by Maria Grace
Papa was planning for her to marry—had a husband in mind for her already? Was that supposed to be a good thing? It seemed that it should be so, but it was difficult to know.
“Marry the heir to the estate? You are preparing Lizzy to be mistress of Longbourn? But Jane—”
“How many times have you said that with Jane’s beauty and sweet disposition, she will marry very well on her own merit? Without those attributes, it seems Lizzy will need a little more assistance. That is, madam, unless you can bear me a son.”
Mama tittered. Was there some sort of joke that she had missed? Probably. Footfalls, two sets, wandered off toward the stairs, and the corridor became very quiet, almost distractingly so.
But it was just as well. There was a great deal more studying to be done before dinner time. How thoughtful of Mama and Papa to take their arguing elsewhere so she could try to study in quiet.
She stretched once more and returned to the pile of open books on the little writing desk.
“You have had the same pages open for quite some time.” April scratched at the larger book on the desk, a great leather-bound bestiary with elaborate, though highly inaccurate, drawings of various dragons.
Elizabeth slid it aside to make room for April to perch on the blotter paper. “Have you enough room now?”
April hopped to the blotter paper. “It will do. But I do not understand why you keep staring at these same pages over and over again.”
“Because they do not make any sense.” Elizabeth dropped her elbows on the desk and her face into her hands. “They do not make any sense at all. I am certain that they are supposed to. If only I stare at them long enough, perhaps they will.”
April stared at the page, turning her fluffy little head to and fro. “I do not see how all those scratchy lines are supposed to make any sense at all.”
“Of course you do not. You are too young to learn to read.”
“Your father says that fairy dragons do not read.”
“Papa says a great number of things about fairy dragons, but I am not certain they all apply to you.” Elizabeth scratched under April’s chin.
“I am a fairy dragon.”
“You are special. I have been told that there are sometimes exceptions to what is commonly understood. I think you must be one of those.” That, of course, was an understatement. So far, April had managed to contradict nearly everything dragon lore had to say about fairy dragons.
Perhaps that was the reason that Papa seemed perpetually annoyed with April. He did not much like anything—or anyone—disagreeing with dragon lore.
April snorted and shook, fluffing her feather-scales out into a little blue puff. She had grown a great deal over the last several months. Not that she would ever be big; fairy dragons simply were not. But she was starting to lose a little of her baby fluffiness. She would always be cute though—fairy dragons always were. So, in at least one way, she fulfilled traditional expectations.
“So tell me why those squiggly marks are making you so upset.” April pecked at the open page.
Elizabeth rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. “Papa has told me to read both these books and commit to memory what they say about basilisks.”
“You remember things very well. Why should that bother you?”
“Remembering does not bother me, but these two books do.”
“Why? You have already met a basilisk, and he was quite personable.” April cocked her head and scratched her cheek, pausing a moment to clean between her toes.
“And yet this book says that basilisks do not entertain new acquaintances unless introduced formally, and only with their express permission. I am fairly certain that did not happen with Pembroke. And this one—” Elizabeth slapped the offensive page. “This one tells me never to look one in the face because its eyes will turn me to stone!”
April hopped and fluttered her wings. “That is ridiculous!”
Elizabeth squeezed her temples. “Of course it is. Yet, I am expected to memorize it and recite it as though it were true, despite the fact that if it were, I would be a statue in Miss Delves’ garden.” She threw her head back and stared at the dusty ceiling. “I would not mind doing so if there were some acknowledgement that this was what was once thought, and we now know better—the book was first penned two hundred years ago! One would assume that understandings might change in that amount of time. But there seems to be no accounting for new information! It is as if nothing new can be discovered about dragons—what has always been known is all that will ever be known!”
“That is silly and twitter-pated.” April folded her wings back with an air of authority reminiscent of Mama settling a point.
“I agree. But how am I to discuss the matter with Papa?”
“I do not think you should. The last time you tried …” April shivered. Even with her plucky disposition, she did not like it when Papa became cross.
“But I have to. That is the problem. What if the test I am to take asks questions about basilisks? How am I to answer when these two books do not even agree on what they look like? Just look here! It is as if they are describing two different creatures, one a snake-type dragon and one a dragon-type. If they disagree, what is the right answer to what a basilisk looks like?”
“I do not suppose you could describe Pembroke and be done with it?”
“I would, except for the fact he does not look entirely like either description. I fear describing him would be considered absolutely wrong by any standard.” She dropped her head into her hands again. “I do not know what I am going to do.”
The study door swung open and Papa strode in, his step lighter than she had seen it in some time. He must have won his point with Mama.
“That does not look like studying to me.” He muttered a few other things under his breath, equally grumpy, as he approached her.
Did he not realize that though Mama’s hearing was not up to the task, she could hear him quite well when he did that?
“I am not wasting time, Papa. I am confused, and I do not understand what I am to make of this.”
“What is there to be confused about? You are to memorize the material and repeat it when asked.”
“But it does not make sense! How am I to answer questions when I do not understand?”
“What is there to understand?” He stabbed a gnarled finger at the larger book. “Greystoke’s Bestiary lists a description of a basilisk. Memorize it.”
“But it is wrong! Do you not see it? A basilisk does not resemble a dragon-type at all. And its eyes certainly do not turn anyone to stone. What is more, Blair’s—”
He grabbed her by the shoulders and half-lifted her from the stool. “Do not ever, ever say such a thing again!” He shook her hard enough to leave her a little dizzy. “If I ever hear you contradict dragon lore again—”
“But the book is wrong! Pembroke—”
He shook her harder. “Never mention that, either. No one must know you have met Pembroke uninvited. What you did was tantamount to a crime.”
So now she was a criminal? Because a dragon found her and talked to her? Nothing was making any sense today at all! She blinked rapidly, but her blurry vision hardly cleared. She stepped back, away from him and dragged her sleeve over her eyes. “I did not approach him; he found me. It was not my fault I was in those woods alone. I told you what the Delves sisters did.”
“Never speak of that again, either. They are above you in society. You must never criticize them. You do not want to be cast in such a light. Moreover, I will not allow you to cast a shade upon Longbourn and this estate by spreading such gossip about them.” When had Papa begun to care about such things? Was it Mama’s influence?
“I am spreading nothing. Besides, it is not gossip when it is true.”
April chittered and hopped from one foot to the other. “Do you not care that they nearly caused great harm to your daughter?”
“You should not have been foolish enough to go into the woods with th
em.”
“And how was I to know that?”
“Because you have not been introduced to Longbourn. It is only reasonable if you do not know your own estate dragon then you should not be meeting others.”
“Did you ever teach her that?” April leaned back and hissed.
“One more word from you—”
Elizabeth threw her arm in front of April. “Do not threaten her! Do not ever threaten her! Even the Pendragon Accords say that you must not ever do such a thing!”
“Do not presume to tell me what the Accords say!”
“But you are in violation! How can you expect me to learn them properly when you do not even hold to them yourself?”
“Do not judge me, young lady. Your arrogance is appalling. I will not allow you to be an embarrassment to me or to Longbourn.”
“Then simply send me away to that Blue Order school and be done with me. You will not have to worry about any association with me then. Since it seems I cannot do anything right, why do you hesitate?” Her fingers tightened into fists as she fought to catch her breath.
“You will not speak to me that way. I will not have it.” He folded his arms tight across his chest and glowered with a look likely to turn her to stone.
“I just want to understand why these books say things that do not agree.”
“Do not question what you do not understand.”
“Then how am I to understand?’
“Just learn what Greystoke says, credit it to him, and credit Blair’s statements to him. Why are you making this so difficult?”
“You did not say I had to remember what book everything came from as well.”
“No more back talk, Lizzy. You are making me question the wisdom of even attempting this.” He pulled off his glasses and dragged his hand down his face.
“Then do not. You have an option. Send me away and be done with it.” She tucked her chin to her chest and looked away.
“I am not turning you over to some Blue Order school that will decide what you are taught, with whom you are to associate with, and whom are you to marry. You are my daughter and my responsibility.”
“One it seems you would rather not have.” Except for the fact he had already decided whom she was to marry. He seemed glad enough for that.
“Enough. Go to your room immediately and do not come down for dinner. Perhaps some time for sober reflection will improve your disposition. You may stay there until you are more inclined to be agreeable and studious. Go now.” He pointed a shaking hand at the door.
April launched from the desk, buzzing toward the door. Elizabeth ran behind, reaching the door just in time to open it before April flew into it. They dashed upstairs, and Elizabeth slammed the door behind her.
Why was Papa being so awful to her? If he really was so worried she would be an embarrassment to him, why would he not simply send her away?
And what would she do if he did?
∞∞∞
Elizabeth threw herself on her bed and tried to cry. It was the right and proper thing to do at a time like this, and entirely allowable when one had been so ill-used.
Naturally, it proved well-nigh impossible. Stubborn, stubborn tears! They simply would not appear, no matter how much she wanted them to, how much better they might—at least in theory—make her feel.
Then again, all told, tears would probably upset April. She became very agitated when Lydia cried in the nursery. Seeing Elizabeth sobbing would likely send her into a frenzy that could result in pecked and bitten ears downstairs. How that would complicate matters!
What choice did she have but to bear the sick feeling in her belly and the tightness in her chest for the time being. She drew her knees under her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs. The final rays of sunset glowed golden on the horizon, bathing her room in rich hues which promised warmth, but failed to deliver on that promise. Why did it not feel surprising that even the sun would be lying to her today?
Just how long would the disquiet last? Once she passed the Order’s tests—if she passed them—would Longbourn House return to normal? Would Mama’s temper cool and Papa be satisfied with her again? Or was that a thing long past since April had joined the household?
Angry voices drifted up from the base of the stairs. Mama and Papa were arguing again. Mama was insisting there were things needed for the house and her daughters that the estate could certainly afford. Papa had promised her such a life when they had married. Why was he not true to his word? If they could afford to keep Elizabeth’s pet, then the other girls could certainly have what they wanted as well.
Why was it always about April? Truly, she did nothing to deserve such derision. She was less trouble than Lady Lucas’ pug and never chewed up slippers. She did not yowl at the top of her lungs when visitors came like Aunt Phillips’ cat. What care she needed, Elizabeth supplied, so no one in the household was put out. And she did not eat very much, even if it was nearly entirely jam and honey. If needed, Elizabeth would be happy to forgo her share of those if it meant they could better afford April’s victuals. And yet, something about her presence agitated Mama.
Papa and Mama went on quarreling for some minutes, with Papa effectively unable to get a word in edgewise. Finally he shouted—sometimes the only way to silence Mama—and tried to reason with her. That rarely went well, and it certainly did not tonight. Mama’s voice grew more shrill, and her logic dissolved into shrieks. Elizabeth put her fingers into her ears.
These quarrels were common enough, but still exhausting to the entire household. Jane, who could understand the words they said, would often cry half the night when they argued. Lydia who could only pick up on the angry tones, frequently cried along with Jane, encouraging Mary and Kitty to join in just because it seemed the thing to do. Which, of course, then further upset Mama …
Perhaps it was time to step in. April had become far more adept at persuasion in the last two weeks. Maybe now was the time to put her innate talent to use on a broader scale.
She glanced at April who perched on the foot post of the bed. “Do you think you can persuade Mama to find herself content with her circumstances, at least for the moment?”
“I am not sure anyone is capable of such a thing.” April twittered, cocking her head from side to side and scrunching her eyes shut. “But I will try.”
Elizabeth opened her door just enough to permit April through and pressed her ear close to the opening. Scratching toes suggested April perched on the newel post at the stairs’ landing, close enough that Mama might hear her persuasive voice but out of the line of sight where Mama might become more irritated by seeing her.
“You have a great many things that you want,” April half-sang, half spoke, her voice so soft Elizabeth could barely make it out. “It will not hurt to wait a little while for new things.”
April repeated herself several time, but Mama’s words finally slowed and the shrill tones faded. That was a good sign. While she was not entirely accepting everything that April said, she was calming down, which was desirable in and of itself.
This was the first time April had so successfully persuaded Mama of anything—a milestone for her. An odd one, to be certain, but a milestone nonetheless. Apparently, persuasion was a learned skill as much as an inborn one. One more thing no one talked about in dragon lore.
Was that because Dragon Mates just knew about it or because no one bothered to write it down? Both were equally possible.
A sour taste rose in the back of her throat, and she leaned heavily against the door. Why was this all so difficult? Surely there was a missing piece that would help her to understand it all. Botheration! Sometimes Mama was every bit as vexing and contradictory as dragon lore!
April darted back in and landed on Elizabeth’s shoulder as she quietly shut the door.
“He waved me off, but did not seem displeased. I shall do that more often. It is worth it to get her to stop that silly shrieking. It hurts my ears! Not everything worked, but I think I know w
hat I shall try next time to do better. Soon, I think, I shall be able to make her very content.” April preened under her wing, a very smug look on her face.
“I am sure you will be able to accomplish anything you set your mind to.” Elizabeth ran a finger along April’s fluffy back.
Perhaps with April’s persuasion, the situation could become more tolerable. Such a clever little creature she was.
Sunset had faded into twilight, and Elizabeth’s room had grown quite dark. Given that she was banished there, she probably would not be permitted a candle. So, she crawled into bed, still dressed, and pulled the counterpane around her shoulders.
Several hours later, April nudged the side of Elizabeth’s jaw. “I am hungry.”
Elizabeth blinked sleep from her eyes. How long had she been asleep? It was quite dark, save a sliver of moonbeam that brightened a small path from her window to the door. The longcase clock near the base of the stairs chimed its familiar melody, ending in two distinct clangs. Her stomach rumbled in time.
Papa had said she was not to join the family for dinner. That probably also meant she was not to sneak something from the kitchen, either. She swallowed hard. It would be unpleasant, but not eating until the morning would certainly not kill her.
April, though, was another story. The cold weather made her hungry very often and missing even a single meal made her weak, sometimes too weak to fly. The Pendragon Accords were very clear: members of the Blue Order must endeavor to preserve dragon life and health under any circumstance. She had a duty to make sure April was properly fed. Even Papa could not in good conscience disagree with that.
Arguably, he should have thought of that before exiling her. Should it happen again—and realistically, there was probably a greater chance of it happening again than not—she would insist that April’s needs be considered regardless of her own crimes.
She wrapped her shawl tight around her shoulders. “Tuck yourself under the folds on my shoulder, and I will take you to the kitchen.”
April complied, but her movements were sluggish. She definitely needed to eat.
