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.
Chapter 38
Darcy tossed the reinsto a startled footman outside the cottage. Why in God’s name was there a tent here? But that could wait. So could Pemberley, which was greeting him with an unprecedented surge of power, strong enough to make him stagger. He strode to the door and threw it open.
Inside was a hive of business, women everywhere. The bed had been moved to the middle of the room. But he cared about nothing but the figure lying there.
Elizabeth’s hair was disheveled, coming out of a tight braid, and exhaustion lined her beloved face. Her eyes were closed, but she gripped Frederica’s hand.
Darcy could do nothing but stare at her, aware that he was intruding on a scene forbidden to men, but unable to walk away. Not when his Elizabeth was there – and in pain.
Frederica leaned down. “Elizabeth, look who is here.”
Her eyes flew open. “William!” Elizabeth cried, raising herself on her elbows. “Thank God!”
He was by her side in an instant, leaning down to gather her to him, cradling her beloved form. “Dearest, dearest Elizabeth!” he murmured.
“You made it,” she whispered, and then she wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him tightly as if she dared not let him escape. “I thought I had lost you.”
They were not alone, and she was in childbirth, so he did not cover her with kisses and pour out his heart to her as he longed to. “You cannot rid yourself of me so easily, my love. I will always come back to you.” If it were up to him, he would never leave her side again.
“Good,” she said softly, and then released her fervent grip on him, as if fatigued.
