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

by Maria Grace

  Conversations swirled about her, but how could she pay attention to matters of lace and sleeve design when there was dragon script in that painting. Wait, what? That same style marked several paintings in this room as well. How had she never seen it?

  With a muttered excuse, she wandered to the walls and studied the paintings. Two that hung side by side appeared to be different views of the same coastline portrayed in the corridor. Neither contained dragon script, but the shadows in one looked suspiciously like a wyvern, and wyrm tracks marked the sand in another.

  Did anyone at Netherfield recognize these for what they were? What a fool she had been, so caught up in searching for maps, that she missed what was right in front of her!

  She hurried to a larger canvas along the far wall. The floorboards below her squeaked loudly enough to stop Mama’s praise of dinner, but for only a moment.

  Elizabeth released a tightly held breath and focused on the painting. Shadows, tracks of not just wyrms, but of a basilisk, and an amphithere feather, there in the tree! It had a title plaque that read “The English Coast,” but faint scratches in dragon script below the lettering read ‘Uther’s Sanctuary.’

  And there, concealed among a grassy bit, more wispy script.

  Dragon fire! What was she seeing? If she could just commit those figures to memory, she might be able to look them up when she got home.

  “Are you well, Cousin?”

  Why did the gentlemen have to repair to the drawing room now?

  “Are these landscapes not fascinating? I have not noticed them before.” Her voice was high and tight. Hopefully he was not good at discerning falsehoods.

  He shrugged. “I am sure they are good enough as such things go. Lady Catherine believes portraiture a much higher form of art. Rosings Park is filled with the most exquisite portraits ...”

  As long as he kept talking, she could continue memorizing the dragon script. Who would have thought his prattle might serve her so well. She murmured monosyllabic questions and encouragements to keep him going as long as possible.

  “Come, I see some portraits on the other side of the room. I am sure it will be far more satisfying to examine those.” He all but dragged her away from the landscape. “See here, we might examine the painter’s evocation of emotion through the remarkable expression of the eyes.”

  He was wrong. The eyes were flat and dull, like the rest of the portrait. If asked, which of course she was not, she would have said that the portrait was a journeyman’s effort, like some of the maps upstairs, done to learn the skills which were later applied to the landscapes across the room.

  Were there more like those in the house? She took several steps across squeaky boards toward the wall of landscapes.

  Ignore the landscapes. They are unimportant.

  What? She rubbed at her itching ear.

  Collins glanced at her. Impertinent man! He was becoming far too intrusive, whispering such things in her ear.

  “Come, we should join the rest of the party. They are setting up card tables, and it would not do to leave them for want of players.” He trundled away, clearly expecting her to follow.

  Mama turned their way and waved.

  Now she had little choice. Pray her memory was good enough to retain those figures until she returned to her commonplace book.

  Two equally unpleasant alternatives stood before her: conversation with the ladies and Mr. Bingley, or cards. She joined Mary, Mr. Collins, and Mr. Hurst at quadrille. Thank heavens it was a favorite of Lady Catherine, forcing Mr. Collins to become proficient—or at least proficient enough that she did not have to guide his every move.

  Several of those painted symbols looked familiar. One resembled ‘escape’ or ‘flee.’ It was not a word commonly used among major dragons. The words connoted a dire circumstance, one serious enough it should be somewhere in the dragon histories.

  Perhaps that beach had been a place dragons had been slain before the Accords, and Uther had declared it a sanctuary? But would not such a place have been clearly marked in the Annals of the Blue Order? They were a sentimental lot overall. It seemed odd that they would not indulge in the opportunity for reverence and celebration of such a place.

  What other beaches were relevant in dragon history? Perhaps, Papa knew more. Maybe what had happened there was so horrible that it became a shrine of sorts, where only the highest members of the Order meditated? But then the painter would have had to be a highly-ranked member of the Order to have seen it. Papa hardly made mention of Netherfield’s past resident, so that was unlikely, too.

  How maddening! None of this made sense!

  “Lizzy!” Mary kicked her under the table. “Do take your turn to play.”

  She hastily played a card, much to the chagrin of her tablemates. Clearly it had been the wrong choice. Thankfully the game ended a few moments later, with Mr. Hurst declaring gleeful victory. The man relished winning a little too much.

  Mr. Collins insisted the loss of a few pennies playing was entirely agreeable in this company. Better still, Lady Catherine would not find fault with it at all.

  How comforting.

  Miss Bingley moved toward the pianoforte.

  “An excellent thought, Caroline. Dancing is definitely in order.” Mr. Bingley beckoned to Mr. Hurst and Mr. Collins for help in moving bits and bobs of furniture. In short order, the floor was clear, and he extended his hand to Jane.

  “Shall we, Cousin Elizabeth?”

  Elizabeth bit her tongue and accepted Mr. Collins’ arm.

  Hurst was still sober enough to dance, so he invited Mary to the center of the room. Mama insisted that Lydia stand up with Kitty, giving them a tidy, four-couple set.

  Miss Bingley’s fingers danced over the keys, in a lively country dance. She really was a superior musician. It would be difficult for the rest of them to follow her in playing for the party. Such a gracious hostess.

  Elizabeth craned her neck. Perhaps if she stood in the right spot whilst dancing, she might study the paintings a little more.

  They lined up, paintings just in view. But Mr. Collins’ dancing! Had there ever been such a man, with absolutely no sense of rhythm? Could he not simply count to eight? Just eight, it should not have been so difficult. He had plenty of fingers to assist in the process if he needed.

  The only saving grace was that he was as easy to lead as Mary claimed. A tap to her own shoulder to indicate the next direction, an extended hand to cue his own, and he managed to keep up with the rest of the dancers well enough.

  How exhausting, thinking for both of them and anticipating what instruction he would need next. All of the easy grace and the fun of the dance floor was lost in the work of shepherding him through the steps without mishap. Not to mention she had not a speck of attention left to devote to the paintings.

  After the first set, Mrs. Hurst took Miss Bingley’s place at the pianoforte. Mr. Hurst invited Kitty to dance and Mary relieved her as Mr. Collins’ partner. Since Mr. Bingley was not about to give up Jane’s companionship, Elizabeth danced the set with Lydia. Though she was silly and flirty, Lydia was an excellent dancer, and freed Elizabeth’s mind to consider landscapes and dragons.

  Gracious! Had anyone noticed that the feet of the pianoforte were dragon’s feet, talons wrapped around large balls—no, they were globes! Dragon wings graced the backs of chairs and several small pillows were embroidered with brilliant amphithere feathers. The entire room was decorated with dragons! She had been so preoccupied with searching for maps that she had been blind to what was plainly before her!

  Lydia grabbed her hands and spun her in a rapid turn, laughing heartily. The music ended, and Elizabeth staggered, dizzy and breathless.

  Mr. Bingley kept hold of Jane’s hand and waited until all eyes were on them. “I, we that is, have happy news to share! Miss Bennet has consented to be my wife!”

  Mama shrieked and jumped up, nearly bowling Mr. Collins over in her haste to reach Jane.

  “Oh, my dearest girl! I am
so proud of you. I knew you could not be so beautiful for nothing. I am sure your father will approve.”

  Mr. Bingley smiled and chuckled in a self-satisfied sort of way. “I have already received his approbation, madam.”

  Another ear-splitting shriek. “I knew he would. I simply knew he would!”

  Miss Bingley winced and grimaced. Mrs. Hurst mirrored the expression. Was it only Mama of whom they disapproved, or of Jane as well? Something about the way they narrowed their eyes made one wonder.

  Lydia and Kitty clapped and bounced like little girls, each clutching at one of Jane’s hands.

  “I am very happy for you both. I cannot imagine a happier match.” Elizabeth stepped slightly closer and smiled.

  At least she would have one sister settled close to Longbourn. That was a good thing, indeed.

  “What a very fine thing,” Mr. Collins said at her shoulder.

  Why did he always have to stand so close?

  “It is always a desirable thing when the eldest daughter marries first.” Something about his smile was entirely smug.

  And nauseating.

  If a man’s thoughts could be writ upon his face, Mr. Collins’ were inscribed with broad brushstrokes of paint.

  Mary squeezed her hand and nodded. She had much greater faith in Elizabeth’s fortitude than she did.

  They stayed at Netherfield until the wee hours. Mama’s effusions continued until nearly dawn as she indulged her considerations of what wedding clothes might be required and whether or not Mr. Bingley would commission a new carriage for the occasion.

  ***

  The next morning, Jane came to her room to convey Papa’s desire that Elizabeth join them for breakfast. Everyone was so happy this morning. It was only right that Elizabeth share in it, too. It was a testament to Jane’s character that she could believe that, and only that, was Papa’s intent.

  Elizabeth turned to April. “You should stay here. I cannot imagine there would be any advantage—”

  April zipped around the room. “Will this not affect me as much as it will you? I insist—I insist. You must allow me to know for myself what transpires. Wear your shawl, the blue one that the Gardiners gave you. I can hide in the folds of that and neither of them” —she meant Papa and Mr. Collins— “will notice I am there.”

  “Only if you promise me that you will not flit about as you are now if you get upset. If you cannot stay still, promise me you will come straight back here, to your cage, and lock yourself inside. Can you promise me that?”

  “You do not have to treat me like one of the children.” April landed on her shoulder and worked her way into the folds of the shawl. “I am quite capable of conducting myself with decorum.”

  Elizabeth stood before the looking glass and adjusted the folds in her shawl, rendering April quite invisible.

  As much as she might like it, she dare not delay the inevitable any further. Dragon Keeping required sacrifices from all parties. The dragons resigned many freedoms as much as the Keepers did. She would be able to fulfill her responsibilities. Mary had shown her that she could. It would be well. It would be.

  The entire family was gathered in the breakfast room. Sunbeams danced from the facets on the crystal glasses to the mirrors behind the candle sconces. The fragrance of fresh baked goods and warm jam invited her to indulge.

  Mama, Kitty, and Lydia huddled close to Jane, giggling and whispering.

  “Come join me, Lizzy.” Papa pointed at the empty chair between him and Mary. Mr. Collins sat on his other side.

  She sat, avoiding eye contact with him and Mr. Collins.

  “So what do you think of this business of Jane’s?” Papa’s large mug of willow bark tea was nearly empty and a second one steeped nearby. Any good humor he demonstrated was probably an affectation for Jane’s and Mama’s sakes.

  “I know she is very happy. As is Mama.” She kept her face turned toward Jane.

  “I am pleased that he did not dither about as some young men are wont to do and that she did not decide to play those games of modesty that seem so in vogue among delicate young ladies. I approve very much.” He glanced back at Mr. Collins.

  Mr. Collins blinked several times; his eyes widened, and he looked Elizabeth’s way. He cleared his throat. The room went silent and all eyes turned on him. “May I hope, sir, the honor of a private audience with your fair daughter Elizabeth in the course of this morning?”

  Mama jumped to attention and fluttered her hands in front of her face. “Oh dear! Yes, certainly. I am sure Lizzy will be very happy! I am sure she can have no objection.”

  Elizabeth bit her lip, her temples pounding in time with her heart. Good thing that she had not yet eaten. It might be months before she was able to again.

  Mary gripped her hand under the table. “This is a good thing, for everyone. You will be very satisfied, I am sure. Longbourn will have an excellent mistress.”

  “Might I make use of your study, sir?” Collins bowed and gestured toward the door.

  Papa grunted and stared—no, glared—at her. “That is an excellent notion. In fact, Lizzy, I insist upon you going to my study and hearing Mr. Collins out.”

  Best get the business over as soon and as quietly as possible. Is that what the condemned thought on the way to Tyburn?

  She followed Mr. Collins to Papa’s study. April launched from her shawl just before Mr. Collins shut the door. The typical piles of books and papers had been neatly tucked away, leaving the room as tidy as the rest of the house. Almost as though he anticipated—or actively planned—Collins’ request.

  April alighted on the heirloom dragon perch, looking a bit silly, a tiny little thing on furniture designed for a cockatrice. What did she think she was doing, insisting she have her share in the conversation?

  It might be better to shoo her out of the window, but she settled so sweetly and gave such a happy cheep, Mr. Collins looked upon her and smiled. If he tolerated April’s presence now when Elizabeth needed the support, why contradict him?

  She sat near the perch and stared out the window. “The weather is very pleasant today, is it not?”

  He centered himself in front of the fireplace and straightened his coat. “It is. But that is not the point of this interview. Surely you can have no doubt regarding what I wish to discuss.”

  She stammered random syllables, her face flushing hot. “Pray sir, there is no need, I am sure I am not—”

  His expressions hovered between ingratiating and lascivious. Mr. Bingley never looked at Jane that way.

  “Believe me, my dear Miss Elizabeth, your modesty, so far from doing you any disservice, rather adds to your other perfections. You would have been less amiable in my eyes had there not been this little unwillingness, but allow me to assure you that I have your respected father’s permission for this address. Only just last night we talked on this very matter. However much your natural delicacy may lead you to dissemble, my attentions have been too marked to be mistaken. Almost as soon as I entered the house, I singled you out as the companion of my future life.”

  Did he really think his gawking at Jane or his disappointment to learn that another had claim on the first object of his interest went unnoticed?

  “But before I am run away with by my feelings on this subject, perhaps it will be advisable for me to state my reasons for marrying—and moreover for coming into Hertfordshire with the design of selecting a wife, as I did.”

  The idea of Mr. Collins, with all his solemn composure, being run away with his feelings—it would be laughable if he were not so very sincere. Even if he were run away with his feelings, they were only feelings of self-interest and self-congratulation, nothing noble or laudable in any of it.

  He dusted the front of his coat and pulled his shoulders back. “My reasons for marrying are, first, that I think it a right thing for every clergyman in easy circumstances like myself to set the example of matrimony in his parish. Secondly, that I am convinced it will add very greatly to my happiness.” He
licked his lips.

  Oh, there was that horrid skin crawling expression again!

  “And thirdly—which perhaps I ought to have mentioned earlier, that it is the particular advice and recommendation of the very noble lady whom I have the honor of calling patroness. Twice has she condescended to give me her opinion, unasked too, on this subject. It was but the very Saturday night before I left Hunsford—between our pools at quadrille, while Mrs. Jenkinson was arranging Miss de Bourgh's footstool—”

  Would it kill him to come to his point? Would that she could be so lucky!

  “—that she said, ‘Mr. Collins, you must marry. A clergyman like you must marry. Choose properly, choose a gentlewoman for my sake; and for your own, let her be an active, useful sort of person, not brought up high, but able to make a small income go a good way. This is my advice. Find such a woman as soon as you can, bring her to Hunsford, and I will visit her.’ Allow me, by the way, to observe, my fair cousin that I do not reckon the notice and kindness of Lady Catherine de Bourgh as among the least of the advantages in my power to offer. You will find her manners beyond anything I can describe. Your wit and vivacity I think must be acceptable to her, especially when tempered with the silence and respect which her rank will inevitably excite.”

  Silence and respect were what he expected from her? Charming.

  You should accept him. Put him and you out of your misery and just accept him.

  She probably should, it was not likely to get any better.

  At least the knowledge that Lady Catherine was a Dragon Keeper and Dragon Friend made the prospect of Rosings Park less dreadful. Any place with dragons had to have its appeals.

  “This much for my general intention in favor of matrimony. It remains to be told why my views were directed to Longbourn instead of my own neighborhood, where I assure you there are many amiable young women.”

  The reason for his interest is obvious. Must we have a recitation?

  April squawked a soft warning sound. She cocked her head and squinted—the expression she used when she was listening intently.

  Elizabeth bit her tongue. It would be best that neither one of them respond to the obvious insult, especially when Mr. Collins seemed entirely unaware of having offered it.