Netherfield_Rogue Dragon_A Pride and Prejudice Variation Page 11

  “Do it.”

  She caught Mary’s eyes. “I need feed sacks and bandages, quickly.”

  Mary dashed away. Did she really need to wait to be told?

  “While we wait for her, may I feel your belly?”

  Cait nodded, and Elizabeth ran her fingers over the matted feather-scales of Cait’s abdomen. A single large bulge. Very large. Heavens, just how large was a normal cockatrice egg? Why had no one thought to include that piece of information in any of the dragon lore? It would have been very useful to know.

  Mary returned; Darcy and Papa helped her wrap Cait’s talons whilst Walker perched nearby, carefully out of striking distance, whispering what must have been soothing things in dragon tongue.

  “Now I will check for the egg.” Elizabeth coated her fingers with pure white lard and carefully probed for the egg. “Yes, I feel it. Perhaps all it needs is a bit of lard to slide free. Let me see what I can do.”

  Cait squawked, and Darcy barely caught her as she reflexively pecked toward Elizabeth’s arm.

  “Pray do not bite me! I am sorry it is uncomfortable.” Elizabeth pulled away. “But no, this is not going to work.”

  “I shall die!” Cait thrashed her wings, driving Darcy and Papa back.

  “No, we must merely take another direction. Trust me. This will work. I have it on very good advice. Mary, soak a pad of bandages in witch hazel. I will put that on your swollen tissues to reduce the swelling and make room for the egg to pass. Darcy, pour a small glass from the jar in my bag—shake it first.”

  They handed her what she had asked for.

  “Now, while we wait for the swelling to reduce, you must drink this.”

  “It smells like a hen house.” Cait pulled her head away and nearly knocked it out of Elizabeth’s hand.

  “It is an extract of egg shells—a medicine that will make it easier for you to push the egg out.” Elizabeth held the cup up.

  Cait dipped her beak in it. “It tastes foul. I will not.”

  Walker hopped from his perch and stood beak-to beak-with her. “You will do what Lady Elizabeth says, and you will do it without arguing.” He plucked a single old tattered feather from her ruff and held it out to her.

  She hissed at Walker and returned to the cup, guzzling down the viscous white liquid in a single gulp.

  “Very good, that was very good.” Elizabeth scratched under Cait’s ruff. Under normal circumstances, it was far too intimate a gesture for the proud cockatrix to tolerate, but for now, it seemed to relax her just enough that she laid her head on Elizabeth’s shoulder, breathing hard in her ear.

  “The bath is ready.” Papa called from across the room.

  Walker perched on the edge of the copper tub, dangling one wing in the water. “The temperature is right.”

  “Pray help me carry her.” Elizabeth turned from Darcy back to Cait. “I need you to soak in the water for a quarter of an hour. Then we shall dry you off and return you to your nest near the fire. The egg should pass in a quarter hour after that, half at the most.”

  “You are not just telling me because it is what I want to hear?” Cait snapped over Darcy’s shoulder as they placed her in the warm bath.

  Elizabeth massaged her tight abdomen in the hot water as a thunderous roar shook the house, rattling the windows.

  “Longbourn is in the cellar!” Papa shuffled toward the door.

  Darcy intercepted him. “I shall deal with him. You are needed here with Cait.”

  Papa tried to argue, but Darcy disappeared down the hall.

  ∞∞∞

  Enough was enough! Longbourn might be estate dragon, but there were limits to that privilege that he needed to understand. At the very least, he was not going to continue to bully Elizabeth and jeopardize Cait and her egg.

  Darcy followed the roaring and found the cellar door. Interesting how the kitchen staff was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps that had been Rustle’s doing, or perhaps Rumblkins was proving himself useful. Either way, it was welcome. He paused a moment to light a candle, then plunged into the cellar’s darkness.

  His eyes were slow to adjust, but as Darcy made it to the base of the stairs, he could make out Longbourn pacing the length of the cellar, bowing slightly so as not to knock his head on the beams. Clearly the space had not been dug with a dragon in mind—or perhaps it was for a smaller wyvern, a female perhaps? Yes, this would fit a female nicely. Perhaps the original Longbourn had been female.

  “What are you doing here?” Longbourn snarled.

  “You will keep your voice down and stop making such a distraction.” Darcy kept his voice level and firm as Elizabeth did when directing Longbourn.

  “I have not given you permission to be in my territory. I banished her. She is violating my sovereignty. The Blue Order declared I have the right to decide who might be here and who cannot.” He stomped for emphasis.

  Dust rained down from the beams above them.

  “Be assured, we will both leave as soon as the situation permits us to do so.”

  “There is nothing important keeping you here.”

  “Cait is in distress trying to lay her egg. Elizabeth is helping her. We must stay until Cait is safe.” Darcy bit his tongue. Patience was the key here. Patience—hopefully not more than he could muster.

  “That is no business of mine. I did not invite Cait here. I do not want her.”

  “She is here on behalf of the Blue Order so that Collins can become accustomed to dragons.”

  Longbourn grumbled deep in his throat, scratching the packed earth of the cellar floor. “I do not want him, either. I do not like him. I would just as soon see him eaten.”

  “That would distress your Keeper, Mary.”

  “I have never wanted her.”

  “I know you want Elizabeth, but you cannot have her.”

  “And that is your fault.” Longbourn breathed venom-laced puffs in his direction.

  “No, it is yours, and you well know it.” Darcy retreated up two stairs.

  Longbourn extended his wings and roared again. “I accept no blame.”

  Darcy backed up several more stairs until he was eye-to-eye with Longbourn.

  “Do not think you can win dominance here, little man. You are nothing to me.”

  “I have already won, you crusty old lizard.”

  “You have won nothing! I am the apex dragon here.”

  “No, you are not.” Darcy reached into his pocket and withdrew a leather envelope.

  Longbourn sniffed and snorted at the envelope, nearly butting it out of Darcy’s hand.

  Opening it, Darcy revealed half a dozen silvery-green scales.

  Longbourn roared again.

  A heavy body slammed into Darcy from behind. He clutched the bannister for balance. “Collins?”

  “What is in your hand that has made him so angry?” Collins trembled, pointing at the head scales in Darcy’s palm.

  Could the man possibly have worse timing? “Get out of here.”

  “How dare you order me about! This is not your house. It is mine.” Collins tried to stand straight and puff out his chest. Fool—trying to play the master here but unable to muster more presence than an uncertain adolescent.

  “Not yet, and if this dragon has his way, it will never be.”

  Longbourn stomped closer, turning his foul breath on Collins.

  “What is it … he … saying?”

  “This is between you and I, Darcy. Collins has no business here.” Longbourn pushed Collins with his nose. “Leave.”

  “He wants you to leave.” Darcy’s lip curled a mite.

  “I have a right to know what is going on.” Did the man really have to whine?

  “And I have a right to eat trespassers.” Longbourn snorted spittle that landed on Collins’ black jacket.

  “Longbourn says you look like a good snack.”

  Longbourn thumped his tail hard on the floor. “That is not what I said! If you are going to translate, then be accurate.”

&nbs
p; “I am not your assigned translator. I can say whatever I like. The Order does not require my accuracy.”

  “Tell Collins I do not want him here.”

  “No.” Darcy turned his back on Collins. “He will be master of this house soon enough. You must become accustomed to him.”

  “I do not want him.” Longbourn breathed, hot and pungent, into Darcy’s face. “Make him go.”

  “No. Have you forgotten?” Darcy waved the scales under Longbourn’s nose. “I am the dominant dragon.”

  Longbourn screamed and stomped like a little boy throwing a tantrum.

  “You, a dragon?” Collins stared and blinked hard. “What are you talking about?”

  “You need to ask Cait. She will explain. It is a principle all Keepers must understand.” Darcy tucked the scales back into the envelope.

  Longbourn huffed in Collins’ face.

  “What is the magic in that envelope making him submit? I must have it.” Collins grabbed for the scales.

  Darcy snatched the envelope back and tucked it in his coat pocket. “There is no magic. Walker and Cait took his head scales in a dispute, marking their dominance over him. As my Friend, Walker gave them to me, establishing me as dominant over Longbourn. I doubt you shall ever demonstrate dominance over much at all, Mr. Collins. I would suggest you aim instead for competence.”

  “I am a gentleman. I am not accustomed to submitting—”

  “Of course, you are, you pandering dolt. I have watched you kowtow to my aunt.”

  “She is above my station.”

  “And so is Longbourn.”

  “He is a … a creature. He does not have rank.”

  Longbourn swung his head toward Collins and bared his fangs. “Pendragon declared that we do. A King of your kind accepted our rank, so you must as well.”

  “You have not read the histories, yet?” Darcy dragged his hand down is face.

  “Histories? Those are fairy stories for children.” Collins dropped his voice to near a whisper. “Just tell me how you have conquered it.”

  “Not conquered. We have established the order by which we shall live. The key is respect, Mr. Collins. That is where it begins. Does it not, Laird Longbourn? I respect you, and you respect me. Dominance only tells us who has precedence.”

  “I do not respect a Collins.”

  “And I do not expect Collins respects you, either.” Darcy raised an eyebrow to Collins. “But perhaps you both might learn something. Cait is in an excellent way of teaching you both if you will be teachable.”

  They both grumbled and muttered but did not outright deny the possibility. That was a start.

  ∞∞∞

  The warm water soothed Cait’s tension. Her head drooped on Elizabeth’s shoulder, and she snored softly. Definitely an improvement over shrieking.

  Mary hid a giggle behind her hand, not a happy sound so much as a tension-relieving one.

  “Should she be doing that Lizzy? I would think it a bad sign,” Papa murmured, wrapping his arms over his chest in that authoritative, condescending way he had. “She does not look well at all.”

  “As I understand it, the relaxation is good for her. It will make it easier for the egg to pass, especially when the solution she drank begins to work.”

  Papa wrinkled up his mouth but said nothing more.

  “I am certain it is a very good thing that she is restful. Laying should not be so very difficult,” Walker said with a sideways glare.

  It was nice someone in the room had confidence in her. Hopefully it was not misplaced.

  “The water has cooled. I fear she will take a chill. Mary, towels please.” Elizabeth extended her hand.

  Mary scurried off.

  Elizabeth bit her tongue. Was it too much for her to have seen the hip bath and thought ahead to bring towels when she had gone for the bandages? Obviously the answer was yes, but it was frustrating nonetheless.

  Mary returned breathless, a sloppy pile of towels ready to fall out of her arms.

  “I will lift her from the bath. Dry her off, and I will take her to the nest.”

  “But I do not want to hurt her.” Mary scooted back several steps.

  “She is no different than a travailing woman. You will not hurt her, but getting a chill might undo all that we have accomplished.”

  “Do as she asks, Mary,” Papa muttered, not looking at either of them.

  He had been happy enough for her advice and intervention when he did not know from whence her wisdom had come, but now he knew … Stubborn old lizard—just as bad as Longbourn.

  Elizabeth’s arms ached while Mary meticulously dried Cait’s lower body, feet, and magnificent tail feathers. After far longer than it should have taken, Elizabeth lugged Cait back to the nesting box and settled her into the clean hay.

  “Walker, come talk to her again as I check on the egg. Mary, keep watch and make sure she does not peck at me whilst I do.”

  “I cannot do that!” Mary’s hands flew up, shaking impotently in the air.

  “Is it better that I risk losing my hand to a stray reflex? I need you to step up.”

  “No! I cannot.”

  Papa shouldered her aside. “I will do it.”

  As long as she had help, it did not matter from whom it came. She applied more lard to her fingers. “Yes, yes that is better. Some of the swelling has subsided, and the egg has definitely moved. You are making progress, Cait, you are doing very well.”

  Cait’s eyes opened halfway. “I am?”

  “Yes, yes, it is very close. Perhaps a wee push, just a little one? Can you muster that?”

  “I do not know. I am so tired.” Her head lolled back into the nest.

  “Here, I will rub your belly as you push so you do not have to try very hard. Just a little—yes, like that. I feel it! A little more and the egg … you have done it Cait! The egg is laid!” Elizabeth grabbed a towel and took the egg from the nest.

  She hurried to the window and held it in a sunbeam. No traces of blood on the shell. Excellent! The shell was sound, lightly green with flecks of gold, firm but not brittle. But so very large! No wonder Cait struggled so.

  Papa extended his gnarled hands. It was tempting to be spiteful, but it would serve no greater purpose. She handed him the egg.

  He took it reverently. “I have never seen one newly-laid. They become rounder and glossy as the days pass.”

  Walker hopped to him and examined the egg, nudging it with his beak. “It is even larger than the last one. Her last clutch was only one egg. I do not expect another this time, either. It will hatch sooner than most.”

  “How soon? As I understand, cockatrice eggs take a month full to incubate.” Papa tapped the still soft shell with his fingernail.

  “Cait’s usually hatch in a fortnight, especially the large ones. Our first clutch was of average size and hatched in the usual time. But as the eggs have gotten larger, they spend less and less time in the nest.”

  “Do you wish assistance in finding a potential Friend?” Papa asked softly, a little hopeful. There would be some prestige in matching a newly-hatched cockatrice, especially one connected to Walker and Cait, with a Friend.

  “No.” Cait lifted her head and peered at Papa. “It is already decided. Elizabeth is my first choice—”

  “Elizabeth?” Papa staggered back, pressing the egg to his chest. “The egg is clearly male. What would Elizabeth do with a cockatrice? They are not a woman’s companion.”

  Elizabeth winced.

  “We are companions to whomever we choose.” Cait snapped her beak. “Perhaps I should insist …”

  “No, I will not share Pemberley with another of our kind, particularly another male.” Walker did not exactly growl, but it was close enough.

  That was a reason worth respecting. Not that Elizabeth really wanted another baby dragon to be responsible for when Pemberley’s infancy and youth might last nearly all of Elizabeth’s life.

  “Then Colonel Fitzwilliam. He will do well for our chic
k.” A little of Cait’s usual spirit returned to her voice.

  “He is in London right now, but Darcy will inform him. I am sure he will be here directly.”

  No doubt they had already decided this well ahead of time. What purpose did they have in this little charade in front of Papa?

  “We shall have a room prepared for him.” Papa masked his disappointment well, but it was still clear in the stoop of his shoulders.

  “Will Longbourn have him?” Mary looked over her shoulder as though he might appear in the study at any moment.

  “Longbourn has no choice. Cait is here by request of the Blue Order. He cannot interfere with anything regarding her.” Elizabeth placed the egg back into the nest under Cait’s feathers. Dragons did not sit on their eggs like birds, but bird-types often spent time sitting on the eggs as a protective, maternal gesture, declaring to other dragons that this was protected territory, not an invitation for a snack.

  “Is that not perhaps a stretch of the Blue Order’s rights?” Mary asked. “Should we tempt Longbourn’s temper that way? Perhaps it would be best for you to take Cait with you to Netherfield now that her life is in no danger.”

  “Cait is here for your benefit, Mary, translating for your husband. Without her, he has no way to hear the dragons, small or large. The Order knew she was due to lay her clutch, so taking care of her and the egg was part of the requirements placed on Longbourn.”

  “Mr. Collins will be fine without her. She can go to Netherfield. It is just a matter of a fortnight, is it not?”

  “You really do not understand, do you?” Elizabeth sat on the floor beside the nesting box and hung her head. “He requires her presence as a part of his sentence.”

  “Elizabeth is right.” Papa stood beside Mary, his voice soft and grave.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Elizabeth braced her elbows and pressed her forehead on her palms. “When Collins stumbled into Rosings’ lair in Kent, the crime—”

  “What crime? That is not a crime!” Mary threw her hands up. “Why is everyone so intent—”

  “It is among the Order. And that offense carries with it a capital sentence.” Papa’s words hung in the air.