Page 138 of Miss Bennet's Dragon
The emptiness of Pemberley opened around me. But I was away from the lake now. I stretched my mind the other direction, farther and farther. Farther than I had ever reached before. Too far. Nothing so distant could be here in time.
There was a glimmer, dust motes in the air. Something tiny.
Help me!I screamed in my mind.
A kick hit my ribs. I curled up, gasping. Damp loam ground the side of my face. I tasted dirt.
The man stomped into the brush beside me, still swearing. Meaty fingers grabbed my hair and yanked my head up. Our faces were a foot apart. His breath filled my nose, hot and fetid from decaying teeth.
A buzz whipped past, like a bee, but far faster.
The man started back, releasing my hair. “What the?” A two-inch red line had appeared on his forehead. He touched it, puzzled, smearing blood from his fingers. No, his forehead was cut. Drops began to run.
Another buzz whipped past, and another. Motion flicked in the air.
The man scrambled to his feet, waving like he was fending off a cloud of gnats. There was buzzing all around us. “Gotcha!” he exclaimed, raising a fist. I heard a crunch as he squeezed.
I sat up, and something stopped stock-still inches in front of my nose. It had the iridescent jade body of a dragonfly but was two-legged like a miniature firedrake. The wings were an invisible blur. An instant later it was gone.
Do not sit like an idiot. Run.
I leaped to my feet, turned, and found myself face-to-face with a gentleman I had never seen before. Taller than me, which was not saying much, but not as tall as Mr. Darcy. He had short dark hair with a slight wave, refined features that placed him in his forties, and dark eyes. Above his dress trousers, he wore a white shirt tied with a starched cravat, as if he had discarded a formal coat and waistcoat.
“Pardon me,” he said. His hand pressed my shoulder. Like a dance, I stepped aside. His other arm raised a pistol where I had stood and fired.
The report was two feet from my head and incredibly loud, drowning mystartled shriek. The echoes quieted, leaving soft buzzes, the tones differing just enough to clash like pianoforte strings slightly out of tune.
The man who had abducted me lay on the ground, half his head blown away. I looked away, fighting a wet heave in my stomach.
The gentleman’s arm was still outstretched, a curl of smoke rising from the pistol. Tiny jade shapes surrounded him in the air, all pointed at his face in a threatening manner.
“What are these?” he asked conversationally.
“Some form of tiny draca,” I said. I sensed them now, pinpricks of awareness. I swallowed, calming myself, then held out my hand.I am safe now. Will you come to me?
The little flock dispersed, but one landed on my hand. She had four rigid, insect-like wings. Her two legs were much sturdier than insect legs, more like a lizard, and had glistening red feet.
She advanced an inch across my palm, dragging the tip of her tail for balance. The feet tickled and left a trail of minuscule red dots.
Blood. From the man who was killed. My hand shuddered, and the creature took to the air. I wiped my palm on my dress. It was ruined anyway.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet, I presume?” the gentleman said.
I blew out a frustrated breath. “Howdo you know that? People I have never met keep knowing who I am. It is very disconcerting.”
“I sympathize. But you are a young lady with dark eyes and a strange affinity for draca who is visiting Pemberley. I would have had to ignore Darcy for months not to know you.”
“You know Mr. Darcy?”
“I do.”
The gentleman had not introduced himself. But he looked familiar.
“Are you sure we have not met?” I said.
“Pardon me. Arthur Wellesley, at your service. Recently raised to Earl of Wellington, if that helps.”
His face was familiar from the papers. This was the acclaimed leader of England’s armies in the Peninsular war against Napoleon.
