Page 34 of The Magic of Pemberley (Fitzwilliam Darcy, Mage #2)

Chapter 34

T his should have been a glorious moment, riding from the Dark Peak Nest to Pemberley on dragonback, even in the full dark necessary to protect the secrecy of the Nest.

But Elizabeth wept through it all. Until then, too much had been happening for her to think. The Gate, falling into the Dark Peak Nest and the brief period of disorientation afterwards, facing the many questions from the dragons while waiting for the night to fall.

Now, sitting astride Quickthorn’s shoulders in a cleverly contrived harness, with no distractions, her predicament became all too real. Darcy, whom she would never see again. Their child, whose movements had been her steady companion these last months, would be the only part of Darcy she had left – but she knew all too well how often babies born early did not survive their first days.

And oh, how she wanted this child! How could she bear losing both of them?

We are almost there. Quickthorn’s voice in her head. Even Quickthorn, who was always irritable and never comforting, knew how distressed she was. She could hardly miss it, though, when with each pain, Elizabeth had leaned forward on the dragon’s neck and whimpered?

“You are very kind.” It was all she could manage .

Then there were lights ahead of them, and the dragon glided more slowly until a thump traveled up Elizabeth’s spine. They had landed in a circle of lanterns.

And among a crowd of people, far more than she would expect to come racing toward a very large dragon. Elizabeth brushed away her tears as the faces swam into focus. Mrs. Reynolds and Frederica in the lead. Mrs. Sanford, thank heavens! And was that Roderick? What was he doing here? Half a dozen footman, too.

Of course. Quickthorn must have told Frederica what was happening, and she had rallied the troops.

Elizabeth fumbled with the buckles on her harness. Then Roderick was there, pulling himself up beside her, snapping the links with an experienced touch.

He helped her down into the waiting hands of a tall golden-haired gentleman she did not recognize. She was too distraught even to care that she was being carried by an unknown man.

The stranger set her on her feet, and the power of Pemberley came up to meet her, as if recognizing her desperate need. The blessed strength of it, the depth of it, flowing into her and giving her new life.

Mrs. Reynolds commanded, “Bring the chair.” Two footmen came forward and set an oddly shaped wooden chair before her. “Pray sit, Mrs. Darcy. They will carry you to your room.”

“I can walk,” said Elizabeth. And it was true, especially with Talent burning into her from the land, filling the places that had been empty since she left.

“You can, but you will not,” snapped the housekeeper.

Elizabeth stared at her in shock, and then saw the fear in the older woman’s expression. She had forgotten that other people cared about her baby, too. Chastened, she sank down in the chair and let the footmen bear her to the familiar hall and up the stairs. She was back, home at last.

But Darcy should be here, too. It was his home, and he would never see it again.

She closed her eyes and let her head sink back .

Upstairs, Chandrika, her face tight, helped her into bed. Frederica and Mrs. Reynolds hovered nearby.

Mrs. Sanford elbowed her way to the front. “Tell me what has been happening. How often are your pains? Has your water broken? Any blood? Did anything happen to bring this on?”

Had anything happened? It almost made her laugh. Elizabeth answered her questions as best she could.

“Open your mouth,” the midwife said.

When Elizabeth obeyed, Mrs. Sanford pressed down her lower lip. “As I suspected. You are parched. Mrs. Reynolds, some broth with plenty of salt, watered wine, sweetened tea. Chamomile, if you have it. Right away. If she drinks enough, we may be able to stop this, or at least delay it. No lemon; that might agitate the womb.”

The housekeeper gave a sharp nod. She was no sooner out of the room than Chandrika was at Elizabeth’s side, holding a cup of tea. Of course Chandrika would have prepared everything as soon as she heard the news. She always did.

Elizabeth gulped it down and held out the cup for more. Why had she not realized how thirsty she was?

Mrs. Sanford said briskly, “Good. Now, tell me each time you have a pain.”

“I will. Whatever you say.” Had it only been that morning that she had awakened in Darcy’s arms, thinking all would finally be well? “I am so very tired.”

“I am hardly surprised. Climbing mountains and riding dragonback during your labors? That is a new one for me.” But she said it with a smile.

“That was the easiest part of it.” Her eyelids drifted closed. It was such a relief to have someone else handling the decisions.

“Stay awake, Mrs. Darcy. Resting is very important, but you must drink a great deal more before you sleep.”

Chandrika began to wipe Elizabeth’s face with a damp washcloth. The coolness felt good. She winced as a pain began. “It is happening. ”

The midwife laid her hands on Elizabeth’s bulge, her mouth moving as she counted silently until it faded. “It is still weak and short. That is a good sign.”

Weak? Elizabeth did not want to think of what a strong pain would feel like, but she would take it as good news.

Two days later, the midwife grudgingly announced that Elizabeth seemed to be out of imminent danger. “For now, at least. There is a good chance your labors will start again if you resume your normal activities. I strongly urge you to stay in bed for the next month.”

“For a month!” Lying in bed with nothing to do was already driving her mad, when the only thing she could think of was Darcy. “What if I promise to be careful and to avoid exerting myself?”

“Do you wish to carry this baby to term or not?” Mrs. Sanford retorted.

Elizabeth sank back against the pillows. “Of course I do.”

“Then you will rest. You are fortunate, compared to most women with early labor who have no choice. You have servants to do all the work and friends to bear you company.” Mrs. Sanford’s voice was sharp.

Frederica said in a low voice, “I beg you, Elizabeth, take no risks.” There were lines of fatigue on her face.

“And this coming from someone who has never seen a risk she would not take!” Elizabeth teased in a vain effort to rally her own low spirits. “Very well, I shall obey, but I do not promise to be cheerful about it.”

Not when Darcy was most likely in a French prison, suffering God knows what ill treatment..

“Good,” the midwife said briskly.

“There is one thing,” Elizabeth said slowly. “If I must remain abed, I want to do it in the cottage at the oak grove. I am too far from the land here. Should my husband need to draw on Pemberley’s power through me, I have to be able to access it.” It was the only thing she could do for him .

Mrs. Sanford rubbed her knuckles over her lips. “I do not know that it is a good idea for you to act as a conduit—”

“His life may depend on it!” Elizabeth snapped.

The midwife sighed. “I suppose moving you would do no harm, if you are willing to be carried there in a litter, and if Mrs. Reynolds can supply you with everything you need.”

The housekeeper said instantly, “There will be no difficulty about that.”

“It may even be beneficial to you to have more access to the land. It gives you strength. Mrs. Reynolds, may I speak to you outside about the arrangements?”

The housekeeper nodded, and the two women left the room.

“I will perish from boredom,” Elizabeth said glumly.

Frederica said, “I can entertain you. Perhaps now you would like to read your letters? I know you did not want to before, but—”

“No.” Frederica had tried to give her the pile of correspondence from her sister Jane earlier, but Elizabeth could not bear to read about Jane’s happiness with Bingley and pleasure in the company of the neighborhood Elizabeth had lost. Their lives had diverged so far that hearing from Jane only made Elizabeth feel lonely. Perhaps someday they could meet and reconnect, but right now that seemed as hopeless as everything else. Just one more loss, on top of everything else.

“I could read them to you if you are too tired,” Frederica urged.

“No!” She was much sharper this time.

“But what if something is the matter? Would you not want to know? She has been writing to you every week without fail.”

Elizabeth pushed the letters away. “You can read them if you think them so important,” she said irritably. But she could not help growing tense as Frederica took her at her word, cracking the seal on one of them and slowly reading it. “Well?”

Frederica refolded the paper. “No bad news. Just that she is misses you and is imagining all sorts of terrible things that could have kept you from writing. ”

When had she written last to Jane? Probably before her decision to go to France. No wonder Jane was fretting. “I suppose I should try to send her something,” she mumbled. But she could not face it. That would mean telling her of losing Darcy and the failure of his mission, and how it might still cost her the baby.

Frederica eyed her with concern. “If it would help, I would be happy to send her a note and tell her you are well, simply very fatigued by your condition.”

“That would be a kindness,” Elizabeth said. Jane would not believe a word of it, but it would be better than nothing.

When Cerridwen finally made it to Pemberley the following day, Elizabeth turned her head away. The sight of her dragon made her ill with regrets.

“What is it?” Cerridwen asked. “Why are you hiding your mind from me?

“I do not want to talk about it. Go to the Nest; they will want to see you.”

Hurt cascaded from Cerridwen. “And you do not?”

“I want my husband!” It was a cry of anguish, from deep in her soul. “I want him to be safe, as he was before we tried to rescue him. I convinced him to leave the house where he was safe. It is my fault he was captured.”

Cerridwen seemed to fold into herself. “You blame me, then, for it.”

Elizabeth waved her hand, trying to brush her words away. “I know you had no choice, that you had to follow your vision. But I did not realize the price I would pay. Did you know what would happen, that I would lose him?” She had not meant to ask that. She did not truly wish to know the answer.

The dragon lowered her head. “I cannot see the details, only the result at the end. I never meant to hurt him, or you. ”

“But we did! Oh, how I wish I had refused to go. Now I will never see him again, and I may lose our child, too. All because I foolishly thought I could help.” She turned onto her side and buried her face in the pillow, tears cascading down her cheeks.

Silence. Only Cerridwen’s aura of distress, and even that was subdued, as if the dragon was trying to hide it. And then a small voice. “As I was leaving the Nest, they were planning to try to rescue him.”

Elizabeth picked up her head. “Do not give me false hope! It will only make it worse!”

“I do not know if they will succeed, but I let them think they must, that my vision would come true if they did not save Darcy.” Cerridwen sounded steadier now.

“You let them think that? What do you mean?”

Wretchedness rolled off the dragon. “I told them he had to be saved. They assumed it was because he was needed to prevent the disaster I foresaw, and I did not correct them. But I have had no visions about him.”

“Because you knew it was our fault, too!” It was unfair, but she could not bear to listen to this. Not when Darcy was suffering.

“I know there are no easy answers. All the futures I see contain death and suffering. In the best of them, some dragons and people will die. There will be sacrifices. And all of them will be my fault, for the choices I make!”

The door opened to reveal Mrs. Sanford. “My apologies for interrupting, but I must ask you not to upset Mrs. Darcy. It is very important that she remain calm, or she may lose this child.”

Cerridwen gave a guttural cry, and then she transformed. The wind from her kestrel wings blew against Elizabeth’s cheeks as she flew out the door.

Frederica settled herself beside Elizabeth’s bed. “Well, you look terrible,” she said.

Elizabeth groaned. “Are you not supposed to be consoling me? ”

“My attempts at tact always fail. Likely you would not believe me if I told you some men would find reddened, swollen eyes appealing.”

A gurgle of laughter escaped her, despite her misery. “I do not understand how you survived in society for so long.”

“Neither do I, to be truthful,” Frederica said without any apparent distress. “Now, what happened with Cerridwen? Quickthorn is worried. Apparently she is refusing to talk to anyone.”

Elizabeth leaned her head back and closed her eyes. It was not what she wanted to hear. “We had words. I do not know how things will ever be the same for us again.” She had to force out the words.

Frederica’s eyes widened. “Oh, no! What happened?”

“It is my own fault,” she said tiredly. “I misunderstood what it meant to be a companion. Somehow I thought it meant Cerridwen loved me and would always do what was best for me, since she had stayed with me when they told her to break the bond. But it is not true. She does what is best for the dragons, as I suppose she ought to.”

“Cerridwen does love you. I am certain of it,” Frederica exclaimed.

“Perhaps in her own way, she does care,” Elizabeth said slowly. The dragon had tried to help Darcy, after all. “But she still insisted we had to take him through the Gate, and he might have survived if he had stayed with his initial plan of going to Prussia.”

“Or he might not have. He was still being hunted, even if he was momentarily safe. Are you going to blame yourself forever for being unlucky in your choices, when you were doing your very best to help him?” Frederica asked. “Do you think Darcy would want you to do that?”

She shook her head wordlessly. Of course Darcy would not want her to blame herself, but that did not mean she was blameless.

“Did Cerridwen know what would happen to him?”

“She says not.”

“Do you know why she insisted on taking him to the Nest?”

“Her far-seeing, as always. If we did not take him to the Nest, terrible things would happen. ”

Frederica rubbed her fingers along the edge of the counterpane covering Elizabeth. “Before he met you, Darcy was willing to sacrifice himself to prevent another dragon massacre. If Cerridwen had given him the choice, that his being captured would prevent a disaster, what do you think he would have done?”

Elizabeth did not want to listen to reason. She wanted Darcy. Tears slipped down her cheeks. “I wanted Cerridwen to save him for me.”

“We all wanted that.” Frederica handed her a lace-edged handkerchief. “Even Cerridwen, I daresay.”

“She has to follow her vision. I know.” But she said it grudgingly.

Frederica hesitated. “I always say the wrong thing, so I should probably keep my lips sealed, but I never can manage that, can I? You may not be able to forgive me for this, either. But you would not respect Cerridwen if she had let the dragons die and England go up in flames in order to save Darcy.”

Bile rose in Elizabeth’s mouth. “Do not ask me to like her choice.”

“No, of course not. But…” Frederica took a deep breath before plunging forward. “Someone told me recently that love is a treasure and should not be squandered, and that denying love will starve your soul. And I think that applies to your love for Cerridwen, too, even if you disagree with what she did.”

Elizabeth turned her head to look at her. “That does not sound like you. Did Quickthorn put you up to this?”

“No, she told me to give you a good shake and knock some sense into your head.” Frederica gave a quick smile. “All this talk of love does not sound like me, does it? But it is something I have been thinking about a good deal lately.”

No doubt due to Roderick’s presence. Elizabeth was still puzzled by that, how he had ended up here and bonded to Rowan, but everyone was busily trying to protect her by refusing to tell her the full story.

And she did not have the energy to argue with them, or even to care.

Elizabeth might have been able to hold onto her anger at Cerridwen more than a few hours if only she could have taken a long ramble through the countryside, but how was anyone to bear being confined to bed just at the time when their thoughts were the most painful? Her grief, anger, and helplessness were inescapable.

As was the conclusion that Frederica was right. She had been unfair to Cerridwen. And she should try to do something about it.

Hesitantly Elizabeth reached out with her mind. Would her dragon even be willing to speak to her? There was only one way to find out. Cerridwen?

Silence for a moment, and then, What?

I was wrong to blame you. You did what you had to do, and you tried to protect both of us. I have been too distraught to think clearly.

Silence again, but she could tell Cerridwen was listening.

She tried again. I miss you. It was hard not being able to send to you in France, and then you were too far away.

I hated it. Now Cerridwen’s frustration poured through their connection. All those weeks of silence, of avoiding using my powers. It was horrid.

Yes, it was. And then, with her own feelings open to the bond, I wish you were here with me now.

Then I will come. The connection faded away.

Elizabeth let her head sink back into the pillow as relief washed over her. Then she called out to Chandrika, in her little cot behind a screen. “Cerridwen is coming. Would you let the others know? I would not want them to be taken by surprise.” The staff had erected a tent outside the cottage where an assortment of armed footmen and grooms took turns guarding her. Elizabeth had said it was unnecessary, but Mrs. Reynolds had enlisted the steward in her insistence that Mr. Darcy would not have it any other way. The one argument Elizabeth could not deny.

“Yes, Mrs. Darcy. It will be good to have her here again.”

“Yes, it will.”