Page 77 of Dragons of the Great Wyves: Fire and Song
Papa told me he had sent her away. I did not even know how. Bribed her? Threatened her? A pregnant, unmarried woman was an easy target. Whatever his strategy, he regretted it later.
At my answer, she had gone tense and still, unreadable, but her eyes were bright with emotion. I drew a deep breath and continued, “I am very thankful for your daughter. For my sister. Harriet is a true lady and a dear friend. Papa was proud of her as well.”
“That pleases me,” she said. “I am also, very much.”
“Goodness!” Harriet exclaimed. “The two of you sound completely foolish. We arefamily.”
“We are,” I said. I managed another settling breath and stepped in for what became a messy, three-person hug. It was sincere, but short. Mrs. Prince and I had much to think through.
“You have not heard theothernews,” Anne said to Harriet with a mischievous smile and a tilt of her head toward Mr. Knightley.
“Are you finally engaged?” Harriet asked matter-of-factly.
“Oh, you are lucky we are sisters!” I declared. “I would not forgive that from anyone else. But you arrived just in time. We plan a… brief engagement.” Mr. Knightley, looking handsome in a satisfied way, was watching, and I asked him, “If you are willing?”
“Haste is important?” he confirmed.
“Very much so,” I said, remembering the wyvern’s words.
“Then we should proceed apace. Tomorrow?” I bit my lip, waiting, and he tried, “or…today?” and I nodded.
That peculiar man, Mr. Collins, unexpectedly joined the discussion. “Nothing delights more than bearing witness to the impetuosity of love! And I am honored to provide my humble services”—reluctantly, I realized that Lady Catherine’s clergyman was the only choice to officiate—“however, the Church requires preparatory steps. I must counsel the gentleman on… proper husbandly conduct. And the banns must be called for three Sundays—”
“Heaven and earth!” Lady Catherine interrupted. “The Church continually grants exemptions from the calling of banns. It is simply a matter of giving the Church money, which I have done in abundance.”
Mr. Collins stopped, lips pursed and eyes wide. Hehemmedseveral times and resumed, “Exemptions may occur in necessary circumstances, but the bishop must first pray for guidance on worthiness—”
She gave a stentorian snort. “Worthiness ismoney. I have attended a dozen expedited weddings. The common factors are wealth and a firstborn who follows at breakneck speed. Rest assured, the bishop will concur.” She squinted at me. “Youare not, are you?”
“With child?” I said, so amazed by their conversation that I simply finished, “No.”
“Then you are more worthy than most.” She scowled at the clergyman. “Mr. Collins. Do you intend toarguewith me?”
He hauled his rotund profile into a marginally taller oval. “Never, your ladyship.”
“Very wise.” Her steel-blue gaze returned to me. “I trust this speed is not frivolity.You do not strike me as the sort of woman who would choose marriage in a cellar without good reason.” Her gaze drifted to her wyvern, a few feet away. “It seems a time when wyves must show independence and strength. The widowed wyves have always protected a wyfe’s right to bind. Therefore,you”—her bejeweled finger shot out toward Mr. Collins—“shall provide no counseling. I will educate Mr. Knightley and Miss Woodhouse on the necessary technique.”
“Thank you, your ladyship,” I said. Any respite from Mr. Collins was a relief. Although Mr. Knightley now looked faintly terrified. I had assumed Lady Catherine meant the speaking of vows… had I misunderstood?
Harriet observed all this with a happy smile and a sisterly dash of amusement. Now she spoke up. “I am delighted it will be soon as it is very overdue. But there is no need to marry in acellar.”
24
THE WYFE’S HUNT
LIZZY
I woke to morning brightness,surprised I had slept. I remembered watching Darcy lie on the floor, too still and too straight, and then when darkness shrouded him, listening for him to move…
I looked over the side of the bed. He was properly asleep now, sprawled in his customary fashion, head cushioned on a bent arm, hair a tousled mess, jaw stubbled, the blanket twisted but tucked tight around his torso.
Tight because it wascold. I pursed my lips, and my breath steamed. A May morning in the Highlands.
I eased my woolen covers off, feeling determined to behave less morosely than last night. However long our journey lasted, it was senseless to waste it in self-pity.
Dodging a sleeping man in a tiny room was unexpectedly easy with a hundred lives of martial training. I collected the dagger from under my pillow, tucked the toes of one foot in the notch between the bed and Darcy, then balanced stork-like before leaping soundlessly over him to where my boots and shawl waited.
Our hosts were gone, their bedroom curtain open and the house empty. With the dagger tied to the dress loop that usually held my reticule, I went outside and found father, mother, and daughter gathered by a small cookfire in a rock-lined hearth.
