Hi everyone! Thanks for your reading and commenting on this story! Now we get to face what happens when Darcy wakes up from his game-induced nap.

Thanks to my betas, dreeem, priscillalts, noagnes, Karin E Lb, and Lily. This story would not be nearly so readable without them!

Also, someone asked about the length of this story. I'm currently working on chapter 32, which is pretty close to the end, maybe 2-3 chapters left to write. I hope that helps!

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Chapter 7

Darcy woke up with a pounding headache. He found himself lying on a musty old couch, his feet propped up on one end. His neck-tie had been loosened, and something damp was laid over his forehead and eyes.

"I would not try to move yet, young man," Mr. Bennet said calmly. Darcy stifled a groan as the older man's voice acted like a hammer on his skull. The cloth over his face had absorbed the heat of his body and was now lukewarm. He reached out with his magic and the water within the cloth half-froze. It became instantly cool and soothing. A few moments later, he no longer felt he was dying.

His thoughts began to race as he recalled what had happened. Miss Elizabeth was somehow—impossibly—the dragon. It made a fiendish kind of sense as he recalled everything strange about her. Her strength when he had stumbled into her at the Meryton assembly. The way she had leaped the creek on Netherfield's property. Her dragon-like ability to absorb and infuse magic. She moved like a dragon, silent and graceful, with the air of a hunter around her. Even her coloration was similar, her hair like the scales on the dragon's back, her eyes the color of the dragon's underside. He began to think he must have been blind not to see it before.

He cautiously pushed back the cold cloth and looked around. The light was cruel on his eyes but his sight adjusted quickly. He was still in Mr. Bennet's study, on a beaten couch that had been unearthed from under all the books. Mr. Bennet sat in the chair Darcy had occupied during their game. He watched Darcy keenly.

"You were quite a fool to hold on for so long," Mr. Bennet said bluntly. "I do not know what you could have been thinking. Does that often work for you, refusing to cede the match until the other fellow gives up first?"

"Sometimes," Darcy gritted out. He sat up, his head spinning slightly.

"Then they were cowards not to push you to the end," Mr. Bennet said sharply. "Though I suppose you are quite a tenacious fellow."

Darcy's temper flared. He had had enough of this man's patronizing tone. "I bid you good day," he said curtly, unsteadily rising from the couch. He did not see his cane, so he formed one of ice. He limped toward the door. If Mr. Bennet had sealed it with a spell, then Darcy was going to batter it with ice until he broke free.

"Considering your game, I did not expect you to give up so easily," Mr. Bennet taunted him. "Did you not come to learn of the dragon?"

Darcy rounded on Mr. Bennet furiously. "I came here to ask about the dragon," he snarled. "Since I have arrived, I have been questioned, ridiculed, held against my will, forced into a game I detest, and rendered unconscious because of it. What possible reason have I to stay?"

Mr. Bennet stared at him, mouth falling open a little more with each accusation. Finally the older man bowed his head tiredly. "You are right, I have treated you unfairly. I know that I have pushed you beyond decorum. I can only say that I am a worried old man and I wanted to know if I could trust you."

"Then what now?" Darcy asked starkly. "I did not win at your game; what possible reason could it give you to trust me?"

"It was not about winning," Mr. Bennet countered almost gently. "I wanted to see how you played, see what sort of man you are. The man that played that game was a good sort of man, not without foibles, as we all are, but also caring and very nearly able to stubbornly outlast me. In short, he is a man I would trust with the information he is seeking."

Darcy hesitated, torn between outrage and determination. Mr. Bennet looked worn, as though he had been aged by the game. He no longer appeared to be the sleepy farmer gentleman or the sharp-witted mage, but a merely mortal man who was exhausted. In the end, Darcy's curiosity won out. He faced Mr. Bennet fully, shifting his weight off of his injured leg.

"I am not in the mood for more questions," he warned.

"Just one more, though I have little right to ask. What is she worth to you?"

Darcy's heart froze in his chest. What was she worth to him? Did Mr. Bennet mean Miss Elizabeth, or the dragon? Even knowing they were one and the same it was impossible to reconcile his feelings toward each. He had obsessed over finding the dragon, thinking to protect her from the world and would-be dragon hunters. To learn she had lived in the same house as him for a week, in the form of Miss Elizabeth, tore at him.

As for Miss Elizabeth, he had been unwillingly attracted to her from the first moment he met her. Was that because he had been looking for his dragon, and some part of him had recognized her from the beginning? Or was there something deeper at stake? Why had he become so interested in the dragon, before he knew she was more than a silent beast? What was she worth to him? Both woman and dragon were important enough for him to remain in the presence of a man whom he had no reason to like and every reason to dismiss. Perhaps he had twice the reason to stay now, knowing his dragon was Miss Elizabeth. The fact that his feet did not carry him out the door was as much of an answer as he was willing to give.

"Speak on," Darcy said guardedly.

Mr. Bennet's shoulder slumped in relief. "Ask what you will," he invited, gesturing to the couch. "I will answer all that I can."

Darcy watched him for a time, uncertain that Mr. Bennet was truly repentant. "Is Miss Elizabeth truly the dragon herself?"

"She is, as you have surmised," Mr. Bennet confirmed.

Some of the ire left Darcy at this great revelation, and he released his breath through pursed lips. He walked to the couch and sat down, favoring his right leg heavily. Nothing escaped Mr. Bennet's attention.

"I could probably design a new brace for your leg," the older man mused. "It would work better than what you have on now. Only be sure to keep my Lizzy away from it. I cannot tell you the havoc she plays on spells and magic when she has a mind to."

"So then that is Miss Elizabeth's true talent," Darcy thought out loud. "She becomes a dragon."

"No," Mr. Bennet spoke sharply. "I want to be clear from the beginning. My Lizzy does not choose to be a dragon because she can. She is forced into it. She is cursed, and it is my fault." Shame showed clearly in his bearing.

"You laid a curse on her?" Darcy asked incredulously. Each new statement was more astonishing than before.

Mr. Bennet stiffened, and then sat back in his chair in collapse. He looked down at his hands, his posture one of helplessness. "I may as well have," he said softly, glancing up at Darcy. "I have a story to tell, if you are willing to listen."

Darcy nodded.

Mr. Bennet took a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking. "Many years ago," he began, "I was a foolish young man. I had a gentleman's education, and when I graduated, I wanted to go on a Grand Tour with many of my peers. Since my family could ill afford it, I left without telling anyone. I took no money, for I was convinced my wit and my magic were enough. I was a very powerful spell mage, you see, at the top of my class. For a time, everything was well.

"Unfortunately, I was not content with the common sights my peers experienced. I longed for greater adventure, more daring. No challenge was too great for me to undertake. I pushed my luck into more remote, dangerous places. Soon my reputation grew. People with an interest in magical artifacts approached me. They offered to pay me if I was willing to procure a certain item for them. I was happy to comply. The money seemed great for the small risk involved.

"I did not at first realize the legal ramification of my actions. I got the item they wanted, and was rewarded handsomely. It was not long before another group approached me, and another. My exploits took me through most parts of Europe. I felt myself invincible, for I was never caught. And then one day, I was.

"I had been contracted to liberate an artifact from a gypsy clan. I thought it was work like any other. The gypsy clan was headed by an old woman, who was a very strong mage herself. I was able to reach the artifact, but was caught as I was attempting to make my escape. Several of the young men of the clan beat me, but the old woman prevented them from killing me. She laid a curse on me instead, that by attempting to take their magic, my children would be marked by it instead. The artifact I had tried to take was a dragon figurine.

"The curse scared me like nothing else had. I returned home to my grateful family. I put all trace of my Grand Tour and ill-gotten gains behind me. I found a simple merchant's daughter with no trace of magic and married her. I thought, if I refused to live by my magic anymore, I might defeat the curse.

"When Mrs. Bennet announced she was increasing, I laid every spell for health and protection on her. I waited anxiously as her confinement came to an end. My firstborn, Jane, came into this world as a perfect life. From the beginning she was sweet and very dear to both Mrs. Bennet and myself. There was nothing dragon-like about her. I was proud that I had beaten the curse.

"My only regret was the spells which had kept my Jane safe also prevented her from having magic of any sort. What I longed for was a child I could share my magic with. Progeny spells usually only affected the firstborn, and I had already defeated the curse. I was convinced it would not strike again. When Mrs. Bennet said she was increasing again, I did not lay the protection spells on her.

"Her confinement was normal until the seventh month, when suddenly she began to have unusual fatigue, with bleeding and spasms. My Lizzy was born within the week, and her labor was very hard. She was born with a thick caul, not only over her face, but her entire body. Being born with the caul used to be a sign of great favor, but when her caul was breeched, we saw what was underneath.

"My second daughter had succumbed to the curse. She had the hind legs, tail and wings of a dragon. I was able to cast a spell that turned her dragon parts to human. The midwife was upset, but her mothering instincts were greater than her fear. A young creature, whether human, puppy, or dragon, was still worthy of love to her. It was not so for Mrs. Bennet. My wife rejected her new daughter and threatened her life until I was forced to place a memory spell on her.

"Thereafter, Mrs. Bennet did not try to harm Lizzy but neither would she have anything to do with her. I hired a wet nurse, the midwife's daughter, to care for Lizzy. For a time, all was well. Before a month was up, Lizzy reverted into full dragon form. I tried to spell her into human form again, to no avail. I took over the care of Lizzy, for the wet nurse could not provide for her. I discovered that Lizzy would take some cow's milk mixed with sow's blood, and so I was able to nourish her while I looked for a cure.

"Within a few days, she became human again, and the wet nurse returned. Every month for three or four days, Lizzy became a dragon. From then on, whenever Mrs. Bennet said she was increasing, I always put the protection spells on her. I thought that a few days a month was the extent of Lizzy's curse, but I was soon proven wrong.

"It quickly became clear that even as a human she retained many dragon abilities, such as superior strength and senses. She also had a strong predilection for magic. I was forever replacing all the spells around the house, until I realized that she craved the magic as much as she craved food for substance. I did not know how to care for an infant dragon, and so began my study of dragons.

"I could not trust Lizzy at home, so I brought her with me on my journeys. As such, I began to notice the changes in her. She grew much faster as a dragon than as a human, and needed a constant supply of meat. She learned to control when she changed, though she was still required to spend several days per month as a dragon. That was perhaps the greatest change in her, for as she aged, she had to spend more and more time as a dragon.

"For the last several years, her curse has been accelerating. She must spend more than half of her time as a dragon. Within another year or two, I fear the curse will take her over completely. I think she plans to leave when that happens, as if that will spare me the knowledge of what is happening to her." Mr. Bennet fell silent at long last.

Darcy's head was reeling with all he had learned. He had not minded that Miss Elizabeth became a dragon, but to learn she was under such a progressive curse was unfathomable. His first thought was for her welfare.

"You must not let her go, of course," he said without thinking.

"Is that so, Mr. Darcy?" Mr. Bennet said acerbically. "And tell me, how much experience with children who are dragons do you have? No magic or chain could hold her, and should I dare try she could fly so far I would never see her again. No, as much as it pains me—and until you are the father to a bright, precious daughter yourself, you cannot imagine the sweet pain of seeing her grow—my daughter must be free to fly as she chooses. I can only tell her how much I love her, and pray she takes pity on an old man."

Darcy felt a flash of memory from this summer, when his sister Georgiana had been so devastated by Wickham's perfidy. She was not his daughter in truth, but he had essentially been her father-figure since their patriarch had passed away years ago. Her pain was his, and the thought of Georgiana suffering under a curse that would take her away was unbearable.

He ventured another question, "I imagine you have tried to have her curse broken?"

"With every way under the sun possible," Mr. Bennet confirmed quickly. "As well as many ways not under the sun, and spells that I invented myself. I have chased down every seer, every curse-breaker, and found no answer. I even tried to find the gypsy clan again, but they have hidden from the world and are long lost. No, I have but one hope left for Lizzy's curse to be broken."

"What is that?" Darcy asked, unwillingly drawn in by the story.

"I hope that someday Lizzy will find a young man worthy of her. If he loves her truly, accepts her both as a dragon and a maiden, then I hope her curse might be broken."

"True love," Darcy agreed, though he felt a need to hide his own regard for Miss Elizabeth. He was fond of her, but he did not love her. Nor could he allow his feelings to grow into love. Could he?

Mr. Bennet sighed. "I do not know where to find such a young man. I imagine he would have to be a rather tenacious fellow, though." He gave Darcy a sharp look under his bushy brows.

Outrage flashed through Darcy. The husband was as much of a fortune hunter as the wife! He said nothing, determined not to be drawn into this scheme. He was profoundly saddened by Miss Elizabeth's plight, but knew he could not be the one to save her. He stood abruptly.

"I thank you for your honesty," he said, more curtly than he had intended. "But I must be away at this time. Have a good day, sir." He walked toward the door.

"Mr. Darcy," Mr. Bennet called sternly. "I understand if you choose not to pursue Lizzy. She must be far beneath you in wealth and circumstance and I know my wife and her daughters are rather lacking in decorum. But the least you can do, as a gentleman, is to thank her for saving your life. You can find her in the dower house in the back."

He bowed his head in acknowledgement, feeling a prick of conscience at the mild reproof. He did owe Miss Elizabeth his life and even livelihood. The least he could do was express his gratitude toward her. Then he could finally lay to rest his obsession with both her and the dragon.

Darcy left Mr. Bennet's study, deeply troubled as he painfully navigated down the narrow stairs. Had he not been thinking that he could not form an attachment to Miss Elizabeth for the very reasons Mr. Bennet had declared? When Darcy thought of her lack of wealth and connections, his motives against her sounded just and rational. Yet when the same words came out of Mr. Bennet's mouth, they sounded harsh and arrogant. Was that how he appeared to others? Had he not scorned others of his set for the very pride he was now displaying? Did he have need to marry for more wealth? He did not. His family expected him to marry well, but he was a man of independent means. He needed to answer to no one in his choice of partner.

Did he desire for more connections to those he disdained? The answer was a resounding no, but when he thought of the connections he would gain by aligning himself with Miss Elizabeth, namely Mrs. Bennet and the younger sisters, he recoiled in horror. How could he contemplate polluting Pemberley's serene halls with Mrs. Bennet's shrill cries? No, he would not condone it!

He reached the lower floor and took a moment to catch his breath. Going downstairs was harder than going up. Was it unseemly to accept Mr. Bennet's offer of a brace when he had no interest in furthering his connection to the family? Steeling himself, he walked out of the house. He looked around the riotous Longbourn gardens, and set off toward the back of the property.

While he had no intention of raising Miss Elizabeth's expectations toward him, he also did not want to leave her with such an arrogant impression as Mr. Bennet had intimated. He located the dower house, a squat stone building with an unusual set of double doors, more appropriate for a barn than a house. At the moment one door was open and it appeared dark on the inside. Mr. Bennet had said Miss Elizabeth would be there, so Darcy thought nothing of approaching the house.

He was distracted by his thoughts, wondering how exactly Miss Elizabeth viewed him. He wanted to leave her with a positive, but not hopeful, image of himself. He was contemplating what phrases to use on her, and quite forgot to announce himself as he walked into the dower house.

In retrospect, it was probably not a good idea to startle such a large dragon. There was a monstrous snort as something huge shied away from him. Darcy instinctively ducked as something passed over his head. The stone house shuddered as a vast creature slammed against it. The dark space inside the house seemed full of flying limbs as the occupant attempted to get away from Darcy.

She will bring down the house, Darcy thought to himself, his heart pounding in atavistic fear. "Miss Elizabeth!" he cried, flinging up his hands as if to calm a wild animal.

The frantic scrambling came to a sudden halt. Dust billowed in the air. Combined with the darkness of the interior compared to the sun outside, it took several minutes for Darcy's eyes to see in the dower house. He began to slowly make out details. Once he could see the beast entirely, he had to resist the urge to step back and swear softly. He swallowed hard, and hoped his racing heart was not as audible to the creature as it was to him.

His dragon—Miss Elizabeth—was inside the dower house. Darcy did not know if his memory was faulty or if it was the effect of seeing her inside a human dwelling, but she seemed much larger than he had remembered. Yards of coiled muscles and limbs met his eyes. Her huge wings stretched overhead. Her tail was wrapped against her body for there was no room for it otherwise.

She was breath-taking. Darcy's fear left him in a rush as he studied the dragon-lady, and he admitted that his memory had not lied to him on this point. She was a stunning creature, all smooth lines of grace and power from the tip of her muzzle to the ends of her claws. He could easily see how dragons were the most feared hunters in the world, and also the most envied. She had clean, straight limbs that had never known a limp like his, and even if she were, God forbid, injured, her wings were strong and fresh to carry her above the world.

As Darcy was admiring her, he began to realize that she was not nearly at ease as he. Her claws had dug deep furrows in the dirt floor in an effort to get away from him. Her shoulders were pressed against the stone walls, as if wishing to carve a new door for herself. Her wings were barely constrained by the thatched roof, longing to be free. Her wing tips trembled slightly, and she breathed in quick, shallow pants. Her eyes were wide in fear as she looked at him.

He realized his grievous error in coming upon her unannounced and quickly tried to put her at ease. He bowed to her.

"I apologize, Miss Elizabeth. Your father said I might find you out here. I am afraid it did not occur to me that you might be…" He trailed off, not sure how to delicately refer to her current body.

Slowly, her body relaxed. The house was still crowded with her form, but she arranged her limbs into a more comfortable position. She settled her wings along her back. Darcy stifled an envious sigh as he eyed their silken length. He looked at her face, and jumped in surprise as he met her eyes. His face colored, but he could not hide his reaction. He did not know why it startled him so much that her eyes were the same color whether dragon or human, as well as the obvious and familiar intelligence within, though at that instant her expression was still wary.

When a moment passed and she still made no sound, Darcy realized he was effectively the only one able to speak. He hastened to fill the silence.

"Er, yes, Miss Elizabeth, I know it is you, as the dragon. I saw your picture drawn in your father's book, and came to ask him about you. During the course of our… conversation, I connected several similarities between yourself as a human, and the dragon I saw before. I guessed that you were related, and your father told me of your…" he coughed and shuffled his feet. He had a feeling that it was somehow uncouth to speak of her curse.

She seemed to relax further. Her muzzle tipped downward in slight acknowledgement. She watched him expectantly. Like when she was human, Darcy found himself unable to tear his eyes from her. He vaguely remembered that he had come for a purpose and forced himself to speak again.

"I wish to thank you, for saving my life. I have no doubt that had you not pulled me from the river, kept me warm, and even infused me with magic, I would not be here today."

Miss Elizabeth—it was deeply strange to think of the dragon as the black and violet beauty that had stayed at Netherfield, but he supposed he must get used to it—ducked her head. She made a slight motion as if to bury her face under her wing, but was prevented by the smallness of the house. He got the impression that she was embarrassed by his thanks.

He had said what he had come to say, but Darcy could not bring himself to leave. His interest in her was too great, and he lingered against his better judgement.

"The first night I met you, as a human, you knew I had been trapped under the carriage. I could not figure out how you knew, but now I understand, for you were the one to free me," he said. He was dangerously close to rambling on. Miss Elizabeth rested her chin on her paws as if wearied. She gave a heavy sigh and hot breath washed over his lower legs. Her sides moved rapidly as she resumed panting. Did the night they met bother her so much?

"Please, Miss Elizabeth," he begged unwisely, "I know you can speak in the way of mages, you spoke before of talking to your father from Netherfield. Could you not give me some reply that you understand me?" The act of speaking mind to mind was an inherently intimate act. In general, it was considered unseemly for unmarried men and women to speak to each other so. Darcy was desperate to have more than an animal response, though, and he thought there was little risk to her reputation, as she was quite obviously a dragon at the moment. If anything, Darcy was the one under greater danger at the moment. It would be too easy for a dragon of her size to do him in and then dispose of the body afterwards.

There was the lightest of unfamiliar touches in his mind. He opened his thoughts to the new connection. Faintly, he heard Miss Elizabeth's voice, I do not know what you want me to say, Mr. Darcy.

His heart leapt at having this additional contact with her. To prevent her from feeling unduly pressured, he continued to speak out loud. "A healer came from London to tend me, and he said that without your infusion, I would have doubtless lost my leg."

Please do not mention it, she pleaded, I was not a hero that night, or any other. I saw that you were in need and I was able to help in a unique way. That is all I did.

"But you did save me, Miss Elizabeth," he insisted. "You saved my life, and probably my livelihood as well. You must allow me to reward you for your actions—" Foolhardy, he stepped forward, reaching out as if to lay his hand on her shoulder.

Her head jerked up as she growled at him, her spine bristling. She watched him through narrowed eyes. Darcy's muscles turned to water in sheer instinctive recognition of the angry predator before him.

I have no need of your charity, Mr. Darcy, nor will I take any offer of compensation for performing my Christian duty, she snapped in his mind, punctuating her words with a flip of her wings. He stepped back quickly. He was unsure whether it was his words or his attempt to touch her that upset her more.

"I apologize," he said quickly, "I did not mean to imply that you suffered any lack, or needed my help. I only meant to say that I am very grateful to you. I will be silent on the subject."

She lowered her head again, still watching him balefully. She began to pant heavier than before, her mouth gaping open to reveal long, sharp teeth.

He hesitated, slowly learning to respect her dragonish pride, but decided to speak anyway. "Forgive me for noticing, but you appear to be in some distress. Is there anything I might do for you?"

She studied him for a moment, and then said, It is only that it is so hot in here. I fear that as a dragon I am quite sensitive to the heat.

Darcy had not noticed the dower house being warmer than outside, but then his magic kept him comfortably insulated from the temperature. He resisted the urge to give a smug smile. "As an ice mage, I have the ability to lower the temperature in here. Would that be acceptable for you?"

I would thank you if you did, she replied reluctantly.

He reached for his magic, and let it spill freely into the air. He felt the dower house grow slightly cooler, but noticed that almost as soon as he released his magic, it was drawn to Miss Elizabeth. Her ability to absorb magic was still in great effect.

It is much stronger when I am a dragon, she explained, And I have less control over it when I am like this.

"It is no issue," he quickly confirmed, though he wondered if she received any benefit from his magic at all.

It is better in here, she said politely, but she continued to pant.

"Is there nothing else I can do?" he asked, growing uncomfortable with her obvious discomfort.

There is a bucket by the door. If it is not too much to ask of you, could you fetch water from the well to pour over my wings? That is how my sisters help me stay cool during the height of summer. I would not expect you to linger after.

Darcy found the bucket and went to fetch the water. He was somewhat troubled by her suggestion to leave. He had not intended to stay, but he found he did not want their conversation to end. Darcy returned to the dower house, taking a moment to study it from the outside, privately amazed the plain exterior could hide such a massive secret within.

He entered the house again, absurdly pleased that Miss Elizabeth was waiting for him. She spread one wing carefully. His breath caught in his throat as he eyed the smooth skin transitioning from the purest black near her head to blue and violet at the tips nearest her tail. She looked at him curiously. If he did not wish to propose to her, he needed to do a better job of hiding his reaction to her!

He hefted the bucket, and after only a little hesitation, splashed the water onto her wing. He reached out with his magic, and where the water contacted her skin, he froze it instantly to ice. His magic was not absorbed because it was so quick, and once the water was ice he did not need to maintain it with further magic.

Miss Elizabeth jerked in surprise. For a moment, he was afraid it was too cold for her. Then she sighed in obvious relief, allowing her body to relax.

That does feel good, she confirmed. It reminds me of lying in the snow.

Darcy grinned. "Then let me fetch another bucket, and I will wet your other wing."

I do not think there is enough room, she said regretfully.

"Then I will pour more water on your back, if that is permissible."

It is, thank you, she agreed.

Darcy fetched another bucketful of water quickly. His leg gave him a slight twinge at walking and standing so much, but his excitement at being of service to Miss Elizabeth helped to dull the pain. He carefully poured half the bucket over her back. The ice on her wings was already mostly melted. He was astonished to see the water steaming in places. Was she truly so warm? With the addition of water in the air, it became easier for him to work his magic. A light touch of his magic turned the floating water into snowflakes.

Elizabeth made a surprised noise, and watched the falling snow avidly. Her head darted forward for her to catch one on her tongue. He laughed at her action. She looked bashful, but a moment later was pleased when he splashed water in the air and thickened the snowfall. He put his fingers in the remaining water in the bucket. Ice rose from the bucket like living vines that trailed around his arms.

Elizabeth was fascinated by the snow and did not notice until he touched her wing with his hand, sending the ice branching out across her skin.

Oh! she exclaimed, and made a strange noise aloud, somewhere between a purr and a hum, deep in her throat. She crooned as she laid her head on her paws, her eyes closed blissfully. I like that. I am only sorry that I absorb your magic so quickly.

It was true, the ice was already melting. As far as Darcy was concerned, it was worth it to hear that soft crooning noise. He had a feeling that dragons did not always acknowledge their pleasure so vocally, and was glad to have created it in her. Nothing could entice him to leave now. Neither did Elizabeth seem inclined to remind him to leave.

"The healer, the one that came from London," he said, eager to have any conversation with her. She opened her eyes warily. "His name was Faust."

She was every bit as brilliant as he expected, for she blinked in astonishment.

Doctor Faustus? she asked.

He burst out laughing. It felt good to have such a relief, after weeks of pain and obsession. Elizabeth was taken back for a moment and then made a chortling noise that he quickly realized was dragon laughter.

Darcy felt surprisingly comfortable in her presence. He could not think of her wholly as an apex predator, nor as the young lady that had unwittingly intrigued him. Perhaps her current form was responsible for his ease, for he could not converse with a wild dragon in such a way, yet he did not feel society's expectations in talking to a single lady. Logically, he knew she was both dragon and woman, but at that moment she seemed only someone with whom he did not have to be guarded.

Thinking back over their previous conversations at Netherfield, he began to chuckle.

Miss Elizabeth tilted her head to the side in a curious expression.

What is it that amuses you, Mr. Darcy? she asked.

"I was thinking on our discussion on roads and leylines," he answered. "And I believe you owe me a conversation."

How is that? she appeared to relax, her body no longer held with such quivering tension.

"When you spoke before on Romans using dragons to build their roads, I had no notion that you had such personal experience on the matter. You were withholding the information, and allowed me to speak in ignorance."

Is that so? she gave a sly, dragonish grin.

He was momentarily startled to see so many teeth, but quickly overcame his trepidation. "It is," he declared. "Therefore, I should like to revisit the subject in light of your experience, if that is amenable to yourself."

I can always speak of old roads and leylines, she said with a chortle.

They spoke for nearly an hour afterward. Darcy overturned the bucket and sat on it to rest his leg. Periodically he raised his magic and sent more snow and ice cascading down her back and wing. He learned that she was in dragon form because she had used up much of her time as a human in caring for Miss Bennet at Netherfield.

Say what you will of that, she said with a note of defiance. I love my family and would do anything for them.

"I think it shows admirable care for your sister," he responded archly. "If I were so ill, I would hope my sister might have half so much concern over me."

You have a sister?

He paused, suddenly recalling where he was. What was he doing, speaking to this young lady with such abandon? In truth, he had nearly forgotten that she was a dragon, for many of her expressions were surprisingly human. His stomach rumbled, reminding him of the lateness of the hour. He had not come to engage her in conversation, but to thank her and lay down his interest in her. He feared he had only managed to do the opposite. Darcy had rarely felt such pleasure in talking to a young woman, even one in as different a form as she currently was.

"I do," he said, frowning slightly. "Forgive me, Miss Elizabeth, I did not mean to take up so much of your time. I fear the day grows late, and I must return now. I thank you again for the services you rendered me."

I… it was nothing, she said awkwardly. He stood, stifling a groan at the way his leg had stiffened. He could tell that she was confused, but striving not to show it.

"I wish you the best of luck, Miss Elizabeth," he said formally, then bowed and took his leave. It was far more difficult to walk out of there now than it would have been an hour ago. Despite his best efforts to crush his feelings toward her, he felt he left part of himself in the dower house as he walked away. There was a deep ache in his chest as he waited for the carriage to be brought up. He rubbed it absently on the way to Netherfield. Being in the carriage was not as bad as it usually was, for he had other problems to focus on.

Was this pain of leaving Miss Elizabeth, knowing he could not have her, the sort of love that Bingley was always preaching about? He did not know how Bingley had survived the heartache all this time. He would certainly be kinder the next time that his friend suffered a disappointment.

He arrived at Netherfield to discover that his presence had been missed. Miss Bingley was in a mood for having been denied his company all day. Frankly, he did not care. Bingley himself showed unusual restraint in not asking where Darcy had been. As soon as they were alone, though, Bingley pounced on him.

"You went to see Miss Elizabeth!" Bingley exclaimed without preamble.

"I went to see Mr. Bennet," Darcy corrected.

"You were at Longbourn. You saw Miss Elizabeth there," Bingley insisted.

"I did," he agreed, not sure why Bingley thought it important.

"And?"

"And what?" Darcy asked in irritation.

"And what happened?" Bingley demanded.

"We spoke."

"You talked to Miss Elizabeth?"

"Yes, and she talked back to me. I fail to see your interest in this."

"How long were you talking?"

"Almost an hour."

Bingley gave a low whistle.

"What now?" Darcy demanded.

"That is a new record for you, Darcy! You spoke an hour with a lady without scaring her off."

Darcy thought of Miss Elizabeth in her dragon form, and smirked at the idea of her being frightened of anything.

"What was that look right now? What happened while you were talking to Miss Elizabeth? Did you frighten her after all?"

Darcy scowled. "I am not that bad… am I?"

Bingley nodded solemnly. "The look you gave me now, my friend, was positively curdling."

"I am not trying to impress you. I would not look at a lady that way."

"Then you admit you are trying to impress her?" Bingley asked.

Darcy clenched his jaw. "No, I am not." The subject of Miss Elizabeth was increasingly painful to him.

Bingley stared at him in astonishment.

Darcy sighed. "Say what you are thinking so I can have peace."

"You are an ass, Darcy."

He gave Bingley a cold glare. "Excuse me?"

"You spoke with the lady for an extended period of time. In my experience, it is unprecedented that you found a female you can tolerate for so long. And yet you have no intention of wooing her? Did you even make plans to see her again?"

"I did not."

Bingley shook his head.

"I raised no expectations in her," Darcy said defensively. "She is not anticipating a return in my addresses." Uncomfortably he remembered her look of hurt confusion as he took his leave.

"Do you have any intention of ever marrying?"

"Of course!"

"Do you? Because you will not have any lady of the ton—" Bingley began ticking off points on his finger.

"I have yet to find one I can stomach any length of time," Darcy said sharply.

"You will not marry your cousin—"

"She is sickly!"

"You will not marry my sister, not that I blame you there—"

Darcy only glared, wondering when Bingley would get to his point.

"And the only time you find a young lady that you can tolerate, you immediately reject her, probably because of some ridiculous, and may I add pompous, notion of suitability!"

"Are you done?" Darcy asked shortly.

Bingley shook his head. "You are an ass!" He repeated, then paused. "Now I am done."

"Good, because I am done with this conversation. Good night, Bingley." Darcy rose stiffly and made his way to his room.

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Was the aftermath of the game what you expected? And what's with Bingley? Comments