by Maria Grace
“You owe me for what I have done. I mean to see the debt repaid before you depart.” Longbourn’s tail whipped back and forth.
“We are grateful for your help, but how are we to repay such a debt?”
Did it not matter to Longbourn that the unhatched egg remained a real threat to his own territory and all of dragonkind?
“My Keeper still refuses to see me.” Longbourn ducked his head into his shoulder. “She sends the other one to me, but it is not the same. I want my Keeper.”
“I do not take your meaning.”
Longbourn sat back on his haunches, his tail dragging patterns in the dirt. “She has not been the same since you offended her. We never quarreled before that happened. It must be the source of her distress. You must make things right. Make reparations to her, and see that she comes back to me. Then you shall have the egg.”
“You want me to go to her father’s house and bring her here, then you shall return the egg to me?”
“Make reparations—you promised to dance with her. Then she will see that I have upheld her honor, and she will come back to me.”
Darcy dragged his hand down his face. Dragon logic could be tenuous at times. Probably best not to try and explain that now.
“You wish me to attend the ball and dance with her?”
“You have already asked her. Just do as you said you would.”
“I cannot promise that will have any influence on—”
Walker spread his wings and flapped, slapping Darcy’s legs with his wings. “It will be done, Laird Longbourn, just as you say. Tomorrow he will dance with her and bring her to you. You shall have your Keeper returned to you, and you will return the egg.”
Darcy bit his tongue. Walker would not act so if he did not have good reason for it.
“Bring her to me tomorrow after the ball, and you will have the egg.”
And if he could not, then what? That was definitely not the question to ask right now, though the answer did seem rather essential.
Longbourn snorted and lumbered back into his cave.
Rustle launched and waved for them to follow to a clearing a quarter of a mile away.
He landed on a skeletal tree. It must have been struck by lightning, with one side charred and dead and the other supporting wispy tendrils of new life. “He is in a foul temper. Elizabeth’s absence torments him.”
“Is she unwell still? Is that what keeps her away?” Darcy asked.
“I do not know. She has never done such a thing before. He is inconsolable.”
“She is nearly as stubborn as Longbourn. What if I am not able to convince her to return to him?”
Walker landed on a branch slightly above Rustle. “You will not have to convince her of anything. She is as dedicated to the Blue Order as you. Tell her the truth of the situation, and she will willingly go.”
“You have that much faith in her?” Darcy raked his hair.
“I do not think there has been a woman who has so loved dragonkind in centuries. She will do what must be done.”
Perhaps she would, but putting something so critical in the hands of another? Gah! Nigh on intolerable.
Still, it was only until tomorrow. At last there was an end in sight to this nightmare.
***
On the morning of the Netherfield ball, Elizabeth lay in bed just a little longer than usual. A sunbeam peeked through light clouds to tease at the foot of her bed. The morning was crisp, but not unpleasantly cold. Perhaps the rains would hold back today after all. A clear evening was everything she might ask for.
Tonight she would have the pleasure of dancing a great deal with Mr. Wickham. She would have to dance with Mr. Darcy as well—she dare not fail to fulfill her promise to Longbourn. There was already enough snorting and stomping going on from that corner. No need to add to that.
Not that she had any intention of seeing Longbourn anytime soon.
She wrapped her arms over her shoulders and rubbed them briskly, shuddering.
After that thought, there would be no more sleep. An appearance in the morning room would be appropriate. She dressed and braced herself for the ball-related effusions which were sure to greet her downstairs.
“Captain Carter has already asked me to dance a set with him tonight.” Lydia skipped past her and into the morning room.
Her parents, Mr. Collins, and her sisters were already assembled in a domestic scene fraught with the kind of energy only a ball could occasion. Perhaps she should have joined April with the Gardiners in the nursery. The fairy dragons liked to keep company there for good reason.
“He has asked me too, so you need not think so much of yourself.” Kitty snorted and looked back down at her stitchery.
What was she doing to those shoe roses? They had only just come from the haberdasher. She was as likely to ruin them as to improve them.
“Well, Denny and Chamberlayne have asked me as well. Can you say the same?” Lydia reached across the table for a pot of jam.
“They would have, had I been permitted to go out with you instead of staying here and—”
Mama silenced Kitty with a glower. “That is enough, dear. You will not want for partners today, none of you will. So, Mr. Collins, I know you have great concern for your reputation. Have you determined if you will attend tonight?”
Elizabeth held her breath. Was it foolish to hope?
“I am by no means of the opinion that a ball of this kind, given by a young man of character, to respectable people, can have any evil tendency. I am so far from objecting to dancing myself that I hope to be honored with the hands of all my fair cousins in the course of the evening.”
Apparently it was. She forced herself to smile, only because it would be less noticeable than if she frowned. Kitty and Lydia were not so circumspect, but, in what appeared to be his characteristic fashion, he did not seem to take notice.
He rose and bowed toward Elizabeth. “I take this opportunity of soliciting your hand, Miss Elizabeth, for the two first dances especially—a preference which I trust my cousin Jane will attribute to the right cause, and not to any disrespect for her.”
Elizabeth’s stomach churned—to be so ambushed first thing in the day!
Papa leveled one of his looks at her, the kind that she could hardly ignore.
“Thank you for the honor, sir. I accept.” What else could she say? She swallowed hard. No doubt this was a prelude of what was to be the rest of her life. Bowing to the unwelcome wishes of one master or another.
Papa was unmoved, supporting Longbourn’s right to insisted she uphold her responsibilities to her role as Keeper. Including her responsibility to marry as the dragon directed.
But Uncle Gardiner said things were changing. Did Papa not realize, or was it simply too inconvenient to deal with? He had little use for things bothersome or inconvenient.
Papa rose and beckoned her to follow. Would that Mama should object and insist she remain where she was. Keeping company, even with Mr. Collins was preferable to an interview with Papa right now.
He shut the door behind her and shuffled to his desk, leaning against it rather than taking a chair.
She pressed her lips hard. If he was too anxious to sit, he was truly vexed indeed.
“I do not know what to make of you, Elizabeth. You have hardly been yourself since returning from Netherfield.” He tried to make eye contact, but she avoided him.
“Yes, Papa.”
“Longbourn is beside himself, you know. He says that you refuse to come to him, that he has sent Rustle and April for you, but you deny him. Even Mary cannot entreat you to come.”
“That is true, Papa.”
He rubbed his hands together. “He is frantic, disappearing from his caverns, then suddenly appearing in the cellars below the house. You realize how dangerous that is? If Hill were to see him, the shock could easily kill her.”
“You are exaggerating. Rumblkins has become excessively fond of her. He will protect her from any such shocks.”
“That is beside the point. Your duty is to tend the dragon, and you are shirking. I demand to know why.” He folded his arms over his chest and tapped his foot.
Elizabeth edged back half a step and wrapped her arms around her waist. “Mary is full well capable of ministering to Longbourn’s needs. He wants for nothing. His hide is oiled, his lair is swept. He has all the food he can stuff himself with. If Longbourn is not happy about that, then perhaps he is being petulant.”
“That is not for you to decide, not that it matters in any case. If a major-dragon wishes to be petulant, then petulant he shall be.”
“Then he may be that way without me.” She ducked her head and slipped back another step.
“He is a dragon, Elizabeth, a dragon. Perhaps you are too accustomed to getting your way with him. Have you forgotten, he does not have to bend to your wishes?” He threw his hands in the air.
“Perhaps it is time that changed.”
“What are you saying? Have you been listening to that stuff and nonsense Gardiner has been spouting about changes from the Conclave?”
“If there are changes, then it behooves us to follow them.”
He leaned close to her face. “Longbourn will not tolerate it. Dragons do not change.”
“If the Conclave demands it, he has no choice.”
“Have you tried telling a dragon that?”
“He has tried telling me.” She turned her back to him.
“You fought with him over Collins?”
She shook her head.
“Good, and you will not either. It is not good for a dragon to be challenged. It disrupts the entire Keep. You will go to him then.”
“No, sir. I will not.”
“You will explain to me why.”
“No, sir, I will not. You may ask Longbourn, he fully understands why. He may explain it to you.”
“Lizzy...”
She turned and met his gaze.
“Stop this impertinence immediately. I have it half in mind to forbid you from attending the ball tonight.”
“Perhaps that is a very good idea. Then, I will not have to dance with Mr. Collins or Mr. Darcy. You will have to explain to Longbourn why I am not going, though. He seems to think it is essential for me to go.”
“Lizzy, please. You have known all your life that this was the way things would be. I am sorry you do not like Collins. I understand, truly I do. I will find some way to make it bearable for you—heaven alone knows how—but I will not rest until I do. I promise you that. Just do not take it out on Longbourn.”
Her chin dropped to her chest. “I am grateful for your promise. I am sure I will come to rely upon it before all is said and done. As for Longbourn, this is a matter between us. It must be settled between us. If I am to be his declared Keeper soon, then we must establish what that relationship will look like going forward. I will not permit him to be master and I, slave. There are certain ... courtesies that I require, even if I am only a lowly human. He must understand that.”
Papa removed his glasses and peered at her. “Pray tell me what did he do?”
“He must learn to control his temper.”
“My dear, girl. I had no idea.” He wrapped her in his arms and held her tightly.
A sob welled up in her throat, but she forced it back, though she could not fully contain the trembling in her shoulders.
“A dragon can be a fearful force to be sure. A force that is beyond our control. I am sorry he showed that to you. It is a burden Keepers must bear at times.”
Perhaps Papa was right, it was merely part and parcel of the Dragon Friend’s lot. But what kind of Friend would leave her in fear of her own life?
Perhaps that was not a Friend she truly wanted to have.
Far from insisting that she stay at home from the ball, Papa determined that it was essential she attend. Her spirits needed lifting and an evening of music and dance was the surest balm for her soul. Moreover, he decided he too would attend. Perhaps she had really unsettled him, confessing the truth about Longbourn.
But it had unsettled her as well. Dragons had always been trustworthy companions, ones she trusted better than people. Not long ago, she knew beyond any doubt, that she had nothing to fear from them. Now, though—she shuddered. Would anything ever be the same? After being caught helpless in a dragon’s paw, held up to a gaping, venomous maw, powerless in the face of it, how could she ever trust a major-dragon again?
***
She spent the better part of the evening assisting Jane and Mary with their gowns and hair and accepting their assistance in return. There was something wholly entertaining—and fully distracting—about preparing for a ball.
Mr. Collins rode on horseback with Papa whilst the ladies took the carriage. It looked as though Papa wanted to speak with Mr. Collins on the way, but it was unlikely he would have any useful conversation. Mr. Collins had words enough for them all.
So did Kitty, Lydia and Mama. Usually irritating, tonight that was a blessing. Her responses were not required, and she could be alone in her thoughts.
The driver handed them out into the chill night air. Mama and her sisters swept inside with the force of a whirlwind—they were there for a purpose and nothing would stand in their way.
Elizabeth lingered behind. A few more breaths of the bracing night air and she would be better able to take on the crush within. Besides, she had the real pleasure of Mr. Wickham’s company to look forward to. That was real motivation to go inside.
A loud squawk echoed from the side of the house, sending a shiver down her spine. Rustle or Walker? She could not be sure, but it was definitely a cockatrice. She pulled her cloak a little tighter around her and crept toward the sound.
The torches planted along the drive in front of the house cast an eerie glow, far more sinister than should be present at a ball, leaving her shadow long and obvious. She pressed closer to the house taking cover in its shadows. The shrubberies planted near the house reached for her, plucking at her cloak and her hair. If she was not careful, all Jane’s hard work would be ruined before she danced even the first set.
“If it was not you, then who?” That was Wickham’s voice.
“I am sure I cannot tell you.” And Mr. Darcy?
“I do not believe you. Were that true, you would not be so calm.”
“So I am the guilty party because I remain calm in the face of calamity? That is a weak argument for my guilt,” Mr. Darcy said.
“You enjoy winning, do you not? Once again, you have taken from me, reveling in what you have reduced me to.”
“I am not reveling nor have I reduced you in any way. Look to your own actions for responsibility not to me.”
“You may think you have won, Darcy, but I assure you—"
Squawk!
She jumped and turned.
Walker landed beside her and tugged at her cloak. “You do not need to hear this. It is not—”
“I think it is very much what it appears to be. But you are quite correct, I do not need to be here listening in the shadows.”
“Do not be so quick to judge!”
“I thank you for your advice, but I find perhaps that I have not been quick enough in the past to recognize—others—for what they are. I shall endeavor not to make that mistake again.” She flipped her cloak around her and stormed toward the front doors.
Shortly after her entrance, Mr. Darcy appeared, but not Mr. Wickham.
So it seemed her favorite partner would not attend the ball now, and Mr. Darcy was answerable for that.
Mr. Darcy greeted her in the front hall with great politeness and reminded her of their promised dance, taxing her civility in providing a response. She muttered under her breath as a servant directed her to the ladies’ changing room where she removed her cloak and donned her dancing slippers.
She ducked out and into the main rooms. Heat from the multitude of candles
and fires and the bodies milling about mixed with the fragrances of perfumes, vases overflowing with flowers and sweat. Oh, the noise! How much noise so many people made, even when they were all being quite polite. She paused a moment to adjust to the assault on her senses.
“Eliza?” Charlotte approached through the crush, hands outstretched. “You look quite well tonight.”
“As do you. Did Maria do something new with your hair?”
Charlotte patted the elegant twist. “Indeed she did. I hesitated to let her try, then thought I may as well as not. Did your cousin come with you tonight? I have heard tell—”
“That he is quite interesting?”
“That was one word I heard bandied about.”
“I am not sure that is the word I would choose, but we may settle on that as it is easiest. You see, he is there, standing with Jane and Mr. Bingley.” Elizabeth pointed with her chin.
“He is tall, but beyond that, he seems ordinary enough. I wonder that you would call him interesting.”
“You have no idea!” Elizabeth rolled her eyes.
“He is not agreeable?”
“Not in the conventional sense of the word—”
Charlotte twitched her head. “He is coming this way.”
“Cousin Elizabeth!”
“Mr. Collins, may I present my friend Miss Charlotte Lucas.”
Bows and curtsies were exchanged.
“I am pleased to be introduced to any friend of my dear cousin.”
“I do not think Charlotte is engaged for the whole of the evening yet. Perhaps you might consider a dance with her?” Leaving one less possibility that she might have to dance two with him.
“How very agreeable. After I have danced with all of my fair cousins, might I have your hand for, that would be, the sixth dance of the evening?”
“Thank you, I would be delighted.” Charlotte smiled.
Would she still be smiling after dancing with him, though? At least they would have a jolly conversation then, probably at Mr. Collins’ expense.
“But now, dear cousin, the musicians are calling us to the dance floor.” He extended his hand and led her to a place in the line of dancers that crowded the floor.
The floor was chalked with ships and celestial designs. Draco was included among the constellations. How grand the dragon looked, though clearly the artist had never seen one in the flesh. The proportions were all wrong.