by Maria Grace
“That is for me to decide, not you.” He extended his wing and pulled her close.
He was cold and scaly and a little musty-smelling. For that reason alone, his embrace should not have been comforting, but the strength of his support and powerful presence around her left her feeling safe in the midst of what seemed hostile adversaries.
“I have known about her since the first time she spoke to Rustle when she was but four years old. He told me about her then, that she was unlike any human child he had ever known. What four year-old approaches a cockatrice for conversation?” He chuckled—how odd it sounded when he held her close to his chest. “So I watched her, and Rustle was entirely right. She is unlike any Dragon Mate I have ever known. My Keeper did not introduce her to me, so I introduced myself after she had saved a clutch of fairy dragon eggs from freezing over winter.”
April twittered at him. He nodded at her with a companionable smile.
“Which of you met your first major dragon without fear, much less without a proper introduction? Turn away such a warm-blood from the Order now, and she very well might not have you when you see fit to properly welcome her.” He slapped his tail for emphasis. “Your rejection will not keep her away from dragonkind.”
A gasp—entirely human—circled the room.
“Refuse a welcome from the Order, after she has applied for it? That is unheard of!” Mr. St. John sputtered, red-faced.
Castordale slithered between Longbourn and Mr. St. John. “No, no, I think Longbourn is quite right. If, untutored, she can face a basilisk in his own territory, without hesitation—and I did interview Pembroke to verify those details—I can hardly see why she would find you very intimidating, sir.”
Mr. St. John’s mouth worked like a trout held out of water. Around him, whispers and snorts circled the room.
Elizabeth swallowed hard. A thousand words fought for voice, but somehow it did not seem wise to interfere in the affairs of these dragons, at least not yet. Longbourn waded into the fray, stomping into the midst of the loudest argument.
Rustle urged her back toward the far end of the room, offering her a chair and whispering, “They may be at this for some time.”
He was right, but it was impossible to tell how much time passed. With no clocks and no sunlight to mark the hours, only the rumble in her belly suggested it might be near dinner. Then again, it might not; she had not eaten much of a breakfast. Not that it mattered. No one was paying her any mind at all.
Finally someone, probably Mr. St. John, bellowed for order, but no one paid him any heed. Finally, he stomped to Elizabeth and handed her something small and heavy.
“With so little sleep and so many in high dudgeon, there will be no proprieties today. Take this and go home. Rustle will take you to your family.”
“What is this?” She turned it over in her hand.
“It is your signet. It will admit you into any Order establishment. Use it to seal any correspondence with the Order.”
“Does that mean—”
“Welcome to the Order, Miss Bennet.” He bowed and returned to the hubbub in the center of the room.
∞∞∞
The next day, Elizabeth stood in the study between Papa and Uncle Gardiner, who sat in front of the desk. Afternoon sun streamed through the window, making it just a bit too hot to be comfortable. April seemed to enjoy it a very great deal, though.
Papa turned her signet over clumsily in his hands, peering closely through his glasses. A braided blue cord looped through the short brass handle holding the carved oval signet. The speckled green stone—dragon’s blood jasper according to Storm—bore the engraved image of the Order’s crest, a pair of dragons, tails entwined, holding a shield between them. Such a beautiful, precious thing, it was difficult to hand over, even for a moment.
“It is authentic, there is no doubt of that.” Papa frowned as though it were a bad thing. Why did he do that? “And you are certain? He just handed it to you, without further ceremony, and dismissed you from the office?”
She clasped her hands tightly behind her back. “Yes, sir. Mr. St. John seemed quite certain—tempers would take some time to soothe, and there was no point in me continuing to wait upon that to happen. He did mention something about it still being essential that I formally come out to the Order, but for now, April and I might go about our way.”
Papa placed the signet back in her hands. “A Blue Order Cotillion is naught but a waste of time and money when it is already established—”
Uncle clapped his forehead. “Thomas, you know very well none of that has been established—a great many things can change between now and then. If the cotillion is their only additional requirement in accepting Elizabeth, then I think you should count yourself grateful that the matter is settled so easily. So much, is, in fact, settled to your satisfaction.” He raised his eyebrow and shot Papa such a look.
Did that mean Papa had been accepted as Historian? She cocked her head at them both.
“She deserves to know.” Uncle harrumphed.
Papa wrinkled his lips the way he did when he was considering something. “The vote has been taken. I received word this morning.”
“You are now Historian of the Order?” She clasped her hands before her heart.
He nodded, a hint of a smile at the edges of his lips.
Elizabeth bounced on her toes, clapping softly. “I am so happy for you, Papa!”
“Yes, yes, it remains to be seen how it all goes, but for now, I am much satisfied.” He nodded, rocking forward slightly as he did.
Did that mean he had also negotiated a stipend for Mama in the case of his death? It was certainly not a question she could ask, not now, and perhaps not ever. But at least it was a possibility, and if it did not happen, it would not be her fault. She held her breath, lest she breathe a sigh of relief.
“Now, off with you Lizzy, and do not let your mother see your signet lest she decide your sister needs such a bauble herself.”
“Yes, sir.” She curtsied and scurried off toward the door, a little relieved Papa did not have further questions about her audience with Mr. St. John. Something about the way he was handling everything suggested that he did not know all the details of how her testing went. Perhaps it was best that way.
She paused near the foot of the stairs. Mama’s voice drifted down from above. She was telling someone, perhaps Jane, that Papa had promised to take her to the theater tonight and to some sort of a party afterwards.
A party? Papa? That was terribly odd. But then Mama mentioned something about a Mrs. St. John as well. Why would they invite Mama to a party?
Best not head upstairs now. If Mama saw her, she would surely have to listen to far too many effusions on the joys of being in town. Today was not the sort of day she could listen to such things with a sweet smile and much nodding and admiration. She ducked out of the back door, into the little garden in the mews.
Rustle squawked a greeting from the dust bath in the center of the rose bushes. They were not blooming and would not for months yet, but the leaves did a nice job of obscuring the empty patch in the center of the garden. Mama knew about it, though, and it seemed no amount of Rustle’s persuasion could dissuade her from insisting to Uncle Gardiner that a proper gardener needed to be hired to “fix” the garden. Uncle listened to her, always very patiently, but never acted upon her advice.
Elizabeth sat near the roses, upwind of Rustle’s dust bath so she could avoid sharing his toilette. He was very energetic in kicking up the dirt.
“Do you want to ask to join him?” She scratched April under the chin.
April sneezed. “Not today. Dust makes my nose itch.”
Rustle flapped over to them and perched on the far end of the bench. “It is nice to have matters settled now.” He flipped his wings neatly to his back.
Mama would declare him a horrid, dirty creature, covered in dust and a few dried rose leaves and petals. But the dust would fall away soon, carrying with it many of those th
ings which made dragons the itchiest creatures in the kingdom. They were funny that way—they could always be counted upon to enjoy a good scratch.
“It does seem that way.” She chewed her lip.
“You do not seem very content.” He cocked his head at her and scratched behind his ear. Though cockatrice were dignified creatures, there was nothing dignified about his current posture.
“Oh, they both seem very happy right now, Mama and Papa. Truly, I cannot be anything but glad for that.” She sighed, pulled her knees under her chin and wrapped her arms around them. “But it is not something to become too comfortable with, I fear. It never seems to last very long. I cannot remember a time when they got along well more often than not. It makes me wonder why they ever married.”
“Perhaps having a baby come along so very soon after their wedding taxed your mother’s nerves?” Rustle blinked and shuffled his feet. He looked aside, as though he had said something he should not have.
“I suppose. Jane was so sickly, too, or so I am told. Perhaps that contributed. But somehow it seems all this would be far easier if Mama heard dragons and could share that with him.” It was strange being able to say such things aloud. It was not the sort of thing one shared to general acquaintances.
“That is difficult, indeed.” Rustle scratched at the bench.
“Miss Wright cannot hear dragons.” Elizabeth chewed her knuckle. “Do you think that will make Uncle Gardiner unhappy? Why have you not warned him about it?”
“Do you not like Miss Wright?” He hopped closer.
“I like her a very great deal; that is the problem. I do not want to like her if she will make Uncle unhappy.”
“I do not think she will.”
“How do you know?”
“I am not exactly sure. You came to hear dragons very young, you know.”
“You were the first dragon I ever spoke to.” She reached for him, and he extended his neck so she could reach under his chin to scratch.
“And you were the first child I ever spoke to. But it did not surprise me. I could see that you were one who could hear.”
“See? How?”
He shrugged. “I cannot say. I just knew.”
“So you think Miss Wright can hear?” She addressed a particularly itchy spot between his wings, and he cooed.
“Not yet, but just between you and I, I firmly believe that she will.”
“But she is too old for that, is she not?” She stopped scratching, but only for a moment. He twitched his wings in protest, and she returned to her ministrations.
“Some come into their hearing much later than others. It is as unusual as you coming in so early, but not unheard of.”
“I am glad for them both then. Do you think there is any chance—”
“No, your mother will never hear dragons. But considering her nerves, it is probably for the best.” He half-snorted a laugh.
“I suppose so. And my sisters? Do you think any but Mary might hear?”
“I should not tell you. It would be too tempting for you to push them into it before they are ready. That would only cause problems for all of you.”
Elizabeth harrumphed. His reasoning was sound, but she did not have to like it. But at least, he did not say “no.” That meant another one of her sisters might hear, too, and Elizabeth could offer her a proper introduction to dragons. How lovely that would be, having someone with whom to share her dragon adventures. Perhaps she might even travel with her and Papa. That would be truly lovely.
Pray that it might be Jane. It would be lovely if Jane heard dragons, too.
Author’s Note
I’m utterly tickled to announce the Pride and Prejudice arc of my Jane Austen’s Dragons series Pemberley: Mr. Darcy’s Dragon, Longbourn: Dragon Entail, and Netherfield: Rogue Dragon is available on Amazon and other retailers. Now wait—I can hear you muttering and rolling your eyes. “Dragons? Really? Seriously—dragons? Why—just why?”
You’re not the first to roll their eyes at me and mutter that, expecting an answer like “Because zombies, vampires, and werewolves have already been done.” And while that is utterly true, and the sort of thing I might say if you caught me at just the right—or wrong—moment, it isn’t a very good answer.
But believe it or not, I really do have an excellent answer. You’re rolling your eyes at me again, but give me a chance and hear me out. If you take a glance at English mythology, it is full of dragons. Seriously, they are everywhere. If you’d like to learn more about them and how they inspired Jane Austen’s Dragons, come visit me at Dragon Myths of Britain on RandomBitsofFascination.com
Thank you!
Thanks for reading A Proper Introduction to Dragons. I hope you enjoyed it.
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Other books by Maria Grace:
Remember the Past
The Darcy Brothers
Given Good Principles Series:
Darcy’s Decision
The Future Mrs. Darcy
All the Appearance of Goodness
Twelfth Night at Longbourn
Jane Austen’s Dragons Series:
A Proper Introduction to Dragons
Pemberley: Mr. Darcy’s Dragon
Longbourn: Dragon Entail
Netherfield: Rogue Dragon
The Queen of Rosings Park Series:
Mistaking Her Character
The Trouble to Check Her
A Less Agreeable Man
Sweet Tea Stories:
A Spot of Sweet Tea: Hopes and Beginnings (short story anthology)
Darcy & Elizabeth: Christmas 1811
The Darcy’s First Christmas
From Admiration to Love
Snowbound at Hartfield
Regency Life (Nonfiction) Series:
A Jane Austen Christmas: Regency Christmas Traditions
Courtship and Marriage in Jane Austen’s World
How Jane Austen Kept her Cool: An A to Z History of Georgian Ice Cream
Short Stories:
Four Days in April
Sweet Ginger
Last Dance
Not Romantic
Available in e-book and paperback
Free ebooks
Available at Maria Grace’s website:
RandomBitsofFascination.com
Bits of Bobbin Lace
Half Agony, Half Hope: New Reflections on Persuasion
Four Days in April
Scenes Jane Austen Never Wrote: First Anniversaries
Anniversary February
Jane Bennet in January
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About the Author
Though Maria Grace has been writing fiction since she was ten years old, those early efforts happily reside in a file drawer and are unlikely to see the light of day again, for which many are grateful. After penning five file-drawer novels in high school, she took a break from writing to pursue college and earn her doctorate in Educational Psychology. After 16 years of university teaching, she returned to her first love, fiction writing.
She has one husband and one grandson, two graduate degrees and two black belts, three sons, four undergraduate majors, five nieces, is starting her sixth year blogging on Random Bits of Fascination, has built seven websites, attended eight English country dance balls, sewn nine Regency era costumes, and shared her life with ten cats.
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ascination
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Acknowledgments
So many people have helped me along the journey taking this from an idea to a reality.
Debbie, Susanne, Anji, Julie and Ruth your proofreading is worth your weight in gold!
My dear friend Cathy, my biggest cheerleader, you have kept me from chickening out more than once!
And my sweet sister Gerri who believed in even those first attempts that now live in the file drawer!
Thank you!
Don’t miss this free story from Maria Grace.
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