Page 146 of Dragons of the Great Wyves: Fire and Song
“What of Bonaparte?” Darcy asked him.
“He is on St. Helena, a remote island, in exile. Another prison, but more comfortable.”
“You saved his life,” I said. There had been bloodthirsty calls for Napoleon’s execution after his defeat. It would have happened if the Hero of Highbury had not insisted otherwise.
“I also seek to put aside vengeance,” the duke answered, his gaze serious.
The Knightleys watched from beyond the bustle. They made a striking couple, his hair and coat black, her dress and bonnet canary yellow. Emma tilted her head toward the wild northern edge of the garden, and Darcy and I slipped behind a holly hedge to join them in the ivory alcove with its carved stone table and mysterious old statues.
Darcy took Mr. Knightley’s hand for a long, wordless time—an emotional spectacle for him. Then he clapped him on the shoulder. “I read your and Herr Beethoven’s interview inThe Times.”
Mr. Knightley laughed dismissively, but Emma was having none of that. “They are partnering to promote his music in Britain. We had luncheon together to celebrate, although I did not understand all the German chatter.”
“Our meeting—our reconciliation—would never have happened without your encouragement,” her husband told her, and they smiled.
“It was a coup for Knightley Press,” Darcy noted. “At this rate, you will be the preeminent music publisher in Britain.” He always admired a well-run business.
Darcy turned to Emma next. She offered her gloved hand, and he bowed over it. They watched each other for a breath before he said, “Mrs. Knightley,” and she returned, “Mr. Darcy.”
I sometimes wondered what had transpired between them during my months in the lake. I did not feel jealous—that was impossible when I was so securely wrapped in Darcy’s love—but they had a rare intimacy for a gentleman and lady.
“So, the great wyves part,” Emma said to me.
“Do not blame me,” I protested. “You two traipsed around England for a year.”
“Your trip will be longer,” she said with the mystic certainty she occasionally produced since her marriage and binding.
The four of us rejoined the gathering, and I issued a silent call.
Georgiana found us and gave her brother an unashamed, adoring hug. Then she presented him with a novel. “Something to read on your travels.”
Darcy frowned. “Fiction,” he pronounced disapprovingly.
Georgiana smiled innocently. “You may be surprised. She has a sharp eye for character.”
I stifled a snort. After Lord Wellington introduced me to the author, I had spent several afternoons recounting events. The published version ofPride and Prejudicehad turned out quite differently and was very much fiction, but the portrayal of Darcy had a certain… accuracy.
Fènnù’s great form winged into view over the north hill. Even after all this time, her sheer heft was shocking. She settled in a cleared area that overlooked the lake. She was sleekly clothed in bronze scales, and when her voice sounded in my mind, it was still haughty as a queen but no longer ranging with mad cadences.
Wyfe of war.
Lizzy, I thought back firmly, and we stared at each other in what had become a familiar impasse, her eyes faceted, prismatic, and penetrating, mine… brown, I supposed.
Mrs. Reynolds scolded the wavering footmen until they carried the trunks over and began strapping them in. Then she approached and curtsied gravely. “Mr. Darcy.”
“Mrs. Reynolds,” he replied, and bowed.
She curtsied to me next. “May you have a fair flight, madam.”
I knew she had no more patience for gratuitous display than Darcy, so I answered simply, “Thank you. You have always made me very welcome. Do take care of Georgiana and Mary.”
“They are the Mistresses of Pemberley,” Mrs. Reynolds pronounced, and that said it all.
Darcy, though, turned back to Mary. “Have you checked on Helmsdale?”
“You asked me three days ago,” she said dryly, “and it still proceeds well. The herring fishery is lucrative. That horrid factor fled telling tales of dragons, and the Staffords—they own the land—spent our meeting eyeing me and watching the sky. They have waived any tax, so the cannery benefits flow to the community.” She smiled suddenly. “Ididforget to tell you something. Kitty was a great help in securing the Navy contract.”
“I knowallthe officers,” Kitty said proudly.
