Chapter 1 #2
“As certain as can be, though they know less than usual now. After that attack on Napoleon, all our usual spies in his court went silent. The whole chain for communication was destroyed, including our couriers. Someone must have talked under torture.”
Darcy winced, thinking of the two French aristocrats who had been captured that nightmarish day in the Tuileries. Had Napoleon used his magical powers to convince them to talk, as he had almost managed with Darcy? “Did they tell you he is a dragon in disguise?”
“Who?” Bingley asked. “The only dragon I know of is Lady Amelia’s beast. Sycamore, she calls him. That was enough of a shock, discovering a live dragon in Britain!”
“No, Napoleon. That is what I learned when I faced him. He is not a human at all, but a dragon in mortal form. A powerful, dangerous one who can seize control of a man’s mind. He did it to me – and it was only my blood connection to Elizabeth that saved me.”
Bingley goggled at him for a moment and then gave a harsh laugh. “Good one, Darcy. You almost had me believing you there.”
“It is no joke.” Had the War Office believed him? Lady Amelia had told them; he knew that much. “Can you not see the implications? If he can get our generals, or worse, the Prime Minister, into his presence, he can convince them to surrender without a single shot fired.”
Bingley was shaking his head. “Darcy, are you quite well? If Napoleon could do that, whether as a human or a dragon, why would he have wasted all those lives battling his way across Europe?”
“Because he wanted his powers to be a secret. That is why he is so eager to stop me – because I know the truth.”
“My friend, you have been through a terrible experience, one I cannot begin to imagine. But this makes no sense. Surely someone would have noticed if Napoleon was a mage, much less a dragon.”
Damn it. He could not even get Bingley to believe him, when all of England depended on this!
A few months ago he would have snapped at him, even shouted at him.
But Darcy had been through a hard school in France, hunted through the woods like a beast, starving, helpless, and hopeless.
He had faced what seemed to be certain death, knowing he had let his country and his beloved wife down.
He had been forced to learn just how limited his powers were.
So instead of snarling at Bingley for having some reasonable doubts, he dropped the subject.
If his friend had planned to stay longer, he would have brought Cerridwen in to make his argument.
But there was no point now; the knowledge would not help Bingley.
“I know your time is limited. Shall we go upstairs to see Elizabeth? She is still abed, resting from her labors, but she will be eager to hear your news from Longbourn.”
“Yes, indeed. I have a list of questions from Jane that I am to pose to her, since of course men cannot be trusted to ask the important things.” He smiled as he said it. “And I want to hear how you managed to escape from France!”
“Ah, yes. That.” He would have to do some quick thinking to find an answer. Even if he were not bound against speaking the truth, Bingley would never believe that dragon magic had transported him back to England.
“What a lovely surprise that was,” Elizabeth said when Darcy returned from seeing Bingley off. “I only wish he could have stayed longer and told me more news of Longbourn. It seems so long ago that I lived there.” It had made her homesick, too. How she missed her dearest sister Jane!
He leaned down to kiss her forehead. “A great deal has happened in this last year.”
“Indeed.” Her lips twitched with amusement. “I think poor Bingley may have been embarrassed, seeing me so soon after giving birth. But he will recover.” She entwined her fingers with Darcy's right hand.
He raised it to his lips, gently caressing her sensitive skin. Oh, how lovely it felt, sending a tingle down her arm, even when she was far too tired to do anything about it! But the intent look in his dark eyes warmed her to her core.
It reminded her of the last time they had made love, back in France. He had hardly been able to move his hand then. “How is it that your arm is so much better now?”
His gaze flicked away and then returned, but his expression had tightened. Did he hate being reminded of his injury so much? “It is still not as strong as the other, but apparently it just needed more time to heal.”
“That must be a relief.” There was so much she did not know about that time.
There had been no time to talk about it since his return in the midst of her labors, and then there had been the horrible day when they thought Jenny would not live.
The memory shuddered through her, and she had to glance down at Jenny's sleeping form to convince herself that her baby was now perfectly well.
“Is something wrong?” He sounded a bit hesitant.
“Just a memory.” She tried to make it sound light, but it was hard to chase the feeling away.
A distraction was what she needed. “I have not yet had a chance to hear about what happened in France after the soldiers took you away.” When she had thought it was the end, that she would never see him again.
“Not a great deal. In the absence of a gaol, they locked me in a cellar room. And then two men from the Nest came to rescue me.”
She narrowed her eyes playfully at him. “Somehow I doubt it was that simple.”
His mouth twisted. “No, but I prefer not to think of the unpleasant parts. If you must know, they questioned me several times, and not gently. But it was nothing I could not tolerate.”
Men! Why did they always have to pretend to be stoic? How many times had she told him that she wanted to know the truth, even if it was ugly? “If you prefer it that way. Perhaps you can tell me about the daring rescue? That must have been a happy moment.”
His expression lightened, as if he appreciated the change of subject. “It was so unexpected that I thought I must be imagining it at first. Even more so after....” He trailed off.
“After what?” she prompted.
He cleared his throat. “After I realized my legs were too weak to carry me far. I had eaten little for several days.”
So it had been bad in his improvised gaol cell. It hurt, but she nodded as if it was only to be expected, since he clearly did not wish for sympathy. “How did you get away, then?”
“In a wagon, under a load of hay, and then on horseback.” The briefest possible description.
Had his escape been physically painful? It might have been, if the French soldiers had been rough with him during the interrogation. Apparently she would never know. “What happened when you reached the Nest?”
He shifted from one foot to the other. “They tried to put me through the Gate, but it did not work. Then one of them had the idea I might be able to pass if I took on the lesser bond to one of their dragons. It took some time to arrange that.”
It was odd to think of him bonding to a dragon, after all that time when he wanted nothing to do with them. “I suppose having the time to rest was good, though.”
He shrugged. “Mostly they put me to work, helping to build their defenses.”
“Really? What did you do?”
“Everything from digging ditches to preparing rock piles. Anything where human hands worked better than dragon talons. I was glad to be of assistance, especially since they had already helped you leave.” He paused. “That was the most important moment to me, when I learned you were safely home.”
She could not help smiling, because that was her William to the core, always wanting her to be out of harm’s way. “You must have seen more of the Nest than I did, since I passed through it very briefly. Was it different from the one here?”
He launched into a long description of the French Nest - all interesting, but mostly a striking contrast to how little he had said about those weeks apart. Before she could respond, he said, “I must go. My steward is waiting for me.”
“And Mrs. Sanford told you not to tire me by staying too long,” she said tartly.
He grinned. “I will not deny it.” Then he kissed her lightly and left.
She watched him go regretfully, but it was true that she was already growing drowsy.
As her eyelids drifted closed, she recalled the last time she had seen him in France, when she had helped him put on the coat he could not manage by himself with his weak arm.
He had gone through so much during his imprisonment.
And then to be put to hard labor at the Nest!
She was already drifting off to sleep when the oddness of his story struck her. He had marched off into imprisonment with an arm he could barely use, even before he was ill-treated and starved. Then, when he reached the Nest, he was well enough to dig ditches and move stones. How could that be?
And what was he keeping from her?