Page 103 of Triumph at Pemberley

“Quickthorn thinks it is. Or at least that it is something like that.”

He huffed out a breath. “And you found this outside the wards? Where was it?”

Ugh. There was no more avoiding it. “Brace yourself, my love, for you will not like this. A High Fae gave it to me.” And she braced herself, too.

His jaw dropped. “You met a High Fae? Are you mad?”

“Perhaps a little,” she acknowledged. “She came to me, though.” More or less.

He dropped his head into his hands. “Never trust a gift from the fae. Never, never, never.”

“True, but this was not a gift. She was asking me for a service. She wanted me to deliver it to Elizabeth, just like Cerridwen’s foresight said.”

“You bargained with a fae? Did you learn nothing from what happened to Lady Anne?”

For once, his horror was understandable, so she tried to be patient. It was not her best skill. “No, I refused to bargain. I am not an idiot, you know! She claims to be an enemy of the Wicked King, though, and wants to stop him. And she was willing to prove her bona fides by giving me her true name.” Even he could not argue with that.

He looked shocked, then disbelieving, and then finally his face brightened. “That is good news, at least. I will worry less about these reckless risks you take if you have a High Fae on call to rescue you. But I think you must tell me this whole story from the beginning.”

Chapter 40

Darcy rubbed his arms as he gazed out the window. His study was not cold, but seeing Richard always made him feel chilly. Today his cousin had told him to go away and bother someone else. After nearly a fortnight in bed, he was understandably out of sorts. But Coquelicot said he must remain there until his new skin had a chance to strengthen.

His wounds were almost hidden now under a thin layer of reddened skin which looked like it might break in the slightest breeze. Still, it was an enormous improvement over the raw, ragged flesh he arrived with.

Richard had loved to flirt with pretty young ladies. Now many of them would turn away from the sight of him.

Coquelicot had assured him Richard would recover fully, apart from his scars. But nothing could fix the dreadful reality of a dragon attack on English soil, and the near certitude it would not be the last one.

All the dragons at Pemberley were distraught and terrified over what might happen next. Cerridwen was blaming herself for failing to foresee it. The Gate in the Dark Peak Nest had been sending out messages to every Nest in Britain. And preparing evacuation plans, for those dragons young enough to leave.

One of the Scottish Nests reported that human survivors had reached it from the Isle of Skye Nest. A mission had been sent to check on the dragons there, but Darcy knew what they would find.

Neither England nor its dragons would ever be the same again. And staring blindly outside would not fix anything. Tiredly he turned towards his desk to go through his plans one more time. Soon it would be time for them to flee Pemberley.

Then Elizabeth’s melodic voice sounded just beyond the door, speaking in a light, social tone she reserved for those she did not know well.

“Ah, here he is,” she said. “William, we have some special visitors.” She ushered in a girl and a younger boy.

He blinked at the familiar faces, trying to place them. The girl smiled shyly, and then he knew. The Hartung children, noticeably taller than last autumn. He had tutored them for months while he was in hiding in France, pretending to be a retired Prussian officer. Their mother had saved his life by claiming him as her cousin.

They ran to him as he stepped out from behind his desk. Friedrich grabbed his leg, crying, “Kapitan, Kapitan!”

Alexandrine buried her face in Darcy’s coat. “I thought we would never see you again.” Her English was still hesitant.

Darcy put his arms around the children. How they had grown, even in half a year! And how it warmed his heart to see them. He had not expected to become attached to them, but he did. “This is an unexpected pleasure for me as well.”

Friedrich giggled. “You speak English!” he announced gleefully. “You told us you could not.”

“Caught in the act!” He smiled down at them. “I had to hide my identity from the soldiers hunting for me. Is your mother here as well?” No doubt she was just letting them have a chance to greet him first.

Alexandrine’s face fell. “No, she stayed in London, even though she said it was too dangerous for us.” And she burst into tears.

Darcy knelt to embrace the sobbing girl. What could he say? London had not been safe since Napoleon landed. Something must be worse, though, something that had endangered the children. Mme. Hartung once said she would never agree to be separated from them. A shiver went down his spine. “Your mother has a great talent for survival. I am certain she is staying out of danger.”

The girl sniffled. “She said we must be brave.”

“I know you are.” But he had no idea what was happening in London. There had been no letters since the one Mme. Hartung had written on Gentiane’s behalf, and the newspapers had stopped arriving over a week ago. Perhaps the children could tell him something. “Were there French soldiers in London? Is that why she sent you?”