Chapter 2
Darcy closed the door to his study and leaned back against it, blowing out a long breath through his teeth. Those damned bindings! He might owe the French dragons his life - and Elizabeth's - but why had they insisted on binding him against speaking of so many things?
The worst was being gagged against revealing that his brother Jack was alive. Not telling their family felt like cruelty of the worst sort, and he ached to share the news with Elizabeth. At least the dragons had warned him about that, so it had not been a shock.
But why had they bound him against speaking of Coquelicot’s healing?
Apparently he could talk about making the lesser bond with the great ruby dragon, but her particular abilities were off limits.
He had not realized it until just now with Elizabeth, the only person here who knew how badly injured his arm had been.
He groaned. What a weak excuse he had given her!
It was all he could concoct once he realized the binding was there.
His wound had been months old, and suddenly a few more weeks had made it vanish?
Ridiculous. And what would Elizabeth think when she was well enough to be intimate with him again?
She would hardly be able to miss that there was no scar.
Not that she had been able to see much in their all too limited intimate moments in France, but still, would it not occur to her that a bullet should leave a mark?
Surely there must be a way to tell her why he could not answer her questions. And he knew just who to turn to for that.
He found Roderick in the library poring over some ancient tome. “May I trouble you with a question about bindings?”
The Welshman closed the book with care. “Your favorite topic, I know! I will answer if I can, but I may not be able to.”
Darcy took a seat across from him and paused to consider his wording.
“That is exactly my problem. Let us suppose you were under a binding against revealing something, but you wanted another person to know you were not simply avoiding their questions. Someone who already knows bindings exist, that is. I tried to hint at it, to change the subject to dragon bindings in general, but I could not even manage that. Is there a way around it?”
A look of understanding filled his eyes.
“Unfortunately, the dragons have already taken measures against that, as you apparently discovered. You could, I suppose, fight the binding until you choke and go unconscious, which should be a hint to anyone who understands bindings. Not very pleasant, though.”
It might come to that, though. Today Elizabeth had seemed to accept his explanations, but she was tired and weak. When she recovered, it might be a different story.
And she would not mince her words if she thought he was lying to her.
Which he was, even if involuntarily. “Devil take them!”
Roderick cocked an eyebrow. “The French dragons, the bindings, or both?”
Darcy expressed a long breath. “The bindings. I cannot criticize the dragons who saved me from rotting in a prison cell, if not worse. But still - wait, how could you tell I was under their bindings? Could I not say the same things to Elizabeth?”
Shaking his head, the Welshman said, “You could only say this much to me because the Eldest already revealed to me you were under bindings from the French Nest.”
Darcy stared at him. “The Eldest knows? Why did she tell you?”
The Welshman shrugged. “I believe she was hoping I might gain some insight into what those bindings were. She is unhappy about it. You belong to her territory, yet are under unknown bindings from another Nest, one that is threatened by a mad dragon. Of course she wants to know more.”
It made sense. In times like this, it was only sensible to be suspicious. Darcy said slowly, “I know of two things that I cannot speak of. I do not think either affects the Dark Peak Nest.”
Roderick looked thoughtful. “Do you mind if I tell the Eldest that?”
“I assumed you would.”
The Welshman laughed. “Just because she would like me to spy on you does not mean that I will.”
“Reassuring to know, but with the number of dragons here, I cannot imagine anything I do is a secret from her,” he said ruefully.
“Which reminds me of another question. Can you tell me anything about the new rules at the gate? My butler says it was owing to fae mischief, but that is all I know. Are the wards not working properly?” If they could not exclude the High King, Georgiana could be in danger.
“They are, but the High Fae are testing them and finding weaknesses we did not anticipate – and they have been misusing your tenants who pass through the gate.”
“What?” Darcy exclaimed, half-rising from his chair. Trying to break through the wards he could understand, but how dare they interfere with his tenants?
“It started when a man took a cart of pigs to the market. When he returned, driving the empty cart, the wards would not let him through. I went to help, but by the time I arrived, the tenant had vanished into thin air, leaving only the cart and horse. Rowan said the area stank of High Fae, so presumably one had taken on the appearance of your tenant to sneak in.”
Darcy frowned. “Which tenant? What happened to him?”
“John Walker. He is unharmed, though unable to remember anything that happened after leaving Pemberley. I sent out search parties to hunt for him. The dogs found him high in an old oak tree, trussed and gagged. They only recovered two of his pigs, though. I took the liberty of instructing your steward to reimburse him for the lost ones.”
“Quite right.” He did not like it, one of his tenants being attacked by the fae, and solely because of Georgiana’s presence here. But how could he stop it, short of sending his sister back to London, where she would be unsafe in a different way? “At least it means the wards work.”
The Welshman shook his head. “That time, yes, and also the second time, when a High Fae tried to hide in a delivery of wheat and was sent flying by the wards. After that I installed a bell at the gatehouse so the gatekeeper could signal us more quickly when he needed help. But the third time I had to call Rowan and Quickthorn for help, and we only succeeded by sheer luck.”
And to think Darcy had believed everything would be simple once he was back home. Instead, Pemberley was under attack. That too-familiar sensation of his skin crawling, knowing he was being hunted, crept over him. “The third time?”
“A tenant was fooled into carrying a portal token through, and then a High Fae warrior emerged from it as soon as it crossed the wards.
He was invisible to the gatekeeper, of course, but one of Miss Darcy's lesser fae was nearby and saw what had happened. We came running when the bell began to peal. Mr. Jasper Fitzwilliam managed to hold off the warrior - barely - for a few minutes until the dragons arrived and pitched him over the wards. None too gently, I might add. But if it had not been for the chance of a lesser fae spotting him and calling for help, he could have gone anywhere on the estate with us none the wiser.” He rubbed his hands together, clearly disturbed by the memory.
“A portal token?” He had never heard of such a thing, and it sounded dangerous. Could it let a fae simply appear at any point? What if Napoleon used one? The hunted feeling intensified tenfold. “What is to stop them from doing that again?”
“Rowan and I strengthened the wards to block bespelled items and Artifacts, so it would not work again.
But the dragons say it is unlikely in any case; portal tokens are extremely rare and can only be used once.
That the Wicked King would use up such a valuable resource simply to get through Pemberley's wards is worrisome. Reaching Miss Darcy is apparently much more important to him than we believed.”
Darcy rubbed his forehead. “Why would he care so much about her?” Not that he expected an answer, but this was a frightening twist.
Roderick turned his hands up. “The dragons have no idea. If Miss Darcy knows, she is not telling us.”
“Do they have any other ideas of what we should do? The dragons, that is.” Wards and High Fae were far beyond Darcy's knowledge.
“No. The Nest is preoccupied with plans for facing Napoleon's invasion. They are leaving this matter of Pemberley to Quickthorn and Rowan, who are both young and inexperienced. Still, we are fortunate to have them here.”
“Indeed.” He tried to picture the dragons throwing a High Fae over the gate. “In any case, I thank you for your efforts.”
“One other thing. You know about the French spies seeking to kill you, yes? We also changed the wards to slow bullets. It cannot stop them, but they should do no more than leave a bad bruise now. Someone was taking potshots at any tall man they could see.”
Again, he was bringing danger to the people of Pemberley. “Was anyone hurt?”
“One tenant was grazed by a bullet, but he has recovered well. The men know to stay away from the wards if possible.”
For a moment, Darcy was back in France, with soldiers hunting him and bullet in his shoulder. Then he shook himself out of it. “I suppose that is the best we can do.”
“I hope I did not overstep.” Roderick hesitated. “I must make a confession, which is that Mrs. Darcy does not know of these difficulties. The midwife advised us strongly against adding to her disturbance of spirits, so Lady Frederica and I decided to continue managing the matter ourselves.”
“That seems reasonable.” But there was more he was not saying; Darcy was sure of that. “Is there more I should know about what happened in my absence?”
“Mrs. Darcy left Lady Frederica in charge when she went to France. She could tell you about what happened in the household, which she did an excellent job of managing. But she is not in the habit of thinking about defending her territory.”
And apparently Roderick was in that habit.
What did he face in his mysterious Welsh village that he stepped so easily into that role?
That was not Darcy’s problem, though. “How did her brother Jasper end up here?” Not that he objected to Jasper’s presence, but it was an odd place to find the young blade.
Roderick shifted in his chair, as if uncomfortable.
“She sent for him, I believe. I have taken the opportunity to train with him.” He shook his head with an admiring smile.
“My word, I thought I knew good swordsmen before! I would not have believed any mortal could hold off a High Fae even for a minute. He would have lost in the end without the aid of the dragons, but still, it was an astonishing accomplishment.”
Darcy studied him. “You seem oddly familiar with the habits of the High Fae.”
“Enough to know to keep my distance from them. There is a Faerie Glen near my land, and occasionally one or two will wander out of it to amuse themselves among mortals. Our dragons keep a close eye…”
A resounding crash shook the walls, drowning out his words. Darcy jumped to his feet and hurried to the window. Could it be a lightning strike nearby? The skies were sunny and clear. An explosion of some sort in the kitchens? “What the devil?” he exclaimed.
Roderick held up a finger, as if listening to someone, and then his eyes widened. “The wards! Rowan says they are broken!”
Darcy stiffened. “How?” Were Elizabeth and Jenny in danger?
“No idea,” Roderick said breathlessly. “We must go to the gates and find out.”
“It is not at the gates,” Darcy responded without thinking about how he knew this. “It is over there.” He pointed towards the northeast, to the moorland at the edge of Pemberley, nearly four miles away.
“Your land sense? I will tell Rowan. What is the fastest way there?”
“Riding cross-country. There is no road; the moors are only used for sheep grazing.”
Roderick nodded sharply, his eyes still blurred as he conversed with his dragon. “Rowan has ordered that all available iron be brought to Miss Darcy's chambers.”
Then the significance finally hit him. He was no longer in France, where he and Elizabeth were being hunted. It was Georgiana who was endangered by the wards breaking.
Still, as he raced out the door, he shouted to a footman, “Guard Mrs. Darcy with your life.”