by Maria Grace
“No. I must speak to you privately, before I address Fanny.” Shuffling feet, and the door shut hard.
Elizabeth dropped down, tailor-style, on the floor and scooted into the far corner of the room. Papa should have no reason to come into Rustle’s apartment, but if he did, it would not do for it to appear she was trying to listen in on their conversation.
Not that she had to try. Was it her superior hearing, or were they really being that loud? Perhaps she could try to climb out of the window and make her way back in through the kitchen. But no, the window was too high to climb out of unless she had something to stand on, and moving the table would make too much noise. She was trapped for the duration.
“I know Fanny brought the girls here to stay with you.”
“I have made no effort to keep that a secret from you. But I must be honest. Some of the things she has said this time sound concerning.”
This time? Had Mama fled Longbourn before? Elizabeth closed her eyes. There were two occasions when Hill said Mama was in her rooms, unwell and not to be disturbed, but no sound ever came from Mama’s rooms. It was not possible for Mama to be that quiet for that long. Perhaps she had been in London those times?
“What calumny is she speaking against me this time?”
Uncle harrumphed as though he meant to remark on Papa’s words, then thought better of it. “Her complaints are much as they ever have been: that you refuse to take proper care of her and your daughters.”
The sound of flesh on flesh—Papa must have slapped his forehead.
A slight breeze blew through the window, causing the feather-scales on the floor to flutter about. How pretty and soft they looked. Would Rustle mind if she took a few so she could draw them in her commonplace book? She would return them when she was done.
“You know that is complete nonsense. She and the girls are very comfortable. Truly, they want for—or perhaps more rightly I should say they are in need of—nothing.”
“Fanny says that you do not intend to allow Jane to come out into society.” Uncle rapped his knuckles softly, probably on his desk. He often did that when he talked.
Papa made that strangled sound in his throat that often came out when he and Mama argued. “That is hardly what I have said. How like her to misconstrue my intentions once again.”
“Perhaps then it is time that I heard your side of the story.”
“Fanny wants Jane to come out next year, at just fifteen. I think it foolhardy and far too young for coming out.” Papa huffed and snorted, most likely he was wrapping his arms over his chest, too.
“It is not unheard of.”
“But it is not sensible. Consider, your betrothed is nineteen, nearly twenty now, out only a year and about to be very well-settled. She is a practical, level-headed young woman, made so by the extra years she spent out of society. Jane will benefit from the same.”
“Fifteen is a mite early to be out. But Fanny does have a point. Five daughters are a great many to marry off. And with your estate entailed away, should anything happen to you –we both know your health …”
Papa was probably glaring now. His health was always a sore point of discussion, no matter who mentioned it.
“Yes, yes, I am entirely aware of the precarious situation of my family. Thank you so much for reminding me. And thank you even more for echoing the lack of faith that my wife places in my ability to care for my family.”
A chair scraped along the floorboards. Uncle was probably pushing back from his desk, maybe getting ready to pace the floor. “She told me of your plan to marry Lizzy to your heir, whatever his name is. While it is certainly a possibility to be entertained, I think it far from a reliable scheme by which to insure provision for your family.”
“While it is certainly my favored approach and the one I will continue to advocate for, I am well aware of the many ways in which it may go awry. My health is uncertain, and if I am not there to promote the match—well, you know how young people can be, choosing to do whatever is in their own minds rather than looking to the good of others. So, I have something else in mind as well.”
“And what might that be?”
“You know I am in consideration to be the Historian of the Order.”
“I had heard something along those lines.”
Elizabeth wrapped her arms tightly around her waist. If he was not named Historian, it would be her fault …
“Our late Scribe, Sir Justin, his situation was much like my own. His estate was entailed away, and his wife and daughters could not hear dragons. Upon his death, the Order assigned them a stipend and a guardian to watch over their affairs, from a distance. It is my hope and expectation that, if I am made Historian, they will do the same for my family as well.”
“You cannot be certain they will do that, though. He served the order for twenty-five years! His circumstances are so different—”
“He also petitioned for those provisions when he became Scribe. I will do the same, if I am made Historian. ‘If’ being the current operative word. I was so close to having sufficient votes to secure the post, then this affair with Lizzy! How she has complicated matters!”
“What are you talking about?” Uncle’s chair creaked again.
“She is too young to be a Dragon Friend, yet that fool fairy dragon chose her. That event came to the attention of the Order. Now they insist she must be brought into full membership before I can be confirmed as Historian.”
April snuffled softly, her feather-scales pouffing out as they did when she was upset. She paced along the edge of the table, softly chittering to herself. Good thing Papa was not in sight, or she would certainly have words for him now.
“That would explain why she was invited to the offices yesterday.”
Feet landed hard on the floor. Papa was stomping again. “You brought her to the Order? How could you?”
“Rustle said her presence was required. What else could I do? She did nothing more than sit … in the parlor … and wait for me to pick up the fairy dragon cage.”
“She was left alone in the offices?”
“Rustle was her chaperone.”
“He did realize she was not to talk to unfamiliar dragons.”
“I am assured that she behaved very well. She did you proud, Thomas. You have nothing to worry about from her.” How neatly Uncle avoided mentioning that she had indeed done just what Papa feared she would.
But what choice did she have? She certainly could not have ignored Storm and his friends, much less Castordale. Rudeness to dragons was no less bad than rudeness to people.
“Nothing to worry about? Have you not been listening to anything I have said? Despite all my best efforts, it seems that all the plans for my family’s future now ride on the shoulders of a very young and impetuous girl! You think that is nothing to worry about? If only she had not interfered with April, the vote would have happened as scheduled, and I would have been named as Historian at the next council meeting. Fanny and the girls would be secure, even if my heir does not marry Lizzy. But now? Anything can happen with that girl, and there is nothing I can do about it.”
“You are worried for nothing. I am sure of it. I have every confidence in Lizzy.”
“That is all well and good for you to say when you have no idea of how willful she can be.”
Elizabeth swallowed hard. Was that what he thought of her?
“Willful is hardly a word I would use to describe her. You are seeing what you fear, not what is really there. Come, I am sure Fanny has been made aware of your arrival by now. You both need to talk. I am sure you can come to some agreement on Jane’s coming out that will be acceptable to both of you.”
Heavy foot falls, then the door opened and shut.
No wonder Papa had been so very hard on her. She had never meant to interfere with his plans, but it seemed she had. Now, somehow, she had to put that right. The only way to do that was to make sure she did not stand in the way of him being named Historian. Whatever it took, she wou
ld prepare for and pass the Blue Order test and make him proud.
∞∞∞
An hour later, Uncle Gardiner took Elizabeth and all her sisters to call upon Miss Wright, who would become Mrs. Gardiner when her father returned from the continent and they could be married. A bachelor going out with five little girls was quite an undertaking, especially walking the busy streets of London on a cloudy day that vaguely threatened rain. Uncle Gardiner proved surprisingly adept at managing Lydia, though, which was particularly fortunate when Lydia slipped from Jane’s grasp and nearly ran into the street in front of a rapidly-driven coach. With a stern reprimand, he tucked Lydia under his arm and carried her the rest of the way, ignoring her loud protests. Eventually she cried, but when that did not soften his resolve, she quit the effort and quietly observed the scenery from her new vantage point. He would be a good father someday.
Miss Wright proved to be exactly the kind of woman it seemed Uncle Gardiner would be drawn to, pretty, practical, and very sympathetic. She shared an immediate connection with Elizabeth that went beyond words. It seemed destined that they should become very good friends in time. Her only real fault, it seemed, was that she did not hear dragons.
It was a wee bit troubling that Uncle Gardiner would marry a woman who did not hear. Had he not already seen what a trial it could be, having watched Mama and Papa? Or was it different for him since he was not a Keeper, but only a Friend? Certainly Rustle’s needs were very different to Longbourn’s. A minor dragon could live without a Friend quite comfortably and still maintain a good standing in the Order. Some minor dragons hatched wild—without the presence of humans to imprint upon—and had nothing to do with human society or the Blue Order. Major dragons and imprinted minor dragons kept them under close watch. Major dragons, though, had to have a Keeper. They required territory, and for that, men had to be involved.
Trying to manage the needs of a dragon estate, whilst keeping Mama ignorant of the true nature of things, had always proven difficult for Papa. True, Mama was a rather difficult sort of personality in her own right. But the unusual nature of her home only made it worse. Papa was an intelligent man. Could he not have foreseen how things could go so easily awry? Why would he have married Mama knowing that? Perhaps if it had been a love match, it might have made more sense—though it was difficult to imagine how a dragon-hearer might love someone who was not. Though her parents were fond of one another, it was hardly the stuff of love.
But maybe that was why Uncle Gardiner wanted to marry Miss Wright. If there had ever been a couple in love, no doubt it was they. Even Rustle seemed to approve of her, and for such a crusty creature, that was saying a very great deal in her favor. And the way she looked at Rustle—it was peculiar, not the way Mama looked at Rustle or even April, but attentive, anticipatory even, as though Rustle might say or do something very interesting at any moment. There were times when it seemed Miss Wright might actually hear Rustle, just a bit, but then it seemed she did not. Such a quandary. At least she was very kind toward them all.
After they returned home, Mama’s mood seemed much improved, and Papa’s, too. They announced that the family, with Uncle Gardiner’s permission, would be staying in London for a fortnight to take in some of the sights and enjoy a change of venue. Something about the way Papa said it, though, did not ring entirely true.
The material thing was that Mama and Papa appeared to be at peace with one another, and that had to be a good thing. Even Rustle and April noticed the change as tensions in the house seemed to ease. That evening in the parlor, Uncle suggested a few outings that the family might find pleasing. Most remarkably, Papa agreed to consider several of the ideas. Perhaps a fortnight in London might prove fun after all.
Two days later, just after breakfast, the housekeeper burst into Jane and Elizabeth’s room. “Miss Elizabeth, you are wanted in Mr. Gardiner’s study immediately.” The look on her face made it clear; this was no time for questions.
Elizabeth ran down the stairs behind the housekeeper, arriving breathless at the partially-open study door. She slipped inside and gasped. A very regal, very large jet-black cockatrice, wearing a satchel with a brooch bearing the Blue Order crest fastening the straps across his chest, perched on the back of a chair facing Uncle’s desk. He was easily the most stunning minor dragon she had ever seen.
Uncle sat behind his modest desk, and Papa sat next to the cockatrice, their full attention on the stately creature. Papa slowly turned to look at her.
Gracious, what had she done? He was already so angry.
Uncle’s expression was little better. “Lizzy, this is Turner, official messenger of the Blue Order.” He gestured toward the cockatrice.
She reached for the edges of her cloak, but she was not wearing it. So, she curtsied deeply, bowing her head as far as she could. “I am honored to make your acquaintance.”
Turner squawked an acknowledgement, his voice as proud and elegant as himself, and cocked his head at Papa.
He cleared his throat, running his finger around the edge of his cravat. “It seems the Order has decided that since we are already in London, it would be expeditious to conduct your admissions testing immediately.”
She grabbed for the arm of the nearest chair, her face growing cold and prickly. “Immediately?”
“Immediately.” Turner echoed, putting an end to all discussion with a decisive wing flap.
“But, pray, I am not ready. I am sure I am not. We were supposed to have six months to prepare.” She tried to catch Turner’s eyes, but he turned aside.
“You will present yourself at the Order offices in two hours for the examination.” Turner squawked again and dove out the window before any further discussion could be raised.
Papa scowled at her. If only she could swoop out the window after Turner and disappear into the London skies herself.
Uncle leaned back into his chair behind his desk. “Do not blame her, Thomas. I assure you, Lizzy has done nothing to cause this.”
“No, this is her mother’s doing.” Papa snarled, staring at the closed door as if Mama might be listening behind it. “If she had not brought the girls to London—”
“Perhaps that is so, but it matters very little whose fault it is. What is done is done.”
“But she is hardly ready.” Papa bounced his fist against the upholstered chair arm. “We have barely finished working on the bestiaries. She does not know the histories, or all the treaty provisions, or—”
He was right. She choked back a sob. But it was not because she had been lax in her studies. There was just so very much to be learnt. Even six more months might not be sufficient.
How was it possible the Miss Delveses learned the same material she was being required to? It seemed as if they knew nothing at all. Surely they had been held to a different standard, but why? Was it Pembroke’s rank that made it easier for them, or Papa’s aspiration to be an officer that made it more difficult for her?
Uncle huffed a heavy breath. “There is no point in dwelling upon what she does not know. They are well aware they have only given you one-third of the allotted preparation time. I am sure that will be taken into consideration—”
“Then you hardly know the Blue Order. I would not be surprised if this were not some intentional ploy—”
“Enough! There is no need to concern Lizzy with the politics and personalities of the Order. The poor girl has enough on her mind.” Uncle walked around the desk toward her.
She pressed her face into her shoulder, nodding.
“Calm yourself, my dear. I am sure you will do very well. I have it on good authority that there will be at least one dragon on the testing committee. We both know dragons have always been very sympathetic toward you. I am sure that will be strongly in your favor.” Uncle smiled in what should have been an encouraging manner, but it felt forced. “Quickly, go upstairs and put on a clean frock. I will send the housekeeper to help you with your hair. We will leave in half an hour. Oh, and bring April as well. Turner
said she was to attend with you.”
Papa stomped and stood. “No, I absolutely draw the line at that. The fairy dragon is hardly more than a hatchling and knows nothing about proper behavior. She cannot possibly show herself to good report!”
Uncle snatched a paper off the desk and waved it in front of Papa. “You see the summons as clearly as I do. They require her presence as well. We have no choice.”
Papa muttered again. Elizabeth dashed from the room, heart pounding so loud she could hardly breathe.
Half an hour later, she met Papa and Uncle Gardiner in the front hall. Her hands shook and her legs trembled so hard she could barely walk. April hid herself in the hood of her cloak, shivering so hard she hummed. Elizabeth had never heard her make that sound before. Poor little thing was even more afraid than she was. Perhaps the only thing keeping April from hysterical fits were Rustle’s whispered assurances that the Order had never insisted upon the separation of Dragon Friends. That was some hope to hold onto.
Somehow, it seemed like the morning air should be more, well, distinct, on a morning such as this one. The sky should be heavy with clouds; the wind should be cold and sharp; the sun should not deign to show its face, hiding behind buildings and clouds. But alas, none of those forces seemed to pay attention to her distress. Callous and cruel, they ignored her and went about their way, creating a wholly unremarkable, reasonably pleasant morning.
Uncle held her hand as they walked to the Blue Order Offices. Papa’s joints pained him a great deal today, so much so he could barely hold his own hat to put it on. Would he have held her hand if he could? Probably not a good thought to dwell upon right now.
The Order’s doorman let them in and instructed them on where to await their escort; his tone was very grave and somber. Elizabeth gulped. Might this be the last time she would be privileged to enter this amazing place? A blue-liveried footman came for them and led them toward the back of the building, to a large but plain stone staircase lit by not quite enough candles, and down a long flight of stairs. They turned down a broad corridor with a polished limestone floor—sized for dragons and humans to pass—and strode to the end of the hall where a large oak door carved with vines and forest wyrms bore a painted plaque declaring Undersecretary of the Blue Order—the Honorable Swinton St. John.