by Maria Grace
Considering his daughters’ dispositions, it was a comfort to know that there would be someone who would be concerned over the little fairy dragons’ needs.
Two mornings later, Elizabeth made it to the morning room, thanks to a careful set of directions given to her by the housekeeper herself. It was a large, cheerful chamber with walls the color of sunshine. Mahogany furniture with long, lean lines graced the room in the form of sideboards laden with breakfast food, chairs around the table, and a pair of small tables near the window. A soft breeze gusted playfully through pale yellow curtains, leaving them dancing in its wake. If a room could feel happy, then this one did—it all but smiled at them.
She sat at the far end of the large, oblong table, well away from Papa and Sir Rowley. She opened her commonplace book and started to write about her latest tatzelwurm observations, but it was nearly impossible not to hear their conversation.
“I hear you got some very welcome news from the Order recently.” Sir Rowley refilled Papa’s coffee cup. “I cannot say I am surprised. I expect you are their leading candidate.”
Papa dipped his head slightly with a quick, not quite warning, glance at Elizabeth. “I am honored that they would consider me.”
“But not surprised.” He clapped Papa’s shoulder. “None of us are. Who would be? There could hardly be another man in the running who could match your expertise.”
“There are not many in the running at all.” Papa took a long sip from his cup and set it aside.
Sir Rowley laughed heartily. “True enough, but why dwell upon that? You know that is only because the position requires—”
“A peculiar disposition, a penchant for minute details, and a preference for dusty libraries to interacting with society.”
Whatever they were talking about seemed to fit Papa very well, indeed. Elizabeth sat up very straight, but did not look toward them.
“There is more to you than that, Bennet, but I grant, it does describe you rather well. Congratulations. When will the official decision be made? I want to make certain I am there to see it. Can you imagine what our old university chums would say to it?”
“Considering that none of them heard dragons, they would probably think I had finally gone quite daft—devoting myself to studying and preserving the lore of fantastical creatures that have never existed.” Papa grunted and returned to his coffee. “The decision will probably not be made for several months. And even when it is, I do not anticipate a great brouhaha being made over it. There is little point in calling a Conclave for such a mundane matter, for which I will be quite content.”
“Not wanting to jump into the society spotlight? Just like you. Never met another man so averse to society. My wife would never tolerate such from me.”
How many times had Mama complained of just that?
“I do not expect there will be much socializing, whatever comes of this. I have never exactly been the one who is favored at parties, always smelling like dust and old books, after all. I see no need to worry that my wife will become suspicious of my many absences.”
Sir Rowley wandered to the sideboard and piled a plate with cold ham and some sort of red fruit preserves. “You will never change, will you?”
“No, not any more than your estate dragon will.”
Pembroke was definitely not one to embrace change well. But he was not nearly so—
“Speaking of which, Miss Elizabeth—”
Elizabeth jumped.
“Do you believe my daughters are prepared for the hatching?”
“We are, Papa!” Miss Eva burst into the morning room, her sisters just behind. “Miss Elizabeth has spoken of nearly nothing but fairy dragons all the time we have been together.”
In an odd sort of way, that statement was true, although it implied something that was altogether false. Was she telling the truth or not? It did not seem so, but it was a very interesting way to lie.
“Indeed, she is a little font of knowledge. I am quite certain I do not know how she can possibly know so very much. Surely more than I will ever know myself.” Miss Delves sat beside her father, sneaking a glance Elizabeth’s way that would turn a basilisk to stone.
Apparently, Miss Delves had learned more from Pembroke than she had realized.
“But do you understand what will be required of you?” Papa’s tone suggested that perhaps he was not fooled by the girl’s insistence. At least, he was not directing it toward Elizabeth.
“I am quite sure we do.” Miss Elaine sat near her father, a plate of toast in her hand.
Elizabeth pressed her lips and contained her sigh, but she arranged her face into a pleasing expression.
“Is it true, Papa, that we are to be going to London soon?” Miss Delves was obviously trying to sound very unconcerned regarding the matter.
“After the dragons are old enough to safely travel that distance. Bennet says it usually takes a month or so. You need have no fear about missing the season. The dragons will not interfere with your come-out.”
“But a whole month?” Miss Delves pouted just a bit. “Mama said we should get to London early to have time to visit the dressmakers and milliners. I do not yet have the clothes—”
Papa clutched his forehead and covered his eyes. “I assure you, the young dragons are so demanding that you will hardly notice the time. You will be kept very busy, especially during the first several days after hatching.”
Miss Delves did not look relieved, or even pleased.
“I am sure once your little friends arrive, you will hardly want to go anywhere.” Sir Rowley patted his daughter’s hand.
Running steps approached from the hallway, “Father!” Master Delves burst into the morning room. He was a shorter, rounder version of his father, with a remarkably similar disposition. He had been very kind and gracious to Elizabeth when he had escorted her back to the house. “It is time! It is time!”
Everyone but Papa jumped.
“There is no need to run. It will not happen so suddenly.” He rose and set his napkin aside.
Sir Rowley led his chittering daughters out, his son following. Had they any idea they sounded much like a harem of fairy dragons following their lead male? They probably would not approve of the comparison.
“Come along, Elizabeth. But pray, try to stay out of the way and do not interfere. I have a suspicion the girls may be rather excitable. It seems their brother wishes to observe as well, so the room will be quite crowded. The chicks may not find the environment to their liking, and if they wish to leave, they must be allowed to do so.” His tone suggested he rather expected it.
“But they will be so small! Do they not need help?”
“Those that are strong enough will survive, and those that are not—well, they would not help their species by doing so.”
“Yes, Papa.” She swallowed hard.
There was no point in arguing. This was the way of things. Still though, she did not have to like it. She followed him down the long, winding corridor to Sir Rowley’s study.
Chapter 6
The nesting box rested on a low table near the fireplace in the middle of a happy sunbeam that poured through the nearest window. A very agreeable situation for the eggs as fairy dragons loved to play in the sunshine. The young Delveses surrounded the nesting box, with their father standing slightly behind his son. The girls whispered among themselves. Elizabeth chose not to listen as it would be rude, but they sounded very silly indeed.
Papa stationed himself slightly apart from them, nearer to the desk. He waved Elizabeth toward the corner, near the hob. “Elizabeth, slice the blood pudding into that dish and add some hot water from the hob.”
She hurried there. How pleasant it was that she did not have to duck and dodge around piles of books and other obstacles to get there. Perhaps Papa might give her the arranging of his study when they returned. Maybe she would be able to make it more like this one. Perhaps he would be less cross if he had less difficulty finding what he was looking for.
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It was not likely, but one could hope.
Miss Eva leaned close to Miss Elaine and muttered, “I thought they ate nectar.”
“Many develop that preference, but blood pudding in broth is an excellent first meal for all of them.” Papa sounded so calm and pleasant, but that tone really meant that he was becoming irritated.
Miss Eva stared at him with wide eyes. Though his joints might be failing him, his hearing was even keener than the typical Dragon Keeper’s.
It probably was not polite to stare at Miss Eva. Best attend to what he had asked her to do. If the food was not ready when they needed it, Papa would be most unhappy. He might even put her out of the room for it. That was not a risk worth taking. Taking the little silver knife Papa had laid out for her, she shaved the pudding into the hot water.
The thin slivers of pudding turned the water dark, a little like soup. It did not smell very appealing, though. Generally, she preferred not to eat blood pudding. It was difficult to imagine the little dragons liking it. But Papa was certain. Perhaps the little dragons would like it better if there were something sweet added to it. She would have to ask him later.
“Oh, the eggs are quivering!” Miss Eva squealed and pointed.
The three faintly blue speckled eggs rocked, each at their own pace near the center of the box. Should someone separate them a bit so they did not knock into one another?
“Ladle some broth and sausage into these saucers, Lizzy.” Papa placed an oblong wooden tray near her which bore three deep saucers designed for chocolate. How clever! With the rail in the center of the saucer, the broth could be contained, and the little dragons would have a place to perch while eating.
Elizabeth filled the saucers and brought the tray within reach of the nesting box.
“It is important you do not free them from their shells too soon. The exercise is necessary for them—it could kill them if you deprive them of it. Once their wings are free, then you may assist them.” Papa folded his arms over his chest and spoke with a voice of authority.
The young Delveses nodded somberly. Finally, it appeared they were listening to something.
“And take these,” Papa handed out frayed grey flannel rags. “They will need to be dried once they have hatched, lest they take a chill. They are so small. Cold will be a danger to them.”
Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder. The fireplace held enough of a fire to keep the room warm for them. The windows were shut against a draught. That would help to keep the babies warm.
“Look! Look!” Miss Delves pointed at the centermost egg.
It fell over, and a tiny pointed beak appeared.
“That is the way, little one,” Elizabeth murmured. The egg rolled toward her a bit, and a needle-sharp dark-streaked beak pressed further out.
A wet, matted head appeared. The chick was some shade of blue, darker now—because of the egg slime—than it would be when it fully dried, soft and fluffy and adorable.
It cried a tiny shriek, and the egg tore open. The little dragon tumbled out.
“Oh! Oh! It is slimy and awful!” Miss Eva jumped to her feet. “I cannot abide slimy things!” She dashed from the room.
Elizabeth half-rose, but Papa stayed her with a shake of his head. “Leave her go. She is clearly not ready for this.”
Miss Elaine reached out to the tiny chick and tried to pick her up—the head shape was distinctly female—but the chick screeched and pecked her hand.
“Ouch! You did not say these creatures were dangerous!” She yanked her hand back and put her stuck finger in her mouth.
“They are dragons!” Elizabeth huffed, eyes bulging. No, that was probably not an appropriate thing to say, but really, what did the daft girl expect? Kittens? Even they had sharp little teeth and claws.
“They are supposed to be tame and gentle. I want nothing of this!” Miss Elaine tossed her head and her skirts as she stormed from the room.
Elizabeth did not bother watching her leave.
Sir Rowley’s eyebrows scrunched down over his eyes as his lips bunched into a frown.
“Companion dragons are not for the faint of heart. Some are surprised by the experience, even though they may have been told what to expect.” Papa raised an eyebrow in her direction.
Elizabeth shrugged. She had tried, very diligently to instruct the girls. Was it her fault they would not attend?
“What should I do?” Miss Delves whispered, hands trembling.
“Extend the flannel to the chick and allow her to accept your help.” Papa peered over her shoulder.
Squawks came from the other two eggs and tiny beaks pierced the shells. Moments later two more chicks, a pale pink female and a burgundy male—gracious! Males were uncommon!—tumbled out from their shells. The pink one staggered toward Miss Delves’ proffered flannel and fell into it. She gently cleaned the chick.
Papa nudged Master Delves. “Go ahead and assist the little male.”
Wonder in his eyes, Master Delves ministered to the burgundy chick who trilled at the attention. No doubt there was a Friendship forming there. Something about the way he handled the baby—he would be an excellent Dragon Mate.
The blue one hopped away from the others, toward the fireplace. Poor little thing was cold.
“Papa?”
He handed her a flannel, a little frown creasing the edges of his mouth. But it was not the expression he used when he was exasperated with her, so she took the cloth and offered it to the chick. She grabbed it in her tiny beak and tried to dab her wings with it, but to little effect.
“May I help you?” Elizabeth held her hand out only for the chick to peck it sharply. It stung a bit but no more than a pin prick. What a ninny Miss Elaine was for reacting to it so!
The chick pecked twice more, then puffed herself out just a bit, a very grumpy look on her face, and pushed the flannel into Elizabeth’s hand. She scrubbed the slime off the fairy dragon’s face.
“That one is in no want of a Friend. Sometimes that is their disposition. Still, it is not a bad thing that it will have imprinted on people at hatching,” Papa said softly, looking toward Sir Rowley.
“Once they are clean and dry, offer them the saucers of the blood pudding and broth.” Papa set saucers near all three of them.
The blue chick pouffed up into a lovely iridescent turquoise ball of fluff—round and soft as a little dandelion. Her little black eyes glittered like jet beads, bright and intelligent. She jumped on to Elizabeth’s hand, clinging with very sharp toes, and shrieking at what must have been the top of her tiny lungs.
“Dragon’s blood, child! Offer her food!” Papa grabbed the saucer and held it near Elizabeth’s hand.
The chick tipped her beak into the broth and screamed violently, batting at the saucer. It toppled from Papa’s hand, into the nesting box.
“What an awful creature!” Miss Delves edged away, her little pink fluff ball perched daintily on the edge of the saucer, sipping broth without spilling a drop, as elegant a young lady as her new Friend.
Papa pinched the bridge of his nose.
The blue one shrieked again.
“Poor thing sounds hungry.” Master Delves winced as the burgundy pouf tightened tiny piercing toes around his finger. “Why does she refuse the broth?”
“Pray, Sir Rowley,” Elizabeth turned away from Papa, “have you any honey, or preserves, or even treacle in reach?”
He trundled to his desk. “Just in luck, the housekeeper failed to take this back to the kitchen after I last took tea.”
He handed Elizabeth a small china honey-pot. She held it out, and the blue chick nearly fell face first into the pot.
“There, there now, no need to be so greedy. No one is going to take this away from you. Slow down, or you will choke.” Elizabeth pulled the chick back from the pot until she swallowed, despite the needle toes scratching at her hands. “See, you may have as much as you like, only slowly, lest you make yourself sick.” She brought the pot toward the chick again.
Elizabeth giggled only to receive another sharp peck on the hand.
“I do not like being laughed at.” The blue chick scolded, her voice so high and thin that Elizabeth was not certain she had heard.
“I do not like being pecked at. I suppose we must all endure things we do not like very much.”
Master Delves gasped and pressed his fist to his mouth.
“You are awfully bold for a warm-blood.” The chick scratched beside her beak with her foot and licked bits of honey from her toes.
Elizabeth held her up to look eye to eye with her. “And you are awfully bold for such a very young and adorable dragon.”
The little blue puff snorted and sneezed. “That is hardly likely to change.”
“No, I expect not.” They locked gazes. There was something very sympathetic in the young dragon’s eyes. She was not like the rest of her kind, a little like Elizabeth was unlike her sisters.
Papa grunted at her and looked toward the window. When had he opened it?
Elizabeth swallowed hard and sighed. He was right. It was the proper thing to do, even if it was unlikely that a chick would survive on its own after hatching. But this one was different. She just might. “I suppose you will be wanting to leave now?”
Turquoise fluff fluttered in the breeze as her tiny head turned to and fro. “No.”
“Excuse me?” Papa leaned over Elizabeth’s shoulder.