The Dragon Lady (The Dracosinum Tales)

by Angelique S. Anderson

  Judith gasped, tears welling up in her face. “I was trying to help you!”

  “Sounds like you were trying to help your father more, eh? Clear out the houses... make it easier for him to move in. I don’t think so. We’re done here.” For the first time in their entire friendship, Wylie realized why Lord Jameston had discouraged their camaraderie. Lady Judith and Wylie came from two different worlds.

  Two worlds that would most likely never merge peacefully without a full-blown war between the classes, much like the one Wylie imagined was going to happen if Ukridge tried to take their homes.

  She didn’t know how or when, but she was going to stop him. She may still be a bit young, but she was no chavy of a girl anymore. She was a woman and she would fight for what was hers, even if it meant giving up all of her wages to the vicar so that he would not sell off Lugwallow.

  Wylie finished brushing the mares’ coats, all four of them, after tucking Chaos back in his stall with fresh bedding and a manger full of hay. Then she filled their feed bins for the night and kissed their noses before heading home. All the while she was thinking of how she would present the issue to the people of Lugwallow. She only hoped they were willing to fight for what was rightfully theirs.

  Whether it was sleep deprivation or the loss of her father still weighing heavily on her heart as Wylie walked home, feelings of dread came unbidden. She wasn’t normally one to be anxious, but she highly distrusted Lord Jameston, and her mind began to fill with all sorts of possible violent scenarios.

  Only moments before she had felt certain she would be willing to fight Lord Ukridge tooth and nail. Now fear gradually became an overwhelming force.

  Of course, the Vicar would refuse my wages? Obviously, it's nowhere near what he would get from Lord Jameston. What if I do rally the people of Lugwallow against him? He’ll likely have us all jailed? What about the children who are too young to care for themselves? What about the widow Turpin? As stubborn as that woman is she won’t last a day in a moldy cell on rations of dry bread and dirty water.

  That’s if Lord Jameston is feeling generous. He might just as well have us all hanged, including Thomas Fleming. Maybe I shouldn’t fight him? Maybe I should just run? But then he wins. Papa, I wish you were here. I don’t know what to do. If you were here, you would tell me what to do to make this right.

  Wylie covered the distance in short order as her pace quickened and her thoughts raced. Leave her beloved home? It was almost too much to comprehend. It was all she had left of her father, and yet his death made her home just a sad memory. Maybe it would be better for all of them to pick up and move while they had the chance to do so.

  Maybe moving will give us the fresh start we so desperately need. So much loss, so much death. The consumption has taken so many of us. Perhaps a new place to live will give us hope. We haven’t had hope in a long time. Yet, I can’t see myself leaving Lugwallow. My beloved Lugwallow. If only Lord Jameston would help us fix up our homes and stay in them. Wylie already knew that Lugwallow Parish was an eyesore, but she dearly loved the Parson Thomas Fleming and knew that it was his age, not his lack of desire to fix things, that kept it in disrepair. If only she could plead her case to a higher-up, but that would be wasted efforts.

  Wylie arrived home so quickly, she was hardly able to remember the journey. Her thoughts burned with the possibilities of what it would take for her people to fight against a man such as Lord Jameston and win. She knew that the people of Lugwallow would not just follow her blindly into battle against him. His name was too well known as was his lack of compassion.

  Part of her wanted to riot against Lord Ukridge, to cause a revolt in Lugwallow. A demonstration so boisterous that the surrounding boroughs would have to sit up and take notice. Another part of her wanted to petition someone greater than she to side with them, someone who would see their plight and take up their cause. Then there was the small nagging voice in the back of her head, the one that in some respects believed what Lady Judith had said about Lord Jameston having Wylie sent to prison, or worse.

  She finally came to the conclusion that in order to keep her people safe, she would have to leave. I cannot stay here. I must leave before he comes and takes what little I have left. The people of Lugwallow will have to fight of their accord, or get out, just as I am doing.

  In haste, she began to clean out her father’s room.

  Better to save a few of my father’s memories than to lose them all to the likes of Lord Jameston.

  Hot tears threatened her eyes. What is happening to me? Where was the strong, self-assured woman who had cared for a sick and dying man for months? The one who had worked so hard to keep a roof over their heads in spite of the fact that she was a woman. She had fed them and even found time to sew and work on gadgets that would better aid her in accomplishing her job in a more efficient manner. At the drop of a hat, she was just going to pack her things and leave? She pulled her father’s meager belongings of two shirts and two pairs of trousers from his single chest of drawers.

  The smell of him clung to his clothes as if he were still standing right there.

  If only he were.

  She desperately needed him; needed his help. Leaving Lugwallow to start a new life somewhere else, alone, was not something a woman typically did. Unless they were women of the world, or ‘fallen women,’ something Wylie would never even consider. Not even if she were completely penniless. She would lay dying on the cobbled streets, begging for crumbs before she would find herself in one of those seedy bordellos, like the ones the men in Dobbinsturn liked to frequent.

  Wylie laid out a sheet on her father’s bed, placing his shirts on it. She would have to leave the beloved dresser behind or pass it on to one of her neighbors. As she pushed each drawer back into place, in the dresser that her father himself had built when she was just a girl, she heard a solid clunk within the last drawer.

  Wylie slammed the drawer shut again and once more heard the clunk against the oak. She pulled the drawer out and ran her hand around the inside. The weak light of the oil lamp barely illuminated the space, but she was able to detect nothing but smooth wood beneath her fingertips.

  Dragging the drawer all the way out she flipped it over, and noticed on the lower left side, near the back, was a small perfect square of dark wood... She knew by its flawless shape that it was not just a chance knot in the wood. Someone had done it on purpose. As she passed her fingers over it, she could feel the tiniest hint of an edge. She used her fingernail to pry at it and as she did so the dark colored square slid open to reveal a small compartment. Then, something solid dropped to the floor.

  She picked it up, feeling the weight and shape of it, and determined that it was a pocket watch of some sort. She made her way to her father’s bed and sat down close to the oil lamp. By the light of the lamp, she discovered it was indeed a pocket watch case, heavily detailed with a gorgeous aged bronze exterior. A dragon emblem took up the entirety of the front, and its wings opened to reveal the watch face.

  Only, as it turned out, it wasn’t a watch. The dragon wings made up the front of the case, and the head that stretched over the top gripped a chain in its fanged mouth. As the wings came open, the watch face was revealed, except where there should be numbers, there were signs and symbols of stars and moons. The moons were in their different stages, and in the center of it was the metallic cut-out of a flying dragon.

  On the top of the case was a small brass knob which looked very much like a winding stem, only when she tried to wind it, the wings of the dragon spread wide and a mechanical arm moved a small shiny cog wheel into position over the face of the device. The cog wheel had tiny holes along its rim that lined up with points on the watch face.

  “It’s like a constellation!” Wylie exclaimed. She knew all about constellations as she adored studying them. However, this was unlike any constellation she had ever seen.

  She knew that the device must be of great importance, for her father h
ad kept it hidden from her. To her knowledge, he had never hidden anything from her in her life. Why this? She knew as soon as sunlight hit her pillow in the morning, she would travel into Dobbinsturn to find a clockmaker who might tell her its origin. Until she figured out why her father had gone to extraordinary lengths to keep it hidden, she would keep it secret and tell no one how she’d acquired it. She was sure it had to be worth a considerable sum, and that was something that would be useful against Lord Jameston.

  Perhaps this is nothing more than Father’s bauble of last resort. He may have intended to use it in an emergency which would explain why he kept it hidden. It will probably fetch a pretty penny, and maybe even help the people of Lugwallow. Maybe this is what would save my small parish! I could give the money to the Vicar! On second thought, would I be able to do that?

  For the moment, the emotions of the day caught up with Wylie and managed to distract her from leaving immediately. She lay back on her father’s bed, curling up on top of the clothes she’d set apart to take with her, closed her eyes, and drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter Five

  Sun, shining through the cracks in the shutters woke Wylie quite abruptly from slumber. Her legs and arms still tired from shoveling manure the day before, she blinked away bits of sleep from her eyes and yawned widely. When she looked for the shirts and things she had laid out she discovered she had knocked them all on the floor in her sleep. As she bent to pick them up, something heavy fell forward around her neck, practically dragging her over the edge of the bed.

  “The pocket watch!” She bolted upright in bed and realized that the night before she had curled up and fallen asleep on top of the clothes she’d been sorting. But try as she might, she couldn’t remember undressing before dropping off to sleep, nor could she remember changing into her night clothes and climbing into bed. Then again, she tended to forget a great many things lately. Where on Earth were her clothes? When had she taken them off? She yanked off her night clothes, grabbed one of her father’s long-sleeved button-up shirts, and pulled it around her before noticing the crumpled heap of clothing on the floor

  How did those get there?

  At that precise moment, a solid thumping came from the front door.

  “Goodness, I suppose it’s going to be one of those days.” Who on earth could be knocking on her door? She had already sent the doctor away a few days ago when she’d informed him of her father’s death. Lady Judith dare not come to the slums of Lugwallow; her delicate sensibilities would not be able to handle getting dirt on her fancy lace dress and expensive leather gallies.

  “Just a moment, please. I’m not decent,” she yelled out, desperately searching for her clothes. There, her good pants were folded neatly and sitting atop the dresser. She picked up her shirt from the floor, and realized it wouldn’t do, as it reeked of yesterday’s stable cleaning. She pulled her trousers on and hurriedly buttoned them, leaving her father’s shirt unbuttoned and flowing carelessly. She cast a wistful glance toward her trusty corset, knowing she didn’t have time to get it on and fastened. So she settled with fastening as many buttons on her father’s shirt as possible as she rushed to the door.

  The thumping sounded again before she could reach it.

  “One moment, I’m on my way,” she called out. As she reached for the brass knob and pulled the door inward, she was shocked to find Lord Adrian standing there, his face downcast. Chaos stood behind him tied to a broken street lamp.

  “Lord Adrian, why … whatever are you doing here?” She cast a furtive glance up and down the street, worried what people may think. “Please, please … come in ... though I can hardly imagine what a man like you, would want in a place like this?” What will people say? Worse yet, why is he really here? “Please tell me you have not come here to relieve me of my duties as your stable hand?”

  Her eyebrows furrowed with worry, and she studied his face to gauge his reaction. He remained where he was, standing silently. Looking down the street, his gaze focused on something in the distance, though she wasn’t quite able to make it out.

  He looked quite dapper in his black top hat and calf-length frock coat. On closer inspection, she noted that his shirt remained untucked and that he had not bothered to wear a waistcoat. The lack of care he had taken with his wardrobe was a cause of great concern for her. He was always dressed to the nines, even when visiting the stables or riding Chaos.

  “Lord Adrian! Whatever has happened? Are you all right?” He shook his head no and stumbled into her house. Realizing that she had more than just his reputation to worry about, she peeked out the door once more, looking for the prying gaze of her neighbors. She was about to duck back inside when she spotted the one person who would judge her most severely.

  The widow Nettie Turpin was in front of her home, sweeping the stoop as she did every morning. She didn’t even nod in Wylie’s direction, Well, let her think what she wants, the old bag, she decided, and hurried back inside, shutting the door before turning to face Lord Adrian.

  “My apologies Wylie, I know you’ve only just lost your father … but I didn’t know who else to turn to. I was so lost … I just wanted somewhere to go where I wouldn’t be judged.” She knew he was fighting hard to keep his composure. It was plain in his face and stormy gray eyes.

  “What is it, Lord Adrian … please? Is there anything I can do to help?”

  His gaze met hers, and she dared not move for fear of breaking it.

  “My father, he’s …” he seemed lost for words.

  “Has something happened to your father?” She crossed the room to him, wanting desperately to ease whatever was ailing him.

  “My father has passed.” The words took the breath out of him, and she watched him visibly deflate. She placed her arm into the crook of his and led him to an old faded floral print settee that had been in the home longer than Wylie herself. He collapsed onto it, and silent tears began to trickle down his cheeks.

  “Oh, I am so terribly sorry!” To hell with what was right and proper. She sat on the settee next to him, as close as possible without touching him. Taking his hand in hers, she stroked it gently. She was aware of all the rules she was breaking; how her father would scold her for such a thing. “Forgive me, but what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be mourning with your family, and ...” She didn’t even want to say the words out loud but knew she must. “Your fiancé, won’t she be worried about you?”

  “Wyles, I just couldn’t do it. When he didn’t come down for breakfast … and I found him like that … I just couldn’t. I alerted the staff, but as people started to fill the house and the doctor came, and Lady Judith … I just couldn’t stay. How am I to live without my father?”

  The sorrow evident in his eyes sparked memories of her own grieving.

  “I do know what you mean. My father has been in the ground less than a fortnight, and I feel as if he left only yesterday. At times, I feel as if I can’t breathe. I don’t know how I’m going to get through today, much less tomorrow ... or even longer. So yes, I do know what you mean. You will manage, though. You will. You have a lovely estate to return to and a beautiful bride. In time, you will find the strength to carry on, for yourself and for her.”

  “Would you be surprised if I told you I do not love her?” Lord Adrian asked. The words shocked her, and she struggled to respond, but he was the first to speak. “Lord Jameston made that arrangement with my father the day after Lady Judith was born. He paid handsomely for it as a matter of fact. My father, always the businessman, was unable to turn him down. I was engaged to be married before I could walk.” Lord Adrian stood up and began pacing the room.

  “As we got older, our fathers would arrange meetings for Lady Judith and I. Horseback riding sessions, dinners, and the like. You would have thought we were royalty, the way we were wined and dined. As if Lord Jameston were trying to build an alliance. He has since admitted he was worried about letting an outsider into his family. Since he and my fath
er go way back, he felt it was fitting.

  “So, what do I get? I get the grand estate, and to marry Lady Judith, who I am convinced, does not love me either,” he finished.

  “Oh, but she does!” Wylie blurted out.

  “If you’re referring to her little outburst yesterday, I can assure you, that was not out of love. That was because Lady Judith has a flair for the dramatic. She and I had a little chat after you left. She is my fiancé, but you are my friend.” At the word friend, he stopped his pacing to stare directly at her, then with complete disregard for what was proper and right, he sat next to her on the settee again. Taking her hand in his. “Oh, if only you were my betrothed. I would be a happy man indeed.”

  Wylie’s heart was racing faster than a fleet of airships. How can I do what is right, when he has come here uninvited and is doing and saying whatever he damn well pleases? She jumped up, “Why Lord Adrian, if I had done what you just did, I would be sent to the gallows. How dare you come to my home, proclaiming your feelings for me, the day… the very day your father has died? It just isn’t proper!”

  He stood up and walked toward her, “Dearest Wylie, I of all people know what is proper and improper. What is right, and what is not right. That is why I had to do it. I had to come; I had to tell you how I truly feel before I say my vows to Judith.”

  “But Judith! What will she think? What will she do?”

  “Judith already knows I don’t love her. We know that ours is a marriage of convenience and nothing more.”

  “Then, why do it? Why enter a loveless marriage if neither of you wants it?”

  Lord Adrian sighed heavily, “Because, doing what is right and proper means we often have to do things we don’t want to do, for the better of all of those around us.” He stood very closely to her again. “Wylie, this may be our only chance, while it is still somewhat proper to do such a thing. May I…” he sucked in a deep breath, “May I embrace you, just this once?”