Page 48 of Triumph at Pemberley

Then, between one hoofbeat and another, she felt Cerridwen's beloved presence. It was suddenly there again, filling the absence. After all the days of silence, it almost made her sob with relief. Quickly she sent, I am out. But something is the matter with Darcy.

Her dragon’s familiar voice returned, with urgency. Do not worry. We can explain, once you are back inside our wards. Until then, silence, lest we be overheard.

Wait! How long was I in there? I must know!

Nearly three weeks. The sending felt plaintive. It was a very long time.

Elizabeth caught her breath, a stab of pain in her chest. Her poor baby! How is Jenny? Is she well? She could not hide her fear.

No one has said otherwise, and Agate would have told me if there was a problem. Now no more. Cerridwen ended the connection, although the bond was still there, thank heavens!

They would have to make their way back to Pemberley over land, then. The slow way, even when she ached to be with her baby. Every step that brought her close to Jenny was worth it.

But they had left Georgiana behind. That was going to rip out Darcy’s heart.

Finally they reached the gates of Pemberley. Darcy had insisted on stopping at an inn to hire a carriage, as well as for a hurried but welcome hot meal. It gave Elizabeth a chance to make herself slightly more presentable, with the landlady allowing her use of a comb and a pin to hold her bodice closed. Their story of being lost on the moor seemed weak to her, but the landlady either chose to believe it or was convinced by Darcy’s silver.

They were met at the gates – the closed and bolted gates – by dragons. Even Rana Akshaya had left her new Nest to come, insisting on personally checking each of them for traces of the Wicked King’s touch. Sycamore, in Granny’s absence, quizzed them closely on what had happened before grudgingly saying he supposed they might be admitted. Cerridwen, oddly, hung back.

Coquelicot waited only until Rana Akshaya had pronounced them to be clear of evil influence to hover over Darcy, not even willing to wait until they came through the gates. “Oh, my poor, poor Little One!”

Darcy recoiled at the sight of the great ruby dragon. “Who are you?”

Elizabeth, despite her exhaustion, turned to stare at Darcy. What was wrong with him? How could he fail to recognize his bondmate?

“Of course; you cannot remember, dear Little One! Pray permit me to restore your memories.”

Restore his memories? Is that what had been wrong with Darcy? But Coquelicot already had her talons on his cheeks, and Elizabeth dared not interrupt the process.

Cerridwen spoke inside her head. Coquelicot hid some of his memories to keep them from the Wicked King, for his own sake and to protect Georgiana. If the Wicked King were to realize how Georgiana hates him, he would punish her. Safer for him to believe Darcy was keeping her prisoner.

Elizabeth stared, doubting. And he agreed to that? It was scarcely credible, given his hatred of bindings.

Only for his sister’s sake.

But he could not remember Coquelicot, either!

Cerridwen’s aura showed annoyance. The Wicked King, may his feet be burnt away slowly with hot coals, has altogether too much interest in the Darcy family. Telling him that Darcy has a dragon bond of sorts would only make that worse. Since she was already tampering with his memories, it made sense to remove that, too.

Then Elizabeth realized what was wrong with this homecoming, apart from the fact that she was still standing outside the gate when she wanted to rush to the nursery. There was no joy in any of the auras. All the dragons were unhappy, and old Thompson inside the gates looked as if he had aged a decade while they were away. “What is the matter?” she blurted out aloud.

Sycamore answered heavily. “We just received word. Napoleon landed in Kent three days ago with an enormous army.”

She gasped, bending forward at the blow. They had known it would happen soon, but somehow the reality of the mad dragon being on British soil was different.

Nothing would ever be the same.

Chapter 20

Granny frowned at Elizabeth and Darcy. “I have not thought to ask whether you found anything in the tower. No sign of Ysmeina’s Cuff, I assume?”

Elizabeth looked up from the sleeping infant in her arms. She ought to have brought her back to the nursery long since, but she could not bear to let her go, even if her arms ached from fatigue. And she felt oddly reluctant to answer the question.

This was Granny, though. She could not lie to her. “It was there, exactly as Cerridwen described it.”

The old lady's eyes brightened. “Indeed? Perhaps we can find a way to retrieve it, if we can avoid the Wicked King's trap. Can anyone see the tower apart from you?”

“There is no need.” It was as if the words were being dragged from her against her will. “I have it.” She was suddenly aware of the ancient fae Artifact pressing against Jenny's blanket.