Roderick squared his shoulders. “I suppose I had best return home, then.”
“I do not wish to chase you away,” Darcy said. “Only yesterday you saved my life, and you have done us all a great service with the wards. Mrs. Darcy and I value your company. It would likely be enough if you treated Lady Frederica in public as an indifferent acquaintance.”
“If she would permit that,” he said softly, more to himself than Darcy.
So he did understand Frederica's nature. That was something. Fortunately, they had just reached the house, where he would be forced to drop this uncomfortable subject.
The butler opened the door before they even came up the steps of the portico. Hobbes deserved a raise in pay for that timing alone! Darcy strode inside, handing him his hat and dirty, no doubt ruined, gloves.
Hobbes, to his credit, showed no sign of surprise. “Mrs. Darcy has expressed a wish to speak to you on your return,” he said. “Mr. Roderick, there is a letter for you.”
The Welshman picked up the envelope the butler had indicated, a shadow crossing his face as he inspected it.
Whatever it might be, Darcy had imposed on Roderick's private business quite enough already. “Hobbes, you may inform my wife I will be there as soon as I have remedied my appearance. Roderick, pray excuse me.”
“Of course.” The Welshman gave a small bow, and Darcy finally escaped.
Darcy glared at Cerridwen, who perched beside Elizabeth in her sitting room. Not another new problem! “A dragon nursery? Why does the Eldest want to build one at Pemberley?” As if they did not already have too many dragons here!
Cerridwen said, “It is already here, built many centuries ago, before the Great Concealment, when there were many more dragons who needed space. That is why you have the Dragon Stones here. They are anchors for the nursery.”
He had known there was a cave under the clearing, or at least a hollow space. His land Talent had sensed it, but he had paid little attention. Caves were not uncommon in the hills. “And why, after all this time, does the Eldest wish to use it again?”
“Because the Nest is badly overcrowded. The Nest in France sent us more eggs and hatchlings than we have room for.” Cerridwen hesitated. “It was Quickthorn's idea, actually, but the Eldest is most enthusiastic about it.”
More dragons here, and baby ones at that! It was the last thing he needed. “Why would Quickthorn want that? Would she be in charge of it?”
Cerridwen's chest rippled with what passed for laughter in dragons. “Quickthorn in charge of hatchlings? They would run from her in terror! She only suggested it as a way to make Pemberley more useful to the Nest.” She dropped her voice. “The Eldest wants to withdraw us from here and take down the wards, too, lest they anger the Wicked King, may he be strangled with his own innards. She fears drawing his wrath down upon the Nest.”
Darcy stared at her in consternation. He had trusted the Eldest, her warmth, generosity, and knowledge. He had not said a word of complaint about hosting Rana Akshaya and her retinue at the Nest's request, even though it meant giving over half the state rooms for her use for months.
And now she wanted to take down the wards? If she thought their very existence might endanger her Nest, it would be impossible to persuade her.
But it would be a disaster. The wards had only been erected to protect Georgiana from the High King, but now they did more. They were the first line of defense against the French assassins, too. And there was still the question of whether he might be the prophesied one, and whether the High Fae wanted him, too.
Without the wards, he would have to go into hiding, and Elizabeth along with him. Georgiana could return to London, where she would be safe from the fae, but that was not a choice for him. His mind began to race - perhaps the Scottish Highlands, where few people ventured, or Roderick's mysterious Welsh village, if they were willing to shelter a man wanted by both the English and the French. It would mean giving up the land he was bonded to, likely forever, and taking it away from Elizabeth and Jenny, too. The idea wrenched at his very self. Without Pemberley, what was he?
Why had he never realized he was accruing a huge debt to the Nest?
Cerridwen was eyeing him oddly, and he realized she had been speaking for some time.
He said hastily, “I beg your pardon, Cerridwen. I was briefly distracted, but now you have my full attention.”
“I was saying that is why Quickthorn suggested re-opening the nursery. Then the wards would be needed to protect the hatchlings, too. It wouldmake Pemberley valuable to the Nest, since they are desperate for the extra space. The Eldest leapt on the idea; she had forgotten there was an old nursery here.”
Clever Quickthorn! He nodded slowly. “What will it involve, opening this nursery? How will it change things here?”
“We will have to clean it out and prepare it. The Nest can send their mortal Kith to do much of it.”
“I can ask some of my tenants to assist them, since the harvest is over,” he said quickly. Anything to put the Nest in his debt, too.
“There will be magical preparations, too, and strengthening the anchors there. Quickthorn and I will manage most of that.”
“Who will care for the hatchlings?”
The dragon seemed puzzled by the question, then her amusement returned. “Hatchlings do not require nursemaids, nor do the eggs. We will deliver food, of course, and keep the hearthstones heated. Someone will come to teach the older ones from time to time, but hatchlings are not ready to learn much until their wings grow out.”
Darcy recalled the hatchlings he had helped to shepherd through the Gate in France. They had been easily distracted, more like puppies than young dragons. Could they care for themselves? The dragons must know what was needed. “I suppose I should call on the Eldest, then, to give my permission.”
