Chapter 8
D
arcy hurried down to the sheep barn. Warm sunbeams caressed his face, hinting to what might be an unusually warm afternoon to come. Wellsbey, the shepherding drake had sent him word to come immediately. Perhaps he had a solution to Pemberley’s—and Darcy’s—latest crisis.
Her old dog had wandered off and not returned. Nearly blind and deaf, it was not hard to believe it had got lost. The creature had been missing for three days now, and the poor drakling was nearly sick with worry about her pet.
Why had Wellsbey sent the message via tatzelwurm? Any other dragon could have brought him a complete message, more than just “Come now.” But not a tatzelwurm. No, every last one was positively flighty—all the spring-hopping about must addle their brains. What a bizarre mode of locomotion.
Wellsbey met him at the open barn door. Standing on all fours, he stood waist high to Darcy, lean and lanky in leg and tail. His hide was dirt brown, making it difficult to tell where the scales ended and the dust and bits of hay began. Behind his head, he sported a hood that, when folded, hung down behind his head like a hound’s long ears. Once one got accustomed to seeing him among the sheep dogs, his canine qualities became very apparent. Not the least of which was his personality, easy going and desiring to please—in a draconic sort of way, of course.
“Have you found the old hound?” Darcy paused to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim barn. There was something very pleasing about the scent of a barn filled with clean hay.
“Not yet, but there is some good news in that regard.” His voice was low and raspy, like a hound’s bark. “One of the barn wyrms heard a pair of wild fairy dragons chittering something about a loose hound. I have him looking in that direction now.”
Darcy groaned and dragged his hand down his face.
“Do not despair. It was one of the older wyrms, a dependable one.”
“Hardly a word applied to tatzelwurms or fairy dragons.”
Wellsbey’s laugh was more yip than anything else. “Indeed, that is true. But there are a few here and there who are less addlepated than the rest. Still, I also asked Walker to make a search of the area.”
If the creature was to be found, Walker would be the one to do it. A little of the tension left his shoulders.
Wellsbey beckoned him to a pen in the corner. A dozen mewling puppies, splotched with white, black, and brown, and their mothers occupied the pen heaped with hay.
“You asked for a puppy. I think I have found the right one.” Wellsbey scrambled over the edge of the pen and crouched in the corner. “Not weaned yet, but you can pick them out early. See.”
Fully half the pups skirted away. That was to be expected. Most dogs instinctively avoided dragons. The bitches having grown up with Wellsbey, ignored him. The remaining pups did the same, continuing to tumble with one another across the hay. One though, a nearly white pup with a half brown, half white face bounced up to him.
He extended a paw to the pup which licked it and bounded closer. It pressed in close to Wellsbey and allowed the drake to pick it up in his mouth by the scruff. Wellsbey dropped it in Darcy’s waiting hands.
“What a handsome little fellow.” The puppy licked Darcy’s face, wriggling and squirming.
“And a very calm one, with no aversions to dragons.” Wellsbey climbed out of the pen. “That temperament seems well-suited for your needs.”
And if Pemberley did not take to it, Georgiana certainly would.
One of the bitches ambled to the edge of the pen and jumped up on her back legs to peer at them. She whined softly.
Darcy returned the puppy to her, and she carried it back to the rest, wagging her tail. “How long until it can be introduced to Pemberley?”
“I should think within a fortnight. In a month complete, mayhap a bit less, it should be able to go live with her.”
“I am grateful—”
The barn door flew open and slammed against the wall, amidst loud cawing and flapping of wings.
Darcy jumped to his feet. Wellsbey’s hood extended and his body puffed up.
“You are needed immediately, Darcy! Immediately!” Cait landed on the floor near his feet, her wings beating up a small storm of hay.
He bit the sarcasm off the end of his tongue. She had landed on the barn floor. She never landed on the floor and risked damage to her spectacular tail feathers.
“What happened?”
“Georgiana insists you come. Pemberley is inconsolable!” Cait launched and sped out of the barn.
“Pray excuse me.” He bowed towards Wellsbey and dashed out.
What could possibly have happened? Georgiana had gone to Pemberley with the intention of helping her write yet another letter to Miss Elizabeth. Both were becoming frustrated that none of their letters had been answered.
Was that the problem? Miss Elizabeth had not written yet?
It was so utterly unlike her, though. Was it possible she carried some grudge against him? Even if she did, she surely would not take it out against Pemberley. Perhaps something was wrong. Perhaps the letters had not gotten to her. Perhaps she was sick or injured. Perhaps Longbourn had …
What was that commotion? Cait’s shrill scolding tones and the grumble could only be Rosings. Pemberley could not yet achieve that depth of tone. Two female voices as well. One was Georgiana’s, the other … bloody hell and damnation!
He sprinted the last hundred yards to the cavern.
“Brother!” Georgiana met him at the opening panting, her face tear-streaked.
He held her arms until she caught her breath.
“Please, please, stop them. You must. No one is listening to me. I do not know what to do.”
He steadied her on her feet and ran into the lair.
Anne stood near Pemberley’s nest, hands on hips, a posture so much like her mother, Darcy almost mistook her for Aunt Catherine. But Aunt Catherine would never use such uncontrolled tones. Even when she lost her temper, she was still elegant and ladylike about it.
Just behind her, Rosings shuffled from one side of the cavern to the other, pacing as it were, though the fluttering of wings and a lashing of tail gave it quite a different character all together.
“You see, I told you. Your foolishness would bring him here, and now you may see how you have displeased your Keeper.” Anne wagged an angry finger toward Pemberley.
“Anne!” Darcy ran past her to Pemberley.
She ducked her head into her nest and covered it with her wings. Her color was off—an odd grey-red, and she trembled.
He climbed into the nest with her. “What has she told you? What is wrong?” He glared at Anne over the edge of the nest.
Pemberley’s hide sported pale and flakey patches—how could she have changed so much in just three days?
“Nothing is wrong except that you have spoiled her, and I mean to put an end to it. You will both thank me for it.” Anne crossed her arms and nodded sharply.
Darcy wrapped his arms around Pemberley and pulled her a little closer. “And Rosings, you have condoned this behavior?”
The elder firedrake shook her head in great sweeping swoops of her long neck. “Do not implicate me in any of this … this … madness! The young one came sweeping in like the Lady herself, but without nearly so much sense—”
Anne whirled on Rosings.
Darcy gasped and covered Pemberley’s eyes.
Rosings barely constrained her pouncing instinct. She pulled herself up short just feet from Anne.
The fool truly knew nothing about dragons. Had she been in the presence of an unfamiliar one, she might well be dead.
“Did you just call me senseless? How dare you? Have you forgotten to whom you are speaking?” Anne shrieked.
“Do not be afraid. I am not upset with you,” Darcy whispered in Pemberley’s ear. “I will remove her and then we may talk.” He jumped out of the nest and stormed towards Anne.
“You see, Darcy will defend me!”
“Hardly.” He passed Anne to stand between her and Rosings. “It is you who has forgotten to whom you are speaking. You do realize that Rosings could have killed you—”
“She is a civilized beast. She would never harm me.”
“Not purposefully, I am sure. But if you provoke her prey instincts, she cannot be held responsible for her behavior. Or have you forgotten that clause in the Accords?”
Anne rolled her eyes. “Pish-posh! You insult her to suggest she is so base as to be controlled by instinct.”
“What are you doing here anyway? You have not been out of your room for days. A sick headache, I have been told.”
“I thought I would surprise you by coming here and resolving this little problem with your dragon.” She smiled beatifically.
He gripped his hands behind his back lest he shake her. “What have you done?”
“What should have been done from the beginning. You know nothing about raising young things. I sent off that ridiculous, unhygienic dog. No one keeps a dog with a baby! Really! And I have begun instructing Pemberley in proper decorum.”
“Pemberley has not eaten in three days,” Rosings muttered.
“You sent her dog away? How dare you!” He turned to Rosings. “Why did you not tell me she had been coming here for three days?”
“It is her right as junior Keeper.” Rosings lip curled back and revealed her fangs.
Darcy stomped toward Anne, stopping toe to toe, nose to nose with her. “Allow me to make one thing utterly and completely clear to you. There is absolutely no way I would allow you to become Friend to even a fairy dragon, much less Keeper to Pemberley.”
She patted Darcy’s shoulder. “Mama assured me once you saw how much good I could do for Pemberley, all your objections to our marriage would be over.”
“She sent you here?” He clenched his fists until they shook.
“Not precisely. It seemed the obvious thing to do.” How dare she try batting her eyes at him now!
“Get out. Get out! You are not welcome near Pemberley ever again. I give her leave to consider you a threat should you ever approach her in the future. Do not be surprised if she bites you.”
“You cannot be serious!”
Rosings turned her back and muttered, “I’d like to bite her, too.”
Anne stalked toward Rosings. “What did you just say?”
That shriek might work with the servants, but Rosings ignored her and lay full length on the stone floor, covering her ears with her forepaws.
Darcy grabbed Anne by the elbow and propelled her out of the cavern. “Return to the house, and tell your mother everything that has just transpired. She will know what to tell you.” His father’s glare proved sufficient to send Anne scampering away.
Georgiana rushed to his side, and they hurried back to Pemberley.
Her head was propped up on the edge of the nest. She whined like an injured hound.
“Tell me what is wrong.” He sat on the edge of the nest and pulled her head into his lap.
“Want dog. Miss dog. She not like her. She terrible. She say she will be my Keeper—”
“I promise you; she will never be your Keeper. Never.” He stroked Pemberley’s head.
How dry and rough her scales had become. Her color was even more faded along the crest of her head.
“Why her not write? I want her.” She thumped her tail.
Georgiana stroked her neck. “Shall we write another letter?”
“Why? Her not answer.”
“Sometimes letters take time to be delivered. Perhaps she is busy with Dragon Keeping?” Georgiana shrugged and looked at him as though he might have an answer.
“Longbourn no like me. He not let her write?”
“I do not know. I had not considered the possibility.” Darcy stroked his chin. “I am sure you will have a letter from her soon.”
“No! She not like me anymore.”
He patted her neck. “You are tired and hungry. You must eat something, then we will talk.”
“No want.” She slid her head off his lap and tucked it under her wing. She whipped her tail across the nest.
“Brother look!” Georgiana gasped.
Dark streaks lined the nest. Blood!
“Please, still your tail. Let me see.” He lifted her tail and squinted in the meager light.
The underside of her tail was lined with blisters, many broken and bleeding.
Georgiana leaned into his ear. “Miss Elizabeth wrote of those too. She said dragons are apt to injure their tails when they are upset. They lash their tails and cause the blisters. She recommends a salve for it. Shall I make some?”
“Yes, yes, do. I will stay with her.”
Georgiana hurried off.
Walker swooped in and beckoned Darcy to him.
“I will be right back.” He jogged toward the cavern entrance and hunkered down near Walker.
“I have good news. I found the hound and two of the tatzelwurms are bringing it to the barn. I do not think it has eaten for days. I believe some food and water and perhaps some rest shall set it to rights.”
“I can hardly imagine more welcome news.”
“You do realize, it would still be far better if Lady Elizabeth were here.”
“I hardly see how that can happen.” He rubbed his eyes with thumb and forefinger. It was not as though the thought had not already occurred to him.
“Either you are being facetious or stupid. With you it can be difficult to tell.”
Darcy grumbled under his breath.
“You know she would do anything for Pemberley. If you were to write asking for her to come—”
“I know you cannot appreciate the human conventions that prevent me from doing so. If she would simply answer Georgiana’s letters, then we might extend an invitation. But until then, propriety requires—”
“Propriety be hanged. You have a drakling that has made herself sick missing Lady Elizabeth. She has not eaten in days because of Anne’s ill-conceived interventions, and now she has torn her tail into a bloody mess because of it all. Just how much worse are you going to permit this to get before you relinquish your pride and seek out the help you know you need?”
Darcy sat back on his haunches. “How am I to do that?”
Walker smiled a slightly eerie cockatrice smile. “That is all I needed to hear. I will go to Meryton myself and talk with her. No letters necessary. Rosings and I have talked, and she has extended an invitation herself. We both know Miss Elizabeth is unlikely to ignore a draconic invitation. With any good luck, I shall have her here in a se’nnight.”
Darcy swallowed hard. A se’nnight. That was too long and yet not long at all. She would be there with him again, and everything would be returned to rights.
For Pemberley.
And maybe for him, too.
“Have I your approval?”
“Yes, go. Pray though, take a moment and give Cait a take-leave before you fly off. She has complied with Aunt Catherine’s requests and deserves your courtesy.”
Walker chittered something under his breath in dragon tongue. “Fine.”
He flew off, and Darcy returned to cradle Pemberley’s head in his lap. “It will be well very soon, little one. It will be well.”
“I want her.”
“So do I.”
∞∞∞
The Forster’s carriage paused to allow traffic to pass.
“You never told me your ultimate destination. Perhaps it is time to instruct the driver?” Mr. Wickham asked.
April flapped and stomped on Elizabeth’s shoulder. “Do not tell him. I do not trust him.”
“After the service he has offered us, so willingly—why do you persist in your distrust?” She whispered and laid her hand on April’s back.
“Because I am not charmed by an easy smile and attractive features.” She nipped Elizabeth’s ear, lightly, but enough to sting. “You did not tell Mary where you were going. Why should you tell him?”
She did have an excellent point. Mary would be heartbroken if she trusted Wickham with what she did not trust her own sister. And April was likely to make sure Mary knew.
“I would like to go to the place where St. Mary Hill Road and Tower Street meet.” Halfway between the Gardiners’ home and the offices of the Blue Order, she could reach either by an easy walk.
“What is there for you?” Mr. Wickham did look vaguely hungry for more information, but then who would not?
“Pray allow me my privacy, sir. I do not wish to discuss the matter.” Or rather her dragon did not.
“I am wounded that you do not trust me. Have I not been a good friend to you?”
April pecked at her ear. That one probably drew blood.
“Indeed, you have, sir, and I am deeply indebted to you for your assistance. However, I must insist, press me no further on the matter.”
His expression shifted several times, but his easy smile returned. “Of course, I would never intrude upon a lady’s privacy. Forgive me. Consider it a mark of my regard that I am concerned for your safety.”
“His regard you can do without.” April snorted. “As for your safety, I still question that.”
“You are very good, sir, and I deeply appreciate all you have done on my behalf. I pray you, though, make no mention of my travel to anyone.”
He pressed his hand to his chest, and his shoulders sagged a little. “You have had my promise on that matter. I am wounded that you would even think it necessary to say more.”
“Forgive me, sir. I have no wish to cause you pain when you have been so very good to me.” She bit her lip.
April growled.
“Pray do not worry for my feelings. I merely feel responsible for your well-being. It would be a constant weight on my mind if I were not certain you were safely delivered to your destination.”
“Can you not see he is trying to persuade you as surely as that voice from the cellars was? If he does not stop, I will scratch his eyes out!”
She scooped April up and cupped her hands over her. “Be assured, I know this part of London quite well, and there is nothing to be concerned for. I fear my little friend is becoming much agitated by the carriage. It would be best for us to depart as soon as possible.”
He sighed and rapped the roof. The carriage slowed, and Mr. Wickham gave the driver instructions. “The driver says we should be there in less than a quarter of an hour.”
“None too soon.” April picked her way back up Elizabeth’s shoulder and ducked into the folds of her hood.
The familiar edifices along Lyme Street as they turned on to Fenchurch Street seemed to soothe some of April’s agitation. It was nice to be surrounded by the familiar once again. The coach slowed and stopped.
“Are you certain I cannot take you farther?” Mr. Wickham opened the door and stepped out.
“I thank you for everything. I shall be very well from here.” She picked up her carpet bag.
He handed her out and climbed back into the coach.
“Walk in the wrong direction until he is out of sight.” April pressed tight against Elizabeth’s neck.
If that would quell the fairy dragon’s fears, then so be it. It could hardly hurt her to stretch her legs a bit before setting out for the Gardiners’.
The streets were crowded, as London nearly always was, but the air had a cool, crisp note, bracing and refreshing after the confines of the coach. Dodging hurried pedestrians not looking where they were going was almost fun.
April tapped the back of her head twice. “They are gone now. You can go on to Gracechurch Street.”
“I think I know how a carriage driver feels now.” Elizabeth sidestepped a mother and children and turned to go back in the direction she had come.
“You would rather have me fly on my own? I am happy to do so, you know.” She flapped her wings.
“This is hardly a safe place for you to fly, and you know it. There are enough birds of prey here to whom you look like a tasty blue snack. Best keep covered until we reach the safety of the house.”
April chirruped and pulled the green hood over her until only the tip of her beaky snout remained visible. One mention of birds of prey was usually enough to quell all arguments. She dreaded them like nothing else, even cats.
Elizabeth shifted her carpet bag to the other hand, gathered her skirts, and picked her way across the dirty street. Even if there had been a street sweeper available, she could have hardly justified paying him. Best reserve her limited funds for what was truly essential. And who knew what that would be?
Her stomach lurched as she dodged a group of children dancing around a peddler’s cart. She had never walked alone beyond the borders of Longbourn. Even in Meryton, she always had one of her sisters or a maid with her. But now, she was alone, completely alone.
Worse still, she knew no dragons to call upon here. How strange and insecure it felt to be without their constant and reassuring presence. Certainly, there were dragons in London, but she did not know them. They were not her friends. Not yet. Perhaps if she stayed long enough, though, she would come to know them. She had met many dragons, major and minor, traveling with Papa and became friendly with most of them. These could not be too different, could they?
She turned the corner to Gracechurch Street. The Gardiner house was at the center of the street, the finest, most prominent one. A bright blue door, distinctive iron railings with swirls in the vague shape of dragon scales, and the steps freshly swept. How many times had she visited there? Always it had been a warm, welcoming place.
Would it be so now?
There would be no way to know until she asked. She drew a deep breath and pulled her shoulders back. If she could not feel confident, at least she could look the part.
She marched up the stairs and rapped the brass, dragon claw knocker against the freshly painted door.
The door opened to reveal the Gardiners’ housekeeper. Tall and positively gaunt, her sharp nose and chin always gave her a severe expression even when she smiled. She jumped back half a step and blinked rapidly. “Miss Elizabeth? I was not told you were expected.”
“Good day, Mrs. Hart. Indeed, I am not expected.”
Mrs. Hart gaped a moment, then seemed to regain her senses. “Do come in. I am certain the mistress will be very happy to see you.”
The door closed behind her, and April poked her head from her hood.
“And the little blue one, too! We have a little red one what looks just like her now, you know.” Mrs. Hart smiled. She extended a finger to ask permission to scratch April under the chin.
Though she looked perpetually irate, the housekeeper and the fairy dragon had a long and cordial relationship. April favored anyone who would ply her with honey, and Mrs. Hart delighted in the fairy dragon’s soporific song.
Ladylike footsteps descended the broad marble stairs. “Lizzy?”
“She just came to the door, madam. I was on my way to get you.”
“Of course, of course. Lizzy, where is your father?” Aunt Gardiner caught her hands, and Phoenix launched from her shoulder to join April in her hood.
She swallowed hard and turned away from Aunt’s seeking gaze. “He is not here.”
“Is he off to the Order’s offices? Should we expect him for dinner?”
“He is not in London.”
“Then your sisters, perhaps? Is your carriage pulling around to the mews? Shall I notify the grooms?”
“No, I have come on my own.”
Aunt gasped and caught her by the elbow. “Come, we must talk. Mrs. Hart, see that Lizzy’s room is made up for her.”
The housekeeper curtsied and scurried away. Aunt led her to her private sitting room and closed the door.
The small room at the back of the house looked out over the back garden. Flowered paper hangings covered the walls, a close match for the dainty pillows on the chairs around the low table. Neat, feminine, and functional—everything in the room reflected Aunt Gardiner.
Elizabeth sat near the window. “If Uncle is at home, you may want to bring him in as well. It might save repeating the entire story.”
“I will be back in a moment.”
Elizabeth unfastened her cloak. Phoenix and April flitted to a fairy dragon-sized perch—an elegant wrought iron affair painted white—on the tea table.
Phoenix fluffed his feathers, making himself as big as he could. Did he even realize that he was barely more than half April’s size?
“Was Longbourn a bully again? I expect I need to have a conversation with him.” He snorted and narrowed his eyes. It was probably meant to be a threatening expression, but he looked too much like little Samuel.
He would be offended if she laughed, so she held her breath and bit her lower lip.
“You will hear it all soon enough, my fiery little friend.” She soothed the ruffled feathers along his back. “How do you find London?”
Rustle swooped in through the open window. “He would find it much more appealing if he were not required to always have my company whilst leaving the house without the Gardiners.”
“You would fly in London alone?” April gasped.
Phoenix puffed out his chest. “Of course, there is nothing to fear.”
“You had best learn that the skies here are not safe. You would cause the family great grief if you were made a snack by some marauder,” April chittered.
“Perhaps he will listen to you. He ignores me.” Rustle preened his wing.
“You had best listen to him.” April hopped closer and pecked his needle-like beak.
Elizabeth coaxed him to her finger. “You are such a brave little thing. But you must remember that if something happens to you, you will not be here to protect the children or Mrs. Gardiner. It behooves you to listen to your elders. You may be big and strong, but you have not their experience and wisdom. Remember, listening to their wisdom is your best teacher. Is that not the prime tenet of the young dragon’s code?”
He huffed a sound that she would have thought required fleshy lips to make. “I am no fool.”
“I did not say you were. By listening to them, you may prove you are not.”
Fairy dragons were decidedly cute when they glared whilst pouffed and fluffy. No wonder few Dragon Friends took them seriously or even tried.
The door flung open and banged against the wall.
Uncle Gardiner stormed in. “Lizzy! Maddie tells me you are here alone. Pray tell, what has happened?”
Aunt followed him in, and they sat on either side of her.
The tale should not have been so difficult to tell. It was just a set of facts—cold, hard facts. But those facts lodged in her throat, rasping and tearing as she struggled to divulge them.
“Of course, you may stay with us!” Aunt Gardiner covered her hands with hers.
“As long as may be necessary.” Uncle laid a heavy hand on her shoulder.
Good news, even very welcome good news, should not make her cry. Nor should it leave her sobbing and gasping for breath.
But it did.
The fairy dragons flew to her shoulders, drying her tears in their fluff. Rustle perched on the back of her chair and extended his wings over her. Dear soul, every bit as protective as her aunt and uncle.
“I only wish you could have sent us word, let me come for you.” Uncle worried his hands together. “I dread to think what could have happened alone on the road with that Wickham fellow. I can only imagine how desperate you must have been to have taken such a risk to come to us.”
“He was everything gracious and gentlemanly. Truly.”
Aunt clucked her tongue. “I am grateful for the service he rendered you to be sure, but neither of those words is an apt description of the man. Now is hardly the time for that discussion, though.”
“We must visit the Blue Order as soon as possible, tomorrow if I have my druthers. A formal complaint must be filed.”
“Surely nothing about Longbourn can be important enough to bother the Order. He is only a country wyvern, without title or influence.” Elizabeth studied her hands.
“But your father is Historian of the Order, and that alone makes all matters pertaining to Longbourn significant. Even if that were not the case though, it seems yours will be the first case to test the new laws, and thus precedence-setting. And that is very, very significant.”
∞∞∞
The next morning, Aunt Gardiner brought several dresses to Elizabeth’s room, a snug, tidy little space on the same floor as the children’s rooms. Though she was hardly the only one who stayed there, Aunt included touches that were just for her: a looking glass, a nesting basket for April, a favorite coverlet, embroidered in lavender flowers. It felt almost like home.
“I cannot imagine you were able to pack very much in just your carpet bag. Hopefully some or even all of these will fit you. It is so much easier to face people when one feels herself dressed adequate to the occasion.”
Elizabeth picked out a deep blue gown and held it against her chest. Each was well made and fashionable but not presumptuous, just like Aunt.
“I have not been able to wear that gown since Samuel was born. Let me help you put it on.”
Elizabeth twirled in front of the mirror. Though a few small alterations would be necessary to perfect the fit, she could certainly wear it as it was.
“I had thought to have it remade, but it fits you so well, you must have it. These others should fit you as well. I insist on you having them. You should wear the blue one today.”
It was a lovely gown, far nicer than anything than she had packed with her and more fitting for an audience with the Secretary of the Order.
“Are you nervous, dear?” Aunt helped her pin up her hair.
“I like to think my courage rises to meet the occasion, but this, this is entirely different. I know you and Uncle are convinced that this is the right and necessary step to take, but I am still uncertain.”
Aunt sat on the edge of the bed and patted the coverlet. Elizabeth sat beside her. “I understand. You have never faced such a thing before, and it could well be as life-changing as … a marriage would be.”
Elizabeth dug her nails into her palm. “No matter what, there is no pleasing outcome. I hate the thought of Papa facing censure by the Order. I admit I am a little less concerned about Longbourn. He is unlikely to feel anything deeply. What if Papa is asked to step down as Historian? The humiliation might kill him.”
And if that happened, Collins would surely throw Mama and her sisters into the hedgerows. Longbourn would not be properly tended, and he would no doubt take that out on Collins by decimating the herds, which could lead to the shepherds discovering the dragon—
Aunt patted her hand. “I can assure you; he will not be asked to step down. If for no other reason than there is no one waiting in the wings to take over the office. It takes a special disposition and set of skills to manage that responsibility, and few seek it. Very few. And if he is reprimanded, he will by no means be the first to whom it has happened, nor would he be the last. He might be disgruntled, but hardly more, though he would be apt to try and ply you with guilt. It is an excellent way to gain your capitulation.”
No doubt he would look at her, his blue eyes wide with hurt and shame, and ask her why she would bring such ignominy upon her father and her dragon. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth and sniffled. “Is there truly no other way?”
“To convince your father and Longbourn that you are not obligated to marry Collins? No. Come now, no sense in delaying any further. Your uncle is waiting downstairs.”
She wrapped her cloak over her shoulders, and April took her spot in the hood.
Uncle offered her his arm as they stepped out into the crisp morning air. How odd, the one day where the typical London fog would have been fitting, even comforting, it was bright and clear. Fickle, perverse weather.
“We have two appointments at the Order, the first with Baron Chudleigh, Secretary of the Order. I shall present the complaint on your behalf. According to the rules, you could present it yourself, but Lord Chudleigh is brusque and …”
“I am not sure my courage is sufficient to this either.”
“There is no shame is allowing a bigger dragon to fight a battle for you.” April nodded her approval.
“I am honored to be considered among dragonkind.” Uncle chuckled, bowing slightly from his shoulders toward April.
Elizabeth stroked April’s head. “Tell me about Lord Chudleigh’s dragon. I expect I will entertain her whilst you speak with him. She is an amphithere, is she not?”
“Barwines Chudleigh, and her reputation precedes her. Rustle calls her ‘Bustle and Wind Chudleigh.’”
April snickered.
“That is why he has not joined us today?”
“The nickname got back to the Barwines. She has threatened to see his wings clipped for the insult.” Uncle winked at April.
“Well, that is a bit cranky. But amphitheres are known for their vanity. They do not accept insults graciously.”
“No, they do not. But Barwines Chudleigh has progressed from cranky to thoroughly grouchy. Many have been avoiding her recently. Still though, the story of Pemberley’s hatching has intrigued her, and she wants to meet you.”
“An invitation I will gladly accept. I will take a cranky dragon over the Secretary of the Order at any time.”
He patted her hand. “You are a unique young woman, my dear. I know of no one else who would say such a thing. In any case, you will enjoy our second appointment much more. I will present you to Sir Edward Dressler, the Lord Physician of Dragons. He has expressed a great interest in your commonplace books and, of course, in Pemberley’s hatching. Though a man of science, his disposition is far more open and pleasing than Lord Chudleigh’s.”
“And his dragon?”
“That is what you would ask.” Uncle Gardiner laughed. “He is Keeper to a rather impressive blue pa snake, Castordale. An even-keeled fellow if ever I have met one. I rather like him.”
“Then I shall look forward to that introduction very much.”
Uncle smiled, but the edges of his eyes did not crinkle. He knew she was saying the right things simply because they were the right things. Sometimes being known so well was truly a mixed blessing.
But what else was there to do? Nothing would change the creeping dread that shadowed her as Longbourn’s wings had … She shuddered.
“Lizzy?”
“Just a bit of a chill. There is a nip in the breeze now.” She hated to lie.
No more of those unhelpful thoughts. None of these dragons would be so ill-mannered as to treat her that way. Certainly not on a first meeting, with their Keepers in sight.
Longbourn’s petulance might have stolen a great deal from her, but it would not steal her equanimity around dragons. That was under her control, and he would not have it from her. Today she would prove that. She drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders.
The Hall of the Blue Order rose up before them, a relatively nondescript white building of five stories, with fine iron railings, many windows, and double doors painted the Order’s signature blue. It blended into the surroundings and was easy to ignore. What made it truly impressive was the labyrinth of tunnels underneath the building.
The cellars, multiple levels of them, had been dug out particularly with dragons in mind. The building extended farther underground than it did above. A myriad of tunnels that ran under the whole of London, connecting many of the great structures and houses, joined at the Hall of the Blue Order, at the Great Court, on the deepest subterranean level.
The Great Court hosted all manner of Order events, both social and judicial. It was the one place where major dragons and Keepers could come together in large numbers with the dragon-deaf populace left none the wiser.
It had been nearly five years since she had been there last. The year she turned sixteen, Papa had brought her for the Keepers’ Cotillion where the dragon-hearing daughters of the Order made their come out into Dragon Keeping society. It had been so difficult not to tell her sisters of the event. It was the sort of affair Lydia would have adored. The most spectacular ball she had ever—or probably would ever—attend.
Even then though, Papa had made it clear to all the young men who asked her to dance, that she was expected to marry the heir of the estate. None asked her to dance a second time. It was almost as humiliating as Darcy’s remarks at the Meryton Assembly.
Her cheeks burned. Those were not helpful thoughts either.
Uncle Gardiner rapped at the door. A somber, blue-coated butler opened the door. His shoulders seemed to fill the entire doorway, so formidable no undesirables would be admitted. Uncle presented his signet ring and she the one on her chatelaine, and they were ushered inside.
White marble lined the floor and the grand, sweeping staircase. The oak railing was carved in the form of large wyrms. A minor dragon graced each spindle. The carving of the fairy dragons was so realistic that April left Elizabeth’s hood to investigate.
A blue-liveried footman greeted them.
“Lord Chudleigh is expecting us: Mr. Gardiner, Miss Bennet, and April.” Uncle Gardiner handed him a blue bordered card.
Uncle was carrying Blue Order cards now? Why had Papa not told her that Uncle had been given “Honored Friend” status? That was something worth celebrating.
“When?” she whispered.
He leaned to her ear. “After I found a way to supply a favorite treat amongst the wyrm-type dragons. They are incredibly fond of a certain beetle from India. One can go far catering to dragon bellies. Phoenix is quite fond of them, too.”
“This way, please.” The footman led them to a locked door that opened on another staircase, equally grand, sweeping down into the cellars.
They stopped one level down. Narrow window slits, covered in frosted glass, lined the edges of the broad corridor. A row of polished brass mirrors below magnified the light. Just above street level, they let in enough light during the day that candles were not needed in the hall. How much polishing was required to keep those mirrors bright?
Their steps echoed in the tiled hall. A minor drake wearing a livery badge scurried past, a satchel strapped to his back.
They stopped at an imposing door, carved with the signet of the Secretary of the Order. Carefully carved agates were inlaid in the dragon’s eyes, giving them an eerie, lifelike quality.
The footman announced them, and they stepped inside, pausing a moment for their eyes to adjust to the dim light.
Half a dozen mirrored wall sconces lined the perimeter of the office, with several more candelabras around the desk. Dragon musk mixed with the bacon-y smell of burning tallow hung in the air. At the back of the room, a roughhewn tunnel entrance seemed to suck away a great deal of the light. Of course, it was just an illusion, but still, the slight breeze coming from the tunnel exacerbated the sense. Shelves of official-looking tomes and several globes lined two walls whilst a carved mural bearing the title plaque: Dragons of the World
stretched across the remaining wall.
Some of those dragons Elizabeth had never heard of, let alone seen. Perhaps he would allow her to examine it further.
“Gardiner.” Lord Chudleigh rose.
His name sounded like it should belong to someone short and stout; he was anything but. Tall, and slender, almost willowy in his movements, he approached, official blue robes fluttering in the breeze behind him. On his watch fob he wore a trio of amphithere feathers, tips dipped in gold.
“May I present my niece, Miss Bennet, Keeper to Laird Longbourn and Friend to April.” Uncle gestured toward her.
She curtsied deep enough to touch her knee to the cold stone floor.
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Bennet.” Lord Chudleigh’s voice was softer that she had expected, not the voice of authority one usually expected with such a role.
“Thank you, sir. I am honored to be recognized by one an amphithere holds in such regard.”
He touched his watch fob. “They do not part easily with their feathers, do they?”
“No, we do not.” A large dragon slithered from the shadows, scales rasping against the stone.
The amphithere rose up on her serpentine tail, head just above Lord Chudleigh’s. Her body was long and slender—elegant was the best word—covered in striking jade green scales. With a rustle of feathers, she unfolded her wings—her show of dominance. They extended three quarters the width of the room, covered with iridescent, multicolored feathers. The feathers continued along her shoulders and up her head, giving the impression of a woman’s elaborate headdress. Bright, intelligent blue eyes sparkled in the candlelight, examining, judging them.
“I would be introduced to that one.” Her voice was almost a hiss. She pointed a wingtip at Elizabeth.
“Barwines Chudleigh, may I present my niece, Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
Elizabeth gripped the edges of her cloak and brought them up to cover her as she curtsied deep and dipped her head toward the floor. Beside her, April covered herself with her wings and touched her head to the floor.
The amphithere slithered toward her and tapped the back of her head with the end of her tail. Had she been displeased—and not bound by the Pendragon Accords—it could have been a killing blow.
“This one will do. She understandsss how to properly presssent herself. The tiny one, too.” She touched April with the tip of her forked tongue.
“I am honored by your recognition.” Elizabeth rose slowly, keeping her head down.
“I have heard much about you. Bedford holds you in high regard ssstill.”
“I am grateful to have been able to serve him.”
“Come with me. Let the men sssort out their affairsss. I would sssee to you myself. I wish to hear more about this wild hatchling that managed to imprint.” She pointed with her wing to a cavern beyond the office.
Uncle nodded, and Elizabeth followed the amphithere into the cavern.
Along the walls, hollows contained candles and mirrors, just enough light to permit her to see the graceful swish and sway of the dragon’s lithe body. The tunnel opened up into a smallish cavity on the right.
A large pile of silk pillows littered with downy dragon under-feathers lined one wall. Chudleigh—the name hardly fit the dragon any better than it did the man—curled up on the pillows and reclined against the wall. She looked every bit like a grand lady taking an audience in her dressing room. She tasted the air with her long, forked tongue, revealing the tips of her fangs.
Amphithere venom was known for its healing qualities. She probably did not offer it up easily.
“Ssso, Miss Bennet, impresss me.”
“Pray excuse me, Barwines. I do not have the pleasure of understanding you.”
“You are the daughter of the Order’s Hissstorian and have seen a wild-hatched dragon imprint. Impresss me with your dragon prowesss.”
“She means to trick you,” April whispered.
“Hold your peace, tiny one. I will not hesitate to dismisss you from my presence. Your kind is more nuisance than anything else.”
“I cannot imagine there is anything about me that you would find impressive. You are far more interesting. I imagine that your responsibilities to your Keep and to the Order would be most demanding, perhaps even overwhelming at times.”
Chudleigh sighed, flicking the tip of her tail and laying back into her pillows. “You would be sssurprised at how few warm-bloods understand that sssimply being a dragon does not make life easy. There are so many demands.” She extended a wing to shove a thick pillow toward Elizabeth and gestured her to sit.
“Particularly when your kind is so few and far between among the dragons of England. Are not most of your kind found in the north, Northumberland and beyond?”
“Many of my kin make their homes in Ssscotland, and even on the continent—though dragons there are not nearly ssso well favored as we are here.” Her wings slumped a little.
“Your wing feathers seem ruffled. Might I smooth them?”
Chudleigh extended a wing and Elizabeth, with April’s help, stroked and smoothed the elegant feathers into place.
“Have you kin that you wish to see? Or perhaps someone a bit more interesting?”
Chudleigh straightened, her head feathers nearly brushing the ceiling. “There, you have noticed; it should not be ssso difficult to underssstand!”
Her tail-tip beat a sharp tattoo against the stone. April dove into Elizabeth’s hood.
“Your Keeper does not wish you to make the journey to visit … him?”
Chudleigh’s chin fell, and she closed her eyes. “He sssays it is too dangerous, that I am being flighty and frivolousss—”
“And there is a less distant amphithere he would see you matched with?” Elizabeth bit her lip. She was only guessing now. A wrong assumption could cost her dearly. Some dragons did not appreciate interference in their private affairs.
Chudleigh sighed and sagged to the ground, her head resting on the stones at Elizabeth’s feet.
The poor dear. She must be very distressed and lonely to be so vulnerable to a veritable stranger.
Elizabeth stroked her head feathers while April ventured out to preen them. “Your Keeper does not understand that amphitheres mate for life, even if you only live together for those brief times?”
The great feathered head traced an arc on the floor.
“He does not know you ever mated, does he?”
Chudleigh squeaked.
Elizabeth drew her head into her lap and hugged around her neck. “You poor sweet creature. I am so sorry, dear one.”
When a young amphithere was able to hunt on its own it would leave its mother. At their parting, it would give her neck a small bite that would result in a small patch of scarlet feathers, a mark of their permanent bond. Chudleigh’s neck had no scarlet.
Their tears mingled into a tiny pool that glinted in the candlelight.
Chudleigh rested her head on Elizabeth’s shoulder. She tried not to sneeze at the feathers tickling her nose. “It is not the sort of thing that is easy to talk about. Shall I explain it to your Keeper for you? I cannot promise that he will listen to me, but he might.”
“She is good at explaining things.” April rubbed her fluffy head along Chudleigh’s nostril.
“You think you can make him underssstand?” Her long tongue tickled Elizabeth’s ear as she spoke.
“I will certainly do my best. Keepers can be surprisingly understanding when things are put to them simply. Have you a dust bath nearby? You might find that very soothing whilst I speak with Lord Chudleigh.”
“That does sssound pleasant. Would you like to join me, tiny one?” She crossed her eyes to focus on April perched on her nose.
“That is an excellent thought.” While Elizabeth might be good at explaining things, April was not.
Chudleigh slithered off, April balanced on the top of her head.
Elizabeth made her way back to the office where Uncle and Lord Chudleigh were finished with their discussion and reminiscing over a glass of brandy.
Lord Chudleigh rose and brought another chair near theirs. “Has my dragon dismissed you too, Miss Bennet? Do not despair. She is not tolerant of many these days.”
“Actually, no, sir. I come bearing something of a message from her.”
Lord Chudleigh’s eyes bulged. He reached for his brandy snifter. “A message, from my dragon? Why would she send a message through you when she can talk directly to me?”
Uncle Gardiner shot her a look half way between amused and concerned.
She folded her hands in her lap and adopted her most authoritative voice. “Perhaps she has hidden it from you, but her nest is full of feathers she has plucked from her own breast. She is sorely taxed and does not know how to explain her grief to you.”
He took a gulp from his brandy. “Grief? What could possibly grieve my dragon?”
“The loss of her hatchling, decades ago, possibly even before you were born.”
“Hatchling? She has never mated.”
“Yes, sir she has, and something happened to the snakeling. It is nearing time for her to mate again. She wants to return to her mate in the north, but you have opposed her journey.”
“She has feather mites, nothing more.” He flicked his hand and looked aside.
“There are no mites. My fairy dragon checked.”
Lord Chudleigh grumbled deep in his throat. Why did men do that, especially when they were wrong?
“Why would she keep a secret like that from me?”
“Dragons are loath to reveal weakness, even to their Keepers.”
“But she told you, whom she has never met until an hour ago?” He gripped the arms of his chair.
Uncle arranged his features to hide a smile. What was he enjoying so much?
“She told me nothing. I told her what I knew and gave her the opportunity to speak.”
“And you should know my dragon better than I?”
“It is the province of a woman to understand some things that men find difficult. There is a reason that women are Keepers, too.”
That was too much for Uncle. He tried to hide his chuckle in his hand, but utterly failed.
Lord Chudleigh huffed and laughed a bit half-heartedly. “I heard the rumors that you had a special bond with dragons, but did not believe them. I will go to her.”
“You will find her in her dust bath.”
He rose, rolling his eyes. “Sir Edward is waiting to see you. Go on to him. But expect a summons from my office. I expect there will be a great deal I will wish to discuss with you, young woman.”
That night, Elizabeth lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Normally the familiar little guestroom was restful and comforting, but tonight the street noises and unfamiliar shadows urged her to remain wakeful and vigilant. Not that she would have been likely to have slept even if she had been back in her own bed at Longbourn. It was all so strange, the events of the day, the Blue Order, the people and dragons she had met there.
It felt more like a dream than reality. Was there really such a place, such a life, where keeping the secret of dragons was not the overarching preoccupation? What would it be like to live among them: Chudleigh and the Secretary, Baron Chudleigh, Castordale, the blue pa snake Kept by the Lord Physician, Sir Edward, and Bylock the drake Kept by the Chief Scribe, Lady Astrid?
What a force that Lady was! Like none Elizabeth had ever met. Sharp-nosed, with penetrating blue eyes that seemed to see right through anyone she looked at, the Lady was treated with the same deference and respect with which any of the male Officers were treated. Her presence, her knowledge, her very being, commanded deference, and it was offered without question or hesitation. No other woman she had known received such reverence. Somehow, that made the Blue Order seem more otherworldly than the dragons did.
More startling was Lady Astrid’s response when Sir Edward introduced her, and spoke of her commonplace book. He described it as a significant contribution to dragon lore, not the silly scribblings of a young girl as Papa seemed to regard it. And those were not idle words. When, on Uncle Gardiner’s request, she showed it to Sir Edward, he perused it for half an hour, silent and a little slack-jawed. Then, the questions began—not to challenge what she had written, but to learn more and encourage her to add to what she had recorded.
Now she was requested—no, to be honest, it was something between begged and ordered—to return daily for appointments with Sir Edward and Lady Astrid. Both insisted on reviewing her commonplace book with her—all three volumes of it. Even when she tried to explain away the earliest entries as mere childish babblings, they would not hear of it—in fact, they sharply corrected her. Though perhaps somewhat immature, there were new insights to be found even in those pages.
To have her writings considered with the accepted dragon lore. How could that be possible? Papa would never believe it.
How ironic, considering it was his proudest achievement when the volume he had written on minor dragon hatchings had been accepted and added to dragon lore canon. It would have been pleasing if he were proud of what she had done, not embarrassed by it.
She chewed her knuckle.
Would they find her wanting in her understanding? Would they examine her books and deem them childish and irrelevant? Uncle Gardiner assured her they would not. But still …
A few hours before dawn, she finally fell asleep.