Longbourn: Dragon Entail: A Pride and Prejudice Variation (Jane Austen's Dragons Book 2)

by Maria Grace

  “While the idea may have some appeal, I doubt it could work out so very simply. The next heir would have to be found. He might well be even worse.”

  “The estate would not go to you on his death?”

  “No, that is not the way the laws of men work.”

  April and Rustle squawked an offended note.

  “They are stupid.” Rumblkins’ long, scaly tail lashed back and forth, then wrapped tight, around her waist.

  “I have had the same thought often enough.” She rose and lifted Rumblkins to her shoulder. “I need to get you home.”

  Hill met them in the garden, swinging between delight that Elizabeth had found Rumblkins and outrage over Collins. With Hill’s help, Elizabeth prepared the promised poultice for Rumblkins’ bruises, and a tea to speed his healing.

  He complained that it tasted funny, but with some coaxing and some dried cod from Hill, he drank it down and settled into his fireplace basket. A few minutes later, he purred very happily.

  “Do you think it wise for me to bring his basket to my room tonight, Miss? I know Collins won’t be going in there at all.”

  Rumblkins mrowed and flicked the tip of his tail, almost as though he suggested the idea himself.

  “I think he would like that very much.”

  Hill was spoiling the tatzelwurm awfully, but it made them both so very happy—and the house and garden so very free of rats—that it was difficult to find fault.

  “Very good, then. Come along, and we shall keep you away from that horrid man.” Hill grunted as she lifted the basket and trundled out.

  That horrid man. The sentiment summed it up very well.

  At least Rumblkins would recover soon. Hill would probably carry a grudge though, and given that the house would be Collins’ someday, that could be a problem.

  But a problem for the future. There were enough to contend with now.

  Elizabeth scrubbed her face with her hands. It would be dinner time soon. Her stomach churned. She asked Cook to inform Mama that she was unwell and would not be coming down for dinner.

  Sleep. That would clear her head. In the morning, she would think of something.

  ***

  Several days later, Darcy’s morning ride took him past Cait’s folly. The sun sat low in the sky, warming the morning to brisk and refreshing. Exactly as one should begin a day.

  The carved limestone folly resembled a round Grecian temple topped with a wrought iron birdcage. The iron work was of the finest quality, and the swoops and swirls brought to mind images of wind and clouds. But it still resembled an elaborate bird cage.

  According to Aunt Catherine, Collins had said as much in Cait’s hearing once, and she nearly took out his eyes. Comparisons to birds and cages tended to bring out the worst in her temper.

  Over the last few days, Cait’s mood had become progressively worse, and the entire household blamed him. Technically it was Pemberley, and not him, who threatened to drive not just Cait, but every dragon and Dragon Friend to distraction, but no one was going to blame a vicontes when a human of no rank could be blamed instead.

  In truth, it could not all be attributed to her, either. Rosings should never have explained what lancing meant. Truly, who would tell a youngster such a thing?

  Now, Pemberley was nearly hysterical anytime someone unfamiliar visited the lair. What was more, she kept the old dog that had traveled in the dog cart with her to protect her. Thankfully, no one reminded her that the dog was nearly blind and deaf.

  Darcy clutched his temples. There was no telling how long that dog would live. He probably needed to find a puppy to raise with Pemberley so she would not be without a companion when the old one died. Where exactly did one find a dog that would tolerate dragons? Perhaps Wellsbey, the minor drake who helped with the sheep, could assist.

  Yes, that was a very good thought. Best be sure to remember that one. Good thoughts seemed in very short supply recently.

  Cait swooped across the horse’s path. It shied and nearly reared.

  She perched on one of the iron curlicues near his eye level.

  “You have been around horses enough to know better than to startle one!” Yes, scolding a cockatrix was a bad idea, but this habit was more than annoying. It was dangerous.

  “I have far bigger concerns than horses right now.” She picked at her shoulder feathers.

  “If you had caused me to be thrown from this one, you certainly would! Can you imagine the disruption to the estate, and to Pemberley—and to Walker for that matter—should I have been seriously injured or killed? I know you care little enough for me, but think of your own convenience!”

  “I wish you had never come.” She stared at him and hissed.

  “Believe me, I should much rather have stayed in Meryton with someone who knows something useful about baby dragons!”

  “Then why did you not?”

  Walker swooped down, chittering and scolding. He landed on a nearby tree limb. Heaven forbid he perch on Cait’s folly.

  “Because, you feather-pated ninny, he was told to leave by the estate wyvern who was playing host to Pemberley.”

  “A wyvern threw you out? Was he utterly insensible of the honor given him by the presence of a vicontes in his lair?” She extended a wing, showing off the vibrant blue feathers on the underside. “Is that not the estate the bumbling vicar is to inherit?”

  “Unfortunately,” Darcy muttered.

  “The wyvern should just eat the man and be done with it. Surely they can dredge up a better heir even from the bottom of the Thames.”

  Darcy patted the horse’s neck. “Whilst that might be true, that would be against the Accords, which are in the process of amendment right now. I think that is making the wyvern rather desperate and foolish in his attempts to horde what he considers his treasure.”

  Walker cast him a very odd look. Perhaps it was a bit dramatic to liken Miss Elizabeth to a treasure, but in some ways—many ways, in fact—her way with dragons was.

  “Well it is a bloody shame—”

  “Cait! That is not ladylike language.”

  “Which is not a problem considering I am a cockatrix.” She preened her wing.

  Walker snickered.

  “You will not use that sort of language around my sister when she arrives.”

  “He is right. She is already shy enough around dragon-kind. It would be quite damaging for you to scare her off by threatening her delicacy with your vocabulary.” Walker bobbed his head.

  Cait ruffled her wings, making them large and fluffy.

  Lovely, just what he needed, another fight between those two. Why did they not simply leave one another alone if they could not manage to get along?

  She flipped her wings over her back. “Very well, I will restrain myself in her presence. But there is a price attached to that promise.”

  Of course there was. Darcy dragged his hand over his face. “What do you demand?”

  “You will tell Lady that I will not be the one to lance Pemberley’s gums. She has got this addlepated notion that my talons are the perfect tool for the task. What kind of fool does she take me for, asking me to put my limbs into a cranky dragon’s mouth?”

  No one in their right mind would take on such a task. Of course, no one in their right mind would insist upon it either.

  Darcy chuckled into his fist. “That I will do.”

  “It is too bad that Meryton Keeper did not have some sort of solution for all this muddle.”

  Walker squawked and flapped. “Darcy, you are an idiot!”

  “That is ever so helpful, thank—” Darcy’s jaw dropped. “I completely forgot!”

  “Forgot what?”

  “That Miss Elizabeth sent you with pages and pages of advice on baby dragons. Surely there must be something there on teething.” Considering his tone, if Walker could have slapped his forehead, he would.

  “You could have saved us all this inconvenience?”

  “I do not know, but I am going to find out.
” Darcy pressed his heels to the horse’s side, and they took off for the house at a trot.

  Behind him, Cait and Walker chittered back and forth in dragon tongue, probably mocking him.

  But they were right. Miss Elizabeth had given him ample notes of dragon lore, and somehow, in the strain of getting Pemberley settled in at Rosings, he had entirely forgotten about them.

  He was an idiot.

  At the house, he ran for the stairs, but Aunt Catherine cut him off. How did she know that he had just arrived? There must have been a dragon set to watch for him. The butler’s puck, most likely. He was good at that sort of thing, especially if promised a shiny button—his favorite trinket—in return. When one visited Rosings, one always brought an ample supply of buttons.

  “I have good news, Nephew.” She positioned herself between him and the stairs.

  “I do not have time for neighborhood gossip, Aunt.” She must have used that maneuver often, for she knew exactly how to place herself to make it impossible to skirt past her.

  “Gossip? How dare you accuse me of such a base activity? This has nothing to do with the neighborhood, and everything to do with you.” She poked his chest.

  “Pray then, tell me quickly. I am on an urgent errand.”

  “I have found a Blue Order surgeon who will come and lance Pemberley’s gums.”

  He clutched his forehead. “Has he ever done such a surgery on a dragon?”

  “He does babies all the time.”

  “Does he know he is to operate on a dragon?”

  “Of course, what do you take me for?”

  “Does he know the dragon is an infant firedrake?”

  “I do not recall that I mentioned her species.” She twitched her head and shrugged.

  How kind of her to leave off a little detail that might make the surgeon think better of the assignment.

  “Call him off. I believe I have another solution.”

  “And what might that be?”

  “I do not know, yet. I have to do some reading.” He brushed past her and bounded up the great stairs.

  She muttered something behind him, but little matter. He would deal with her temper later.

  Where had he put those pages? They were surely in his room somewhere.

  He tore through the closet, his trunks, the desk. Nothing!

  He was not in the habit of mislaying things. How could this have ...

  The bed curtains rustled.

  “Quincy!” He stormed toward the bed.

  A loud squeak, followed by a scratching of taloned toes on the wood floor.

  Darcy dropped to the floor and stuck his head and shoulders under the bed.

  “Good day.” Quincy, the butler’s puck, sat on his haunches and cocked his head, wearing a toothy dragon rendition of a smile.

  “Out, now.”

  “As you wish.” Quincy scuttled into a sunbeam.

  He was a short, four-legged, long-tailed dragon, resembling a lizard that came halfway to his knees. His smooth shiny scales started at his nose in a pale green, blending to darker green and nearly black by the time they reached his tail. Subtle dark stripes covered the length of his body. A short fin ran along his spine between two little nubs on his shoulders, vestigial wings according to dragon lore. His hood was folded back along his neck right now, but when he became angry, as he soon would, it would flare out behind his head, making him look much bigger than he was.

  “You know you are not allowed in my room.” He tapped his heel hard enough to jar the floorboard Quincy sat upon.

  “The maids let me in.”

  “No they did not. I ordered them not to do so.”

  Quincy smiled and flicked his tail, like a dog wagging. Some thought him cute.

  They were wrong.

  “You have taken my papers.”

  Quincy chewed at a spot behind his wing nub.

  Darcy pinched the bridge of his nose. “I do not have the time or the patience to play this game with you. If you do not immediately return them to me, I will tell Cait that you have taken them and now she must lance Pemberley’s gums because they are missing. Pemberley will not appreciate it either.”

  Quincy’s hood flipped out around his head. His body puffed, and he hissed.

  “That display will hardly impress either of them. You know Cait’s temper.”

  Quincy chewed the talons of his front paws. “Wait here. I will be back.” He scurried through a small hole in the bottom of the servant’s door.

  That would have to be fixed immediately, even if he took hammer and nails to it himself.

  A quarter of an hour later, sheets and sheets of paper were shoved, one at a time, under his door.

  Cowardly little lizard.

  He retrieved a button from his locked trunk and tossed it through the hole in the servant’s door. That should mollify the puck’s dignity.

  Miss Elizabeth’s hand was incredibly neat and easy to read. He traced his fingers down the pages, skimming.

  There! Teething!

  It was hardly surprising that she had never encountered a teething firedrake before, but she had comforted a teething drake. That should be similar enough. It had to be.

  A bone instead of a teething coral, something he could acquire readily enough. Oil of clove, and oil of peppermint? A little lavender oil as well. Surely the local apothecary had those.

  It was simple. Almost too simple to bother with. Perhaps it was a fool’s errand.

  But the alternative was to allow a strange surgeon access to Pemberley with a lancet. Pemberley might never forgive him, and then where would he be? At least, if he tried these methods, he could say he had tried “her” advice. Perhaps she might forgive him then.

  And he had to do something. His dragon was suffering and could be in serious danger. No Keeper could stand idly by under such circumstances.

  ***

  The trip to Hunsford proved successful, but annoying. Why did shopkeepers always ask the same things? Why had he not sent a servant for these items? Would he not be interested in better wares? Perhaps something more?

  Gah! It took far too long to get what he needed and leave. At least the beef bones fit in the floor of the gig well enough. The horse did not like the smell, but horses and dragons were often in conflict, so that was neither new nor remarkable.

  He parked the gig a quarter of a mile from the lair and gathered his parcels. Pray let this work, even a little, just enough that he could call off his aunt’s efforts.

  He paused at the opening, allowing his eyes to adjust. The old dog woofed. Probably more because of the smell than anything else.

  “Rosings, may I approach?”

  Her huge head poked out of the deeper darkness. “Do you bring ... help ... for the young one?”

  “Yes, I have consulted an expert and had a different, much more appealing suggestion.”

  Rosings pressed her head behind his shoulders and pushed him, stumbling, toward Pemberley’s nest.

  “Keeper?” Pemberley whined and pawed at her jaws.

  “‘Her’ has written to me and told me what to do.”

  “Her?” Her huge green eyes widened.

  “Yes, ‘her.’”

  “She knows everything. She help.” Her voice sounded so much like Georgiana’s when she wept! “What she say? Not cut me?”

  “No, she does not recommend that.”

  Pemberley laid her head on his shoulder and flicked his ear with her tongue. He wrapped his arms around her neck and held her a moment. Could a dragon cry for happiness?

  The old dog snuffled at the parcels.

  He crouched and removed a meaty bone from paper wrapping. “See, I have a treat for your companion. I have not forgotten him.”

  “Her would like that.”

  Miss Elizabeth probably would.

  He removed a large beef bone and held it up to Pemberley. “Her says to rub this with a little oil of clove, of peppermint and of lavender. Then you are to chew it until you feel better.”
<
br />   “I ... I like chew.”

  He anointed the bone and handed it to her. Pungent herbal aromas filled the cave. How odd. The scents mixed very well with dragon musk. Somehow that was very reassuring.

  Pemberley flicked her tongue over the bone, brows wrinkling at the unfamiliar taste.

  “Her says it will make you feel better.”

  She took the bone and laid down beside the dog. They gummed their prizes in tandem.

  Several minutes later, Rosings tapped his shoulder with her chin and whispered, “I think it is working, look at her tail.”

  Pemberley and her dog were both wagging the tips of their tails in a happy rhythm.

  “I will see you have fresh bones whenever you have need.” He rubbed the typically-itchy spot right between Pemberley’s wings.

  “I like bones! Her knows everything!”

  Perhaps not everything, but he certainly would not allow those notes out of his possession again. Once Georgiana arrived, perhaps she would be willing to write to Miss Elizabeth for further advice on Pemberley.

  That would be almost as good as having her nearby.

  Rumblkins recovered from his encounter with Collins, but gave the man a wide berth, staying very close to Hill whenever he could. Hill was quite content with both the arrangement and the excuse to avoid Collins. Mr. Collins hardly seemed to notice, keeping company with Papa far more than usual.

  After several days of relative calm, an early morning rap at her door hardly seemed surprising.

  “You are up. Good. Get dressed and come to my study, I would see you immediately.” Papa shut the door firmly.

  Lovely, such a mood he was in.

  “That does not sound like an invitation to tea.” April stared at the door.

  Elizabeth retrieved a morning dress from the closet and shrugged it over her shoulders. “I cannot image what has him upset now. There are so many choices: Rumblkins, Mr. Collins, Longbourn. I think though, it might be best if you were to stay here for now, Mr. Collins might well be with him.”

  April returned to her filigree cage and locked the door from the inside.

  ***

  Elizabeth counted the stairs as she went, making sure their number had not changed since the last time she had traversed them. Given how arsey-varsey everything else had become, it seemed reasonable to check.