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

by Maria Grace

  “Of course, they are not real, but according to myth, they are not wyrms, but enormous snakes the color of jade. Unlike any serpent, they have great feathered wings with iridescent feathers, glistening in every color. Their wings are powerful enough for flight, although they only do so under great duress. Sometimes they are depicted with powerful forepaws as well. Their heads are as serpents, but well-feathered, and their eyes, penetrating.”

  “Frightful or fascinating?”

  “Both, I would imagine. It is said they are creatures of exquisite beauty.”

  “So then, very fitting for a lovely princess.”

  “Indeed. I suppose in that, the witch was merciful.”

  “Or limited, perhaps. Her magic might not have been strong enough to completely transform a woman of such beauty.” His brows flashed up in a playful challenge.

  “That is indeed an interesting interpretation. It sounds as though you have spent a great deal of time considering fairy tales, sir.”

  “It had been a pleasant pastime during some of my darker times. I have always found the character of a prince removed from his inheritance rather compelling.”

  April shook her head and snorted. Perhaps she was right. That was a bit much.

  Wickham chuckled. Perhaps he did not take himself as seriously as April did. “Do not leave me hanging. You must finish your story.”

  “Of course. The Laidly Wyrm, the princess, left the castle, banished to be a rogue dragon, without a territory to call her own, facing death if she trespassed on the territory of another, scourge to man and beast alike, stealing what she could to preserve life and limb. Finally she made her way to Spindleston Heugh on the Great Whin Sill escarpment. It is said that the stone can still be found in the parish of Easington, Northumberland, you know.”

  “I should very much like to see it one day.”

  Should she mention that Papa had taken her there? April probably would not approve. She probably should not have mentioned the specific location at all.

  Botheration, it was very easy to talk to him.

  “Perhaps I would see the Laidly wyrm there, if I were very lucky.” He stroked his chin.

  “Even if you were very lucky, the Laidly Wyrm is naught but myth. Even if she were not, you would not find her, for you have not heard the end of her tale.”

  “Do not keep me in suspense! I do not see how you ever get children to sleep if you constantly keep a story so provoking.”

  “You are being quite vexing yourself. Naughty children who interrupt do not get to hear the end of a story.”

  “Pray tell me what must I do to hear the end?” He smiled beatifically.

  April huffed and tucked her head under her wing.

  “I suppose that will do. In any case, after ten years the prince returned. He expected to find his sister a grown woman, maybe even married. But instead, her chambers were empty. The witch told him that his sister had been eaten by the Laidly Wyrm and if he wanted to honor her memory, he would avenge her life and bring back the head and wings of the wyrm.”

  “A witch in all ways. Horrid woman.”

  “Indeed she was. She even gave the prince a dragon-slayer sword with which to perform the deed.”

  April shuddered. She had seen the one Mr. Darcy had carried and it had given her nightmares for weeks.

  “Childe Wynd rode off in search of the Laidly Wyrm. When he reached the spindlestone, he called out a challenge to the dragon.”

  “In the fashion of heroes everywhere, I imagine.”

  “They are rather a predictable lot, are they not? Princess Margaret recognized his voice and hurried down to see him. Naturally he did not recognize her in dragon form and brandished the sword at her.”

  “I should say he is lucky that he did not get himself immediately crisped by fiery breath.”

  “Do not be silly. Amphitheres do not breathe fire. That is a myth about the myth.” She laughed.

  There, April should be satisfied that he really did not know anything about real dragons. No feathered dragons breathed fire.

  “Princess Margaret restrained her draconic instincts. She extended her wings and hovered over Childe Wynd’s head, singing a song they had made up as children, one none other knew. Her voice was sweet and high, unmistakable in his ears. ‘Margaret?’ he cried. She told him of the witch’s curse and that her only hope was her brother’s kiss.”

  “And of course, he simply believed her, never once considering it was the sort of trap a clever dragon might set for him? That is the way soldiers get killed.” He snorted and folded his arms over his chest.

  “I suppose you are correct, taking an unfamiliar dragon at its word is not a mark of wisdom, but this is a fairy story, remember. And in this story, he embraces his sister and kisses her. She transforms before his eyes, all scales and feathers falling away. Once again, she is a young woman, even more beautiful for her trials than she had been before.”

  “And they lived happily ever after.” He rolled his eyes.

  What had he been hoping for, bloodshed and tragedy?

  “Not yet. They gathered the scales for Margaret’s dowry, enough to fill several chests, and secreted them in a crag under the spindlestone. The feathers they bundled up to bring to the witch, proof the dragon was no more.”

  He sat up a little straighter.

  “Treasure would catch his attention,” April muttered.

  “The feathers carried a powerful enchantment upon them, the same form that the witch had cast upon the princess. When Childe Wynd presented them to the witch, she picked one up and was immediately transformed herself.”

  “Into a dragon?”

  “No, each feather contained only a small measure of transformation magic, not enough to accomplish so large a transformation. She was instead turned into a toad.”

  Wickham snorted. “A toad? A fitting fate, I should say.”

  “Childe Wynd became king and assisted his sister in marrying a very suitable man. And now we have come to our happy ending.”

  Mr. Wickham yawned. “Just in time I suppose. Your voice is quite soothing.”

  “I am glad you approve, sir.”

  “You should not have told him that tale.” April nipped her ear.

  Nothing would please her. Poor little dear was so unsettled. Who could blame her?

  But still, the story was quite safe. Who could believe that a princess might be turned into a dragon? That was impossible. The truth—that Margaret was turned out by a cruel stepmother and taken in to live among a mated pair of amphitheres who were incubating a clutch—was hardly like the story at all.

  Still, the real Lady Margaret had always been her heroine. She had been instrumental in bringing an understanding of the amphitheres to the Blue Order. For her efforts, she had been made the first woman to hold office in the Order.

  Perhaps, if the Gardiners did not take her in, she could find help among some sympathetic dragons.

  The outskirts of London rose up on the horizon. It would not be long now before she would know if she would have to resort to that.

  Darcy hurried down to the sheep barn. Warm sunbeams caressed his face, hinting to what might be an unusually warm afternoon to come. Wellsbey, the shepherding drake had sent him word to come immediately. Perhaps he had a solution to Pemberley’s—and Darcy’s—latest crisis.

  Her old dog had wandered off and not returned. Nearly blind and deaf, it was not hard to believe it had got lost. The creature had been missing for three days now, and the poor drakling was nearly sick with worry about her pet.

  Why had Wellsbey sent the message via tatzelwurm? Any other dragon could have brought him a complete message, more than just “Come now.” But not a tatzelwurm. No, every last one was positively flighty—all the spring-hopping about must addle their brains. What a bizarre mode of locomotion.

  Wellsbey met him at the open barn door. Standing on all fours, he stood waist high to Darcy, lean and lanky in leg and tail. His hide was dirt brown, making it difficult
to tell where the scales ended and the dust and bits of hay began. Behind his head, he sported a hood that, when folded, hung down behind his head like a hound’s long ears. Once one got accustomed to seeing him among the sheep dogs, his canine qualities became very apparent. Not the least of which was his personality, easy going and desiring to please—in a draconic sort of way, of course.

  “Have you found the old hound?” Darcy paused to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim barn. There was something very pleasing about the scent of a barn filled with clean hay.

  “Not yet, but there is some good news in that regard.” His voice was low and raspy, like a hound’s bark. “One of the barn wyrms heard a pair of wild fairy dragons chittering something about a loose hound. I have him looking in that direction now.”

  Darcy groaned and dragged his hand down his face.

  “Do not despair. It was one of the older wyrms, a dependable one.”

  “Hardly a word applied to tatzelwurms or fairy dragons.”

  Wellsbey’s laugh was more yip than anything else. “Indeed, that is true. But there are a few here and there who are less addlepated than the rest. Still, I also asked Walker to make a search of the area.”

  If the creature was to be found, Walker would be the one to do it. A little of the tension left his shoulders.

  Wellsbey beckoned him to a pen in the corner. A dozen mewling puppies, splotched with white, black, and brown, and their mothers occupied the pen heaped with hay.

  “You asked for a puppy. I think I have found the right one.” Wellsbey scrambled over the edge of the pen and crouched in the corner. “Not weaned yet, but you can pick them out early. See.”

  Fully half the pups skirted away. That was to be expected. Most dogs instinctively avoided dragons. The bitches having grown up with Wellsbey, ignored him. The remaining pups did the same, continuing to tumble with one another across the hay. One though, a nearly white pup with a half brown, half white face bounced up to him.

  He extended a paw to the pup which licked it and bounded closer. It pressed in close to Wellsbey and allowed the drake to pick it up in his mouth by the scruff. Wellsbey dropped it in Darcy’s waiting hands.

  “What a handsome little fellow.” The puppy licked Darcy’s face, wriggling and squirming.

  “And a very calm one, with no aversions to dragons.” Wellsbey climbed out of the pen. “That temperament seems well-suited for your needs.”

  And if Pemberley did not take to it, Georgiana certainly would.

  One of the bitches ambled to the edge of the pen and jumped up on her back legs to peer at them. She whined softly.

  Darcy returned the puppy to her, and she carried it back to the rest, wagging her tail. “How long until it can be introduced to Pemberley?”

  “I should think within a fortnight. In a month complete, mayhap a bit less, it should be able to go live with her.”

  “I am grateful—”

  The barn door flew open and slammed against the wall, amidst loud cawing and flapping of wings.

  Darcy jumped to his feet. Wellsbey’s hood extended and his body puffed up.

  “You are needed immediately, Darcy! Immediately!” Cait landed on the floor near his feet, her wings beating up a small storm of hay.

  He bit the sarcasm off the end of his tongue. She had landed on the barn floor. She never landed on the floor and risked damage to her spectacular tail feathers.

  “What happened?”

  “Georgiana insists you come. Pemberley is inconsolable!” Cait launched and sped out of the barn.

  “Pray excuse me.” He bowed towards Wellsbey and dashed out.

  What could possibly have happened? Georgiana had gone to Pemberley with the intention of helping her write yet another letter to Miss Elizabeth. Both were becoming frustrated that none of their letters had been answered.

  Was that the problem? Miss Elizabeth had not written yet?

  It was so utterly unlike her, though. Was it possible she carried some grudge against him? Even if she did, she surely would not take it out against Pemberley. Perhaps something was wrong. Perhaps the letters had not gotten to her. Perhaps she was sick or injured. Perhaps Longbourn had ...

  What was that commotion? Cait’s shrill scolding tones and the grumble could only be Rosings. Pemberley could not yet achieve that depth of tone. Two female voices as well. One was Georgiana’s, the other ... bloody hell and damnation!

  He sprinted the last hundred yards to the cavern.

  “Brother!” Georgiana met him at the opening panting, her face tear-streaked.

  He held her arms until she caught her breath.

  “Please, please, stop them. You must. No one is listening to me. I do not know what to do.”

  He steadied her on her feet and ran into the lair.

  Anne stood near Pemberley’s nest, hands on hips, a posture so much like her mother, Darcy almost mistook her for Aunt Catherine. But Aunt Catherine would never use such uncontrolled tones. Even when she lost her temper, she was still elegant and ladylike about it.

  Just behind her, Rosings shuffled from one side of the cavern to the other, pacing as it were, though the fluttering of wings and a lashing of tail gave it quite a different character all together.

  “You see, I told you. Your foolishness would bring him here and now you may see how you have displeased your Keeper.” Anne wagged an angry finger toward Pemberley.

  “Anne!” Darcy ran past her to Pemberley.

  She ducked her head into her nest and covered it with her wings. Her color was off—an odd grey-red, and she trembled.

  He climbed into the nest with her. “What has she told you? What is wrong?” He glared at Anne over the edge of the nest.

  Pemberley’s hide sported pale and flakey patches—how could she have changed so much in just three days?

  “Nothing is wrong except that you have spoiled her, and I mean to put an end to it. You will both thank me for it.” Anne crossed her arms and nodded sharply.

  Darcy wrapped his arms around Pemberley and pulled her a little closer. “And Rosings, you have condoned this behavior?”

  The elder firedrake shook her head in great sweeping swoops of her long neck. “Do not implicate me in any of this ... this ... madness! The young one came sweeping in like the Lady herself, but without nearly so much sense—”

  Anne whirled on Rosings.

  Darcy gasped and covered Pemberley’s eyes.

  Rosings barely constrained her pouncing instinct. She pulled herself up short just feet from Anne.

  The fool truly knew nothing about dragons. Had she been in the presence of an unfamiliar one, she might well be dead.

  “Did you just call me senseless? How dare you? Have you forgotten to whom you are speaking?” Anne shrieked.

  “Do not be afraid. I am not upset with you,” Darcy whispered in Pemberley’s ear. “I will remove her and then we may talk.” He jumped out of the nest and stormed towards Anne.

  “You see, Darcy will defend me!”

  “Hardly.” He passed Anne to stand between her and Rosings. “It is you who has forgotten to whom you are speaking. You do realize that Rosings could have killed you—”

  “She is a civilized beast. She would never harm me.”

  “Not purposefully, I am sure. But if you provoke her prey instincts, she cannot be held responsible for her behavior. Or have you forgotten that clause in the Accords?”

  Anne rolled her eyes. “Pish-posh! You insult her to suggest she is so base as to be controlled by instinct.”

  “What are you doing here anyway? You have not been out of your room for days. A sick headache, I have been told.”

  “I thought I would surprise you by coming here and resolving this little problem with your dragon.” She smiled beatifically.

  He gripped his hands behind his back lest he shake her. “What have you done?”

  “What should have been done from the beginning. You know nothing about raising young things. I sent off that ridiculous, unhygieni
c dog. No one keeps a dog with a baby! Really! And I have begun instructing Pemberley in proper decorum.”

  “Pemberley has not eaten in three days,” Rosings muttered.

  “You sent her dog away? How dare you!” He turned to Rosings. “Why did you not tell me she had been coming here for three days?”

  “It is her right as junior Keeper.” Rosings lip curled back and revealed her fangs.

  Darcy stomped toward Anne, stopping toe to toe, nose to nose with her. “Allow me to make one thing utterly and completely clear to you. There is absolutely no way I would allow you to become Friend to even a fairy dragon, much less Keeper to Pemberley.”

  She patted Darcy’s shoulder. “Mama assured me once you saw how much good I could do for Pemberley, all your objections to our marriage would be over.”

  “She sent you here?” He clenched his fists until they shook.

  “Not precisely. It seemed the obvious thing to do.” How dare she try batting her eyes at him now!

  “Get out. Get out! You are not welcome near Pemberley ever again. I give her leave to consider you a threat should you ever approach her in the future. Do not be surprised if she bites you.”

  “You cannot be serious!”

  Rosings turned her back and muttered, “I’d like to bite her, too.”

  Anne stalked toward Rosings. “What did you just say?”

  That shriek might work with the servants, but Rosings ignored her and lay full length on the stone floor, covering her ears with her forepaws.

  Darcy grabbed Anne by the elbow and propelled her out of the cavern. “Return to the house, and tell your mother what you everything that has just transpired. She will know what to tell you.” His father’s glare proved sufficient to send Anne scampering away.

  Georgiana rushed to his side, and they hurried back to Pemberley.

  Her head was propped up on the edge of the nest. She whined like an injured hound.

  “Tell me what is wrong.” He sat on the edge of the nest and pulled her head into his lap.

  “Want dog. Miss dog. She not like her. She terrible. She say she will be my Keeper—”

  “I promise you, she will never be your Keeper. Never.” He stroked Pemberley’s head.