Page 37 of The Magic of Pemberley (Fitzwilliam Darcy, Mage #2)

Chapter 37

E lizabeth stirred from sleep the next morning to the sound of an argument outside.

“You cannot go in. Mrs. Darcy is still asleep,” growled one of the footmen.

“She will want to be awakened for this,” Roderick’s Welsh-accented voice responded, broken by heavy breathing. “Immediately.”

Elizabeth rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Roderick was not prone to dramatics. “Let him in,” she called, pulling the counterpane up to hide her nightdress.

The door burst open to reveal the Welshman in a dressing gown. Had he not even bothered to dress before leaving the house? But his broad grin told her this was not bad news.

“Darcy is at the French Nest,” he burst out. He bent over to hold his knees, clearly trying to recover from a run.

It was so unexpected she could not even take it in at first, and then joy began to radiate through her chest. Excited, she sat up. “What? Are you certain?”

“Rowan says so. The French Nest is sending their hatchlings here for safety, and one of them told him.” Roderick straightened and threw back his head. “Lord, what a relief! ”

Chandrika’s hands pressed Elizabeth’s shoulders back. “You must lie down, Mrs. Darcy. You know what the midwife said.”

How could she lie back when she wanted to get up and dance, to embrace everyone in sight? Somehow she managed to obey. “What else do you know? When is he coming through the Gate? Tell me everything!”

Roderick’s gaze became unfocused. “Apparently there is some problem with sending him through the Gate. The hatchlings do not know what it was, but they all agree that the rescued Englishman helped them go through the Gate.”

Elizabeth clasped her hands together in front of her heart. Darcy was alive! “Is he well? Did they hurt him?”

The Welshman shook his head. “Rowan cannot tell. The hatchlings are very young and disoriented, in a new place among complete strangers, having left behind everyone they know. They likely would not be able to tell if a human was hurt… no, wait. One says he seemed to walk with no trouble, for what that is worth. Rowan will try to find out more, but first he must help the hatchlings settle.”

“Thank you, thank you! And pray tell Rowan how much this news means to me.” Tears of joy began to stream down her face, but she did not care who saw them. Her world was bright again, after days of darkness.

Cerridwen stirred from where she had slept by the hearth. “I will go and see if I can learn anything more.” She lumbered to her feet.

“A good idea,” said Roderick. “Though they may put you to work, too. Rowan says it is chaos there. They sent twenty hatchlings! It must be a huge Nest. I have no idea where we will put them all.”

Elizabeth’s mind finally began to work. “If they are sending all their young here, the situation there must be desperate.”

“Or simply a sensible precaution,” Roderick said. “They will not let anything happen to Darcy, in any case. Dragons always do their best to protect humans.”

He was alive and free. She would hold onto that with all her might.

Darcy heard nothing more from the healer dragon for four days, a time of what Jack referred to as utter chaos in the Nest, dragons hurrying back and forth about urgent business. Their auras weighed on Darcy, so much worry, sadness, and anger. Who could blame them, when they faced the real possibility that their home would be left a smoking ruin like the Nests in Austria and Spain? Not to mention the terror that Napoleon would trap them into becoming killers, enslaved to the High King of Faerie. They seemed confident that they could delay the soldiers for at least several weeks, but he was not privy to their plans. And no one would tell him how they intended to protect Jack if the worst happened.

No matter how much Darcy longed to get home to Elizabeth and never set foot in France again, he could not stand by doing nothing as the dragons poured their energy into defending the Nest, so he offered his assistance. Alongside Jack and a few of the human Kith who served the dragons, he helped to build defenses for the Nest, digging traps to catch intruders and creating piles of rocks which could be tumbled down into narrow valleys.

But no defenses could last forever, so the Nest was evacuating as many dragons as possible. When Jack was sent on missions to the towns below, Darcy assisted at the Gate, herding young nestlings through, some no bigger than a puppy. They were all going to the Dark Peak Nest, since changing the destination of the Gate would take more power than the Nest could afford to dedicate to it in these circumstances. And Darcy was glad to help, for some of those nestlings were carrying the message of his presence at the Nest, after the Eldest had refused to allow anything in writing to be sent through.

He envied each nestling that disappeared through the Gate, even as he wondered how the Dark Peak Nest would handle this unexpected influx. What was Elizabeth thinking of his absence? What if Coquelicot could not manage to find a way to send him through the Gate ?

At last the healer dragon sent word to meet her in the Gate chamber. She waited there, a leather satchel beside her, her aura weighed down with fatigue. “Are you ready?”

He felt a new sympathy for her. She must have worked very hard to help him yet again. “I am.” Darcy glanced at Jack beside him. If only he could take his brother with him!

The dragon held out a stoppered glass vial whose contents swirled with iridescent ruby and amethyst. “First you must drink this. It may feel strange as you swallow it, but it will not harm you.”

He took the tiny bottle in his hand. Magic thrummed from within it. “Should I sip it or take it all at once?”

“Whichever you prefer.”

In for a penny, in for a pound. He opened the vial and swallowed it in one go.

It burned, like the intense heat of repulsion, but without pain. It tasted of the memory of free flight in open air, gliding off the mountain on giant wings, of the joy in seeing an autumn leaf bejeweled with dewdrops, of deep and abiding peace.

Warmth built in his belly, the heat of a fire on the cold night or friendship returned. It was odd, but by no means unpleasant. It made him feel strong, as if he could bend an iron bar with his bare hands.

She gave him the satchel. “This contains more of the elixir. You must drink one bottle each morning for the next fortnight without fail. This is very important. A bond like this is temporary, but it must not be taken lightly.”

“I will.” He could feel the bond building in him, a sudden sadness over leaving the dragon behind.

“One last thing.” She brought out a silver locket, perhaps two inches wide. “Put this around your neck. We will mingle our blood inside it – not much, just a drop or two – and then you must go through the Gate immediately. Wear it until you are done with the elixir. ”

Like the other Artifacts he had encountered, it was heavier than he expected. He slid it over his head and hefted the satchel of elixir to his left shoulder.

Coquelicot reached out a foreleg to open the locket on his chest. Despite her size, her touch was delicate. With one talon, she nicked her opposite foreleg until her crimson blood filled the locket. “Now you.”

She took his hand and made a tiny cut on his middle finger. Odd, he could barely feel it, as if her touch stopped the pain before it began. As his darker blood met hers in the locket, it hissed, and a few golden sparks flew. She snapped the locket shut. “Now go.”

Darcy nodded to Jack. “Until we meet again.” Without waiting for reply, he stepped into the Gate.

And into chaos. The temperature was suddenly warmer, the glowing lights brighter, and three dragons crowded the small chamber along with a pile of large crates.

He was in England, his own country! Where no one would arrest him, beat him, starve him. Where he was safe.

The smallest dragon, the currant-red one he had met before, came forward. “Ah, Darcy. From the Vosges? Pray step aside and allow us to move these through while they still have it open.” The dragon slung a crate through, followed quickly by two more from the others.

It was bizarre watching the crates simply disappear. Especially as the Gate had left him a little dizzy, or perhaps it was the elixir.

The room was empty in just a few minutes. “My apologies, Darcy,” said the dragon. Rowan, that was his name. “We are sending everything we can to help them protect their Nest, but they cannot afford the power to keep the Gate open for long.”

“Understood.” It would take far more than that to trouble him.

The dragon came a step closer and studied him. “You have the mark of another dragon.”

It made him self-conscious, as if he had been caught in an infidelity. “I could not pass through the Gate on my own, so one of the dragons was kind enough to form the lesser bond with me.”

“Ah, clever! The Eldest is eager to speak to you. May I take you to her?”

He ached to go straight to Elizabeth, but he could not deny that he had important information to deliver. “Indeed. Is it possible to send word to Pemberley that I am back? I do not want my wife to worry any longer than necessary.”

Rowan’s eyes unfocused briefly. “It is done. Roderick will tell her.”

Roderick was at Pemberley again? Well, he supposed he was in for many surprises when he arrived.

Here he was, back in the chamber of the Eldest. It had only been four months, but it felt like years, as if it had been a different man who stood there then. A man who had never known hunger, the lack of a warm bed, or what it meant to be a prisoner. One who did not know what it meant to disguise himself, to run for his life, to be helpless, and the fear of losing the woman he loved.

What an innocent he had been! He, who had always had every advantage in life, yet had thought he knew everything.

The Eldest was unchanged, though. It was only Darcy who was different, as he returned the Artifact he had been given a lifetime ago. “It saved me, when all else seemed lost,” he said, in lieu of thanks.

“I am glad of it,” the Eldest said in her resonant voice. “I have learned something of your adventures from Companion Elizabeth, but I would appreciate hearing from you directly.”

“Will you read me, then? I would not wish to miss giving you any details.” And it would hurry the process along so he could go to Pemberley that much sooner. He could not wait to be in Elizabeth’s arms, in his own home.

“You have changed. You used to find that uncomfortable.”

“I have changed a great deal, and I spent the last fortnight in the French Nest. ”

“Ah, yes. I would be eager to hear any details about that as well. They have communicated little beyond the bare bones of their situation, no doubt because their time is better spent otherwise.”

“I can share that, though I am under a binding about something that happened there.” He suddenly realized how suspicious that must sound. “It is something personal about me, unrelated to the danger the Nest finds itself in.”

The great dragon tilted her head. “How curious. Let us begin, then.” She held out her forelegs.

Darcy grasped them and gazed up into her huge eyes, letting the power of her mind explore his as he replayed the events of his journey, from the sea serpents to the Vosges Nest. The painful parts still hurt, though the soothing presence of the Eldest eased the ache of the memories.

Finally the Eldest withdrew. “You have given me a great deal to think about, Friend Darcy. Your information is most valuable and may save many lives.”

“I fear for the dragons of the Nest I just left.” He had not intended to say that, but it was true. And he worried about Jack even more.

The nictitating membrane came down over the dragon’s eyes. “It is a terrible situation. We must find a way to stop this mad dragon you call Napoleon, but it will be very difficult.”

Then Rowan came scurrying in, looking tiny next to the bulk of the much larger dragon. “Forgive me, Eldest. My companion tells me Darcy must go to Pemberley immediately. Companion Elizabeth is in childbirth.”

Darcy caught his breath. Already? Had she not said it would be another two months? He had to go to her this very instant. “Is there a horse I can borrow? Time is of the essence.” There was no time to send to Pemberley for one.

Rowan said, “I will see what I can do.”

Darcy gritted his teeth. The horse was a farm animal, more accustomed to dragging a plow or pulling a cart than being ridden. Getting him to go beyond a trot was an impossibility. Even that had to be broken by periods of walking. It would take him hours to get home at this rate.

He stopped at the first inn outside the Dark Peak to hire a faster animal, only to meet with a wholly unexpected refusal from the innkeeper who gave one look at his obviously foreign attire and French coins. “Darcy of Pemberley?” the man guffawed. “And I am King George. Take your traitor’s money elsewhere.”

It had made him seethe. A few months ago, he would have tried to demand the service with the assurance of a gentleman who had never been rejected, but his mission had taught him humility. He turned on his heel and left. He would have to make do with the farm horse until he reached a place where his face was known. But his stomach churned with the need to reach Elizabeth, to be beside her during this time.

And he had hoped to leave fear behind him in France.

He trotted on, the slow pace infuriating. It was not the horse’s fault that they had not even gone half the distance needed.

In the distance, riders were approaching along the empty road. Ones on good horses with proper saddles. Was there any chance it would be someone who might recognize him and take pity on his situation?

The lead rider waved his arm, trying to catch his attention. As if there was anything else for him to look at! But as they drew closer, he recognized the third horse, the one without a rider. What was his own Hercules doing here?

He pushed his reluctant mount into a rough canter until he reached them. Pemberley grooms, both of them! And doing a poor job of hiding their shock at his current state .

“Mr. Darcy, sir! Mr. Roderick ordered us to bring you a fast horse,” said the groom. “I hope we were right to listen.”

They could not have brought him a greater prize. “Excellent work, and greatly appreciated,” he said as he slid inelegantly from the ill-fitting saddle and hurried to Hercules’s side. “Pray bring this one back to Pemberley until he can be returned.”

“Yes, sir.” The groom detached the lead he had used for Hercules. “Good to have you back, sir!”

Darcy threw himself into the saddle. As always, Hercules responded to his slightest touch, and soon they were flying like the wind.