by Maria Grace
Hopefully it would not scare the children back at the house.
“The flufflebit was right. It is venom.” Longbourn leaned in close and smelt her head to toe.
His hot breath, acrid and moist, chafed against her exposed skin, not unlike the venom had.
“I think we have established what it is.”
“I am not pleased.”
“I gathered that as well.”
“I am very displeased.” Longbourn growled. The ground beneath him rumbled. “You should not have been exposed.”
Her stomach knotted and cold prickles traversed her limbs. He never took that tone with her.
“What do you want me to do about it? It has already happened, I cannot change the facts.”
“You must wash everywhere; your hair, your clothes. With very hot water. Twice, no thrice. You are covered in venom dust.” Longbourn snorted hard, blowing hot dragon breath over her. He shuffled around to the right and left, doing the same. “That will help, but you must bathe.”
“I will persuade the housekeeper she is to prepare water for your baths.” April launched toward Elizabeth.
“No.” Longbourn blocked her with his wing. “You are so tiny it is not good for you to be exposed to her. Keep the babies away until she is washed as well. Bathe yourself as well, fluffletuft.”
“No wonder you are still feeling so poorly.” Uncle caught her elbow and steadied her.
Longbourn circled her again. “Your boots too, they must be taken outside and brushed very, very well. Anything you wore since you were exposed. I would rather you burn it.”
“Is that really necessary?”
“I suppose if it is washed well, it is not. But I will not have you endangered again.” Longbourn stomped, shaking the ground under her feet. “You are to stay away from Netherfield entirely.”
“Then I am freed from the obligation to dance with Mr. Darcy at the Netherfield ball?”
“No, you are not. He insulted you—us—honor must be satisfied.” Longbourn roared again, slimy spittle flying from his lips. “Do not play games with me. You will do as I say.”
“I do not understand why—”
“You do not need to understand. Just obey me.” He lashed his tail, sending rocks and branches flying.
He had never ordered her about so, knowing well she did not appreciate it any more than he did. “Mr. Darcy should be told about bathing.”
“I shall go and take him word.” April zipped away.
She had probably been looking for an excuse to do that for quite some time. Too bad Elizabeth could not join her.
“Stay away from Netherfield and stop stalking about the hillside caverns. You must not visit the militia anymore.”
“We expect another segment of the militia to arrive soon. We have great hope that the egg is with them. Papa will insist that we continue the search when they arrive.”
“You shall not.”
“Then who? You do not think Papa, who can barely make it here, is able to traverse the countryside—”
“Seeking the egg is too dangerous for you. I will not have it. Stay to your home and meet your future mate.”
She edged back. “What do you know of him?”
“What does it matter? You are to stay here, with me. That is the way it will be accomplished. I have chosen my next Keeper.”
Something about the tone he used ...
“And if I do not agree.”
Longbourn rose to his full height and spread his wings, churning up dust. She choked and sputtered, stepping away. He leaned down and wrapped his wings around her, the way he would his prey. “Do not argue with me, Keeper.”
His cold tone slithered down her spine, raising chills in its wake. Her heart raced and her chest burned as she gasped in the hot dragon breath. His fangs were so close, so sharp, glistening. She pushed and kicked, but his wings formed an impenetrable cage. Her knees buckled.
He caught her in his massive, taloned foot, lifting her toward his face.
She shoved at his grasp, but it would not give way. A shriek as she had never screamed before tore from her throat.
The woods went black.
Heat. Darkness.
Bitter, fetid air.
Roaring—so loud. Ears ringing.
Terror. Deeper, more encompassing than anything before.
Chest tight, shaking. Pain—how it burned!
“Lizzy, Lizzy?”
She forced her eyes open. Uncle stood over her, face white as death.
“Longbourn?” The words scoured her throat.
Uncle helped her to sit. She braced her forehead in her hands, unable to hold up her throbbing head.
“What happened? I thought ... I ... did he harm you?” He held her shoulders tight.
“He ... he ...” She began to shake so hard she could not speak. “Take me home, pray take me home.”
Uncle supported her as she walked and carried her when she failed. Papa met them at the doorway, demanding an explanation.
“April was right, she is very ill indeed.” Uncle shouldered Papa aside and took her up to her room.
“Pray tell him nothing more,” she whispered into his shoulder.
“Longbourn may explain himself to your father. I have no desire to get involved in that conversation. Tell me again, he did not hurt you?”
“No, he did not. But I have never seen him in such a fury. I ... I have never been afraid of him before.” The words caught in her throat with a sob.
No she would not cry. That was foolish and weak. A Dragon Keeper was made of sterner stuff.
“Nor have I. I doubt your father has ever seen him thus. But you are well, and that is all that matters. I will tell him Longbourn forbids you from any further dealings with Pemberley’s egg. He will have to step up and manage his part as he should have from the first.”
“But how can he? He covers it well, but he is so limited—”
“Not nearly so limited as he would have you think. He is much like his dragon, preferring not to bother with things he is not interested in. I will assist your father in anything else that is necessary while you recuperate. Do not concern yourself with anything else. Hot water will be up shortly.”
April, with a little help from Rumblkins convinced Hill that she very much wanted to heat water for a bath and bring it directly up to Elizabeth. Mama wondered at the odd behavior, but was easily convinced that it was a most appropriate treatment for Elizabeth’s ‘cold.’
To his credit, a thorough scrubbing left her feeling much improved. That made up for Longbourn’s beastly behavior. But only a little.
Never in all her days of knowing dragons had she been afraid of one. Even Bedford the ancient firedrake had proven to have a sweet disposition after she had discovered his broken tooth. Once she was able to pull it and relieve the pain in his mouth, they were fast friends.
Every time she met an ill-tempered dragon, it always had a good reason for its ire. Once she discovered the cause of its distress, all was well and they were delighted with her company. She had never believed one would actually hurt her.
Until today.
This must be the way the dragon-deaf saw dragons. No wonder there were dragon wars.
This was why they had to remain hidden.
And why she wanted to as well.
***
The following morning, while she bathed, April informed her that Mr. Darcy was following the same advice and was much better for it. He acted a bit peculiar when she flew in and joined him whilst he bathed, though. Walker was there, so clearly he did not object to dragon company during his toilette, so what was his problem?
Elizabeth snickered, but it would be pointless to try to explain. She poured a pitcher of water over her hair.
“Are the babies well? Did they suffer for being near me?” Elizabeth toweled her hair.
“They were a bit out of sorts over the evening, but they are well enough now. They were only with you a short time, so there was little harm done.”
; “And you? Why did you not tell me you were suffering?”
“I went directly to take a dust bath shortly after it happened and have been largely well since.”
“And you did not think to suggest the same to me?”
“You have made it clear that you do not like dust baths. I did not think water could accomplish the same thing.” April hung her head.
Did the poor dear feel guilty? Elizabeth raised her hand for April to perch. “I was only teasing, dearling. You take wonderful care of me and are not at all to blame for what happened at Netherfield.”
“Longbourn does not agree. He has scolded me quite soundly.” April trembled a little.
Elizabeth pulled on her chemise and sat on the edge of her bed. “Something has him in a frightful temper. I do not know if we shall ever know what it is.”
“Gardiner told me what happened.”
“I am sorry—”
“He was correct to. You know it was wrong of him to act so. Just because Longbourn is a major-dragon does not mean he is permitted to act threateningly to you.” April hopped to the bedpost and looked eye to eye with Elizabeth.
“While that may be true, I do not think Papa would permit me to file a complaint over his behavior with the conclave. And really what purpose would it serve? They might reprimand him, but it would not change what has been done ... nor how I feel about it.” She shrugged on her dress.
“No Keeper should feel threatened by their own dragon. I should very much like to tell him that.” April pecked at the bedpost as though it were Longbourn’s hide.
“I have—that is to say I will forgive him. I do not know how I shall ever be easy with him again, though. But what choice have we? We must muddle through as best we can. Now, see if you can help me with the top buttons and we shall go down to breakfast.”
“It would be better for you to stay in bed and rest. You do have a—” April snorted, “—a cold after all.”
“You know I cannot lay-abed. I will not push myself too hard and you will, no doubt, convince Mama to excuse me from anything too arduous. Come.”
Besides, Mr. Collins was expected sometime today. After Longbourn’s outburst she dare not keep to herself. Somehow he would know and—she shuddered. She would not have him angry with her again.
April perched on her shoulder as they made their way to the morning room.
Papa, Mama and her sisters were gathered around the table, engaged in quiet pursuits: reading, sewing, hat trimming. Exactly what Elizabeth might have hoped for, a calm, quiet morning.
“I hope my dear,” Papa set his paper aside and looked from Mama to Elizabeth, “that you have ordered a good dinner today, because I have reason to expect an addition to our family party.”
“Who do you mean, my dear? I know of nobody that is coming, unless Charlotte Lucas should happen to call in. I hope my dinners are good enough for her.” Mama sniffed, her lip curling slightly. She had no good opinion of Lady Lucas’ table.
“The person of whom I speak is a gentleman and a stranger.” Papa fixed his eyes on Elizabeth.
She squeezed her eyes shut as the room threatened to spin.
“A gentleman and a stranger! It is Mr. Bingley, I am sure. Why Jane, you never dropt a word of this. You sly thing! Well, I am sure I shall be extremely glad to see Mr. Bingley. Lydia, my love, ring the bell. I must speak to Hill this moment.”
“It is not Mr. Bingley. It is a person whom I never saw in the whole course of my life.” Papa leaned back, a satisfied expression creeping across his face.
He so enjoyed this sort of game. Mama, Jane, Kitty and Lydia all obliged him.
Elizabeth sat next to Mary who grasped her hand under the table. From the look on her face, she knew something of Longbourn’s recent temper, too.
“Who is it Papa?” Lydia bounced in her seat. “I know! It is one of the officers.”
Kitty turned to her, hands clasped, “Perhaps one of the new ones? Have they arrived already, Papa?”
“Officers? What a delightful idea. You are so good to us Mr. Bennet.”
Papa shook his head. “It is not Mr. Bingley nor any militia officer. I received this letter from my cousin, Mr. Collins, who, when I am dead, may turn you all out of this house as soon as he pleases.”
“Oh, my dear,” Mama gasped and drew out her handkerchief. “Pray do not talk of that odious man. I do think it is the hardest thing in the world that your estate should be entailed away from your own children. I am sure if I had been you, I should have tried long ago to do something or other about it.”
Elizabeth bit her tongue. Mama simply could not comprehend there was no way around the entail. The entire affair was iron clad and even the dragon conclave would be forced to see someone—or several someones— eaten in order to make any material change in their fate. Still mama railed bitterly against the cruelty of settling an estate away from a family of five daughters, in favor of a man who had nothing to do with them.
“Granted, nothing can clear Mr. Collins from the guilt of inheriting Longbourn. But if you will listen to his letter, you may perhaps be a little softened by his manner of expressing himself.” Papa removed a letter from his pocket, and extended it toward Elizabeth.
“Pray sir, I cannot read this morning. My eyes are still weak, and my head aches.” She handed it back to him.
He glowered.
“Stop it, she is unwell, can you not see?” April hissed.
His eyes bulged.
Mama waved her handkerchief before her face. “You may as well read it yourself. I am sure that I shall not improve my opinion of him, though. I think it was very impertinent of him to write to you at all, and very hypocritical. I hate such false friends.”
“It seems he has some filial scruples, as you will hear.” Papa unfolded the letter, grumbling under his breath. “Dear Sir, the disagreement subsisting between yourself and my late honored father always gave me much uneasiness. Since I have had the misfortune to lose him, I have frequently wished to heal the breach. For some time I was kept back by my own doubts, fearing it might seem disrespectful to his memory for me to be on good terms with any one with whom it had always pleased him to be at variance.
“My mind however is now made up on the subject. I received ordination at Easter and have been so fortunate as to be distinguished by the patronage of the Right Honorable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, widow of Sir Lewis de Bourgh, whose bounty and beneficence has preferred me to the valuable rectory of this parish, where it shall be my earnest endeavor to be ever ready to perform those rites and ceremonies which are instituted by the Church of England.”
“Dear heavens, his sentences are quite as long as your mother’s. Could two such people ever exist together in the same room without coming to fisticuffs over who would speak?” April whispered in her ear.
Papa snorted and continued. “As a clergyman, moreover, I feel it my duty to promote and establish the blessing of peace in all families within the reach of my influence. On these grounds I flatter myself that my present overtures of goodwill are highly commendable and will lead you to accept the offered olive branch. You see, Mrs. Bennet, he offers an olive branch to us.”
“I cannot image what he could possibly offer that would make any kind of difference.” Mama sniffled.
“Listen to what he writes. I cannot be otherwise than concerned at being the means of injuring your amiable daughters, and beg leave to apologize for it, as well as to assure you of my readiness to make them every possible amends. I remain, dear sir, with respectful compliments to your lady and daughters, your well-wisher and friend, William Collins.” Papa folded up the letter. “We may expect this peacemaking gentleman, at four o’clock this afternoon.”
“There is some sense in what he says about the girls, I suppose. If he is disposed to make them any amends, I shall not be the person to discourage him.” Mama tucked her handkerchief into her sleeve.
“Though it is difficult to guess in what way he can mean to make us the atonement he th
inks our due, the wish is certainly to his credit,” Jane said.
Could she really not imagine? Jane was hardly that dull.
“He must be an oddity, I think,” Mary said slowly, hesitantly. “I cannot make him out. There is something very pompous in his style. And what can he mean by sounding so apologetic for being next in the entail? We cannot suppose he would help it, if he could. Can he be a sensible man, sir?”
Elizabeth cringed a little as Papa glared at her. “I suppose we shall know more at four o’clock, then.”
Her stomach roiled. It would be a very long wait.
***
Mr. Collins was punctual to his time, and was received with great politeness by the whole family. His letter had done away with much of Mama’s ill-will. She saw him with a degree of composure—an astonishing, if unsettling, transformation.
Papa said little, instead standing back to watch as Mama and her youngest sisters took the dragon's share of the conversation. Interesting that Aunt and Uncle were not among them for the great introduction. Was it by coincidence or contrivance?
Knowing Papa, probably the latter.
Mr. Collins was a tall, heavy looking young man of five and twenty who seemed ready to launch into a great deal of conversation with his hostesses. His air was grave and stately, and his manners were very formal—too formal to be appropriate to a family setting—as Mama ushered him into the parlor.
“I must say, Mrs. Bennet you have a very fine family of daughters. I have heard much of their beauty, but in this instance, fame has indeed fallen short of the truth. They are beyond lovely every one of them. I am quite certain you shall enjoy the blessing of seeing them all, in due time, well disposed of in marriage.”
Disposed of? What a ghastly turn of phrase. Did he consider females some sort of refuse to be cast away as conveniently as possible?
No, that was short-tempered and ungracious. It was not appropriate to judge him so very quickly. But April huffed unhappily from her perch in the curtains. Not a good first impression, it would seem, and her first impressions were very hard to disabuse.
Mama fluttered her fan in front of her face. “You are very kind, sir, I am sure. I wish with all my heart it may prove so, for else they will be destitute otherwise. Things are settled so oddly.”