Page 139 of Triumph at Pemberley

Elizabeth nodded. “Poor Granny! I cannot blame her for wanting to get away.” If only there were something she could do to help, but nothing would bring Sycamore back. Later, if Granny still did not want to talk, Elizabeth would write her feelings into a letter. She would miss Granny so much.

Darcy cleared his throat. “Frederica, I would like the opportunity to give your maid a small reward for her assistance yesterday. Have you any suggestions?”

“Something practical, I would think,” Frederica said. “A few coins, or some cloth for a new dress.”

Elizabeth said, “I will find a remembrance for her as well, a ring or a necklace. She deserves a reminder that she played a role in stopping Napoleon.”

“She will be thrilled,” Frederica said. “I imagine I will be telling the story frequently. As for Granny’s journey, the route goes through some rough country. Some guards would be appropriate.”

Elizabeth cocked her head. “Frederica, I am surprised you are not champing at the bit to get back to Gwynedd yourself.”

“Oh, I am,” Frederica said cheerfully. “Rana Akshaya will not allow it yet.”

“You are following her orders?” Even more unexpected.

“I have no choice. The Gwynedd Nest will not accept Quickthorn unless Rana Akshaya releases her, so I have to follow her rules. She thinks she may want me to go to London to negotiate for her, and it is easier to get there from here than Gwynedd. Those horrid Welsh roads!”

Darcy asked suspiciously, “And what, pray tell, does she wish you to negotiate?”

Frederica said, “Independence for her country.”

Darcy stared at her. “India? They would never even consider it. England is making a fortune there.”

“Just her own little corner of it. Travancore, it is called, down at the tip of India. King George already signed an agreement for it on the condition she managed to stop Napoleon.”

Elizabeth almost spat out her tea. “Is that why she insisted on everything, even facing Napoleon herself? I wondered, since otherwise she would be happy to see England conquered.”

Darcy shook his head. “How did she possibly get the king to agree to this?”

Frederica waved a piece of toast. “Oh, I did that, when he was staying at the Dower House. I owed Rana Akshaya my negotiating skills from when she healed Roderick.”

Elizabeth should not be surprised. Frederica, for all her tendency to blurt things out, could keep a secret with the best of them. “I suppose that gave you the idea to ask for Gwynedd’s freedom.”

“Exactly,” Frederica said with great satisfaction. “Still, the government needs to agree to honor Travancore’s independence, so she may need me to argue for her. Or perhaps they will have the good sense not to argue with a massively powerful dragon who detests them!”

Jasper snorted. “When does the government ever have good sense? Say, Darcy, would you like me to go with Granny to keep her safe?”

Frederica exclaimed, “I would feel much better if you did! They may not allow you into Gwynedd, though. Since the French attack, they are not letting strangers past their wards. I barely got in despite being married to their heir.”

“Wise on their part,” Jasper said. “It does not matter if I must come straight back. Doing Darcy a favor this way gives me an excuse to avoid our father.”

Frederica raised her eyebrows. “I cannot blame you for the sentiment, but is there any particular reason?”

Jasper speared a sausage with his fork as if it were a deadly enemy. “He is cutting my allowance unless I join the office of the King’s Mage, now that I have shown some Talent.” He might have been announcing his own funeral. “That would be even worse than taking a position at Whitehall. How am I to take my fox to London?”

Frederica said, “Hah! You hated the idea of employment long before you had a fox familiar. Still, once Gwynedd opens its borders again, you could run away to me, if you wish. There are woods aplenty for your fox there.”

Darcy added, “You are also welcome to stay here as long as you like.”

“I agree,” Elizabeth said warmly.

A pecking at the window presaged Cerridwen’s arrival in kestrel form. One of the footmen hurried to open the window. The kestrel flew straight to Elizabeth’s shoulder.

Cerridwen’s aura was always hard to read when she was in her falcon form, but today she seemed smug. As well she might be! “Dearest Cerridwen, the proven Seer,” Elizabeth said affectionately.

The kestrel produced a small leather pouch from nowhere and dropped it in Elizabeth’s lap. “For you, from the Dark Peak Nest,” she squawked. “One of them brought it to me since they cannot carry an Artifact across your wards.”

The Dark Peak dragons had asked Cerridwen, the dragon they had just expelled, to do them a favor? No wonder she was smug!