by Maria Grace
“Then why did you agree to it?”
“But now it is all very clear, and I could not be more pleased.”
Anne pressed her eyes with thumb and forefinger. “The Blue Order Undersecretary said much the same. They want me to take the role of junior Keeper. But I have no idea how to do that. The books they gave me—”
“Are largely stuff and nonsense. I disagree with much of what they say and doubt most of the rest, and you should too. I will take you under my wing and make sure you are prepared to do what needs to be done. That is precisely why we are here now. I must begin your preparation immediately. It will take you some time to become adept in the skills of Dragon Keeping. You need to be ready when Kellynch awakes.”
“I am not sure I want to do any of this.” Anne whispered through her fingers, staring at the ominous lair.
Lady Russell stepped very close and looked into her eyes, nose to beak. “You must understand what is at stake. If your family does not fulfill its responsibilities to the dragon attached to the estate, Kellynch will complain to your precious Order who will remove your family from the estate and replace them with someone who will properly fulfill the duties.”
“If you have known all this time, why did you not—”
“What could I do? Your father cannot be worked on.”
“What if I cannot please this Kellynch dragon, and we are removed?”
“In all likelihood, the Order would ensure that society believed your father was selling the estate to pay off debt—”
“Debt? But there are no debt collectors at our door.” Not that there was moderation and economy in the running of the house either, but ….
“I am relieved to hear that—it would be a serious issue if there were. But it matters little. The peers of the Order can easily make it believed that debt has caused your family’s fall. Moreover, they will censure him within the Order and cut him in public, giving credence to the rumors. The Order prefers not to be forced in these matters, but they are very powerful. They will do what is necessary to maintain the peace for the good of all England. The fate of a single family pales by comparison.”
Anne swallowed hard against the cotton wool gathering in her mouth. Did Father comprehend what he stood to lose? Probably not. It was not the sort of thing he generally attended to. When Father found something to be inconvenient, it simply ceased to exist.” “Was Mama …”
“Kellynch was sleeping when she arrived, but she managed most of the other dragon estate affairs and did a sound job of it. And you are her daughter and heir to her legacy. I mean to make you a credit to her.” Lady Russell made a funny little clucking sound in the back of her beak. “The first step is to allow you to experience for yourself the truth of the dragon in your midst and see Kellynch. And trust me, it will be far easier on you to do that whilst he sleeps.”
Anne gulped.
“I will warn you, most of your kind find their first encounter with a major dragon rather overwhelming. Whatever you do, do not scream, do not cry out. It could be dangerous to startle Kellynch whilst he sleeps. Follow me.” Lady Russell ducked her head and strode into the hillside opening with high, mincing steps.
Anne pressed her fist to her mouth, insides quivering like Father’s favorite jelly, and pressed through the curtain of cold, prickly vines into the tunnel. The air was still and heavy, as though filled with cold fog. The darkness increased with each slow step. Her eyes slowly accustomed themselves to the dim light sneaking through cracks in the rock overhead.
What was the smell? Not quite what she had smelt in Bath, it was not precisely bad, but neither was it pleasant. Musky, with hints of manure and rotten offal. Overpowering, all encompassing, it filled the entire space with a presence all its own.
Somewhere in the distance, something wheezed—or was that snoring?—something quite large, indeed. How great a creature did it take to make a sound that echoed off the tunnel walls and reverberated in her bones?
“We are nearly there.” Lady Russell whispered and reached her wing back to touch Anne’s hand.
Several tiny fingers on the end of the wing clasped Anne’s. She shuddered and pulled her hand away—it was too much right now to touch such an odd appendage—but followed close. Was it possible that the dim light was growing still dimmer? If this continued, she would not be able to go on.
Lady Russell turned and placed her beak very near Anne’s ear. “There, if you look close, you can just make him out. He is curled up like a cat, his nose under his tail. There is a sliver of light on the highest point of his spinal ridge. If you follow that down, to the right you can just make out his head.”
Anne bit her knuckle and squinted into the darkness. She found the splinter of light and followed it as Lady Russell directed, nearly gasping as an enormous somewhat leonine head came into focus.
The creature most resembled what the bestiary had called a wyrm—long and legless, like a snake with a squared-off head and a bony ridge along its back. That was only a guess though, as the darkness obscured most details, not the least of which were his color and actual size.
Anne leaned against a rocky wall and slid to the floor, head in her hands. How could she have never known what lived in the hills behind her home? What would the residents of Kellynch do if they knew? No wonder the Blue Order demanded such secrecy.
After a few minutes, Lady Russell prodded her to her feet and led the way back out, saying very little until they reached open air, well away from the lair.
Anne stood in a brave sunbeam that had forced its way through the canopy. Leaning against a tree, she drank in gulps of fresh sweet air. Warm, yes, yes!—what was it about the lair that made her feel she might never be warm again?
“I have to say, I am impressed. Many faint dead away at their first encounter with a major dragon.”
Anne covered her eyes with her hand. How quickly Lady Russell forgot Anne had fainted when she recognized Lady Russell’s true form. “I may yet do just that.”
“You have had quite enough for today. We should not tax you too much. Learning that your dear friend is in fact a dragon is quite a shock to one’s system. Tomorrow, or perhaps the next day, we shall begin your instruction on being a Keeper. Right after you accept Charles Musgrove.”
Anne’s stomach flipped over in her chest. What a time to be reminded of the Blue Order’s demands. “I cannot accept him.”
“Of course, you can. You should, you must.” Lady Russell stomped, her voice taking on that painful, raspy edge.
“Pray do not speak to me that way! It hurts!”
Lady Russell hopped back, eyes wide. “Yes, yes, I forgot, do go on.”
“Accepting him is quite impossible. Do you not see?”
“See what? There is no impediment. If you marry him, you will—”
Anne pointed toward the hillside cavern. “You just introduced me to Kellynch—at least after a fashion you did. Charles is heir to his family estate and, I must assume, to the family dragon, Uppercross.”
“He is not the family dragon. If anything, it is the other way around.”
“Even so, Charles is committed to Keep that dragon—Uppercross. You have just told me that I am to be some sort of Keeper to Kellynch. If that is the case, how can I possibly marry a man committed to another dragon? The Annals I have been reading make it quite clear that major dragons do not share territories, which, I have to imagine, includes Keepers.” While they did not explicitly say that, it certainly seemed the correct conclusion.
Lady Russell hunched onto one leg and turned her head nearly upside down. “I confess, I did not think of that.”
“Am I wrong?
Lady Russell blinked several times. Her eyelashes were impossibly long over her dark, glittering eyes. “No, no, I do not suppose you are.”
“Then say no more about my refusal of Charles Musgrove.” Just like they did not talk about Fredrick Wentworth. What had been her role—
“I suppose this means that you must marry your fath
er’s heir ...”
Bless it all! The one thing she had hoped to keep from Lady Russell. “As you have said, I think there has been enough for today.” Quite enough. Possibly too much.
Mr. Elliot would not arrive for at least a fortnight. Plenty of time to think things through before then.
Hopefully.
They headed back to the house, Lady Russell chittering under her breath her dissatisfaction at Anne’s unwillingness to discuss Mr. Elliot. Maybe she would simply have to become accustomed to the sensation.
What sort of uncharitable thought was that?
One of the Order’s monographs suggested associating with dragons changed one, but it did not detail in what ways. Could this sort of thing be what the author meant?
Was it a bad thing?
Perhaps it was too soon to tell.
Chapter 9
A week later, Anne sat in Mama’s room, curled in the striped, overstuffed chair, surrounded by the pink and yellow roses on the drapes and upholsteries. A sunbeam peeked over her shoulder, teasing and flirting with the words on the pages as light clouds danced across the sun. The breeze that propelled them wafted through the open window, carrying the perfume of late summer blossoms. The roses had long since faded, and though other blossoms succeeded them, nothing could replace their fragrance.
A modest writing desk, purloined from the guest wing, now replaced the small marquetry table that had once stood by mother’s window. The books Mr. Wynn sent with her had overwhelmed the little table. Still, it stood just behind Anne’s chair, receiving the overflow from the desk.
So many books! Not a few of them seemed arcane—who but a trained scribe could make sense of half of what was being said in odd riddles and verses? Between the faded, tiny print and the regular insertion of esoteric characters, they might as well have been written in a foreign language altogether. And of the ones that were legible, so many were either self-contradictory or in disagreement with other Blue Order publications. How was one to make any sense of them?
Mr. Wynn and Mrs. Smith had insisted that she write to them with any questions from her studies, but where to even begin such a correspondence without appearing lazy or stupid? She might not have the celebrated Elliot pride, but she was not without some level of self-respect.
Anne pushed Greystoke’s Bestiary Listing All Dragons Great and Small Common to the British Isles with Commentary upon the Habits and Habitats Thereof to the side of the desk, careful not to knock off the three books piled precariously near the far corner. She flipped open her blue cloth-bound journal to the page where she had left her pencil. What was it she had been jotting there—oh yes, questions regarding wyrms. That was the sort of dragon Kellynch was supposed to be, or at least that was what Lady Russell had said. So much of what she said contradicted the books in new and different ways, distinct from the ways they contradicted each other, adding new layers of confusion to what she had been reading.
Anne’s temples throbbed. What joy, her faithful companion headache had returned. What would be a morning study session without that?
“There you are! I have been searching the house for you!” The heavy paneled door flung open and banged against the deep rose-colored wall, leaving a dark mark where the doorknob struck the wall.
Anne jumped, her journal sliding to the floor. “Father! Pray forgive me, I had no notion you were looking for me.”
“Studying again, Anne. Really?” He sauntered in, judgement following him like a shadow.
“I have so very much to learn, I can hardly—”
“Learn? It is unseemly for a woman to spend so much time studying. Look at you! It damages the posture, and I am sure it is not good for your eyes. You are squinting and will develop wrinkles far before your time. And the way you are clutching your temples every time I see you. That headache cannot be a good sign. I am certain all this bookishness will induce some sort of mania or brain fever if you continue as you are.”
“I appreciate your concern, sir. But I am certain that I just need better light in which to read.” And books that did not constantly disagree with one another.
“No, no, you must change your habits. I insist. You will stop this study altogether.” He swooped to gather books from her desk.
Anne jumped up and blocked his way. “I cannot, Father. The Undersecretary explained it to you in Bath.”
Father huffed and produced a wrinkled paper from the pocket of his coat, waving it as he stomped across the room. “Bath! Undersecretary of the Blue Order! I am so tired of this Order! I am quite ready to withdraw from it completely.”
Deep breathing—that was what Mama always recommended for avoiding saying things one would regret. “I understand they are frustrating to you. But you know that is not a choice.”
“How dare those people presume to tell me how to run my family!” He waved the offending paper.
“I have not the pleasure of understanding you. Pray tell me what is wrong.”
“This!” He slapped the letter with the back of his left hand. “This is what is wrong. They have overstepped their boundaries—ridiculous muffin-faced, blubber-cheeked interfering, pompous—”
“What did they say?” If only she could snatch that paper from his hand and read it herself.
His face screwed up in a sneer that few but perhaps royalty could muster. “Regional Undersecretary Mr. Peter Wynn deigns to write to me to strongly suggest that the Blue Order would heartily approve of a marriage between my daughter and my heir presumptive—”
No! Anne winced.
“—my daughter Anne—” The way he said her name, he might as well have slapped her. “—and Mr. William Elliot. How have you contrived this honor?”
“I have done nothing! It is not a matter of honor, but a matter of Dragon Keeping. Elizabeth cannot; she is unable—”
“You have no business criticizing your sister. How dare you aspire to such a match! It is hers to claim, not yours.”
“I do believe that Mr. Elliot does have something to say in the matter, does he not?” Where had that come from? Sarcasm probably was not a good idea.
Father glowered. “He will receive Kellynch someday. Why would he not want to see Elizabeth’s dowry stay with the estate? It is a considerable sum. Any smart man would not wish to impoverish himself—”
“Elizabeth will be so flattered to hear you say that.” How kind of him to offer the subtle reminder that Mama’s legacy would not be equally distributed among her daughters. After all, it took far more to attract the attention of a titled man than just a mister.
He stomped toward her. “The honor of becoming a Lady—Lady Elliot—is due her as the eldest child of this estate! You are ruining her—”
“I have done nothing.” Anne clutched the edge of the desk behind her. “This is not my choice, not my doing. None of this! The Order told me the same thing. It is my duty and would be advantageous to you.”
“To me? Contravening my will is no favor to me.”
“Your Dragon Keeping has not been—”
“I never asked for it. I have never wanted it. It is a burden I do not take gladly. It is the unfortunate baggage attached to our family, a curse, most unfortunate. Why am I to be criticized for a task I never asked for in the first place?”
“That changes nothing of the situation.”
“I will not allow you to ruin all Elizabeth’s hopes and aspirations. She should not have to leave her ancestral home. I will encourage nothing that will require that.”
Anne took a deep breath and bit her upper lip, modulating her voice into something soft and nearly a whisper. “If I am mistress here, she would not—”
“There, you see, your ambitions are above your station. It is disgusting, and I will not have it.”
“Yours are not the only orders I must consider.”
He leaned very close to her face, so close she could feel his breath. “You would choose the Blue Order over your family, the very connections that should mean the most to you?”
“I choose the Blue Order in order to preserve my family. We are in a very precarious position, you must understand—”
“You would presume to tell me what I must understand? I should never have permitted you to assume the duties of a junior Keeper.”
“You will recall what Mr. Wynn told you—”
“He said a great many things that I do not care to be bothered with, and I will not. Mr. Elliot will be arriving next week, and I expect you to behave appropriately. Elizabeth is a most appropriate wife for him, and you will do nothing to interfere with that. And should you choose to be willful and cross me, know that I will not give permission for you to marry him. What say you to that?”
“What can I say, sir?”
He snorted and stalked from the room.
She fell back into Mama’s chair. Expecting that Father would suddenly embrace the Blue Order’s requirements—no, that had never been a possibility. But grudging tolerance—she had hoped for that—but it had been a bit of a pipe dream.
Clearly, he expected her to do what she always did—accommodate his wishes, regardless of her own opinions. But how could she, when it meant the family could lose Kellynch entirely?
Saving the family meant she needed to marry and marry not just well, but to a very particular man. She wrapped her arms around her waist and leaned forward, her forehead on the desk.
Was Mr. Elliot even interested in marrying, much less as the Order might direct? How did one attract such interest? Merciful heavens! What did she know about attracting the attentions of a young man? Much less one with whom she was not even acquainted and was only interested in marrying to be of service to her family? And how could she hope to succeed against Elizabeth’s charms and Father’s favor?