Pemberley: Mr. Darcy's Dragon (Jane Austen's Dragons, #1)

by Maria Grace

A great many people only hear what is comfortable and convenient for them to hear. Far oftener than might be expected, that is a very good thing indeed.

No point in trying to out-stubborn a dragon, even a very small one.

“So, he has given up on any further mating? I do not blame him; she is rather horrid. He should have found a woman with some sense—or who could at least hear.” Elizabeth stopped and glared at April. “You are speaking of my mother, you know.” “What of it? My own was nearly as stupid as a hummingbird and got herself eaten by a cat, not even a tatzelwurm, but an ordinary cat.” A shudder coursed the length of April’s tiny body.

“Have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.

You have no compassion on my poor nerves.” Papa sipped his willow bark tea, looking far more smug than he ought. “You mistake me, my dear. I have a high respect for your nerves. They are my old friends. I have heard you mention them with consideration these twenty years, at least.”

“You have offended me.” Longbourn breathed heavily through his words. Darcy bit his lip. Of course he had. He expected it with people, but how had he offended a dragon he had not even met? “Pray forgive me, Laird Longbourn. It was done in ignorance. Pray tell me how I have offended. I shall make reparations to you and your Keep.” “Apologize to her and dance with her at the next ball.” “What?” she and Darcy exclaimed together. “Her offense is mine. Apologize to her.” Longbourn twitched his head toward Miss Elizabeth.

Darcy cleared his throat. “I thank you that you think my error is not a capital offense, but pray accept my apologies for slighting you.” She turned her glower on him, potent as wyvern venom. No one, save a dragon, had ever looked at him that way. She was stunning. And a little frightening.

No. Really? A dragon cared about dancing? No, he cared about Miss Elizabeth passionately. “And … may I request your hand for the first two—” Longbourn growled. Overbearing, interfering lizard! “For the supper set at the ball, Bingley is planning to host at Netherfield?” Darcy bowed. “What ball at Netherfield?” she asked. “The one to be held at full moon next month.” Longbourn blinked slowly. “What would you know about that?” Longbourn shrugged his wings. “Accept the dance.” “I do not wish to dance.” The dragon stomped and huffed. She returned the gesture. A low rumble grew in Longbourn’s throat, rattling Darcy’s bones. “I did not ask you if you wished to dance. Reparations must be made; the codes of dragon honor must be satisfied. You will dance with him.”

“Very well. Sir, I thank you for your offer. I shall dance that set with you.” She rolled her eyes and looked away. “Are you satisfied now?” Longbourn licked her face. Never had his offer to dance been accepted thus. It was offensive, degrading … and quite possibly deserved.

“That was an utter waste of time.” Darcy muttered, kicking a small stone. Miss Elizabeth rounded on him, eyes wild. “Well, forgive us poor country folk for not living up to your expectations. Good luck in your endeavors. Perhaps you can manage not to destroy the entire kingdom in the process.” She spun on her heel and stalked off. Three colorful blurs streaked from the trees to catch up. The blue one veered off toward him, streaked past his head, nipping his ear as it went past. Darcy’s jaw dropped. Stunning, simply stunning in her fury. “You are a total cock up, Darcy. Bollocks for brains,”

It is better to know as little as possible of the defects of the person with whom you are to pass your life.”

“My Harriet does love to dance.” “Harriet?” Charlotte asked. “My betrothed. We are soon to be married.” A betrothed man should not spend so much time looking at pretty girls not attached to himself.

Miss Elizabeth stood against the far wall, conversing with the eldest Lucas girl. His face heated. Just an hour ago, on the carriage ride here, he had heartily agreed with Miss Bingley’s assessment that Miss Elizabeth had hardly a good feature in her face. It was not true. Far from it. Her features were uncommonly intelligent, especially because of the beautiful expression of her dark eyes. Granted, there was more than one failure of perfect symmetry in her form, but her figure was light and pleasing. Her manners were certainly not those of the fashionable world. But was that truly unforgivable? Their easy playfulness appealed to many, including the dragons. She was indeed pretty, far from ‘not handsome enough’ to dance with. He never should have spoken those words. It was beneath him. Walker was right. He needed to make amends.

“You are a very strange creature by way of a friend! Always wanting me to play and sing before anybody and everybody!” Miss Elizabeth’s cheeks colored. “If my vanity had taken a musical turn, you would have been invaluable, but as it is, I would really rather not sit down before those who must be in the habit of hearing the very best performers.” “You play very prettily, Eliza, and I must insist. It is your duty to take your turn at the pianoforte and display as all of us shall.”

“Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind was more agreeably engaged. I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow.” She followed his gaze toward Miss Elizabeth and sniffed. “I am all astonishment. How long has she been such a favorite? Pray when am I to wish you joy?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “A lady's imagination is very rapid. It jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony, in a moment.”

Miss Bingley was a problem, though. Since her taunting remarks at the Lucas’ party, she hovered at his shoulder like a fairy dragon. Her prattle certainly sounded like one, only slightly less high-pitched. Walker warned that she was seeking a mate. Desperately. But if that were the case, why did she keep bringing up Elizabeth Bennet? It made no sense. Bingley warned him not to encourage her. How did one not encourage a woman when one was not certain what encouraged one in the first place? Did he mean it was wrong to even talk to her?

Would it have been so disagreeable to be caught with her? She was the only woman he had ever met who not only heard dragons, but had the heart of one herself.

“Here. On this page is a list of Longbourn’s favorite things—and what he hates most. A recipe for his favorite scale oil. How to make a proper scale brush. Many bits and bobs I have observed. Take it, see if there is anything you might find helpful.” Mary clutched it to her chest. “This is amazing! Something useful at last. The Order’s books, with all their histories and genealogies and territory maps, have hardly a practical insight from beginning to end.” “That is because they were written by men, my dear, upon whom the government of men places the authority of law. So that is what they write about. However, Providence has put us in the place to care for hides and hearts. So, we must keep our own books.”

Mr. Darcy drew near. “Do not you feel a great inclination, Miss Bennet, to seize such an opportunity of dancing a reel?” She stared at him. No, nothing could be farther from her mind, but… Dance. A reel would be pleasant. You should dance with him. The voice was not familiar. She closed her eyes and listened carefully. Silence. Had there been anything there but her own thoughts?

“I hope you will give your future mother-in-law a few hints, when this desirable event takes place, as to the advantage of holding her tongue.” Dragon’s blood! That was Miss Bingley. “If you can compass it, do cure the younger girls of running after the officers. And, if I may mention so delicate a subject, endeavor to check that little something, bordering on conceit and impertinence, which your lady possesses.” His lady? His lady! The presumption! How dare she? “Have you anything else to propose for my domestic felicity?” Mr. Darcy asked, flat-toned and acerbic.

“Do let the portraits of your soon-to-be Uncle and Aunt Phillips be placed in the gallery at Pemberley. Put them next to your great-uncle, the judge. They are in the same profession, you know, only in different lines. As for your Elizabeth's picture, you must not attempt to have it taken, for what painter could do justice to those beautiful eyes?” “It would not be easy, indeed, to catch their expression, but their color and shape, and the eyelashes, so remarkably fine, might be copied.” No doubt what sounded like a compliment must be made a cut by the facial expressions she could not see. Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley burst through an opening in the hedges. “I did not know that you intended to walk.” Miss Bingley had the good graces to look shocked, even a little horrified.

Had Miss Bingley ever entertained hopes of a union with Darcy, her indiscretions this morning ended them entirely. It was a stretch to consider any woman who could not hear dragons. One who was crass and insensitive to boot. No, that was entirely impossible. It was a shame that Miss Elizabeth did not come from better stock, better connections. Everything else about her was entirely suitable. Her connection to dragons was uncanny— “Darcy, Darcy?” Bingley peered into his face. “Are you there, old fellow?”

Miss Bingley sniffed and began a turn about the room. Her figure was elegant, and she walked well. No doubt many hours had been spent walking with books on her head at her fancy girls’ seminary. So that was her use for books! Darcy coughed over his snicker and turned the page.

“Pray join us, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Bingley called over her shoulder. “No, I think not. I can only imagine but two motives for you to walk up and down the room together. My joining you would interfere with either of them.” “What could he mean?” Miss Bingley leaned close to Miss Bennet as if sharing a great confidence. “Pray, do you understand him?” “Not at all, but depend upon it, he means to be severe on us, and our surest way of disappointing him will be to ask nothing about it.” Miss Elizabeth turned her face aside, away from Darcy’s view.

“I require that you explain these two possible motives, sir, for I cannot fathom your meaning at all.” Darcy rose and leaned against the back of the chair. “Either you chose this method of passing the evening because you are in each other's confidence, and have secret affairs to discuss.” Of course, that was patently untrue. Miss Elizabeth knew his hearing to be as acute as hers. She would know better than to attempt to share secrets in his presence. Nor did she have affection enough for Miss Bingley to share secrets with her. “—or because you are conscious that your figures appear to the greatest advantage in walking. If the first, I should be completely in your way. If the second, I can admire you much better as I sit by the fire.”

My good opinion once lost is lost forever.”

Mama met them halfway up the walk, less than pleased at their return. She had meant for Jane to stay a full week complete. Somehow, it was Elizabeth’s fault that Jane had recovered too soon and did not require several more days’ convalescence. Yes, yes, it was unfortunate that Elizabeth was feeling poorly, but really, she should have found some way to do so whilst remaining at Netherfield.

“I do not think there has been a woman who has so loved dragonkind in centuries. She will do what must be done.”

The floor was chalked with ships and celestial designs. Draco was included among the constellations. How grand the dragon looked, though clearly the artist had never seen one in the flesh.

Moonlight shone onto the open ground, glinting silver off the still wet hatchling. Waist high to Elizabeth, it was long and gangly as a newborn foal; neck, legs and tail far too long for its body. Glistening red scales covered its clearly feminine face, fading to a darker red across the back. A girl!

“She needs to have the first bite from your hands.” Darcy hesitated, but she could hardly blame him. Any sensible person would fear for the safety of their limbs near dragon teeth. “She will not recognize you as Keeper if you do not feed her.” He scooped up bloody gobs of meat and held them out for Pemberley. She gobbled as fast as he could offer them. Pemberley stopped for breath and looked longingly at Elizabeth. She picked up a sliver of meat and placed it in Pemberley’s mouth. She swallowed it whole and peered at Elizabeth, leaning close to her injured cheek. “Hurt?” “It is nothing to worry about, dearling.” Tears flowed down her face.

A dragonet was not like keeping livestock, it was more like having a child. A very large, very hungry, very carnivorous child.

The drakling reveled in her kindnesses, never happier than when she was permitted to sleep in Miss Elizabeth’s arms. Pemberley even willingly shared her nest with Rumblkins, Rustle, and the fairy dragons who visited often, all for the privilege of Miss Elizabeth’s company. Even though Miss Elizabeth insisted Darcy manage all the feedings, Pemberley still returned to cuddle with her after each one, utterly besotted with her. Bennet insisted that it was because Miss Elizabeth was the first to offer Pemberley human contact and comfort. Darcy dare not argue with the Order’s Historian, but he was hard pressed to accept such an easy dismissal of Miss Elizabeth’s uncanny understanding of the hatchling's moods and needs.

But to Miss Elizabeth he owed more than he could ever expect to repay. Pemberley lived only because of her courageous intervention. What could repay that?

“You should go back to the house now. You are tired. You should rest before you attend the recital with Collins tonight.” Longbourn nudged his head under her other hand. She attended the spot behind his ear. “Why are you so concerned about whether I attend the concert tonight? I never knew you to be a great lover of music.” She smiled tightly, shoulders stiffening. “It is good for you to spend time with Collins. He is heir to this estate.” “I have not forgotten that.” She withdrew her hand and stepped back. Longbourn pressed closer to her. “You must—” “Pray excuse me, Mr. Darcy. I am needed at home.” She curtsied, gathered her skirts and hurried away. Longbourn harrumphed and dropped himself on the ground, thumping hard.

“Why she go?” Pemberley whined, staring after her. “She not happy. She angry when you say Collins. What is a Collins?” Longbourn snorted. “She is my Keeper.” “I like her. She is soft, and she knows … everything.” Pemberley crept toward Darcy and leaned against his leg. “I sad when she goes.”

“No want to go. Stay with you. Please.” Pemberley pressed her head against Elizabeth’s chest. Elizabeth wrapped her free arm around the baby’s sinewy neck. “You must, my dear. It is time for you to learn from a proper firedrake. There are so many things she will teach you.” “I want you teach me.” Pemberley licked Elizabeth’s face. “You not like me?” “Do not ever think that. I love you very dearly. I also want what is best for you, and wintering here with a cranky wyvern who is jealous over his own space is not the best thing. Rosings is waiting to welcome you.” “Then you come. She welcome you, too.” Pemberley spread a wing around Elizabeth, pulling her close. In the cavern’s shadows, Longbourn grumbled. She glared at him over her shoulder. “Perhaps one day I shall visit. But I am Longbourn’s Keeper. I must stay with him.”