Longbourn: Dragon Entail: A Pride and Prejudice Variation (Jane Austen's Dragons Book 2)

by Maria Grace

  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.”