He grinned. “I know a good forger.”
Perhaps she should not have asked. She changed the subject. “This ship is bigger than I expected.” The towering sailing vessels she had glimpsed on her occasional trips to London were larger, of course, but she had only seen them at a distance. Somehow she had assumed this one would be more like the fishing boats pictured in engravings of seaside villages. But it was just as well it was not small, given her unexpected entourage.
“And as solid as she can be,” said Captain Thirtleby proudly. “Plenty of room for both of you, and the elderflowers, too.” He nodded to the pair of falcons perched on the mast, using the same code word for dragons as the common folk at Pemberley. Hardly surprising, since he was countedamong the Kith of the Dark Peak Nest. “Always glad to have them on board. They keep the serpents away.”
The dream of a sea serpent head hovering over a ship floated through Elizabeth’s thoughts. “Have you had many problems with them?”
He chuckled. “Saw one on our last run, but I managed to keep away from it by hugging the coast. Hence the repairs – we took a good scrape on a shoal. Gave me a few extra grey hairs, it did! So I’m very glad to have the elderflowers this time. Wouldn’t like to cross the Channel without one these days.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam snorted. “Not worried about the blockade, then?”
“Not a bit! I’ve friends among them, and they know I’m an honest trader. Not that I’ll turn down a particularly profitable cargo if someone offers me one, but that’s not my business.”
Frederica said, “I have just been informed that there may be a way to mark a ship as friendly to, er, elderflowers, even when they are not here. It might offer you some protection from serpents.”
The captain’s eyes lit up in his weatherbeaten face. “Is that so? I certainly want to know more about that, your ladyship! It could make all the difference.”
Elizabeth turned to Colonel Fitzwilliam. “Thank you for your help in getting me here. If you wish to go ashore, I should be safe while we wait for the tide.” The colonel had grudgingly agreed that the newly augmented magical wards defending Pemberley were adequate against French assassins, but letting Elizabeth leave those wards to travel was a different matter. He had organized their overnight journey with military precision, in conjunction with Cerridwen and Quickthorn providing illusions, going so far as to switch carriages at an inn. But at last he was satisfied that no one had followed them to Hull. He might frown every time the subject of dragons came up, but he was perfectly happy to use their abilities to protect Elizabeth.
He was not looking at her, staring instead at Frederica. “I have changed my mind. I will sail with you and Freddie.”
“I thought you were prone to seasickness! And what is the point of merely going there and straight back? I will be perfectly safe between Captain Thirtleby and Cerridwen. I only agreed to allow Frederica to come because Quickthorn was so excited about flying over the sea.”
His lips tightened. “It has nothing to do with you. I will be sorry to be on board when the boat begins to rock, but I need to know about these preparations to keep ships safe from sea serpents.”
She laid her hand on his sleeve. “Colonel, you do realize you will not be able to share any of this information, no matter how useful it is?”
He lifted his chin. “Sooner or later, Mrs. Darcy, that will change. The more I know about the defensive capabilities of dragons when that day comes, the more lives we will save.”
Clearly he had too much faith in the willingness of the dragons to work with the military, but she doubted anything she could say would change his mind. “Then I will hope we have calm seas for your sake.”
What would it be like to be in the middle of the Channel, with nothing but water in every direction? Would she be seasick, too, or would she thrill in sailing before the wind? As dark as the situation might be, she could not help but be cheered by the prospect of new sights and adventures.
She was going to find her dearest love.
Chapter 28
Puzzled, Elizabeth looked downat the compass in her hand and then up again at the French stone manor house before her. In the last week, she had crossed the Channel and over a hundred miles of France, following Cerridwen’s directions. This was the location her dragon had pointed her to that morning. There was nothing else nearby, only fields and a few outbuildings.
It looked nothing like a prison. No one was guarding it, and the sole person in sight was an aged gardener bending over a flower bed. Elizabeth had prepared herself for so many possibilities of what she might find, most of them involving imprisonment, but it could be that Darcy was still free and lying low. He might be hiding in a cave or a shepherd’s hut, or even living in a hedgerow. Without identity papers, he could not stay at an inn or in a town. But what could he possibly be doing in someone’s country retreat, complete with turrets and topiary?
She sank back against a stone fence, exhausted and footsore. Her journey had been simple enough until the last two days. Thediligencehad not been comfortable, but it had taken her to the town closest to where Cerridwen had sensed Darcy’s presence. No one had questioned her story of going to stay with her uncle or even asked to see her forged papers. Apparently common pregnant women were above suspicion. But after that she had only the direction Cerridwen gave her, with no knowledge of local roadsor lanes. She could hardly ask someone how best to reach a destination she could neither name nor describe.
She rubbed her aching back. Two days of following dead-end lanes and tromping across fields, circling around copses and impassable hedgerows had left her feet swollen and blistered. Only her eagerness to reach Darcy had kept her going. Now finally the end was in sight.
If impossible to believe.
A jab under her ribs told her the baby was awake. It was always quieter when she was walking and liveliest when she tried to sleep, but this time it felt like a reminder that her child needed its father. She had a job to do.
If Darcy was even here. What if Cerridwen was wrong? Elizabeth had come all this way based on her belief in the dragon’s ability to find her husband. What if it was only Darcy’s body buried in the garden here?
No. She would know if he was no longer alive. She had to believe that.
They must be holding him prisoner, here in this unassuming country house. Why else would he have remained here for weeks on end?
Her chest ached with the desire to reach out to him with her mind, to feel his presence. If only she dared to try a magical sending to him! But the dragons had warned her against using her Talent in any way, since they did not know what forms of magic Napoleon’s men could sense.
No, she would have to do this the hard way, the way she would have before she discovered her mage powers. She pushed herself off the wall, wincing at the stabbing pain in her feet, and smoothed the skirt of her humble dress.
