Page 25 of The Magic of Pemberley (Fitzwilliam Darcy, Mage #2)

Chapter 25

T hree days. Three endless days that had lasted an eternity, since Elizabeth had last felt Darcy at the other end of the dragon scale. The last two evenings she had gone to the oak grove at sunset, as if being in the center of his power when the dragon scale activated could make a difference.

It did not. There was only silence.

Each morning she arose after hardly sleeping, exhausted from crying, wondering if this was the day she should don a black dress. It felt wrong to be wearing colors when she was grieving so bitterly. Why had she not tried harder to stop him from going? Now she would never see him again. All she would have was her too-brief memories of their time together. It seemed an impossibly thin thread to sustain her for the rest of her life.

But she had to dress in her normal colors, for she could not explain to the world why she believed Darcy to be dead. The cruel tyranny of keeping up appearances forced her to pretend everything was normal. If, by some tiny chance, Darcy was still alive, she would not endanger him by admitting to his mission.

Only Frederica and the dragons knew what had happened, though Chandrika had likely guessed the truth. No one else knew her world had ended. Not even Georgiana, who had not been told about the dragon scales in the first place .

Which was why, when Georgiana paid an unusual midmorning visit to her sitting room, Elizabeth tried to force a smile to her frozen lips. Then she noticed a peculiar expression on her sister-in-law’s face, pained and frightened. “Good morning, Georgiana. Is something troubling you?”

“A fae brought me a message today,” she said slowly. “It came from a hobgoblin in France. He sent this, with instructions that I should give it to you.” And she held out a dragon scale, the match to Elizabeth’s.

Elizabeth’s head swam. There it was, the proof she had dreaded.

Nothing mattered anymore. Not appearances, not anything. She bent forward, putting her head to her knees, gasping for breath. Darcy was gone.

Georgiana’s words seemed to come from a great distance. “What is it, Elizabeth? Because there is more. My brother is hurt.” There was a hitch in her voice.

Hurt?

Elizabeth lifted her tear-soaked face. “He is…alive?”

Georgiana gave her an odd look. “Yes, but he is injured. A bullet wound in his shoulder, he said. Poor Fitzwilliam!”

Somehow she stumbled to her feet. “Will he survive?”

“The fae who told me seemed to think so, but the message had passed through multiple hands. And there was another part, too, that I did not understand.”

Alive. He was alive! A mere bullet wound seemed like the slightest trifle, if it meant she might see Darcy again someday. “What is that?”

“He said the French emperor has a dragon lodestone.” She held up the dragon scale. “That is how they tracked my brother, by following him whenever he used this for magic, so Fitzwilliam told them to take it far away from him. I hope that makes more sense to you than it does to me.”

That was why Darcy had not responded, because he had sent the scale away for his own safety. The rest of Georgiana’s words seemed to float right past her, for all the sense she could make of them.

Nothing else mattered as long as Darcy was alive.

Frederica came to stand beside her. “What is this dragon lodestone? How does it work? ”

Georgiana turned up her hands. “I do not know. The fae did not explain anything.”

“Perhaps that is how Napoleon is locating the Nests,” Frederica said.

Elizabeth found her voice. “Did they say where he is? And if he is safe?”

The girl shook her head. “Just that he was recovering. I tried to ask questions, but he would not stay. I wish I knew more.”

A light frisson of magic tingled Elizabeth’s arm, the one near Frederica. She must be sending to Quickthorn.

“Can you send a message back? Perhaps find out where he is?” Elizabeth asked haltingly.

Georgiana bit her lip, as if expecting to be scolded. “I do not know how, and when I asked my own fae, they said that is not how these things work.” Her voice shook.

Somehow Elizabeth managed to salvage a bit of her shredded composure. “Georgiana, I cannot tell you how grateful I am to know this much. Your connections have proved most valuable today, and I thank you for it.”

He was alive! And that meant everything to her.

Elizabeth looked up as the butler’s voice came from outside the closed doors of the drawing room. “Sir, are you certain you would not like to take a few minutes to refresh yourself?”

“No time,” growled an unfamiliar male voice.

With a sigh, Elizabeth pursed her lips and blew to dismiss the illusion of a mouse sniffing at Cerridwen’s back leg. Pity, as it was one of her best yet of a moving creature.

A knock sounded on the door, and Hobbes intoned in his most disapproving manner, “Madam, Colonel Fitzwilliam has come to call. Are you at home?”

Frederica jumped to her feet, her eyes wide. “My brother,” she hissed to Elizabeth .

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Hobbes, pray admit him.” At least it would be a distraction. More than a week of worrying about whether Darcy’s wound had festered, and if she would ever have news of him again. Every day, when Georgiana said there was no news, was another disappointment.

The doors opened to reveal a man who was dressed for travel. Even with his greatcoat removed, he was covered with spatters of mud and dust. A blood-stained bandage circled his left sleeve.

“Richard!” Frederica hurried towards him as if to embrace him but stopped short. “Good heavens, what a mess you are!”

“Comes of riding straight through from London, with no sleep and a nasty skirmish with the highwayman.”

“Some people take the stagecoach,” she said pointedly. “Elizabeth, may I present my brother Richard? Although you might not believe it at the moment, he is usually quite tidy and presentable. Richard, this is Mrs. Darcy.”

“Welcome to Pemberley, Colonel. My husband has mentioned you often.”

He made a perfunctory bow. “Charmed, madam, but there is no time for niceties. We received information that it is unsafe for you to remain here, so I must beg you to permit me to escort you from this place to safety.”

“Richard, you cannot simply announce something like that! What is the matter?” Frederica demanded.

Oh, dear. Ever since sending word to Granny – by private courier, no less –about Napoleon’s true nature, Elizabeth had been expecting…something. “Does this have something to do with the letter I sent to Lady Amelia?” Elizabeth hazarded.

“Letter? I know nothing of a letter. No, this is news fresh from Napoleon’s court, or at least only a few weeks old. The emperor has put an enormous bounty on Darcy’s head, and also any member of his family. Assassins have been sent here.”

“French assassins in England? Richard, have you been drinking?” Frederica scoffed .

“Not according to one of Boney’s aides, who has nothing to gain from telling us that you need protection. Apparently Napoleon is furious over something Darcy learned and will do anything to stop it from getting out.”

Elizabeth’s chest tightened as she exchanged a wordless glance with Frederica. “I already know the secret Darcy discovered.”

He swung to face her, seeming to truly see her for the first time. “You know? How? Not even the War Office has heard a word from him!”

How could she explain it without mentioning the dragon scale? “It was a brief sending. My Talent entwines with his, and he used the link through our unborn child for it.”

He seemed to accept her explanation. “What did he learn?”

She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Napoleon is a dragon in human form. He can take on other shapes. My husband saw him change into a falcon.”

He stared at her in disbelief. “Ridiculous! As if a dragon could—”

Moving almost as quickly as a kestrel, Frederica clapped her hand over her brother’s mouth. “Before you say anything further about dragons, I strongly urge you to look over at the hearth. Very strongly,” she said sweetly.

The colonel, with a thunderous expression, turned his gaze on the fireplace where Cerridwen rested. His eyes bulged. “I am not seeing that,” he moaned.

This was more than enough for Elizabeth. “Yes, she is a dragon, but my immediate concern is that you have news of my husband that you have not yet related to me.”

His color rose, though he kept glancing at Cerridwen. “Madam, I will be glad to do so, but dragons are a grave danger.”

“Not this one,” said Elizabeth sharply, struggling not to strangle the news out of him. “I have been bonded to her since I was eight years old. Now, about my husband.”

The colonel straightened his shoulders, but his eyes kept flickering towards Cerridwen. “We know very little. The attack on Napoleon failed. Darcy escaped, but the two Frenchmen did not. They revealed his true name under questioning, and no, I have no idea why anyone was foolish enough to tell it to them in the first place. There is a huge manhunt going on for him, but he has not been found. Or at least not as of the last word from France.”

Elizabeth’s heart turned over. The colonel’s news was no more recent than what she had heard from the fae, but it was a reminder of the grave danger Darcy faced.

Frederica said, “We received a message through a fae – oh, yes, Richard; there are a great many lesser fae lurking here unseen – that Darcy was shot in the shoulder, but he lived through it.”

The colonel cursed under his breath. “Shoulder wounds are bad. Never trust the fae, though; they are always up to something. When did you hear this?”

She counted on her fingers. “Ten days ago, perhaps. Less than a fortnight, for certain.”

It had been over two long months since Darcy had kissed her farewell in her bedroom. A month since he had been on the run, in pain from his wound. She could not bear to think of his suffering.

“He must be having trouble returning. He was given names for escape routes, but none of them can be trusted not to turn him in for a reward of this size. Much as I dislike the idea, it would be safest for him to go into hiding there.”

“You can do nothing to recover him?” Frederica asked.

The colonel gritted his teeth. “What could I do? How can we perform a daring rescue in a hostile country when we have no idea where he is? He might even have left France, for all we know. It would be hopeless.”

A clear, floating voice said, “I can narrow it down, if that helps. I cannot tell how far away he is, but I know in which direction he can be found.”

Elizabeth gaped at Cerridwen. Why had she never told her this before? What else did she know?

Cerridwen spoke in her head. If I thought it could help, I would have told you. This Richard has an army and might be able to use the information.

The colonel swung to face Cerridwen. “Are you certain? How closely can you locate him?” He demanded .

Frederica said firmly, “Pray forgive him, Cerridwen, for his ignorance of dragon protocol. Richard, they dislike direct questions from strangers. She will offer you what she wishes you to know.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam’s mouth opened and shut with an audible clash of teeth. But manners must have been drilled into him at a young age, for he made a precise bow in Cerridwen’s direction. “My apologies for my lack of knowledge. I shall strive to do better.”

Cerridwen tilted her head in acknowledgment.

The colonel rubbed his forehead, succeeding only in smearing mud across it. “But to the problem at hand, Mrs. Darcy, I must urgently request that you depart this place immediately, and I offer you my escort.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “I cannot leave. The whole purpose of my marriage was for Darcy to draw on his land Talent through me, and that requires me to be at Pemberley. I have no objection to taking precautions, though.”

“Precautions are not enough when French soldiers know they can earn a fortune and the emperor’s personal favor simply by killing you. And since Napoleon knows Darcy’s name, we must assume he is aware you are the source of his power, too. What better way to weaken Darcy than to dispose of you?”

“But what if his life depends on accessing my power?”

The child inside her chose that moment to kick, as if reminding her that there was another life depending on her, too.

Would she have to leave for her child’s sake? It would be an unbearable choice. “Are you so certain it is a risk?”

“Certain enough to ride day and night to get here. Quite certain.”

The butler cleared his throat. “Pardon me for speaking out of turn, madam, but a Frenchman came here two days ago seeking employment. We sent him away, of course, but he did seem very interested in looking around.”

Elizabeth’s stomach churned, and this time she could not blame it on the child. Someone truly wanted to kill her. A memory assailed her, one she had thought little of at the time. “Yesterday, as I was walking alongside the stream, I heard a gunshot that sounded quite nearby. I assumed it was a poacher.”

The colonel’s face paled, making the mud stand out starkly. “Were it not for bad aim, I might have been too late. There is no time to lose. We will leave for Matlock at first light. Until then you should not be alone, and I must ask you to stay away from windows.”

“Matlock?” asked Lady Frederica. “Would they not know to look there?”

“Perhaps, but the good thing about living in a drafty old castle on top of a hill is that it is remarkably easy to defend.”

Elizabeth’s mind raced. Matlock, where she would be a stranger with no bond to the land. But perhaps there was another alternative. “Cerridwen,” she said slowly. “The wards on Pemberley keep out High Fae. I wonder if they could be set to keep out unknown mortals, too.”

Cerridwen’s eyes unfocused for a long moment. “Rowan says they can be.”

“Then I will ask for that to be done. It will make for some challenges, but it will keep French soldiers out.” There would have to be changes in the estate, with deliveries left at the gatehouse to be brought in by trusted servants. The staff had already adjusted to worse. “And we have other defenses we can use, too.” A castle might be easy to defend, but Pemberley had three dragons in residence who could set illusions and a host of lesser fae who were willing to fight for Georgiana.

The colonel frowned. “I would prefer to have you under my protection.”

“I appreciate your concern, Colonel, but I will be safe here, and I would rather see you put your efforts toward rescuing my husband.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam flushed. “If your dragon can tell me where to find him, I will go after him myself.”

Cerridwen studied him. “I cannot tell you where he is. I can point you in his exact direction, but I have only a vague sense of how far away he is. If I were closer, I could lead you to him, but that is impossible.”

His eyes narrowed. “So dragons can track people, but not from a distance. ”

“Not any dragon, and not any person. Only me, for I have tasted his blood.”

Elizabeth winced at the appalled expression on the Colonel’s face. “Just a drop or two, spilled by accident.”

“Not by accident,” Cerridwen insisted. “I knew something terrible would happen if I could not track him, so I clawed his face and tasted his blood.”

This was clearly not helping the colonel see dragons as anything but bloodthirsty murderers.

But Darcy’s cousin was clearly both determined and courageous. “Then will you travel with me, to show me where to find Darcy so that I can save him?”

Irritation rolled off the dragon. “I cannot go anywhere without my companion, and she must remain here.”

Frederica jumped in again. “Richard, dragons cannot survive away from their Nests unless they are accompanied by their companion. The only exception is if they are flying from the Nest to their companion. You will have to find another solution.”

Cerridwen walked to the window and unlatched it with her foreleg. Then she transformed and flew out.

The colonel goggled at the sight, working his jaw. Finally he said, “A dragon. Does Darcy know about this?”

“He does,” Elizabeth confirmed. At least it was true that he knew about Cerridwen, but how would he feel if he knew just how many dragons were staying at Pemberley? “I am grateful to you for coming all this way to deliver your warning. Dare I hope you will stay with us for a time?” He looked ready to collapse.

“I thank you, Mrs. Darcy. If you will permit it, I would like to remain here for a few days to see if I can provide any suggestions on your defenses here. Darcy would expect it of me.”

“You would be very welcome. ”

Frederica turned to the butler, still hovering by the door. “Hobbes, would you be so kind as to inform Mrs. Reynolds that Richard is here, injured, hungry, and tired?”

Hobbes bowed. “Of course, your ladyship.”

As the butler disappeared, the colonel rounded on his sister. “Not fair, Freddie, setting old Reynolds on me! If she insists on a surgeon, I will wring your pretty little neck.”

Frederica smiled at him. “It was my pleasure completely. By the by, you may see other dragons here as well. They are all perfectly civilized, though perhaps less polite in company than you might wish.”

The colonel paled under the mud stains. “More dragons?”

“Three of them are often here, with another who visits with some regularity,” she said coolly, as if there were nothing at all unusual about the situation.

He swallowed hard. “This will be interesting. You have a great deal of explaining to do, little sister.”

Once the colonel was taken off to the room that had been prepared for him, Elizabeth turned to Frederica. “You did not tell him about your bond to Quickthorn.”

Frederica grimaced. “I would rather not, if I can avoid it. Richard is a darling, for all his occasional bluster, but he will be angry enough when he discovers he is bound against speaking about Cerridwen. If he knew I was a dragon companion and could not tell the rest of the family, it would trouble him deeply. That is, if he did not strangle me first for taking on the bond to start out with.”

“He does not seem to need any more reasons to dislike dragons. Bindings do tend to make things more complicated,” Elizabeth agreed. It was frustrating enough that she could write so little about the truth of her life to her sister Jane. She longed to see her face to face, but it would be even harder then. As it was, Jane’s letters to her sounded increasingly worried, asking her if anything was wrong. “Do you think he might have heard anything about what Granny and Sycamore are doing in London?”

“Indubitably. Richard is a terrible gossip, and he knows everyone.” Her eyes twinkled, but then her expression sobered. “Are you worried by what he said about the French assassins?”

Elizabeth shrugged unhappily. “A little, but I want to see what the dragons and the fae can do to help us before I give up.” She hesitated, but the thoughts would not stay inside. “But if I must leave anyway, I could go to France with Cerridwen. We could pinpoint Darcy’s location and bring that information to Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

“Absolutely not!” cried Frederica. “Have you forgotten your condition? You could lose the child, or be unable to return until after the birth, so it will never bond to the land. What if Darcy needs to draw on his land power through you, and you are not here? That is not even counting the risk of arrest and other dangers!”

“Let us also not forget the danger of my child growing up fatherless,” Elizabeth retorted. Even though she knew Frederica was right.

“Darcy would not want you to do this. Not to risk your child’s bond to Pemberley, the continuance of the Darcy line,” Frederica argued.

It was true, every word of it. Darcy would be furious that she was even considering it. But how could she live with herself if he never returned, knowing she might have prevented his death?

And how she ached to see him, even if only for a moment, even if she could not touch him, just to know they were breathing the same air.

“I know,” she said heavily. “It is just so hard.”

Frederica’s expression softened. “If I could go for you, I would.”

Elizabeth nodded jerkily.

When Elizabeth retired to her rooms for the night, Cerridwen was drowsing by the fireside, having clearly returned from the Nest.

Elizabeth had ordered the room rearranged as Cerridwen grew, replacing the inlaid cabinet and the vanity with delicately curving legs with heavier furniture less likely to be overturned by a stray dragon wing or tail. She liked the look of it, the feeling of history it gave, and thought she would keep it this way even after Cerridwen outgrew the space. She had never had the opportunity to make a room her own before, and the process was exciting.

One thing she would not change, though, was the hand-painted chinoiserie wallpaper with its exquisite depictions of trees and dragons. She loved that.

She would keep the canopied bed with the elaborately carved headboard, too, the one where Darcy made love to her so often, where she had slept in his arms. She wanted those memories.

They might be all she would have.

She tiptoed past her sleeping dragon. It was good to see her back there; Cerridwen had spent the last two nights elsewhere, ever since Colonel Fitzwilliam arrived, and had seemed distracted and unhappy even when Elizabeth had seen her talking to the colonel about what illusions could be useful for trapping French assassins. Most oddly, she had seemed to be avoiding mental contact with Elizabeth.

She did not appear angry, though. If Elizabeth had done something wrong, it would have been obvious in her aura. But she was still worried.

The dragon opened one gold-ringed eye. “There you are.”

Elizabeth dropped down to sit beside her. “Yes, I am here, dearest. I have missed you.”

Cerridwen’s chest rose and then fell. “I have been struggling, all in vain.”

This was worrisome. “What is the matter? Can I do anything to help? ”

“I fear you must.” She lifted her head and laid it across Elizabeth’s leg. “I am so very sorry. I have tried everything. I asked the Eldest whether I could form the lesser bond to that soldier, even though he does not like me, or to someone else, but she said it was impossible. Then I tried to see if I could give the taste of Darcy’s blood to another dragon. It did not work with Rowan or Quickthorn, and then Juniper said it was too dangerous even to try with an older dragon. There is nothing for it.”

It took a moment for this deluge of words to penetrate, and then Elizabeth’s heart went out to her hard-working dragon. “Have you been trying to find a way to rescue my husband? How good you are, sweet Cerridwen!” No wonder she had been in low spirits. Did she think Elizabeth would blame her for her failure?

“But I could not do it.” There was a painful intensity to her aura. “I did not want this, not for you.”

“What did you not want?”

“To have to take you with me. To France.” The words echoed through the room, off the chinoiserie wallpaper, taking on a weight of their own.

If only she could! “Dearest, you cannot know how much I want to go help him, but I must remain here. It would not be safe, for me or the child I carry. Or for you, when they have those dragon lodestones.”

“I can keep you safe. Whatever might happen, I would only be a thought away.”

“What if Darcy needs the power of Pemberley, and I am not here to give it to him? Or if I cannot return in time for the birth? The baby must be bonded to the land.”

Cerridwen raised her head to study her with grim determination. “There are no guarantees, but we must still do it.”

It made no sense. Cerridwen liked Darcy well enough, but that did not account for this insistence. “Why?”

Her head slumped down again. “My visions say so.”

“Your foresight?” Elizabeth stared at her. “But you never mentioned going to France before. ”

“I cannot control when the vision comes to me,” the dragon snapped. “When that soldier spoke of taking me to France, that was when I knew the price if I did not go.”

“What is the price?” Elizabeth asked. Cerridwen had always refused to reveal the contents of her mysterious visions of the future to Elizabeth.

The dragon shivered. “Death. Destruction of the Nests. A return to enslavement. England in flames.”

Well. She had guessed as much, but it was still brutal to hear. Elizabeth stroked the dragon’s iridescent scales comfortingly. “And if we go?”

“It becomes less likely.”

In other words, either she risked her child’s bond to Pemberley, or she let it be born to a country under attack, a land in flames, where dragons were forced to serve Napoleon.

It was a terrifying choice, though every inch of her longed to find Darcy. But what of the risk of losing Cerridwen? “The dragon lodestone,” she said slowly. “Will the French not be able to hunt you down with that?”

“The Eldest says the lodestone can only find me when I am in my true form. As long as I stay a falcon, I will be safe.”

Elizabeth held up her hands. “But what of me? I do not even know where to begin such a journey. How to reach France, between the blockade and the sea serpents, or how to obtain the travel papers I would need.” The War Office had handled all of that for Darcy. How was she to find a ship to take her across the Channel? Suddenly it seemed quite impossible.

“The Eldest plans to help us.”

“How can the Eldest know?” she asked. “She has not left the Nest in centuries.”

“There are Kith who transport items between Nests, things that cannot go through the Gates, including a shipmaster in Hull who serves us. The Eldest has already sent word that he will be needed.” Already Cerridwen seemed brighter, as if she sensed Elizabeth’s agreement.

The Nest had already begun planning this, before she had even agreed to it, because Cerridwen had said it was necessary. That was the power of a foreseer, even a young and inexperienced one. Goosebumps rose on her arms.

She was going to France in the middle of a war.