He had seen her briefly on the morning of their departure from Mme. Hartung’s home, when she had clambered to sit beside the coachman, but he had not dared even to nod to her. It seemed like months since their night in the carriage shed. It was hard to hold back the many things he wished to tell her, all the questions he wanted to ask, but there was still the possibility of being overheard. Silence was the safest option. What would the highborn Prussian he claimed to be have to say to a common woman from Marseille, after all? No, they had to play their roles of chance-met strangers.
At least she was beside him, and she would stay there. It was enough to make him want to shout for joy.
He had to say something, if only to hear her voice. “Have you been traveling long, madame?”
Her smile was teasing. “Several days on adiligence. It was uneventful. Everyone has been very kind.” She must know how much he worried.
It was true. He had fretted for her safety every inch of the way, trying not to watch for her every time his carriage stopped. Not to mention his concern about the many miles they would have to walk to reach the Nest. At least this time he was better prepared than when he had been on the run before, with a map and compass, a haversack of food, and a blanket roll large enough to share.
Finally they reached an empty stretch of road, “I am sorry we must travel so far on foot. Even thediligencemust have been easier for you.”
“Oh, I do not mind in the least! I can see so much more that way, and who knows if I will ever have a chance to visit here again?” She smiled, her dark eyes sparkling. “And traveling by stage was interesting. I had the most fascinating conversations. I will be happy never to do a scullery maid’s work again, but I am glad to have tasted that slice of life.”
“You are in remarkably good spirits this morning.” Especially for someone facing several days of hard exertion, though he intended to protect her as much as he could.
“Have I not reason to be? You are alive, we are together, and for once, all I need to do is something I am actually good at, which is walking.” She laid her hand on her stomach. “Though I am not quite as fast as I used to be.”
“For the best possible reason,” he said warmly. If only he could take her in his arms, or at least hold her hand! But while there was any possibility of being seen, he could not risk it. “And you have many talents, of which walking is the very least.”
“Ha!” She glanced around, as if making sure they were still alone, and then continued in a low voice. “I thought my land bond to Longbourn was good, but it is nowhere near as deep as yours. I am only just learning household management. Frederica is no doubt doing a much better job of it in my absence. And she knows far more about fashion than I do; the modiste agreed with all her recommendations and almost none of mine. As for my magery, despite Frederica’s lessons, my illusions are second-rate at best, and I can do almost nothing with weather magic. Sending is my only real ability. Apparently that trick where I made you almost appear in the library is something special, but I have been lectured by every dragon in the Nest that I must never, ever do it again, because it is terribly dangerous to both me and to Cerridwen. So, yes, let me be proud of my ability as a great walker, for at least it is truly mine.”
He stared at her. “That was real? That day when I suddenly thought I was sitting in my chair in the library, and you were looking at me? I thought I had imagined that.” Or rather, that he had been losing his mind, but better to keep to himself those moments when he had doubted his sanity.
“I could see you clearly, and it was real enough that all the dragons in the house felt it and had me dragged before the Eldest for a scolding!”
Astonishing, that she could create such a strange power! “Was this something you read about in your Arabic books?”
She shook her head. “I was just missing you so badly, and wishing you were there in your chair.” She gave him a flirtatious glance. “Apparently I am not allowed to miss you quite that much!”
“Wait. You said all the dragons in the house? Not just Cerridwen, then?”
“Oh, I have so much to catch you up on! Do you remember Rana Akshaya? She is staying at Pemberley now, and she is a dragon, not a mage at all. Then there is Quickthorn, who has bonded to Frederica. Rana Akshaya keeps very much to herself when she is at the house, so I usually only see Quickthorn and Cerridwen.”
Frederica was a dragon companion now, too? Good Lord. He stepped on an uneven rock, sending a sharp stab through his shoulder. He pressed his hand against it, waiting for the throbbing pain to fade to the usual dull ache.
Elizabeth asked in a quiet voice, “Is your arm troubling you?”
“Just a little jolted. It is nothing,” he said stiffly.
“You were not wearing a sling before.” Of course she would not allow him to pretend it was nothing. “Is it worse than it was?”
“No,” he said irritably. “Jessica thought I would be less likely to re-injure it if I wore the sling. And it keeps people from wondering why I am not at the front.”
“Jessica?” There was a bit of an edge to her voice.
“Mme. Hartung,” he corrected. “Since I was supposedly her cousin, raised with her, it only made sense that I would use her Christian name.”
“She risked a great deal for you.”
Was she jealous? Surely she must know that no other woman could possibly catch his interest. “For the sake of her late husband. She loved him very much. He tried to escape a battlefield, but no one would help him, and he was executed. Since she could not save him, she decided to save me instead.”
“Poor lady. I —” She broke off as the sound of cartwheels and hoofbeats came from behind them.
Hoofbeats that were slowing. The hair on the nape of Darcy’s neck rose, and he had to force himself not to look back.
Elizabeth did, with a smile.
“Care for a ride?” It was a man’s voice, gruff and strongly accented. “’Tis quite a weight you are carrying, madame.” A humble mule-drawn cart pulled up beside them.
