by Maria Grace
“Dragons can read?” Anna’s eyes bulged, and her jaw dropped.
“There are some who can. Certain wyrms in particular have a penchant for books and learning. Some of them are quite the know-it-all, you see. There are those who are even able to write! They are particularly annoying to deal with as they are certain they know everything.
“In any case, if the Keeper fails to provide what the dragon needs, the dragon may bring a complaint to the Conclave. If a Keeper is found negligent, then he may be replaced with another, of the dragon’s choosing.”
“A major dragon can throw a Keeper out of his home?” Joshua gasped and looked at Anna.
“If the Conclave agrees, then it is possible. It has not happened in centuries, though. Dragons and Keepers are strongly encouraged to manage their differences before the Conclave must step in.”
“What happens when a Keeper dies and the estate is inherited by the eldest son?” Of course Daniel would ask that.
“It can be a little complicated. Usually dragon hearing is an inheritance passed down in a family, and the heir is able to hear like his father. He will have grown up with the estate dragon and all proceeds very peacefully.”
“But there is not always a son.” Anna looked up at her, blinking her huge dark eyes.
“Then it can get complicated, my dears. But that is not for you to worry about. What you should be more concerned about is that everything is different for Friends to smaller, minor dragons.” She tapped Phoenix’s beak. “You cannot provide land or treasure to your Keeper. All you have is your wit and charm to recommend you. Your Friend is not obligated by the Conclave to provide all things you need. It must be a bond agreeable to all of you.”
“Like Mrs. Hill and Rumblkins?” Samuel cast about the room as though looking for his favorite tatzelwurm.
“They are very good friends indeed. That is the bond of a Dragon Friend.”
“Even if she does not know he is a dragon?” Samuel asked.
“Even if she thinks he is a large cat. They are Friends, and they treat each other with great respect.” She tapped Phoenix’s beak again.
He huffed and hung his head.
She turned back to Anna. “And as to persuasion, you must remember that the relationship between dragons and the men who hear them is based on trust. If a dragon were to attempt to persuade a hearer, it would be a violation of the worst sort. That is why it is utterly forbidden by the Accords.”
Anna gasped and pressed her hands to her mouth.
“Now you have all had your story for the evening. It is off to bed with you. You have stayed up far past your bedtime.”
Daniel drew a breath, probably to complain, but stopped midway. “Mr. Wickham!” He jumped up and rushed to the doorway.
Mr. Collins and Mr. Wickham stood just inside the room, concealed in the shadows. How long had they been there? Her face grew cold and tingled. How much had they heard? It should have sounded like a fairy story, but—
“You do not think we have to go to bed now, do you? We have only had one story, and it is Christmas after all.” Daniel glanced from Mr. Wickham to Mr. Collins. “I hear music. Is that cousin Mary playing? Are people gathering to dance?”
“You heard Miss Elizabeth. You must obey her.” Mr. Collins grumbled and clasped his hands behind his back.
Mr. Wickham leaned down close to Daniel. “I never wanted to go to bed when I was a boy, either. But you must be a good example to your siblings and be grateful that you were allowed to join the Christmas feast. Show us what a big boy you are and lead them all upstairs as Miss Elizabeth said.”
Daniel sighed, but tromped back to gather Samuel and Anna by the hands. Phoenix hopped to Joshua’s shoulder and they trudged out the door past Mr. Collins and Mr. Wickham.
“There is nothing on the boy’s shoulder. Miss Elizabeth is far more interesting to look at. She likes to dance,” Phoenix whispered as they passed.
“I should go upstairs and help them.” Elizabeth tried to slip between the men.
“There is no need. Their mother is waiting for them in the nursery.” Collins’ brows knit into a heavy line. “Your mother expects you in the drawing room.”
“Your sisters have begun to exhibit, and you are much wanted as a dance partner. Might I have the honor of the next dance?” Mr. Wickham bowed.
“And I the next.” Mr. Collins bowed as well, nearly elbowing Mr. Wickham out of the way.
“I—thank you both. I would be honored.” She glanced from one man to the other. One was glaring and grumpy, the other all good humor and ease. Too bad she could not accept only one offer to dance.
This might prove a long evening indeed.
***
The four and twenty families that regularly dined at Mama’s table kept Elizabeth’s social calendar full every day of the Christmastide season. Teas and card parties, a home theatrical and several dinners. She barely had time to think. In the odd moments she did, her thoughts turned, not to Mr. Wickham, as she supposed they should have, but to little Pemberley and how she fared under the taciturn Mr. Darcy’s care.
How she missed that little dragon.
The highlight of the season, the Bennets’ Twelfth Night Ball, threw the house into a frenzy that would likely take Papa a fortnight complete to recover from. Mama martialed all the women of the houses into a demonstration of hospitality intended to be talked about for a full year to come.
The night of the ball, Elizabeth was almost too tired to attend. But the promise of agreeable partners—meaning of course Mr. Wickham and his fellow officers—roused her from her exhaustion to take her place in the drawing room.
She enjoyed two dances with Mr. Wickham prior to taking to the floor with Mr. Collins. Not only did he tread upon her toes and hem, but he caused her to twist her ankle when he went right and the rest of the dancers went left. Since she had already danced all she could with the only partner she cared to engage with, she indulged the excuse to sit out from the rest of the dancing.
Mr. Wickham was everything that Mr. Collins was not: engaging, charming, thoughtful, considerate. Mr. Collins could not think beyond how things might appear to his superiors and how they might relate to him as a result. Every thought, every concern, every conversation, absolutely everything, was all about him. Whenever she was in his presence, her ears rang with his opinions, his reputation, the condescension he enjoyed. Had there ever been a more self-centered man?
He was such a man, and yet, neither Mama nor Papa ignored a single opportunity to throw them together as if that would inure her to his flaws.
“You seem to have enjoyed Mr. Wickham’s company a great deal tonight.” Aunt Gardiner brought her a stool on which to prop her foot and sat in the far corner with her.
“He is an excellent dancer.” Elizabeth shrugged and glanced at Lydia and Mr. Wickham as they skipped down the line of dancers.
“I grant you that. And that, of course, is a sure sign of a man’s character and his fitness as a friend.” Aunt cocked her head the way she did at her children.
Elizabeth squirmed. No doubt her aunt’s intended effect. “You do not find his company pleasing?”
“Of course I did, and that is what concerns me the most. The more I have considered the tale he told us at Christmas dinner, the more uncomfortable I have become. No honest man is quite so pleasing, or tells quite so carefully crafted a tale. Honestly, it sounds more like some novel’s account of a much-abused hero than a genuine experience. No true story is so ... perfect.”
“That sounds alarmingly cynical, something I believe you have warned me of more than once.”
“Not cynical, but cautious, my dear. You must grant that I have a great deal more experience from which to draw. Something about him just does not ring true to me.”
“And the only faults you can find in him are that he is too handsome and his trials too lamentable?” Elizabeth’s head fell back against the edge of the settee. She stared at the crack in the ceiling plaster.
“Mr. Collins is no
t the only man with faults.” Aunt pointed her chin toward the fireplace where he held Uncle and Colonel Forster hostage to his long-windedness. “And he is not without his admirable qualities.”
Elizabeth’s jaw dropped. “You are not suggesting—”
“By no means! I am merely offering that your views of Mr. Wickham might be unduly colored by comparison to others.”
“It matters little what I think of either one. Papa is unmoved by my opinions and insists on having his way.” Her throat clamped down over her words, so tightly that they barely escaped.
“I know, my dear. Your uncle and I are pleading your case to him. But even as we do that, I must ask you to be careful in bestowing your affections too freely. It is not helping our cause with your father for you to be seen expressing so much interest in Mr. Wickham.”
Her interest was unacceptable? Hers? Not Kitty’s who followed him around like a lost puppy or Lydia’s who laughed and cavorted so loudly that half the town was talking about it? No, their behavior was beyond reproach, but hers, no, that was the problem.
But Papa was not trying to marry them off to please the estate dragon.
Blast and botheration.
Why did Aunt have to be so sensible ... and so right?
And it was not as though there were any possible future with Mr. Wickham, given how Mr. Darcy—horrid man—had impoverished him. Was a passing flirtation too much to give up for the hope that Papa would take her dislike of Mr. Collins seriously?
If only Mr. Wickham were a more eligible man.
Why did it seem Mr. Darcy was once again at the source of her misery?
***
The next day Elizabeth urged Mr. Collins to keep Papa company in his bookroom whilst the ladies managed the task of returning the house to its normal state.
How surprising that Papa did not find the experience as pleasant as the rest of the family did. But did he really have to lock his study door after dinner? Watching Mr. Collins as he stood outside, knocking and trying the door, was painful at best. She chose to retire early rather than risk being drawn into that scene.
“If your father was unhappy with Collins’ company, it serves him quite right, pushing you toward that ninny,” April chittered in her ear the following morning as she pinned her hair into place. “Maybe that will help him to rethink this horrible plan.”
“Do not ruffle your feathers over him. You know that attitude always makes Longbourn angry.”
“Well, he is a selfish ninny as well.” April stroked Elizabeth’s ear with her cheek.
“You are very sweet. I can think of no better defender than you.”
April chirruped a bit of a laugh. “Phoenix would be ready to try, though. I have never seen a fairy dragon so convinced that he was capable of taking on anything that comes, even a major dragon.”
“As I understand, that is a trait all male fairy dragons share. It is possibly why males always seem in short supply.”
April snorted and preened her tail.
Come spring, Elizabeth might be forced to do something about the shortage of male fairy dragons in Hertfordshire. April was coming to an age at which finding a proper mate would become an issue.
Lovely, one more business she would have to find a way to explain to Mr. Collins. Or avoid explaining to him.
She squeezed her temples. One problem at a time, just one at a time. And today’s problem was chaperoning her sisters on their walk to Meryton.
“Will you come on our walk with us?” She picked up her green cloak and gloves.
“Of course. It is not nearly cold enough to keep me inside, though I would suggest that Heather remain inside. Her feathers are not nearly filled out enough to withstand the chill.”
Elizabeth chuckled. How maternal April had become since the hatching.
She headed downstairs.
Papa met her at the bottom of the stairs and beckoned her into his study. “So, Lizzy, bent on pleasure again?”
“Mama has asked me to accompany Kitty and Lydia to Meryton.” That it was not the same thing as a pleasure trip did not bear mentioning.
“Mr. Collins will accompany you when you go.”
Her eyes bulged, and she clenched her teeth. One, two, three ... best get to at least ten before responding.
He peered at her through narrowed eyes. “I said, Mr. Collins shall accompany you.”
“There is no need to raise your voice. I heard you quite well.”
“I expect a response when I speak to you.”
“You do? I had no idea any response I could give you would matter.”
“Lizzy! I will not have you take that tone with me.”
“Yes, sir. Pray excuse me.” She ducked away from his gaze and wove through the tightly packed room toward the window.
“He spent the entire day with me, here, yesterday. He talked constantly, and I do mean constantly. I have never met a man who could talk so much about so little.”
“I am well aware of his propensity.” She leaned her face out of the open window, the cool air soothing the heat in her cheeks.
“You are much better equipped to deal with him than I.”
“I am? That is quite a compliment you offer me. I do not know what I have done to deserve it.”
His solid footsteps approached. “You need not be sarcastic with me. You know very well that you have a singular talent for listening to and engaging in—”
She turned to face him. “Meaningless conversation? Yes, we females are quite excellent at the little nothings that are so entertaining among society.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled a long breath. “Why, Elizabeth?”
“If you do not know, then there is nothing I can do to explain.”
“We have been over this before. It is out of my hands. You well know that the decision is Longbourn’s.” He crossed his arms and gave her a look as though that should settle matters.
Perhaps once it would have, but today ... today it just sounded like the easiest solution to a problem he did not want to deal with.
“Have you chosen to ignore the changes that Uncle Gardiner—”
“Nothing has been decided. Dragons are known for taking a long time to make changes. What is being discussed now may not take effect until your own children are getting ready to marry.”
“And then again, the papers may be signed tomorrow.”
“Your uncle sees that because he wishes it to be so. The Gardiners are exceedingly fond of you—a fact that has always endeared them to me. And pray remember that I am as well. But I fear that fondness has blinded him to the reality of the situation.”
“What of the letters he brings from the Secretary? Have you even read them?”
“Enough to know that I am right.”
She clutched her temples. “You have not even read them? Why are you so utterly committed—”
“To seeing Longbourn’s desires fulfilled? Because that is the role of a Dragon Keeper, as it has always been and how it always shall be. I have told you so all your life; you have always known it would be this way. Why have you become so petulant now?” He braced his hand against the window frame, leaning his head in the crook of his arm. “I should not have permitted you to read so many novels or to study so much philosophy. You have got far too many modern notions in your mind. All this rubbish about love and romance—utterly distracting to a Dragon Keeper.”
There were good reasons why he believed that, but none of them would be appropriate to mention now. Possibly not ever.
“Go now, Collins and your sisters are waiting for you. And you will be pleasant to both your sisters and Collins. Your mother insists that your sisters should seek out the officers in town and is quite tired of your contradicting her.”
“Do you not see the very great danger of the approach she suggests?”
“You seem pleased enough by Mr. Wickham’s company.” Did he have to employ that withering glare on her?
April popped her head out of Elizabeth�
�s cloak. “That is the only sensible thing you have said so far.”
“You have taught your Dragon Friend some very inappropriate habits. It is no wonder that Collins does not like her.” He leaned in and glowered directly at April.
April squawked and crouched, ready to launch.
Elizabeth covered her with her hand. “That will not help,” she whispered.
April popped her head up through Elizabeth’s fingers. “It is not my fault. You are, of course, aware that Collins does not like Heather either, and she is as sweet as treacle and as bland as milquetoast.”
“You would do well to recognize your situation and to work to be more agreeable. Your position is not nearly as assured as Longbourn’s.” Papa shook a pointing finger at them.
“There is no call to threaten her! Nothing and no one will induce me to eject her from my home. I would thank you not to intimate that it is even a possibility.” She spun on her heel and stomped out.
Only the greatest level of self-control kept her from slamming the door behind her.
Truly that was beyond the pale, threatening April in such a way. No matter how impatient he might be with her, the Papa she knew would never threaten a dragon with homelessness.
What had got into him? Why was he so entirely unreasonable? Did Longbourn have something to do with it?
Darcy settled into the morning room as far away from Aunt Catherine’s customary seat as possible. The room accommodated not only a table large enough to serve breakfast for ten, but also several reasonably comfortable chairs near the east facing windows, so the distance was not difficult to achieve.
By her standards, the decorations were “simple”—which still meant it was far too ostentatious for his taste. Were ormolu dragons necessary on nearly every surface? Yes, she was a Dragon Keeper, and yes, she was Friend to a rare and very fine cockatrix. But did she have to remind her guests—at least the ones who understood—of it at every turn?
The framed fan of cockatrix wing feathers—glossy jet black alternating with deep blues and a few rich purples that must have come from the base of her ruff—was really taking things too far. How had she managed to convince Cait to give those up? As many as there were, it must have taken years. Walker avoided the room because of that ornament alone.
