part0020

I n the mews behind the Order offices, Darcy handed Elizabeth into the carriage and moved to climb up with the driver.

“Go sit with her. You are betrothed now.” Walker grumbled from his perch atop the coach.

“I do not want to intrude. This has all been so abrupt—”

Walker jumped closer and stared beak to nose, directly into his eyes—never a good thing from a cockatrice. “You are betrothed to her without ever having told her of your regard. If you refuse to join her in the carriage now, you are making a very public—and very stupid—statement as to having made a match of convenience and only convenience.”

“Surely she would not think such a thing.”

“I cannot speak for her, but they would.” He pointed with his wing toward faces in the windows watching their departure. “Rumors will begin before the coach has even turned the corner.”

But what did rumors matter?

“Have you any idea what Lady Catherine will do with that sort of information? The things she will say to Georgiana and—”

Darcy climbed down and into the carriage.

Elizabeth sat on the far edge of the seat as if expecting someone to sit beside her.

Of course, she did. They were betrothed, and it was proper for him to do so now.

Damn it all, Walker was right.

He slid onto the seat beside her, lurching ungracefully as the coach rocked into motion.

“This is not how I would have had things.” He rubbed his hands together.

She slid farther into the corner of the coach. “I suppose we must now make the best of things.”

He raked his hair back from his face. “That is not what I meant.”

She cocked her head and peered at him. Her bewildered—or was it hurt?— gaze did nothing to help matters. Nor did it improve when she turned to regard the side glass.

Usually silence was comfortable, even pleasing to him. Why should that not be so now?

What was he supposed to do? He had tried to speak and it had hardly been successful, but this silence was even less so.

“Mr. Darcy, I am a very selfish creature, I suppose.” She spoke without looking at him. “For the sake of giving relief to my own feelings, I can no longer help thanking you for your unexampled kindness to my sisters. Were it known to the rest of my family, I should not have merely my own gratitude to express, but perhaps it is best this way, as my mother’s effusions might not be to your comfort. Regardless of your claim to being at fault, Lydia’s behavior is my father’s problem, not yours, and your willingness to—”

“If you will thank me, let it be for yourself alone. That the wish of giving happiness to you might add force to the other inducements which led me on, I shall not attempt to deny. But your family owes me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe I thought only of you.” He reached for her hands. They seemed so small between his own.

She glanced at him. Oh, the look in her eye. Was she truly so surprised?

“I can only suspect what your feelings were towards me in Meryton. You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were then, tell me so at once. Regardless of your answer, my affections and wishes are unchanged—”

“Your affections, sir?”

He dragged a hand down his face. “Yes, Elizabeth, affections, of the warmest and most violent nature.”

“And you have supposed me to be aware of this?”

“I had hoped. You seemed so well able to identify Walker and Cait’s true intentions towards one another.”

“They are dragons, sir, who are infinitely easier to understand than men.”

“I know of no one else who would suggest such a thing.”

She cocked her head and quirked her brow. “When men puff up, raise their frills, flutter their wings, change color and scent, posture and sharpen their talons, then I shall agree, they are as obvious as dragons.”

He chuckled. “I am not so sure they do not do most of those things.”

She rolled her eyes and looked away.

He released her hand. “If you find our arrangement intolerable, I promise you, I will find a way to free you without harm to your reputation.”

“I do not see how that could be possible. A woman is never set free from an engagement without damage to her reputation. And I do not see Pemberley tolerating—”

“Is it what you want? To end our agreement?” He shifted around to stare directly into her eyes, his gut knotted more tightly it had been in court.

“I … I did not say that.”

“You have said nothing about what you do want.” He pressed his knee against hers.

She stared at her hands. “No, I suppose I have not.”

“So, tell me.” Why was it so difficult to get an answer from her?

“It is strange to consider what I want—it has always been the dragons first.”

“Pemberley aside, what do you want?” He leaned very close.

Perhaps that was not a good idea. Her warmth was far too pleasing.

She licked her lips. “I would like to become better acquainted with you, to have the opportunity to see the man that the dragons see in you. You have their respect, loyalty, and affection.”

The tension in his belly eased. “Any man whom dragons admire you can admire as well?”

“They are very good judges of character. Walker would not sully himself with an unworthy association. You bring buttons for Quincy and treat Blanche with the deference of a young cousin. Wellsbey would do anything you asked. Even Rosings respects you—which is saying a great deal when she feels so much less toward her own Keeper.”

“I must hope then that you will see in me what they do. It has always been my desire to have my wife’s esteem.”

She clutched her hands tightly, whispering, “Jane and I had always said we would only marry for love. I believe she has done so.”

He laid his hands over hers. “I hope that you shall be able to do so.”

She raised her eyes to his. “I do as well.”

It was too forward, too bold, and too irresistible. He leaned in and kissed her, gently, warmly.

Pray, let there be no doubt in her mind of the ardency of his regard.

He pulled away just enough to capture her gaze.

She understood. Surely, she did.

He handed her out of the carriage at Darcy House, and they flew into a flurry of preparations only barely finished when Fitzwilliam arrived to carry him off to find Lydia. He extracted a promise that she would be mindful of her safety at Netherfield, declared he would write very often, kissed her once more, and rode away with Fitzwilliam, Walker following overhead.

Cold and numb, she instructed a maid to pack her trunks for the morning and wandered into the library. What a fabulous room, and what beastly luck there was no possible way she could enjoy it now. She fell into a chair near the fireplace, face in her hands. How was she to explain all that was happening to Georgiana when she hardly understood it herself?

She was free from Longbourn’s demands and Mr. Collins, but at what cost? Her breath caught in her throat. Never to go home again. She had no home now. If Papa was stubborn, she might never see him or Mama again. Though she would not mourn the loss of Mr. Collins from her acquaintance, she would miss Mary. And Jane, Kitty and even Lydia.

Never would she have guessed she would end this day homeless.

No, that was not true. Not exactly.

Darcy insisted she consider Darcy House and Pemberley estate her homes and instructed the staff to regard her as the mistress of his home.

Heavens above—how had it all happened?

She was betrothed to Mr. Darcy—in front of the entire Blue Order Court and Dragon Conclave no less.

At least he was not a dragon-hating, boorish addle-pate like Collins. No, far from that, he was an honorable, kind, respectable man who wore honor and duty like his coat and cravat. And he liked her—a great deal if his kisses were to be believed.

She pressed her hands to her cheeks. He liked her.

What ghastly, horrid, deplorable luck that the very hour she learned of it, they would be separated with no idea as to their reunion. Was it possible to miss him already?

What kind of correspondent would he be? At least his intentions were very good. That would have to be enough for now.

Georgiana took the news, all of it, tolerably well. To be sure, she was overjoyed that Elizabeth would soon be her sister. As to the rest, her trepidation was tempered by Cait’s promise to carry correspondence between Meryton and Pemberley herself.

Had it been to impress Walker that she volunteered to serve as Collins’ translator to Longbourn, or was it to answer her curiosity about the presence of a rogue dragon? Either way, for all her general air of self-importance, it was comforting to know she would have another Dragon Friend nearby.

April could hardly stop her flittering, far too delighted that Elizabeth had found a mate. No doubt, April would be seeking one of her own soon, too. A broody fairy dragon was just what one needed when trying to make contact with a rogue dragon. A generous cup of chamomile tea and honey eventually helped April to sleep.

Not so Elizabeth. She stared at the ceiling until nearly dawn when a rapping at her window drew her out from under the counterpane. Walker stood on the window sill.

“I cannot stay. There is a letter in my satchel. You may send your reply with me the next time I see you.”

She removed the letter, buckled the satchel, and he flew off.

How had Darcy had time to write?

The letter was not even sealed—he obviously trusted Walker implicitly. And it was written in pencil—who wrote a letter in pencil?

One very determined to write under less than ideal circumstances.

Her hands trembled as she unfolded the letter.

I cannot say that I am disappointed to be writing to you so soon, I only wish I had something of substance to report on the matter which concerns us both. F and I made it to a coaching inn just before the evening rainfall came in torrents. So, we are reasonably dry and fed for the evening.

She chuckled. Travels with Father had taken them to some less than comfortable places. He was politely describing a leaky roof and difficult to identify foodstuffs on a dirty plate.

In the morning, Walker will fly to Brighton. With any luck he will be able to find local dragons who may have overheard some of Wickham’s conversations. F and I will make inquiries along the road. Hopefully there will be some news of them. I have faith that between these efforts and Rustle’s in Meryton, we will be able to make quick work of finding them.

Did he realize that he need not be so positive for her sake? Probably not; he really did not know her that well at all. Still though, it was a kind gesture.

With so little news, I am sure you question why I have bothered sending Walker out in the middle of the night with a letter. I would not have you thinking me so inconsiderate of my Friend; I am writing this largely on his behalf.

You might wonder what possessed Cait to volunteer to go to Meryton in the service of Collins when we both know her feelings toward the man. She is not by nature such a generous being. The decision was largely a self-serving one, and of Walker’s initiation. He wanted her to be near you.

He fears Cait is too proud to tell you this herself, but she will be laying her clutch in the coming weeks, and he fears her health may be at risk. The eggs of her previous clutch were especially large, and she had difficulty laying them. As eggs of subsequent clutches become larger, he fears she is at risk of becoming egg-bound.

Walker believes that you will be able to tell if Cait needs help and, more importantly, she will accept it from you. After what you have done for Pemberley, they both trust you implicitly.

I realize you do not yet know me well enough to understand how very few people I say that of, but you can apply to F for a full accounting of the matter.

I count that among the first, but far from the only of your virtues that induced me to seek your hand. Though I hope this business will not keep us apart that long, I hope to acquaint you with all my reasons through our correspondence. Then perhaps you will be able to say that you know me.

That should not mean so much, but it did. She pressed the letter to her chest. As cruel as it was that they should be separated, if he continued to write such letters, it might not be so very dreadful.

She carefully tucked the letter inside her reticule. The coach would be brought around soon, and she needed to bid Pemberley and Georgiana farewell. During the journey she would read the notes she had transcribed about lindwyrms—the most likely species of the rogue dragon—and reread Darcy’s letter. Hopefully that would be enough to distract her from the fact that she was wholly unwelcome at Longbourn.

She wrapped her arms around her waist and made her way down the grand stairs. Slate and Amber met her on her way to the cellar steps and greeted her enthusiastically, offering their congratulations and excitement over having a proper mistress in the house again as well as their hopes that she would be able to return home soon from her Blue Order business.

Home. They called Darcy House her home.

What an odd thought.

But here she was Keeper to a dragon that adored her, had a sister excited for their new relationship and new Dragon Friends who anticipated her company. Most importantly, her betrothed—a man who trusted her—invited her to call this place home. What more could “home” possibly mean?

If only a rogue dragon, a man who sought to be a Deaf-Speaker, and her unmanageable sister would cooperate, she might be able to discover what that kind of a home meant.

In the meantime, to Meryton.

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