Netherfield_Rogue Dragon_A Pride and Prejudice Variation Page 12

  “That was commuted.” Did Mary realize what scolding tone she used? Best leave the explanations to Papa.

  “Not exactly. He is on probation. He has a year to be inducted into the Order—or not.”

  “What do you mean, ‘or not?’” The color drained from Mary’s face.

  How could she not understand? She had heard the pronouncements just as Elizabeth had.

  “If he is not deemed worthy, or at the very least not a hazard to dragonkind, then the Order will not allow any threat to dragonkind to remain.” How did Papa manage to pronounce such news with so little feeling?

  “Who is to determine what makes him a threat?” Mary fell into the nearest chair.

  Cait chirruped. “My testimony will be a part of that consideration. At the moment, I think very little of him and his high-and-mighty opinions. Your plan to send me away reeks of one who wants to get rid of supervision and go her own way. It is not in either of your favor.”

  “This is ridiculous.”

  “Your opinion does not matter.” Elizabeth knotted her fingers together. “When one deals with dragons, there is a high price for the relationship. I am sorry the connection is one you do not like and perhaps do not even value right now. I am sorry it has been thrust upon you so unwillingly. But perhaps you can keep in mind, it did permit you to catch the man you wanted, and that probably should count for something.”

  Mary’s jaw dropped. “Are you suggesting—”

  “No, I suggest nothing. I merely recommend that you should carefully consider all aspects of your situation before you form opinions too quickly.” Elizabeth rose and shook out her skirts. “Keep Cait warm and bring her a large meal and plenty of water. I shall check on her soon.” She stalked out, not really sure where she was going.

  Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn, the entire lot of them: Papa, Mary, Collins, Longbourn. Could they not see what was at stake and what disaster they were risking by their obstinacy? One of them had to bend a knee soon, or something tragic was going to happen. But how to make them see?

  Elizabeth touched her shoulder. If only April were here. She was as obstinate as the rest to be sure, but she was willing to see reason. Only recently she had admitted there were advantages to being warm-blooded. No dragon ever wanted to admit such a thing. Perhaps if she were here to show them a way—but April was not here to help her. She was alone.

  Perhaps that meant she needed to do something about the situation herself.

  Elizabeth fell into a hall chair, arms wrapped tightly around her waist. The wooden frame creaked, and the back thumped against the chair rail. Even the furniture was complaining about her.

  All told, she was as stubborn as the rest. Mary had scolded her for it. Papa had outright berated her for it. Cait had reproached her thoroughly for the same when Elizabeth insisted Longbourn was the only possible dragon who could be persuading Mary—or who could have tried to persuade her about Collins.

  While it was by no means certain, Cait did have a point. Longbourn was not the only possible culprit. Why Longbourn would have allowed such a dragon into his territory and into the cellars was difficult to conceive, but it was—just barely—possible.

  Just enough to make it reasonable to offer him an apology.

  After all, it would be what Elizabeth would want if accused of such an egregious wrong.

  Maybe it would serve as an example to the rest of the family that it was time to become more tractable. Even if it did not, at least it held the promise of making Longbourn easier to deal with. If, of course, it did not make things worse altogether which seemed equally likely.

  She pushed herself up from the creaky chair and headed toward the cellar.

  “And I do not expect Collins respects you, either.” Darcy’s strong voice greeted her at the top of the cellar stairs. “But perhaps you both might learn something. Cait is in an excellent way of teaching you both if you will be teachable.”

  “Yes,” she picked her way down the narrow steps to Darcy’s side. “Cait is a very good teacher and has taught me some important things as well.”

  “Is the crisis past?” Darcy reached for her hand and held it tightly.

  She had been wrong; she was not at all alone. “Cait and the egg are safe and well.”

  Longbourn stepped closer to the stairs and leaned toward her face. “Then you can leave.”

  “I need to teach Mary how to take proper care of your teeth. Or perhaps, Mr. Collins, you might be amenable—”

  “I will not have the dumb one touching me!” Longbourn’s tail pounded the cellar floor.

  “I … I do not think it … he likes that idea.” Collins pressed himself against the far banister.

  “He is only being stubborn. Very, very stubborn.”

  Longbourn glared and drew a deep breath.

  Elizabeth lifted her open hands. “We all have been very stubborn. We will get no further solving any of the problems facing us by being so.”

  “What are you demanding of me now?” Longbourn leaned in toward her, eyes narrow.

  Her heart pounded painfully against her ribs. She sucked in a deep breath; maybe that would quell it. “Nothing. I do not ask anything of you, except perhaps to listen.”

  “Why should I listen to you?” Longbourn folded his wings along his back, rather like a child crossing his arms and pouting. But he was no longer stomping and snarling. That was a good sign.

  “I come to offer an apology.”

  “Apologize to a creature?” Collins snorted and stomped. “How can you think of such a thing? It is unseemly.”

  Elizabeth whirled on him. “Not when I have been wrong.”

  Longbourn snapped a warning in Collins’ direction. Collins jumped back two stairs. Longbourn sat back a little, his tail making long, slow arcs along the cellar floor. Darcy edged a little closer, pressing his shoulder to hers.

  “I am listening.” Longbourn settled on his haunches.

  “We,” Elizabeth glanced back at Darcy. He met her gaze, eyes dark and warm and strong beside her, “we believe that there is another major dragon, a rogue, nearby. So there is another who could have tried to convince me to accept Mr. Collins.”

  “A dragon tried to persuade you to accept my offer?” Collins’ jaw dropped. It would have been enormously funny at any other time.

  “Indeed one did,” she hissed.

  “And you still refused me?” Now was not the time for this conversation.

  “It violates a fundamental law of the Blue Order, as well as simple common sense, for a dragon to try and persuade a hearer, especially his Keeper.” Usually that tone of voice ended conversations.

  “You were so dead set against me even that could not have moved you?”

  “Have I not made it entirely clear to you, sir, that nothing in heaven or on earth would have moved me to accept you? Longbourn scooped me up like prey, wrapped me in his wings and breathed venom on me, and still I refused to accept you. Does that not make it clear enough?” She probably should not have, but she stomped. It was rather satisfying, though. No wonder Longbourn was so fond of it.

  “It tried to kill you?” Collins turned very pale. “I knew they were not to be trusted.”

  “I can see why you detested him,” Longbourn muttered.

  “Would you really have wanted me tied to such a man?” Elizabeth glowered briefly at Collins.

  “Mary seems to like him well enough.” Longbourn’s brow ridge wrinkled.

  “Mary is very different to me; she has other priorities.”

  Collins harrumphed.

  “I am not certain I am one of them.” Longbourn dragged his claws in the dirt.

  “That has to change. I will do everything I can to instruct both of them in better Dragon Keeping. If you will permit me.”

  “You said you had an apology to make.”

  “I do.” She pulled her shoulders back and looked Longbourn straight in the eyes. “I am deeply sorry that I accused you of trying to use draconic persuasion upon me wh
en trying to convince me to marry Mr. Collins.”

  “You do not believe I did that?”

  “I … I do not think so. I still have many questions without sensible answers, but no, I do not think you did. I am sorry I accused you of doing so. You have been my friend for a very long time, and friends do not behave so toward one another, even when they are very bad-tempered and do not get their way. Will you forgive me my error?”

  “Will you tell your father and your sister that you were wrong? And the Blue Order as well? You accused me of heinous behavior before the entire Conclave. It was humiliating.”

  Elizabeth sighed heavily. “I had not realized how difficult that must have been. You are entirely correct. I will submit a formal apology to be presented at the next Conclave so that it is as public as my accusation.”

  “And you do not believe I would do such a thing to you?” He leaned his head in very close.

  “Look me in the eye and tell me—would you even consider such a thing?” She touched his cheek.

  “I like having my way, but there are limits to how far I would go for that.”

  “I believe you.”

  The tip of his tail thumped softly. “Scratch my ears.” He shoved his head toward her, nearly knocking Collins off the stairs.

  “I cannot believe you apologized to that creature when you should apologize to me.” Collins nose wrinkled as he snorted.

  Elizabeth reached for Longbourn’s itchiest spots. “I understand how I wronged Longbourn, sir, but how exactly did I wrong you?”

  “As I see it, she spared you a very unhappy marriage,” Darcy grumbled, not looking at Collins.

  “And I led you to a wife who not only wanted to marry you, but somehow seems to think well of you. I ask you again, how have I wronged you?”

  Collins muttered something that did not deserve attention.

  “Now, it is time for your first proper lesson in Dragon Keeping. They are always itchy and like nothing better than a proper scratch. See here, behind his ear—with your permission, Longbourn—” he grunted not quite affirmatively, but he did not growl, and that was good enough. “Like this.”

  Darcy elbowed Collins hard, and he capitulated, none too happily, until Longbourn began to respond to his clumsy ministrations. An oddly satisfied look crept across Collins’ face. The man would never make a truly good Dragon Keeper, but he might do well enough for the Order to make him a Deaf Speaker and live out his life tending to Longbourn. That would be sufficient.

  Chapter 6

  Darcy stepped back and scratched his head. Who would have imagined Elizabeth’s simple apology could make such a difference? Once she assuaged Longbourn’s bruised ego, he proved far less disagreeable—which was certainly not the same as being agreeable. The contrast to his previous manner, though, made him seem utterly pleasant. With Elizabeth’s approval, Darcy brought Mary and Bennet into the cellar conversation, and their stubbornness softened as well.

  The disgruntled wyvern reluctantly agreed that Elizabeth was no longer banished from Longbourn estate and she might come and go freely from the house and grounds. That alone was a huge breakthrough but not without cost. She had to promise to instruct Mary and Collins in Longbourn’s preferences—something neither appeared very interested in learning. Though Bennet still seemed quite put out with Elizabeth, he did agree to speak with her and permit her the use of his library. Small steps, but enough to make the entire affair feel like a victory.

  They returned to Netherfield late that night, too spent for words. Elizabeth leaned heavily on his shoulder as he guided the curricle along the moonlit road. Without the morning’s urgency, the ride proved peaceful, even soothing, her quiet warmth as welcome as any conversation.

  With his last few coherent thoughts, Darcy penned a quick letter to Fitzwilliam, telling him of Cait’s invitation to befriend her chick. No doubt, that would bring him to Netherfield in short order. He gave the missive to Walker and collapsed into bed.

  Darcy slept well into the next afternoon. As he made his way down the grand stairs, Nicholls met him with news. Miss Bennet was under the weather with a sick headache and might not go below stairs all day. He turned around and trudged back up the stairs. Truth was, he felt rather off himself. If she was not going to be about, there was little reason for him to be.

  His muscles ached, and his chest felt vaguely raw, as though a chest cold were coming on. Rather like he had felt whilst recovering from their exposure to the venom in the mapmaker’s rooms.

  Venom exposure?

  He pulled a hall chair near and fell into it. The wooden joints creaked in protest. He scrubbed his face with his hands, knotting his fingers into his hair.

  There had been traces of venom in Longbourn’s breath yesterday, particularly when he became angry. Could that have been enough to cause a reaction? Perhaps they were more sensitive since they had been previously exposed. He drummed his fingers on the back of his head. According to Gardiner, Longbourn also breathed on Elizabeth when he lost his temper and caused her to lose consciousness. Would that render her even more affected by the poison?

  He would have to talk to her about it when—no, it could not wait. He half-ran downstairs to order Nicholls to prepare hot water, then back to Elizabeth’s room.

  “Elizabeth! Elizabeth!” He pounded at the door, leaning heavily on the doorframe, panting to catch his breath.

  “I heard you. You need not break the door down!” Her voice was thin and sharp through the offending slab of oak. A moment later, she pulled the door open and peeked out.

  Dark circles lined her eyes over very pale cheeks. Her eyes were swollen and red, and it looked as though she clung to the door handle for support. “What do you need, sir?”

  “I think I know what is wrong with both of us.”

  “You are unwell, too?” Irritation melted into concern as she reached for his arm.

  “We were both in Longbourn’s presence for an extended time and in an enclosed space. I think there was venom in the air.”

  Her brow creased the way it often did when she was thinking. “He might have been displeased, but he would not have intentionally—”

  “Not intentionally, to be sure. But when he becomes agitated, there is often a drop or two of ochre on his fangs. When he huffs, he sprays it into the air.”

  “I suppose it is possible.” She chewed her knuckle.

  “Remember how you felt after we were exposed to the maps?”

  She blinked hard at him. “It seemed just a headache and perhaps a cold, but now that you mention it … perhaps.”

  “I have ordered hot water for bathing.”

  “It seems quite sensible.” She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head as though trying to shake loose a thought. “Now that Papa is permitting me back into Longbourn house, perhaps I should search his libraries for some sort of antidote to the venom. As we are a wyvern estate, it seems some ancestor should have identified something.”

  “Did he not already look, though?” It would probably have been better not to permit the exasperation to show in his voice.

  “He did, but I have discovered he has a bias against particular sources. Prior Keepers kept their own logs and notes, but he considers them unreliable forms of information compared to the canon of dragon lore. I may be able to find something he has overlooked.”

  A searing jolt coursed through his skull. He clutched his temples. “If we are likely to spend more time with Longbourn, I think it a very good idea.”

  “I hear the maids coming. You should return to your chambers.” She glanced over his shoulder and gently pushed her door closed.

  She was right, of course, but he hated to lose her company. He staggered to his quarters, the headache growing steadily worse. He barely made it to his room before his knees melted underneath him, and he fell into a chair. This definitely felt like dragon venom.

  A team of servants trundled in with a copper tub and hot water in pails and kettles and pots. They labored for a full qua
rter of an hour to set up the tub in front of the fireplace and fill it. Walker winged his way into the room just as he shooed the maids out. Darcy shed his clothes and sank into the hot water.

  “You look like carrion some dog dragged to the side of the road.” Walker perched at the foot of the tub, staring at Darcy.

  “I feel worse.” Darcy splashed water on his face.

  “Why the bath? Have you been back to the map room?”

  “No, although we need to. We think it was Longbourn yesterday, venom in the air.”

  “You should tell Fitzwilliam when he arrives. I saw him on the road. He will be here soon. He carried a rather large portfolio—I would imagine the Order dispatched him here.”

  “Or he is impatient to visit with Cait and her egg.”

  “It will not hatch that soon.” Walker snorted, dipping the tip of his wing into the bathwater. “That is nearly as hot as the one Cait used at Longbourn.”

  “Do you wish to use the bathwater when I am finished?”

  “Lady Elizabeth may have coaxed Cait into a water bath, but I far prefer dust.” Walker splashed a bit of water toward Darcy’s face just for emphasis.

  “How is she today?”

  “Greatly improved. A bit sore and tired but nearly back to herself. We both owe Lady Elizabeth a great debt. Cait would not have survived without her help.”

  “I am sure she would be keen for news of Cait. Perhaps you should go to her.”

  Walker smirked. “You want me to bring you news of how she fares.”

  “I would value your opinions. I fear she underestimates risks to her own well-being.” Darcy dragged a small towel over his face.

  Walker chirruped and flew out, apparently as concerned about Elizabeth as Darcy.

  He leaned back in the bath, ducking until the water reached his ear lobes. So, Fitzwilliam was on his way with news from the Order. If the portfolio was large, it could not possibly be good news. Best finish up and dress before Fitzwilliam barged in.

  Two hours later, Nicholls—looking a bit perplexed—showed Fitzwilliam into the small parlor lit by the fireplace and a handful of candles. How snug the room seemed with only a small portion lit.