by Maria Grace
“No. She will do for me.”
What had she just said? Elizabeth’s knees wobbled.
“But she is too young, not even part of the Order.” Papa tried his authoritative tone, but the little dragon turned her head aside.
“What Order? I am tired. Get out of my way.” She hopped up Elizabeth’s arm and tucked herself under Elizabeth’s shawl, against her neck. Her soft feather scales prickled and tickled.
He dragged his hand down his face, muttering, “She is every bit as stubborn as you are.”
The chick peeked out from beneath the shawl. “Then we will be very good Friends.”
“What shall we call you?” Elizabeth cupped her hand over the tiny fairy dragon. “I do not imagine you will want a name of my offering.”
“When does it begin getting warm again? I do not like this cold.” She pressed a little harder against Elizabeth’s warmth.
“Spring begins in March, but usually in April it is more reliably pleasant.”
“Then I shall be April.”
“Does that mean you shall also be reliably pleasant?”
“No. Does that bother you?”
“Should it?” Truthfully, no one at Longbourn was reliably pleasant.
April pulled the shawl over her head. A moment later, sweet little snores bubbled from underneath.
Sir Rowley clapped Papa’s shoulder. “It seems you have a fairy dragon in the Keep now.”
Papa shook his head and grumbled. “You have made this very difficult for me.”
Elizabeth looked up at him, covering April with her palm again. “I asked her if she wanted to leave, but she did not. I did nothing to make her stay. She does not like the cold.”
“Do not torment the girl, Bennet. You know it was not her fault. Dragons will do what dragons will do. Think of it this way: I now have two in the family—and one seems quite attached to my son! How am I going to explain that? Men do not befriend fairy dragons.”
“His name is Port, for he is the color of port wine.” Master Delves winked at her.
“Port is a male—does not that make a difference?” Elizabeth asked.
“It might, but I do not care. When one keeps a basilisk, one does not expect a great deal of draconic companionship, so I am very happy to have a Dragon Friend of any ilk.” He stroked Port’s fluffy head.
“You see, Bennet, if I can be content with such Friends in my family, then you can be as well.” Sir Rowley strode toward the cabinet containing his liquor decanters.
“But your entire family can hear. You do not understand what a trial a family that does not hear can be. Truly, trying to prevent my wife from discovering dragons is an imposition you cannot begin to comprehend. You know her—she could never have been accepted as a Deaf Speaker.”
But if that was such a problem, why did he marry Mama in the first place? Would that not be rather short-sighted?
“I do not imagine that to be the biggest problem,” April whispered in her ear.
“You should not say such things,” Elizabeth murmured back.
“Why not?”
“It is considered rude. Besides, you have never even met Mama.”
April snorted.
“Papa will insist—you must learn manners if you are to stay with us. There is no choice.” Elizabeth peeked at Papa who rolled his eyes.
“You will feed me properly?”
“Of course, I will.”
“Then I supposed I can be well-mannered—when I have to,” April murmured just loud enough to be heard by all.
Sir Rowley laughed heartily. “You see, there, she has promised to act properly.”
“Pray sir, do not laugh at her. She does not like it.” Elizabeth tucked her shawl firmly around April lest she try to peck at their host.
She poked her head out through Elizabeth’s fingers, growling. “No, I do not.”
It was not right that a growl should be so precious, but it was.
∞∞∞
Papa had not warned her about the “days of great hunger” as she called them in her commonplace book, in the very few moments she had to write in it. But why would he have? She was not to have befriended a fairy dragon. Moreover, the intense inconvenience of it all might have discouraged the Miss Delveses from befriending the little dragons. For three days, she and Miss Delves—now Emily as the entire affair had put them on a first-name basis—shared a chamber with the two chicks, Rose and April, where it seemed they did nothing but feed, preen, and sleep with the little dragons.
In the odd moments of stillness, they talked about dragons. Emily suddenly wanted to know everything Elizabeth was supposed to have already taught her. Apparently what the Miss Delveses had to learn for acceptance testing into the Blue Order contained precious little about fairy dragons. For Rose’s sake, Elizabeth obliged, though she was still wary about trying to tell the older girl anything. But this time, Emily listened and even made notes. Apparently having a tiny dragon Friend was already improving Emily’s disposition. Perhaps April might have some of the same effect on Mama.
Papa had already decided they would tell her that April was a gift from Sir Rowley, a rare sort of hummingbird. Elizabeth could hardly refuse such a gift without offending the baronet. That should obtain Mama’s approbation readily enough. The very mention of rank made Mama ready to please. However, she was not their only problem.
All minor dragons who were to be members of the Keep had to be presented to Longbourn. Apparently, he had a long history of jealousy and ill-temper and had not been in the habit of accepting Keep mates in a very long time. Was that the real reason there was no household Dragon Friend at Longbourn? Papa would have to introduce Elizabeth to Longbourn sooner than he had intended to and ask him to accept April into the Keep. If Longbourn said “no”—well, they would have a problem on their hands.
Perhaps she might go to live with Uncle Gardiner and his new wife—they were to be married soon. She would no doubt find April adorable, and Rustle could hardly object. He was a crusty old creature, but not cruel enough to put out a little baby to fend for itself. Since the Gardiners would probably have a baby soon—that is what newly married couples did, after all—perhaps Elizabeth could offer to help with the baby. Perhaps they would not even need a nursery maid if she did. Hopefully, she would not have to resort to leaving home, but regardless of Longbourn, she would not turn April out. That was all there was to the conversation, even though Papa did not yet know it.
On the fifth day after hatching, Papa planned to go home, after breakfast. That would put them back at Longbourn near dinner, and Mama would have less time for questions—or complaints. Those could wait until morning, after Papa had time to judge her mood and decide on the best approach to convincing her to accept April.
Elizabeth awoke at sunrise, April nestled under her chin. Her feather-scales were fluffy and a little itchy, but she snored very sweetly, and her presence was somehow very comforting, so Elizabeth bore it without complaint. A high-necked nightgown would likely remedy the problem quickly. She would alter her existing ones easily enough when she got home. Mama would probably be glad to see her sewing without being nagged to do so.
“We need to take our leave of Pembroke.” Elizabeth slipped out of bed, placing April on the pillow where she had been laying.
“At sunrise? Wait at least until it is warmer.” April slipped under the blanket.
“Come along, now. I do not know how long this will take, and Papa will be very angry if our errand causes our departure to be late.”
“Then go without me. I want to sleep.”
“You were hatched here. You should be introduced to Pembroke. It is only proper, and one never knows when it will be handy to have a particular acquaintance.” Elizabeth pulled her dress over her head.
“He will not recognize me, anyway. I am too small.” The blanket muffled April’s tiny voice.
“In size, perhaps, but not in courage. I think he will like you very well.”
“And if he does not, he will
eat me.”
“No, he will not. I will protect you.” Elizabeth released her hair from its braid and brushed it.
“He might eat you, too. You said he was a large dragon.”
“Landed dragons do not randomly eat girls—or anyone else. It is against the laws of the Blue Order. Besides, we have already shared a very pleasant conversation. He has intriguing stories to tell.”
April peeked out above the covers. “I am hungry.”
Elizabeth opened a small jar on the bedside table. “I have a pot of jam for you, and a bit of dried fruit. I saw a few flowers in the garden hot house. Perhaps you might sample some of their nectar on the way.”
April hopped to the pot of jam. “Flowers do sound awfully nice. I suppose I shall go with you.”
“Of course, you shall. Now eat as I finish with my hair.”
Half an hour later, Elizabeth wrapped her shawl over her shoulders and April snuggled underneath, near the side of her neck. A cape, with a hood designed to accommodate the fairy dragon, would be so much more convenient. Another project to sew when she returned home.
After a stop at the hothouse, where April gorged herself among the blossoms, Elizabeth picked her way along the stream to Pembroke’s domain. So early in the morning, the path was much brighter and cheerier than late in the afternoon. Maybe if the Miss Delveses met him like this, they would like him better.
“Marchog Pembroke!” Closing her eyes, she could just make out the slithering sound he made as he approached. He must be dragging his tail to make that sound. His footfalls were all but silent. She knelt and covered herself with her shawl.
“You have returned? Why?” He sounded more amused than annoyed.
“Three fairy dragons hatched on your Keep. Two of them, called Rose and Port, shall be presented to you soon to be accepted into your Keep.”
Pembroke snorted as though he had a fairy dragon up his nose. “I have no use for fluttertufts on my Keep.”
April poked her head out and shrieked at him, hopping from one foot to the other on Elizabeth’s shoulder. It was probably a good thing she had not yet learned to fly. “How dare you call me a flitterspot!”
Pembroke strode closer, forked tongue flicking, tasting the air. “Fluttertuft.”
“Fluffertip?” April stopped hopping and turned her head almost sideways.
“Fluttertuft.”
“Floofersport?”
His long tongue reached for April. She pecked at it, landing one sharp blow with her beak.
Elizabeth covered her with her palm. “Pray forgive her, Pembroke; she is just a baby!”
Pembroke laughed that same odd huffing sound he had made the last time she had seen him. “A baby what? She seems more cockatrix than fairy dragon.”
April forced her head between Elizabeth’s fingers. “Thank you. I would thank you to remember that.”
Pembroke tossed his head back and laughed again, this time a deeper, growly sort of reverberation that could have sounded menacing without the draconic fanged smile to go with it. “I will not forget. Is the blue one to stay as well?”
“No.” April snorted.
“Her name is April, and she has decided she will be going home with me. If, of course, you will permit her to leave.”
“Permit me?” April pecked at her hand. “I do not need—”
Elizabeth covered her with both hands. “By your leave, Marchog.”
“Granted. If the other two are of her ilk, they may well be worth having about. I may just choose to receive them.”
“I—we—are honored.” Elizabeth curtsied.
Pembroke stepped closer to her, almost touching her skirts. “I will walk with you toward the house. Send my Keeper to me when you arrive. I would discuss the matter with him.”
“I am sure he will be very pleased to receive your summons.”
“No, he will not. But little matter. I am not here to serve his convenience.”
“Were you born to this estate?” Elizabeth asked.
“That is an interesting story. I will tell you as we walk.”
∞∞∞
What stories the basilisk had to tell! Pray the coach ride would be steady enough that she might write them down as they traveled. She could not risk forgetting anything. Considering how grouchy basilisks were said to be, he was quite personable, even gracious. Certainly, he had little patience for what he considered silly or stupid, but that was only to be expected. When one was three hundred years old, one had little patience for anything annoying.
Once at the manor, she went straight to the morning room. Sir Rowley and Papa sipped coffee and spoke in soft tones, the kind she was not supposed to overhear, but her preternatural hearing allowed her to detect nonetheless. Best accomplish her errand quickly before she heard something she should not.
“Pray excuse me, sir.” She curtsied as she entered the room. “Marchog Pembroke has requested your presence, sir.”
Sir Rowley jumped and nearly dropped his cup. Papa’s eyes grew very wide.
“Pembroke has seen you, spoken with you?” Something in Sir Rowley’s voice suggested that it would be a very bad idea to say yes.
“I was given the message by a … forest wyrm, sir. It seemed rather agitated and hopeful to discharge the assignment to anyone else.” That should be entirely believable, for wyrms were flighty that way. It was not right to lie, of course, but the truth seemed like a worse idea just at the moment. April nodded against the side of her neck, hidden by the shawl, as though she had the same thought.
“I see.” Sir Rowley stroked his chin, still looking a bit skeptical. “I suppose he has gotten wind of the fairy dragons hatching. There seems to be no keeping secrets from an estate dragon.”
Papa leaned his elbows on the table. “You did not tell him of the whole affair before we arrived?”
“I find with Pembroke it is more expedient to tell him of such things after the fact. It saves a great deal of snorting and stomping and threatening and negotiating.”
Elizabeth bit her tongue. What would they care that she thought it was a dreadful way to treat one who was supposed to be a friend and ally?
“You will excuse me, Bennet?” Sir Rowley rose.
“Of course. It is time for us to be leaving in any case. Lizzy, have yourself a bite of breakfast, and be quick about it. I am sure the carriage is nearly ready for us.” Papa followed Sir Rowley out.
Did he suspect the truth about Pembroke? He certainly could not address that here. She would probably find out in the carriage. She climbed onto a chair and ate. April popped out from under the shawl and jumped onto the table, hopping to and fro looking for something sweet. How could she possibly be hungry again after all those preserves and the flower nectar?
Half an hour later, the driver handed her into the carriage and Papa climbed in behind her. April complained only slightly, though she refused to ride within the little padded box Sir Rowley had provided for her.
Papa sighed, but apparently decided that the argument with April was not worth the possible reward. One had to have a very good reason to argue with a dragon.
“I do not know how we are going to deal with your mother. I fear she will be put out that you have such a pretty gift, while Jane has nothing of the sort. She might even insist that Jane begin to travel with me as it is unfair that you are the only one to come.”
“But Jane does not like to copy for you, and her hand is not so accurate as mine.”
“Nor does she hear dragons, but I can hardly explain that to either of them.” He clapped his forehead and shook his head. “I am not certain your handwriting will be enough to overcome the possibility for connections and trinkets.”
“You fret far too much. I will manage her.” April bobbed her head, entirely confident in herself. “She does not sound like a woman difficult to persuade. Neither of them do.”
“You have only just hatched—what would you know of persuasion?” Papa folded his arms over his chest and glowered.
&n
bsp; “Did you not notice how the maid brought the pot of strawberry preserves and placed it right next to you when I asked?” April cocked her head—was that an expression of pride?
“She was not a hearer?”
“Hardly.”
“Acquiring a pot of sweets is not the same as managing a household.” Papa leaned his head back into the lumpy squabs.
“I am quite sure I can manage.” April turned her tail to him and ducked under Elizabeth’s shawl.
The coach lurched into motion. Papa did not say anything for the first quarter hour. That, in and of itself, was nothing unusual. Elizabeth took out her commonplace book and pencil and began to write, though the lurching carriage made her handwriting awful.
“I will have to write to the Order directly—or rather, have you take down the letter for me. You cannot really be a Dragon Friend without belonging to the Order as the Misses Delves do. This is all out of order, you realize.” He spoke to the ceiling.
“I am sorry, Papa.”
“There are standards, you know, standards which you must conform to, despite your age. Technically, you are too young to be a part, but April’s impulsive choice now requires the Order to look beyond that. However, you must still satisfy all their other demands.”
“What must I do?” She shut her book and laced her fingers tightly.
“Primarily, you must study to pass the tests they will require of you. You must learn all of the history of the Order and the contents of the Pendragon Treaty and the Accords. You must demonstrate that you understand how to behave among those who do not hear and that you are in no way a danger to the secrecy of dragonkind. I had hoped to shield you from this until you were older, and more able to manage the task, as Delves’ daughters were. But now the issue has been forced.”
She stared at her fingernails. How was she to know this Friendship would have been so difficult for Papa?
But if the Miss Delveses were accepted into the Order, why should she not be? She knew far more than they did and was willing to study and learn whatever was required. Perhaps, because of their rank, they were permitted a less rigorous process? Even if that were the case, she would do whatever it took to ensure the Order admitted her, too.