by Maria Grace
“You do not fear she will simply fly away, never to be seen again?” Wickham peered into her hood.
April ducked into a deep fold.
“She is my friend, not my prisoner. If she wants to leave, she is free to do so. I would not hold her against her will any more than I would turn her out.”
“I have never heard anyone talk so about a pet.”
“She is my friend, not my pet.”
“A significant distinction, I am sure.” He dipped his head.
April snorted in her ear. “I still do not like him. You should not speak with him about me.”
Wickham stared at April, but gave no sign of having understood her words.
That should not be disappointing, but it was. Even him hearing dragons would not change anything.
“Your little bird does not seem to be the only one excessively fond of you. Your little cousins seem utterly entranced by the story you told them. Quite imaginative, that: dragons and the Blue Order?” He winked again and smiled.
Something about the way his eyes crinkled at the sides ... he could not hear dragons, but what did he know?
Her heart thundered hard enough to threaten her ability to speak. April tensed against her ear.
Calm. Remain calm.
“I have told them those tales since the eldest was old enough for bedtime stories. I have had to weave quite the intricate web to keep them all interested, but I confess, I enjoy the stories as well.”
“You might consider writing them one day. As I understand, it is an acceptable diversion for genteel young ladies. Some are even interested in publishing such things. I know I should enjoy hearing more of your dragon adventures.” He looked straight ahead, his face serene and serious.
And curious.
Uncomfortably, maybe dangerously, curious.
“That is a very peculiar interest for a gentleman and a soldier. I should think the affairs of the world would be of far greater import to someone in your position.” It was difficult to keep her voice light when the conversation had turned so dark.
“Whilst that might be true, I have always found that making allowances for a liberal amount of fiction in one’s life is necessary to maintaining equanimity. How else does one escape, even for a short time, from the drudgery that everyday life affords?”
Lydia and Kitty paused at the chandler’s window. They stopped several steps behind them.
He turned and caught her gaze. “I was not joking. I have been fascinated with dragons all my life, and I am, can I say, thrilled, to find someone who shares my interests. You know the story of the Lambton Wyrm? I grew up just miles from that town. I spent much of my boyhood searching for any trace of that beast. Though the mythos says it was kilt, I have never been convinced of its demise. Surely something as sturdy as a dragon could not be so easily undone.”
April growled in her ear.
Elizabeth edged back. “Dragons are for fairy stories and children—and perhaps artists who render them on signs and prints. Do be sensible, sir.”
Wickham’s gaze drifted to April. Her hackles rose, and she growled again.
“Perhaps you are right, Miss Bennet. But faced with the losses I have suffered, can you truly blame me for lingering upon memories of happier, childhood times?”
“No, no, of course not. Pray excuse me, though. I must go inside.” She sidled past him, through her sisters, and into the chandler’s shop.
Tables and displays littered the confined space, but with only one other shopper inside, it felt open and cavernous. She drew in a deep breath, filled with scents of tallow, tea, soap, and a hint of bacon.
April sneezed and pawed at her beak. Tea leaves often made her sneeze. “Mr. Darcy does not like him. Your Aunt Gardiner does not like him, either. You should heed them and avoid him. I fear he is a Deaf-Speaker. You know how dangerous they are.”
Darcy’s dislike proved nothing about Wickham, only about Darcy’s hateful character.
“You know Deaf-Speakers are very few and far between. I am sure if you, Heather, Phoenix and Rumblkins, perhaps Rustle as well, band together, you will be able to persuade him that his interests are just a passing childhood thing.”
“We have tried to persuade him.”
She turned to stare at April, a chill settling over her shoulders. “When?”
“Several times. At first I simply thought it was my high, thin voice. So I asked Rumblkins with his low, purry speech. He could not persuade that man to even pet him. Rustle has the easiest voice to hear. He has tried on multiple occasions, but to no effect, either. The man is completely dragon-deaf just like Collins. I do not like it, not at all.”
She stroked April’s ruffled feathers smooth. “It will be well, do not worry.”
Somehow it would. Wickham’s interests must just be an odd coincidence, a misunderstanding. It had to be. After all he had suffered at Darcy’s hand, it was not so far-fetched that Wickham would enjoy fantastical fairy stories—was it?
“No, no, I am not sure it will. I am afraid.” April huddled close to Elizabeth’s neck.
“I promise, I will not let either of them harm you.”
“How delightful! You have your pretty bird with you today.” The chandler, short, round and rosy-cheeked, waddled toward her, wiping his hands on his stained apron. “It is always such a delight to see such a bright little bauble in the crispy brown times of winter. Might she like a spoonful of sugar-flower water?”
“I think it would lift her spirits tremendously.” Elizabeth encouraged April to perch on her finger whilst the chandler brought a large spoon, more like a ladle, filled with sugar water, with several rose petals floating on top.
April flitted to the edge of the ladle and sipped the treat, warbling happily, if a mite forced.
“Might I touch her?” He extended a fat, stubby finger toward April.
April looked at him, head cocked. “Gently.”
“I think she will allow it, but you must be very gentle, like touching a flower so as not to ruin the petals. Just under her chin, she likes that a great deal.”
He ran his fingertip under her chin. She stretched up to guide him to the itchy spots and trilled as he found them.
“She has such a sweet song. Makes one go all soft inside, like warm tallow, I say. A right ray of sunshine she is, Miss Bennet. I suppose I should be getting your order though, no?” He disappeared into the back of the store.
“I like him.” April plunged her beak into the ladle.
“Of course you do. He feeds you sweets, and pets you and tells you what a pretty little thing you are. What is there not to like?”
April hopped back to Elizabeth’s shoulder. “He is not easily persuaded, but he is still kind and thoughtful, not frightening at all.”
The door clattered open and heavy footfalls, familiar ones, clattered in.
Collins.
The back of her neck twitched.
At least he might be pressed into service, carrying Mama’s order.
“Cousin Elizabeth,” he gasped and panted, “I am glad to have finally found you. Your sisters are gone ahead, to the vintner I believe. We should hurry to catch up to them before ... before ...”
“I am quite certain no calamity will befall them before the chandler brings Mama’s order out.” She turned her shoulder and stepped toward the counter at the back wall of the shop.
He followed too closely. “I did not realize you were waiting on the shopkeeper.”
What else did he think she was doing here? Playing buffy gruffy among the candlesticks?
She bit her lip. The man did not understand sarcasm, so any clever remark would be wasted upon him.
“We should hurry.” Mr. Collins straightened his back and dusted off the edge of his coat.
“With so many officers to guard them, I hardly think Kitty and Lydia will come to any harm.” She laughed as he edged close enough for their elbows to touch.
“That was not my concern.”
She sidled away.
“If you have something to say, sir, perhaps you should come out and speak more—”
“Here we are, Miss Bennet, exactly as your mother requested.” The chandler trundled out, several packages in his arms. He handed them to Mr. Collins. “I trust you will find it all to your, and her, satisfaction.”
“I am sure we will. Good day.”
“Good day to you and to your little pretty as well.” He waved fingertips at April who cheeped daintily.
Mr. Collins shuffled after her, tucking the packages awkwardly under his arm as they hurried toward the vintner. “About your sisters, Cousin Elizabeth, their behavior is positively wild.”
“I wonder that you should speak to me about it. Are they not my parents’ responsibility?” She stared resolutely ahead. If she caught his gaze, there would be no controlling her expression.
“Indeed they are. That is true.”
“And is it not my duty as a daughter to honor my parents?”
“Yes, of course. It is to your credit that you should see it so.”
“And would it not dishonor them to take their place in correcting my sisters in their actions and attitudes, usurping, as it were, their authority?”
Mr. Collins’ jaw dropped, and bobbed open and shut rather like a large trout on a hook.
“So you must agree, that what you suggest, whilst you might find it pleasing and expedient, I can in no way do what you ask without compromising the values you and I hold dear.”
His eyes bulged to complete his convincing impressing of a gaping fish.
April snorted in her ear. Elizabeth increased her pace. Hopefully that would relieve Mr. Collins of any excess breath for speaking.
Lydia and Kitty burst out of the vintner’s shop, their packages carried by Denny and Carter. The merry little party laughed and carried on far too loudly.
Across the street, a party of matrons stopped and stared, whispering amongst themselves.
Why did Mr. Collins have to be right? He would certainly never hear that admission from her, though.
The trip to the butcher was mercifully quick. The officers announced their intention of escorting the ladies home. Elizabeth tried to stay close to Kitty, but Mr. Collins lingered behind the group and signaled Elizabeth to walk with him.
“Just ignore him. It is easy enough to pretend you did not see,” April whispered from the depths of her hood.
“He will express his displeasure to Mama and Papa if I do not comply. They will in turn express it to me. I do not have the wherewithal to experience that again, at least not right now.” Elizabeth slowed until Mr. Collins caught up with her.
“I believe you are correct, Cousin. I thank you for drawing it to my attentions. I should address your parents. It does you credit to suggest it. I acknowledge your wisdom and will do as you recommend immediately upon our return to Longbourn.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. There was no way that would turn out well. Oh, what joy would be hers.
“Lady Catherine will surely be pleased to learn of your insight and your deference to your elders. Exactly the kind of behavior she most approves of in those in her domain.”
Was he describing a woman or a dragon?
Probably both.
A shudder snaked down her spine. If she married him, would she have to spend time at Rosings and face the demands of another peevish dragon? From his description of its Keeper, Rosings sounded every bit as petulant as Longbourn.
She swallowed hard and forced her lips into a small smile, as befitted the compliment Mr. Collins intended to offer.
“There is though, a wee matter of concern that I would speak to you about.” He held up thumb and forefinger.
Which whim of Lady Catherine did he expect her to cater ... no, something in his eyes suggested it was nothing so simple or straightforward. She stumbled over a small stone.
He reached for her elbow to steady her, but she pulled away before he could touch her. April flapped her wings for balance and hissed at Collins as he passed too close to her.
He swatted at April.
Elizabeth ducked and dodged his flailing, but slipped on the gravel and bounced hard on her shoulder.
“Cousin Elizabeth!” Collins dropped to his knees beside her, reaching for her hand.
Elizabeth scrabbled back. “Pray leave me be!”
Collins jumped back, his hands in the air.
“Are you all right?” She searched over her shoulder for April.
April peeked out of her hood. “I am well. Please get me away from him.” She trembled against Elizabeth.
She scooped up the tiny dragon and clutched her against her chest. “I would thank you to keep a distance. You could have injured both of us.”
“Pray forgive my clumsiness, but no harm has been done. You are uninjured, are you not?”
“My shoulder will be worse for the wear, no doubt. But it is April—”
“That is precisely what I have wished to talk to you about. That creature of yours.”
“That creature, as you call her, has been my companion since I was ten years old. I would thank you to treat her with a little more respect.” She pushed to her feet and dusted sharp bits of gravel from her skirt.
Oh, that shoulder would need a hot compress tonight!
“It is not natural to be so attached to an animal. It is not right, even with one so unnaturally long-lived. I can see you are fond of the little thing, but do you not think it is time to pursue more ... grown-up concerns?”
Every muscle tensed and trembled. “I have not the pleasure of knowing to what you refer, sir. Companion animals are quite common in society. How many have dogs or cats, even parrots and other birds? How is April any different? I cannot help but imagine that even Lady Catherine might keep such a creature.”
His face shifted just slightly. “She does not permit it to ride upon her person, nor does it follow her everywhere she goes. The creature has a proper—containment—outside where such creatures belong. She does not talk to the bird as though it were a person—she hardly visits it at all.”
“What kind of bird does she keep?”
“Some sort of fancy feathered chicken, I suppose. It boasts a feathered headdress many women admire and tail feathers an arm’s length long.” He waved his hand around his head suggesting many long fluffy feathers. “I have never seen the likes of one before—very rare I am told. It is a mark of her superior rank that she has it at all. The cage sits on the road to the main house, and all who drive past may see the exotic livestock she possesses.”
A cockatrix?
The woman had a cockatrix for a Dragon Friend? The most difficult and arrogant of the minor dragons! Cockatrix were said to be well aware of their rarity and proud of it—at one time almost driving the cockatrice species into extinction because of their reluctance to accept any but the most superior males.
She pressed her forehead. Of course. Of course, it had to be.
“The relevant point here is that she treats it as an animal, not a person.”
No, the relevant point was that Lady Catherine was excellent at hiding the true nature of her friend and their relationship. No cockatrix would tolerate the treatment Collins implied.
Heavens, a harridan, a cockatrix, and a firedrake—what kind of place must Rosings Park be?
“Cousin, are you listening to me?” He leaned far too close to her face.
“Of course I am. I was carefully considering your words.”
“Then you will do as I ask and relegate that bird to her cage.”
She jumped back. “Absolutely not. As long as fine ladies carry about their pugs, then I shall keep April with me.”
Collins’ face screwed into tight knots as he ground his teeth. “That was not a request.”
“You have no claim over me to be making such requests.”
“I insist you hear me out. You do not understand what detriment that creature and all your talk of dragons is doing.”
The blood drained from her face. Oh, for
something she could lean upon until the dizziness passed. “What are you talking about?”
“That story you told your young cousins at Christmas. Dragons, the Blue Order and whatever other nonsense you were filling their heads with.”
“That story was for the children and the children alone.”
“You have no business plying them with silliness and hoping they will grow into sensible beings. Already they are confused and deluded. One of the boys and the girl were calling their ridiculous little bird a tiny dragon. They even called the housekeeper’s cat a dragon. What nonsense!” He threw a hand in the air.
Did he do that for emphasis when he preached, too? Vicars who did that were so distracting and annoying. He probably did.
“And they have told you this?”
“No, I do not talk to children. But they are allowed to roam the house freely enough. It is difficult not to hear their—”
“Their play, Mr. Collins. That is what it is called, play and imagination. Something that is utterly normal and even considered good and appropriate by some.”
“Perhaps by liberal philosophers, but not by me. They should be taught sense and reality, not this frivolous fancy. I am sure their father will agree with me. I will seek him out if necessary.”
“Necessary?”
“To make you stop with all this fanciful dragon nonsense and to stop the horrible example you set with that bird. They are starting to permit their creature the same indulgences yours is allowed. Disgraceful!”
“So, that is what I am to you, disgraceful? It is a wonder then that you are even speaking with me. Do you not fear that you will taint your reputation with Lady Catherine? That she might not approve of the company you are keeping in me?”
“That is not at all what I meant. Not at all. Perhaps I should have taken time to first compliment your many perfections. I am told young females appreciate such things. Then allow me to begin again. Your person, your intelligence, your manners are all very agreeable—most agreeable.” His eyes raked her up and down.
She wrapped her cloak tightly around herself.