn such praise from her brother. Georgiana turned aside, face coloring. Poor dear looked utterly horrified, exactly how Lydia never looked. If she could give Georgiana a touch of Lydia’s boldness and Lydia a touch of Georgiana’s reserve, both girls would probably benefit.

“I am very glad to hear such a good account of her, but her progress will not continue if she does not practice a great deal.” Lady Catherine wagged her finger at them.

“I assure you, Madam, she practices constantly.” Darcy’s voice dropped in pitch—a warning tone if she had ever heard one.

“So much the better. It cannot be done too much. Do not neglect it on any account. I often tell young ladies that no excellence in music is to be acquired without constant practice.” Lady Catherine turned her pointing finger on Elizabeth. “I have heard that you play, Miss Bennet. Of course, you will never play really well unless you practice. I have not heard you do so once since you are come to Rosings Park. You may play on the pianoforte in Mrs. Jenkinson's room. She would be in nobody's way, you know, in that part of the house. Play for us now, Miss Bennet. I insist. We are in need of diversion.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam escorted her to the pianoforte and drew a chair near, as though he meant to turn the pages for her. April perched on the music stand. It was a very fine instrument; one she could not do justice to.

But what to play? Best keep to something light and simple that would not elicit too many comparisons with superior performers.

Colonel Fitzwilliam offered her a piece of music for her approval. A light country tune with no fiddly bits. That was true gentlemanly behavior!

Lady Catherine listened to half a song, and then resumed her conversation with her daughter—probably critiquing her performance. At least she would not want for issues to discuss.

Mr. Darcy and Georgiana joined them at the pianoforte.

She lifted her chin. “You mean to frighten me, Mr. Darcy, by coming to hear me? I will not be alarmed though your sister does play so well. There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises with every attempt to intimidate me.”

“I shall not say that you are mistaken because you could not really believe me to entertain any design of alarming you. I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance long enough to know that you find great enjoyment in occasionally professing opinions which in fact are not your own.” The twinkle in his eye and the lift of his lips gave every impression he enjoyed this.

Elizabeth turned to Fitzwilliam, eyebrow raised. “Your cousin will give you a very pretty notion of me and teach you not to believe a word I say. I am particularly unlucky in meeting with a person so well able to expose my real character in a part of the world where I had hoped to pass myself off with some degree of credit. Indeed, Mr. Darcy, it is very ungenerous of you to mention all that you knew to my disadvantage in Hertfordshire—and, give me leave to say, very impolitic too—for it is provoking me to retaliate, and such things may come out, as will shock your relations to hear.”

Fitzwilliam glanced at Georgiana and chuckled.

The poor girl looked shocked, again. At this rate, she might well not survive the afternoon.

“I am not afraid of you.” Darcy’s eyes crinkled at the sides.

“Pray let me hear of what you have to accuse him. I should like to know how he behaves among strangers.” Fitzwilliam winked.

“You shall hear then—but prepare yourself for something very dreadful. The first time of my ever seeing him in Hertfordshire was at a ball—and at this ball, what do you think he did? He danced only four dances! I am sorry to pain you—but so it was. He danced only four dances, though gentlemen were scarce, and more than one young lady was sitting down in want of a partner.”

“I had not, at that time, the honor of knowing any lady in the assembly beyond my own party.”

“And, of course, nobody can ever be introduced in a ball room.”

Darcy’s eyes lost a little of their shine.

Perhaps she had gone too far.

She chewed her lower lip. “Well, Colonel Fitzwilliam, what do I play next? My fingers await your orders.”

“Perhaps I should have judged better and sought an introduction, but I am ill-qualified to recommend myself to strangers.” Darcy’s tone was more shy confession than well-grounded defense.

“Why is a man of sense and education, who has lived in the world, ill-qualified to recommend himself to strangers?” The words slipped out before she could quell them.

Now she had definitely wandered out of the bounds of polite conversation. Why did he always bring out the worst in her?

“I can answer your question,” Fitzwilliam said. “It is because he will not give himself the trouble.”

“Do be fair!” Georgiana gasped and pressed her knuckle to her lips. “My brother is truly the best of men. How can you say such things of him?”

Darcy tipped his head. “I certainly have not the talent which some people possess of conversing easily with those I have never seen before. I cannot catch their tone of conversation, or appear interested in their concerns as I often see done.”

“My fingers do not move over this instrument in the masterly manner which I am sure your sister’s do. They have not the same force or rapidity and do not produce the same expression. But I have always supposed it to be my own fault because I would not take the trouble of practicing.”

Darcy glanced away. “You are perfectly right. We neither of us perform to strangers.”

The doors flew open, and the housekeeper led in three maids carrying an elaborate nuncheon. Two footmen followed and moved a low table into position. Somehow, Elizabeth found herself seated between Georgiana and Colonel Fitzwilliam, across from Darcy. Lady Catherine managed to keep her conversational partners close to her though it hardly seemed that they were able to get a word out, unless it was “yes” or “no.”

“So how does Meryton since the departure of its most illustrious guest?” Fitzwilliam asked.

She dodged both men’s gaze and scowled at the floor. He was not going to bait her into anymore ill-advised remarks.

“I … I am sure that Mr. Bingley misses him a great deal,” Georgiana offered.

“Bingley? He is that fellow you take prodigious good care of, is he not?” Fitzwilliam reached for a plate of sandwiches.

“He asked my assistance in securing the lease on Netherfield Park,” Darcy muttered, dodging Elizabeth’s gaze.

“Was he pleased with the neighborhood?” Georgiana received a cup of tea from her aunt and handed one to Elizabeth.

“I believe the neighborhood has been very pleased with him. Perhaps you have not yet been made aware. Mr. Bingley is now engaged to my sister.”

Darcy looked up. “Indeed, I was not aware.”

Surprise highlighted his face, but not disapproval.

“I am surprised he would not have sought your advice. He seemed reluctant to make decisions without you.” Fitzwilliam took a bite of his sandwich, far too dainty a treat for his large hands.

“You underestimate Bingley’s mettle.” Darcy hid behind his teacup.

“Would you have approved, had he asked you?” Fitzwilliam laughed.

“You can hardly expect an honest answer to such a question. How could he tell you, in front of me, her sister, that he did not approve?”

“I have always found my cousin to be eminently forthright in all our conversation. I think he would tell me very directly.” He turned an arched eyebrow on Darcy. “Would you not?”

“Indeed, you have sketched my character quite distinctly. You expect draconic candor from me.” He bowed slightly from his shoulders. “It is probably for the best, then, that I can honestly say, I saw a genuine attachment between Mr. Bingley and Miss Bennet. Exactly what I would wish for my friend. I think they can be a successful match.”

“And it shall ever be to your credit that Bingley met his angel during your watch, I am sure.” Fitzwilliam clapped Darcy’s shoulder.

“I take no credit as a match maker. It is a distinction I have never sought.”

“And yet I may well apply to you for the service myself.”

Georgiana gasped again. She did seem to have rather a limited repertoire of reactions. Or possibly, Fitzwilliam took great delight in seeing her shocked. That was quite likely, too.

“In fact, I already have.” Fitzwilliam’s cheek twitched. “I have asked his assistance in finding me a proper Dragon Friend.”

“If you are interested in a fairy dragon, there is a very good chance I will know of a clutch later this year.” Elizabeth glanced at April on her shoulder.

“All due respect to you, Miss Elizabeth and your fair companion, I do not think I am a fit companion for a fairy dragon. They are not known to hold their liquor well.”

April fluttered her wings and huffed.

Elizabeth giggled. “That is very true, I will concede. Although my aunt’s Dragon Friend, a bright red fairy dragon, would look quite smart with a red coat. A bit like a hat plume I would think. He is excessively fluffy.”

“And does not like to be reminded of it.” April nipped her ear.

“Pray forgive me if I am too forward, but should there be a clutch later this year, Mr. Darcy do you consider your sister ready for a Dragon Friend?”

What a very odd expression on Darcy’s face—hopeful and trepidatious at the same time.

“What do you think, Georgiana?”

She colored and pressed her hands to her cheeks.

“My sister’s fairy dragon hatchling looks very much like a pink dandelion and has a penchant for strawberry jam. She has a far sweeter disposition than my little friend.” Elizabeth patted April’s head. “She also likes to hang upside down like a bat on her perch.”

“Truly?” Georgiana asked.

“Silly little feather-pate,” April mumbled.

“I … I … it is all so different to think about now. Until Pemberley, I was not sure I wanted much to do with dragons. Now I am finding I rather like … some of them.”

“If you would like that, it will be necessary for you to be presented to the Blue Order first.” Darcy’s voice was very quiet as if trying not to frighten her.

“I … I will think about it. Really I will.”

“If you have finished your tea, Georgiana, perhaps you will favor us with some music.”

How rude of Lady Catherine, calling across the room like that.

Georgiana curtsied and hurried to the pianoforte.

“I am astonished, Miss Elizabeth. You have worked wonders.” Fitzwilliam shared a wide-eyed glance with Darcy.

Darcy nodded somberly, but his lips turned up a mite as he turned his attention to the pianoforte.

What a puzzlement he was. How could this be the same man she had met in Meryton? The same one of Wickham’s tale of misery? The same one who allowed Pemberley’s egg to be stolen with nearly catastrophic consequences? It seemed he could please when and where he chose, but woe to the one he chose against.