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

by Maria Grace

  “You know mine is not the only betrothal connected to Rosings Park that will be affected by these changes.”

  Fitzwilliam rubbed his hands together. He enjoyed gossip as much as Aunt Catherine. “Indeed, I had no idea. Do tell.”

  “The Hunsford vicar, Collins—a dragon-deaf buffoon—has a dragon estate entailed upon him—the estate of the Order’s Historian, Longbourn.”

  “The one who assisted you with Pemberley’s recovery?”

  “Bennet’s second daughter has a particular gift with dragons. It was she who stayed my hand and insisted that Pemberley could still properly imprint. And she was right. Without her ...” Darcy swallowed hard and dragged his fist across his chin.

  “And she is her father’s sacrificial lamb to the vicar?”

  “The dragon is enamored of her just like Pemberley is, and Walker and every dragon she meets. Longbourn does not wish to let her go. He will be most distressed to learn she is no longer obligated to bow to his demands.”

  Fitzwilliam peered at him more closely. “It sounds as though you feel a debt toward her? Perhaps you should wheedle an invitation to Rosings Park for her—and get her away from that dragon of hers.”

  “Have you forgotten that the man she does not want to marry is vicar here? I can hardly think it would be an agreeable escape for her.”

  “That is a shame. It sounds as though she might be very helpful to Georgiana.”

  Darcy stroked his chin. “You have given me an idea.”

  Several hours later, Darcy gathered up several papers and tiptoed to Georgiana’s room. He tapped at the door. A soft voice responded.

  Georgiana was curled up in a large chair, near the fire, a large blanket wrapped over her—her way of recovering from too much company.

  “I am glad you are come.” He pulled a chair close and sat near her.

  She peeked above the blanket, eyes in a narrow glare. “I had little choice. You insisted I come.”

  “You sound as though I am an ogre.”

  “I have heard they are as fond of dragons as you are.” She tucked her head back into the blanket.

  He patted the blanket where her shoulder should have been. “I know Old Pemberley frightened you with his tempers, and that he was crotchety in his dotage. But they are not all so difficult.”

  “Walker does not like me either.”

  “Walker is not particularly personable with anyone.”

  She pulled the blankets aside. “Quincy has already been through my trunks and has tried to steal buttons off my gowns! I do not even know the kitchen dragon’s name, but she runs when she sees me—”

  “Blanche runs from nearly everyone. She is shy. And as to Quincy, pucks are hoarders. He does that to everyone. I have brought buttons for him. I will give you some. If you offer them to him for good behavior, he will leave your things alone.”

  She shrugged.

  “Little Pemberley is a very affectionate creature.”

  “She is a firedrake! How can you call a fire-breathing, fanged, winged monster affectionate?” Georgiana hugged her shoulders and shuddered.

  “She is just a baby! Like that puppy you adored.”

  “I am sure she would be offended if you compared her to a puppy.”

  “She has her own pet dog. I think she would be pleased.”

  “She has a dog?” Georgiana’s tone softened.

  “An old hound. They are inseparable. They like to chew bones together. She is teething, you know.”

  “But is that not a very dangerous time for a baby?” A glimmer of interest—or perhaps sympathy lit her eyes.

  “That is what I understand as well. I have some very helpful advice, written for me by the daughter of the Blue Order’s Historian. You might find it helpful to read the observations of a young woman like yourself. She feels very differently about dragons and perhaps if you can see them through her eyes, it would be helpful.” He offered the pages Miss Elizabeth had written.

  She took them, suspicion in her eyes.

  “I have not told you the full story yet, but Pemberley did not hatch as we expected. Miss Elizabeth was there with her when she hatched. I think Pemberley might not have lived if she had not been there.”

  “Do you like her?”

  Why did Georgiana have to ask that?

  “I think she would be a good friend to you. She said she would be happy to receive letters from you.”

  A little frown appeared, and she raised an eyebrow. “And you are not concerned that would be her way to get close to you? You have always been suspicious of young women.”

  “I am quite certain she does not think that well of me. One might believe that she preferred dragon company to that of men.”

  Georgiana giggled. “Exactly opposite to me.”

  “I suppose in a way. Still, will you read what she has written? I have read it and if nothing else, you will enjoy her rather unique sense of humor.”

  “It cannot hurt, I imagine.”

  Not quite the reaction he was hoping for, but it was better than an outright refusal. Why did young women have to be so utterly perplexing? He excused himself and returned to his own chambers.

  It was a shame that Miss Elizabeth could not come to Rosings Park. Pemberley would enjoy her company. He would, too. If anyone could help Georgiana get over her reticence with dragonkind, it was her.

  ***

  Anne de Bourgh’s voice was just like her mother’s—loud and unmistakable. Particularly early in the day. Especially when she screeched.

  Especially then.

  Anne’s second outburst, which sounded vaguely like “Uncle Matlock cannot do that to me!” sent Darcy running first for his coat and then for Georgiana’s chambers.

  She sat wide-eyed in the window seat, like a mouse waiting for a cat to pounce.

  “Gather your pelisse and bonnet and come with me.” He waved her to her feet.

  She scrambled for the items and followed him toward the servants’ door.

  “I know it is irregular, but if you wish to avoid Anne—” He opened the door and ushered her inside.

  Georgiana had probably never seen a servants’ corridor. She was far too meek and obedient to stray into forbidden territory. How scandalized would she be to realize that he knew his way around Rosings by them? That damage would be far easier to repair than what Anne or Aunt Catherine might leave in their wake.

  They burst into the bustling kitchen. Cooks and scullery maids stopped and stared. The housekeeper’s zaltys, Blanche, lived up to her name and turned nearly white—more a light grey to match the hearthstones. She coiled and hissed at them.

  “Mr. Darcy! Miss Darcy! What ... how ...” Cook stammered.

  “Pack us some bread and cheese, perhaps some apples and cold meat as well.” Darcy nodded sharply.

  Best pretend all this was as normal and natural as possible. No doubt the servants had heard the commotion upstairs and could easily figure out his intentions.

  “Good day, Blanche.” Darcy tipped his head toward the little snake-type dragon whose color was slowly returning.

  She flicked her tongue at them, her bright black eyes scolding. “You should not startle me so.”

  “Pray forgive us for surprising you. That was hardly our intention. Georgiana, have you been introduced to Blanche?”

  Georgiana colored as one of the undercooks stared at her.

  She was far too concerned with what servants thought of her.

  “Go back to your businessss. It is dear that he is ssso attentive to the cook’sss cat.” Blanche spoke with the same odd lispy voice most snake-type dragons shared.

  The undercook, smiled slightly, shrugged, and returned to chopping carrots.

  Georgiana giggled.

  “I am pleased to meet you.” Blanche reached her head toward Georgiana.

  Georgiana backed away slightly.

  Blanche flicked her tail, decidedly irritated.

  Darcy extended his hand, holding it open until Blanche rubbed it wit
h her cheek. “She means no offense. She is still learning.”

  “She is ssstill rude.”

  Unfortunately, Blanche was right. But reminding her of it would do nothing to help Georgiana’s confidence, either.

  Cook trundled up with a generous basket and sent them on their way.

  A quarter of an hour later, they were climbing into a smart little curricle. How fortunate that the weather was so agreeable for a ride out and about the estate.

  “Where are we going, Brother?” Georgiana glanced over her shoulder as though she thought someone might be following them.

  “Anywhere away from the manor, and until nightfall if we can manage it. Fitzwilliam brought news from the Order that Anne does not like.”

  “Does this mean you will not be marrying Anne?”

  The horse shook its head and hesitated. A shiver ran down his spine.

  “What is that awful sound?” She pressed her hands to her ears.

  Cockatrice screeches did that.

  A dark, sleek shape swooped down from the trees, a larger one in its wake.

  The horse shied.

  Blasted fool creatures!

  Georgiana clapped her hands to her mouth. At least she had the sense to know a scream could agitate the horse as much as those flying nuisances.

  He brought the horse under control and helped her out. If the damned creature was going to run away, it was not going to be with his sister in the curricle.

  “I have neither asked for nor do I require your advice in hunting. I am neither hungry, nor do I prefer to eat muntjac,” Walker screeched as he landed clumsily in a nearby tree.

  “Of course you do not ask my advice. Males never do, you are all so concerned with your appearances.” Cait perched on a branch near him.

  Lovely! A perfect balm to salve Georgiana’s dragon reticence.

  “I do not care what you think of me.” Walker extended his wings.

  “Yes, you do.”

  He flew to another tree. “No, I do not. Nor do I care how you hunt. I have managed quite nicely on my own.”

  “But wouldn’t it be so much nicer to have a mate to do that with you?” Her voice turned syrupy.

  Darcy had heard more than one young woman of the ton use that tone on him. His stomach roiled.

  “With those ridiculous tail feathers and foolish ruff, you are entirely ill-equipped to hunt anything.”

  She extended her wings and spread her tail feathers. “I had not thought you noticed.”

  “You are the vainest creature—”

  “Pride is entirely acceptable when there is true superiority involved.” Cait fanned her ruff just a little bit fuller.

  “Only in your own mind.”

  “Apparently on more than one occasion, you have quite agreed with me.” She fluffed her ruff until it obscured her face entirely.

  “Do not remind me of my youthful folly.”

  “Your sense of humor has not changed.” She glided to the tree where he was perched, landing on a branch just above him.

  He looked up at her. “Arrogant hen.”

  “Stubborn cockerel.”

  He flew off, and she launched after him.

  This was as bad as a ballroom during the London season!

  Darcy clutched his temples. They had been like this the last time they mated: utterly insufferable.

  “Must everyone here be so disagreeable?” Georgiana covered her face with her hands.

  “I am afraid they are rather like people. There are some who will just never get along. And yet they have this strange affinity for one another.”

  “You mean they like to bicker, just like Aunt and Uncle Matlock.”

  “I will ask them to stay away from you. There is no reason why you should have to endure their ill-tempers.”

  “I wish you could warn Aunt Catherine and Anne away as well.”

  He guffawed. “As do I. Perhaps, though, I might introduce someone I think you will find far more agreeable.”

  “You are thinking of Pemberley.” Her shoulders slumped, and she pouted, an expression she really should have outgrown by now.

  “Yes, I am. She is just a baby and not in possession of the bad habits of the older dragons you know.”

  “I do not like babies. They cry and are so messy, and one is never certain of what they want.”

  “I will grant you that, but baby dragons are somewhat different. She hatched able to talk, you see.”

  “She can talk? I did not realize. The notes you gave me did not mention that.” Her tone softened.

  “You have read them?”

  “Yes. They were very interesting, and entertaining. Your Miss Bennet writes very well you know. Very personable, almost as though I know her.”

  His Miss Bennet?

  “I am pleased you feel that way. Pemberley is very fond of Miss Elizabeth, and if you feel warmth toward her, then you already have one thing in common.”

  “I suppose that would make it easier. I have never had anything in common with a dragon before.”

  It might not be much, but it was the first positive thing she had ever said about meeting a dragon.

  “Come then. I think it is safe to take the curricle again.”

  They climbed in and headed toward the lair.

  He stopped the carriage a quarter of a mile from the cavern. The horse would not tolerate getting closer than that to the major dragons. Who could blame it? Pemberley’s first meal was horsemeat.

  Dragon musk hung on the breeze. Georgiana hesitated.

  He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “It will be well. I promise you.”

  She allowed him to lead her to the cavern.

  “Rosings! We approach. I bring Georgiana. May we enter?”

  “You brought her!” Pemberley bounded out to greet them. Her baby legs and wings still uncoordinated and clumsy, she tripped and landed at Georgiana’s feet.

  Georgina giggled.

  “I brought my sister to meet you.” Darcy helped Pemberley to her feet. “May I present Georgiana.”

  Pemberley cocked her head and squinted, sniffing Georgiana. “Georg ... gor ... Gigi?”

  Georgiana held out her hand, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “You may call me Gigi if that is easier for you.”

  “You not her.” Pemberley slumped, her head hanging nearly to the ground.

  “Miss Bennet,” Darcy whispered.

  Georgiana glared at him and mouthed I know. She knelt beside Pemberley.

  Darcy edged back. Her reaction was unmannerly, but at the same time, very sympathetic to the drakling. Best not correct it now.

  “I recently read something she wrote ... to my brother ... would you like me to tell you about it?”

  “From her?”

  “Yes, from her.”

  “Tell me.” Pemberley laid her head in Georgiana’s lap.

  Darcy held his breath and tiptoed away. Somehow it just made sense that Miss Elizabeth would be at the center of such an auspicious beginning.

  Rosings waited for him just inside the cavern. The creased brow and half-lidded eyes were not good signs.

  “Cowntess, are you well?” He bowed.

  “You well know that I am not.” How did she manage an expression so like Aunt Catherine’s? She snuffed hot, acrid breath in his face.

  “I have nothing to do with the mandates of the Blue Order.” He edged back a step.

  “But you will use them to your ends.”

  “There is nothing untoward about that.”

  “Except that I must now deal with an angry Keeper. I do not appreciate it when you upset her.” Rosings snorted. A blob of slime landed on his cheek.

  He rubbed his handkerchief on his cheek before the slime burned his skin. That handkerchief would be ruined. Best not put it back in his pocket. “I am sure you can manage both of them.”

  Rosings glowered and bared her fangs. “Do not forget that I am doing you a favor. I expect—”

  “Brother!”

&nbs
p; “Pray excuse me.” He dashed from the lair. Just as well, that conversation was not going to go well, regardless.

  Georgiana waved him over. She sat beside Pemberley, one hand around her sinewy neck.

  “What is wrong?” He knelt beside them.

  “She is not her,” Pemberley whined.

  “No, I am not. We fully agree on the matter.” She stroked Pemberley’s head. “Look at the scales around her feet.”

  Darcy examined them. “They do seem a bit rough.”

  “Miss Bennet’s pages describe something very like this that she calls ‘scale mites.’”

  “My feet itch.”

  “Dragons are always itchy.” Darcy scratched Pemberley’s chin.

  “Not my chin, my feet!”

  “She—that is ‘her’—writes to say that the affected scales should first be scrubbed with vinegar, then anointed with sweet oil mixed with that hot seasoning Cook likes. We should put sachets of wormwood in her nest, too, to keep away the mites.”

  “I want do what her says. Please.” Pemberley blinked up at him with huge baleful eyes.

  “Of course, of course.” He patted her head.

  “May I take care of it? I can ask Cook for what we need. I am sure there is wormwood in the still room. The instructions seem very simple.”

  “By all means.” Did she really think that he would object?

  “And you tell her my feet itch?” Pemberley nudged Georgiana’s elbow.

  “I will write her a letter and tell her anything you wish.”

  “And I will take it to the post myself.” Darcy nodded, smiling broadly.

  “You will teach me read and make letter for her? Her said you would.” Pemberley leaned into Georgiana hard enough to make her stumble.

  She hugged the dragon’s head close. “I will teach you whatever you like.”

  “You not her, but you nice. Want my bone now. Meet my dog?” Pemberley waddled off, presumably to find both, Georgiana following after.

  What an astonishing transformation.

  One more debt he owed a certain Miss Bennet.

  ***

  Darcy tucked Georgiana’s letter to Miss Elizabeth into his pocket and slipped out of her chambers. He sauntered down the long corridor towards his own chambers. A brief stop for his coat and he would be away to the post office before any would think to notice him gone. Except Georgiana, and she would probably be glad for his temporary absence.