by Maria Grace
Longbourn: Dragon Entail
by
Maria Grace
Published by: White Soup Press
Longbourn: Dragon Entail
Copyright © April, 2017 Maria Grace
All rights reserved including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof,
in any format whatsoever.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
For information address
[email protected]
Author’s Website: http://RandomBitsofFascination.com
Email address: [email protected]
“Grace has quickly become one of my favorite authors of Austen-inspired fiction. Her love of Austen’s characters and the Regency era shine through in all of her novels.” Diary of an Eccentric
Longbourn: Dragon Entail
Darcy thought his problems were over when Pemberley hatched and successfully imprinted on humans. But baby dragons prove far more difficult than any dragon lore prepared him for. Only Elizabeth Bennet's notes offer him any help. When his imperious Aunt Catherine takes matters into her own hands, things take a turn for the worse and Pemberley’s life hangs in the balance. He desperately needs more of Elizabeth’s help, but she ignores all of his requests.
Elizabeth, though, has problems of her own. After the Bennet family dragon sent Pemberley away, life at Longbourn was supposed to return to normal and Elizabeth get on with the all-important business of marrying the heir to her father’s estate. Except that he is the last man in the world whom she could ever be prevailed on to marry—a bumbling, addle-pated dragon-hater who demands she gives up the dragons she lives for.
Can she, with the help of her dragon friends, find her way back to Pemberley before they both suffer their fate from the Dragon Entail?
Don’t miss this free story from Maria Grace.
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DEDICATION
For my husband and sons.
You have always believed in me.
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Thank you!
Other books by Maria Grace:
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About the Author
Acknowledgments
Getting what one wants may not be as important as wanting what one has.
***
A chill breeze cut through the garden, rattling dry, withered stems. So lonely and barren. Elizabeth pulled her cloak against her chest a little tighter and turned toward the house.
Soon the evergreen cutting party would return, and she would be pressed into service decorating the house. The Gardiner children’s contagious enthusiasm offered a balm to her soul ... something to look forward to even more than tomorrow’s Christmas dinner, the first major Christmastide celebration of the season.
Mama had invited all of the officers to join them. They, along with the Gardiners and Mr. Collins, should make for a very full dining room and a very merry party. The more company Mama—and Lydia—had, the merrier they were.
Was there any way she could claim a sick headache and skip the whole affair?
How Mama would scold to hear such a thought.
April peeked out from Elizabeth’s hood and rubbed her fluffy, iridescent blue head against Elizabeth’s ear. “I am cold.”
“Then cozy up in my hood, you silly featherpate. There is no reason for you to be out in the wind. Why did you even come out with me if you hate the cold so?” Elizabeth pulled her hood up over the dainty fairy dragon.
“You have not been acting like yourself. We are all worried.”
“So that is why I am always accompanied by a draconic entourage?” She glanced over her shoulder.
Rustle nodded at her from his post on the garden gate and flapped his wings in a cockatrice greeting. She clutched the edges of her cloak and fluttered them back at him. He squawked a happy note. He was a dear, even if an unsubtle one.
A fuzzy, warm body bumped against her ankles.
“Mrow.” Rumblkins blinked up at her as he wove between her feet. He was so much longer than an actual cat, she stumbled a bit in the effort not to kick him.
How fat and glossy he had become since he had come to be Mrs. Hill’s particular Friend.
She crouched to scratch his ears. “You too—checking up on me?”
The tatzelwurm purred, rearing up a bit on his serpentine tail. He did so love to have his head petted. “You are acting strange, even for a warm-blood.”
“You are very sweet, all of you, but there is nothing to be concerned about. A touch of melancholy is to be expected on occasion. Many considered it a rather poetic trait for a young woman to possess now and then.”
Particularly when she had been forcibly separated from a dearly loved baby by a cruel, unjust man.
Gracious, that sounded almost gothic!
Rumblkins chirruped and stared at her. “Stuff and nonsense. Come inside. There is hot cider.” He caught her hem with his thumbed paw and pulled her toward the house.
“I like hot cider.” April nipped her ear softly.
“Very well. But only a spoonful for you lest you are rendered flightless and silly.”
April squawked, but did not argue.
If it had just been the family about, a little overindulgence would hardly have been a problem, but in the company of Mr. Collins, everything was different. He was resolutely dragon-deaf and not fond of pets. Birds and cats, according to him, did not belong in the house. What would he say if he discovered they were really dragons?
Somehow, it was perversely fitting that he should be resolute in that opinion, immune to draconic persuasion.
Vexing, troublesome man.
He probably disliked dogs too.
Of course, Mama would find him all that a young man should be—at least all that a young man worthy of Elizabeth should be. Jane, or even Lydia, deserved so much more.
At least Aunt Gardiner understood Elizabeth’s reluctance. That helped. Jane was far too caught up with Mr. Bingley to have much attention to spare for such sisterly confidences.
And Mary—how was it that she did not find Mr. Collins nearly so odious? Was it her saintly patience, or just that she had a far more realistic expectation of men? Or perhaps, not facing life as Mr. Collins’ wife made things look very, very different.
Once inside, Elizabeth accepted a cup of cider from Hill and sat near the kitchen fire. Rumblkins jumped into his hearth basket and purred until Hill stopped what she was doing to scratch under his chin. She looked so very content petting her devoted ratter, with no idea at all that he was a dragon. Why could not Mr. Collins be more like her?
The party returned with a wagon heaped with evergreens. For the remainder of the day she tied bows around them and satisfied Mama with their placement throughout the house, a task made far easier by liberal amounts of Hill’s hot cider.
***
Christmas Day began with a trip to the parish church for a rather lengthy morning service. It was almost as if knowing Mr. Collins was there prompted their own vicar to deeper, lengthier reflections.
About half the officers were in attendance, as were Colonel Forester and his young wife, Harriet, Lydia’s particular friend. Somehow Lydia contrived to escape the family pew and sit between Harriet and Captain Carter. Beside them, Denny and Chamberlayne seemed as distracted by Lydia as she was by them.
On Elizabeth’s right, Mr. Collins made little effort to conceal his disapproval over Lydia’s antics. Jane and Mama, though, were oblivious, occupied with the Bingleys and Hursts in the pew in front of them. They had stayed at Netherfield after Mr. Darcy’s departure and were a constant and painful reminder of little Pemberley.
Elizabeth’s eyes burned. How the little dear had snaked her long neck around Elizabeth’s waist and looked so adoringly into her face. She blinked rapidly and ducked her head. The drakling had been with them less than a month. It was foolish that she should still feel so bereft at the hatchling’s removal to Rosings and angry with Mr. Darcy for his agency in the matter.
But she did.
After church, the entire family paraded through town to stop at the baker’s for their roast Christmas goose—the largest one amongst all his orders. Mama was oddly proud of the fact, remarking on it as she worked herself up into a complete twitterpation over the impending arrival of their dinner guests.
As they entered the house, Mama pulled her aside. “Lizzy dear, I need you to do something for me. I want you to make certain that all those ... birds keep to their cages whilst we have guests. It is most unseemly to have them flying about loose in the house. I fear someone will get the wrong sort of impression of us. It is remarkable that Hill’s cat has not eaten them by now—not that I would regard the loss to be sure, but I know the Gardiner children would be upset. It would be just my sort of luck if that very thing were to happen in the midst of my Christmas dinner.”
“I will see to it, Mama. If you wish, I can keep them all in my room and stay with them to ensure that they do not venture out.”
“Miss Christmas dinner for birds that can very well be kept caged? Do be serious, child! Just lock the cages, and it will be enough.” Mama rolled her eyes as she swept past her and into the house.
***
“The children will be downstairs, and Mary will be downstairs. I do not understand why we should be expected to stay up here.” Phoenix hunkered down on a delicately carved perch in April’s cage-house, bright red feather-scales pouffed out in a decided pout.
“The officers have been invited and they are ... rather coarse. Particularly when indulging in the libations of the season. They are not known for being careful or gentle. All Mama’s protests aside, I am honestly worried for your safety if you join us downstairs. You do not want to be stepped on.” Elizabeth reached into the cage and stroked his fluffy head with a fingertip.
April zipped into the cage and sat on the perch beside him. “And that Collins man is going to be there as well. You were just complaining that you were tired of him. Do you wish to keep company with him again?” She preened his back.
“I do not like him, not at all.” Phoenix fluttered his wings and huffed.
“Neither do I.” Heather peered down from a higher perch, leaning farther and farther forward until she hung upside down on the perch, nearly eye-to-eye with April.
April snorted. “Must you act like a bat? The children may like it, but—”
“It makes my Mary laugh. She needs to laugh. She is too serious.” Heather’s tiny voice was still hard to hear, but was getting stronger each day.
And she was right. Mary was often too serious.
Perceptive little creature.
“You do not like Collins any better than the rest of us.” April stretched to groom Heather’s pale pink neck feathers.
“He cannot hear, so why bother with him?”
“He is difficult, almost impossible, to persuade.” April lifted her beaky nose in her favorite authoritative attitude.
“Men might be persuaded in ways other than by dragon voices.” Heather hung by one foot and scratched behind her ear. “Mary is very good at persuading.”
Elizabeth’s brow knotted. When had Mary done such a thing? No, Heather must be mistaken. She was so sweet, and believed that her Friend could do nearly anything.
“None of that has any bearing on dinner tonight. However, to make your confinement a little more pleasant, I have brought you these.” She placed three small dishes in the cage.
Heather let go of the perch, flipped midair, and landed beside the dishes. The other two joined her, sniffing, eyes half-closed.
“Honey?” April cheeped, bobbing up and down.
“Strawberry jam!” Heather plunged her face into the dish. Luckily the jam matched her feather-scales. Otherwise, she would be stained for days.
Phoenix dipped his long tongue in the third dish. “Blood and treacle pudding?”
“With a little extra treacle as a treat.”
He fluffed his wings and hopped a little closer.
“I trust this will make up for your lack of company this evening?” Elizabeth curtsied.
April flitted to her shoulder. “I still do not like you being amongst Collins and those officers without someone to watch over you.”
“I do not blame you for not liking Collins, but not all the officers are objectionable. Mr. Wickham—”
“I know you like that Wickham man—far more than you should. But I do not. I wish you would not spend time with him at all.”
She pinched her temples. “First Longbourn, now you? I do not believe I have asked either of you for your opinion on any of the men of my acquaintance.”
“I liked Darcy. Walker is an excellent cockatrice. Even Rustle approves of him.”
“I am not having this discussion again. You may like him, but I do not. Not that any of that matters.” How could April like the arrogant man who separated her from Pemberley? She held her hand near April who climbed upon her finger. “Pray go back to your honey and enjoy it whilst I try to enjoy some pleasing company myself.”
She returned April to the cage and latched the lock. It was only to make a statement, though. With the lock on the inside, they could open the door whenever they wanted.
Elizabeth joined the gathering in the drawing room, waiting for their guests to arrive. Long wax candles surrounded by mirrors bathed every corner with pleasing light. Papa would cringe at the expense, but they were necessary. One did not use tallow candles around good company, or so Mama insisted. Fresh evergreen and holly, tied with cheery red bows, filled the room with the season’s fragrances that hung on the warm air from the fireplace.
The Gardiner children admired one garland, dashing across the room to admire the next. Joshua and Anna argued softly over who had tied the prettiest bows, their mother or Jane.
“Why do you not take a seat, Lizzy?” Aunt Gardiner patted the settee cushion beside her.
There was an excellent chance that she might not be able to sit still any better than the children, but it behooved her to try.
“How can they take so long?” Lydia peered out of the window, wrapping the curtain around her shoulders. “I cannot wait for the officers to get here.”
“They are such agreeable company, so gallant and always in search of a spot of fun.” Kitty bounced in her seat near the fireplace.
“Do sit still. It is unbecoming to twitch about like a hound waiting to be fed.” Mary folded her hands in her lap and adjusted her posture to something entirely stiff and proper. “Do unwind yourself from the curtains before you tear them off the wall entirely.”
“You need not be so disagreeable. It is not as if you are anticipating anyone special to arrive.” Lydia sniffed and rolled her eyes.
“Lydia!” Aunt Gardiner slapped the arm of the settee.
“Well, it is true. None of the officers like her, for s
he is so very dull.”
“Your opinions are not helpful, nor are they kind.”
“But they are true.” Lydia should really learn to recognize the danger in Aunt Gardiner’s expression.
“Lydia!”
Lydia huffed and tossed her head.
Where was Jane? She had a way of distracting Lydia into at least the semblance of proper behavior.
She was upstairs, still dressing. How could she have forgotten? Mr. Bingley was to be in attendance along with the officers. He and his horrid sisters—for Mama could not possibly invite one without the others. Why could those harridans not have left when Mr. Darcy had?
The front door creaked, and voices drifted into the drawing room.
“Oh, oh, someone is here! I think I recognize Sanderson’s voice.” Kitty clapped softly.
Lydia and Kitty pinched their cheeks and checked their bodices, pulling them just a little lower.
“Mary, would you favor us with some music? A Christmas carol perhaps?” Aunt Gardiner asked, but it was more of a directive than a question.
Mary moved to the pianoforte, looking pleased to have her accomplishments recognized. Mama swept in with several officers in her wake.
“Wickham, Denny, and Sanderson!” Lydia and Kitty drew Denny and Sanderson away as Jane escorted Aunt and Uncle Philips in.
Mr. Wickham approached Elizabeth and Aunt Gardiner. He cut a dashing figure, even without his uniform.
But it was a mistake to pay too much attention to that. Noticing agreeable men, with excellent manners and good conversation only made Mr. Collins look worse by comparison.
Aunt Gardiner cocked her head and lifted her eyebrow at Elizabeth. “My niece tells me you are from Derbyshire, sir.”
He pulled a chair close and sat with them. “Indeed, I am madam. Are you familiar with the county?”
“I spent my girlhood there, in the area of Lambton. I am quite convinced it is the most beautiful county in England.”
Wickham’s eyes brightened, his face softening with a compelling smile. “I lived on an estate very near there, Pemberley, if you know it.”
