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

by Maria Grace

  He took a gulp from his brandy. “Grief? What could possibly grieve my dragon?”

  “The loss of her hatchling, decades ago, possibly even before you were born.”

  “Hatchling? She has never mated.”

  “Yes, sir she has, and something happened to the snakeling. It is nearing time for her to mate again. She wants to return to her mate in the north, but you have opposed her journey.”

  “She has feather mites, nothing more.” He flicked his hand and looked aside.

  “There are no mites. My fairy dragon checked.”

  Lord Chudleigh grumbled deep in his throat. Why did men do that, especially when they were wrong?

  “Why would she keep a secret like that from me?”

  “Dragons are loath to reveal weakness, even to their Keepers.”

  “But she told you, whom she has never met until an hour ago?” He gripped the arms of his chair.

  Uncle arranged his features to hide a smile. What was he enjoying so much?

  “She told me nothing. I told her what I knew and gave her the opportunity to speak.”

  “And you should know my dragon better than I?”

  “It is the province of a woman to understand some things that men find difficult. There is a reason women are Keepers, too.”

  That was too much for Uncle. He tried to hide his chuckle in his hand, but utterly failed.

  Lord Chudleigh huffed and laughed a bit half-heartedly. “I heard the rumors that you had a special bond with dragons, but did not believe them. I will go to her.”

  “You will find her in her dust bath.”

  He rose, rolling his eyes. “Sir Edward is waiting to see you. Go on to him. But expect a summons from my office. I expect there will be a great deal I will wish to discuss with you, young woman.”

  That night, Elizabeth lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Normally the familiar little guestroom was restful and comforting, but tonight the street noises and unfamiliar shadows urged her to remain wakeful and vigilant. Not that she would have been likely to have slept even if she had been back in her own bed at Longbourn. It was all so strange, the events of the day, the Blue Order, the people and dragons she had met there. It felt more like a dream than reality. Was there really such a place, such a life, where keeping the secret of dragons was not the overarching preoccupation? What would it be like to live among them: Chudleigh and the Secretary, Baron Chudleigh, Castordale, the blue pa snake Kept by the Lord Physician, Sir Edward, and Bylock the drake Kept by the Chief Scribe, Lady Astrid?

  What a force that Lady was! Like none Elizabeth had ever met. Sharp-nosed, with penetrating blue eyes that seemed to see right through anyone she looked at, the Lady was treated with the same deference and respect with which any of the male Officers were treated. Her presence, her knowledge, her very being, commanded deference, and it was offered without question or hesitation. No other woman she had known received such reverence. Somehow, that made the Blue Order seem more otherworldly than the dragons did.

  More startling was Lady Astrid’s response when Sir Edward introduced her, and spoke of her commonplace book. He described it as a significant contribution to dragon lore, not the silly scribblings of a young girl as Papa seemed to regard it. And those were not idle words. When, on Uncle Gardiner’s request, she showed it to Sir Edward, he perused it for half an hour, silent and a little slack-jawed. Then, the questions began—not to challenge what she had written, but to learn more and encourage her to add to what she had recorded.

  Now she was requested—no, to be honest, it was something between begged and ordered—to return daily for appointments with Sir Edward and Lady Astrid. Both insisted on reviewing her commonplace book with her—all three volumes of it. Even when she tried to explain away the earliest entries as mere childish babblings, they would not hear of it—in fact, they sharply corrected her. Though perhaps somewhat immature, there were new insights to be found even in those pages.

  To have her writings considered with the accepted dragon lore. How could that be possible? Papa would never believe it.

  How ironic, considering it was his proudest achievement when the volume he had written on minor dragon hatchings had been accepted and added to dragon lore canon. It would have been pleasing if he were proud of what she had done, not embarrassed by it.

  She chewed her knuckle.

  Would they find her wanting in her understanding? Would they examine her books and deem them childish and irrelevant? Uncle Gardiner assured her they would not. But still ...

  A few hours before dawn, she finally fell asleep.

  The next fortnight passed in a whirlwind. Her days were spent at the Blue Order, divided between the Royal Physician and the Chief Scribe, the vast library of the Order—lost in research, mostly related to ancient forms of dragon script—and a variety of tea and nuncheon invitations, offered by Dragon Friend and dragon alike.

  Never had she felt so at home. If she was not sharing her own draconic observations, she was sitting at the feet of an elder—human and dragon—learning from theirs. Almost the entire library was open to her, with experts ready to assist her study. And when her eyes were too tired to read, there was always a dragon at the ready to keep her company. Tea with dragons, several times a week! Who would have thought? And the welcome they gave April! Like a new heiress among the ton. Who would have thought the little dear was so social?

  In the evenings, she returned to the Gardiners’ home to keep company with the children, plying them with as many dragon stories as they would hear. On occasion, a minor dragon—and sometimes even their Dragon Friend—would come back and join them for dinner or tea, expanding their acquaintance and giving the children and Phoenix valuable experiences in socializing with other dragons.

  That was probably a very good thing for all of them, Phoenix in particular. Good manners did not seem to come to him naturally. But being a hatchling, and the novelty of a male fairy dragon, was enough to earn him a great deal of leniency—as well as several volunteer dragon-tutors. Several female fairy dragons were already expressing interest. He was well on his way to attracting his harem.

  That topic Aunt Gardiner could explain to the children herself.

  At night, she fell asleep whilst battling her own musings. Was it right to be so happy when she had run away from her home and abandoned her duties to her family and dragon?

  ***

  One morning, Elizabeth rose particularly early and carried her newest dragon script reference and commonplace book down to the morning room. Lady Astrid had given her special leave to take it from the library. There was a particularly useful table she wanted to copy. With it there was every chance she could finally make some headway into understanding the Netherfield paintings. April cheeped from her cage and tucked her head back under her wing. Poor little dear was still exhausted from Cowntess Chudleigh’s salon the prior afternoon. A fairy dragon invited to a salon? What a sight!

  The Gardiners’ morning room was plainer than Mama’s—a testament to the fact that the children often joined their parents there. The paper hangings—yellow with blue flowers—were a mite faded and dated, but they captured the feelings of spring skies and sunshine, making the room warm and cheery on even the dreariest winter morning.

  Aunt Gardiner was already at her place at the morning room table, sipping her tea and reading what looked like yesterday’s afternoon post.

  “After the late hours you kept last night, I am surprised to see you awake so early.” Aunt chuckled and poured her a cup of tea.

  She held up her precious book. “I do not wish to wear out my welcome at the library, as it were. I should like to return this tome as soon as possible.”

  “You have your eye on another, I assume?” Aunt cocked her head and lifted an eyebrow.

  Elizabeth chuckled and opened her books.

  “You might want to wait a moment on that. I received a letter from Mary that I am certain was intended as much for you as it was for me.” She handed the lette
r to Elizabeth. “She mentions a friend called Heather that she believes might be a mutual acquaintance. I can only assume she is referring to you.”

  She rubbed her forehead. “I told her I would write to her under that name.”

  “But you have not, I imagine. The Order has kept you quite busy?”

  “Do you think me quite horrible for not writing yet?”

  “No. I am glad someone from Longbourn cares enough to write to us, though. I would have thought your mother or Jane would have told us—”

  “I expect there is some persuasion going on. Mary—and Papa of course—are probably the only ones currently aware that I fled.” Somehow that thought left a little pang in her belly.

  She unfolded the missive. Mary’s hand was neat and regular, like a teaching page to copy. Her letters never deviated from the correct form, not even once. Every ‘e’ looked exactly like every other one. None of Elizabeth’s hurried scratching or the fancy swoops and curls she added when she was delighted with what she wrote. No, Mary was eminently legible and proper.

  My dear Aunt,

  So much has happened that I hardly know where to begin.

  Jane and Mr. Bingley are engaged. Uncle Phillips has just finished the settlement papers. Mama, Jane and Lydia, and even Kitty on occasion, have spent a great deal of time at the dressmaker’s, ordering Jane’s wedding clothes. Mama should have liked to go to London to visit Uncle’s warehouses there, but Papa has forbidden it. He cites time and budgets as his reasons, but I am certain there is something else on his mind.

  Although I think he is happy with Jane’s situation, he has been wholly cross these recent weeks, and I fear it will not improve soon. I am sure you will not be surprised to learn that Mr. Collins has made Lizzy an offer of marriage. Rather than accepting it as we all expected, she has fled Longbourn, and none of us know where she has gone.

  Rumblkins, Heather, and I have Mama, my sisters, and Mr. Collins convinced that she was suddenly called away to tend a sick relation—an old, wealthy and well-connected aunt. The kind of relation that Lady Catherine would heartily approve of her waiting upon.

  I know what you are thinking now. Mr. Collins still does not respond to Heather’s persuasions, but he listens to me well enough. For the moment, they are all placated and asking very few questions.

  Papa and Longbourn know the truth of Lizzy’s absence, though. She believes them to have been in league, trying to exercise draconic persuasion upon her. But they both insist they are innocent. I fear it will be a rather hopeless business. They will not be moved to apologize because they believe they have done no wrong. She is not likely to return unless they do.

  I hope she is happy and safe wherever she is. Heather and Rumblkins are well and have become fast friends in the absence of Elizabeth and April. I am not sure Rumblkins is the best of influences upon her. He has taught her some mischief that I am working hard to train her out of. Luckily Mr. Collins finds it amusing to see a cat and a bird at play.

  I believe Mr. Collins is content, for the moment, to await Lizzy’s return, but he will soon be required back at Lady Catherine’s side. I do not know for how long he will continue to wait, though. The future of Longbourn estate hangs in the balance. I know Papa is deeply concerned.

  I am, too. Longbourn deserves a proper Keeper, which we all know Mr. Collins cannot be.

  Jane’s wedding is planned for a fortnight hence. They will be taking a honeymoon trip to the Peaks—a full six weeks I am told. In an odd turn of events, Kitty, and not Lydia, is going to go with them. Since Miss Bingley will be moving back to London immediately after the wedding, taking the Hursts with her, the house will be left without a mistress for some time. Lydia has taken it into her mind that she will oversee the house whilst Jane and Bingley are away. Odder still, Mama and Jane both agree. I do not know what to make of it.

  Elizabeth set the letter aside. “What do you make of this business with Lydia?”

  “It seems a very odd thing, does it not? It is not as if the housekeeper cannot manage to keep things running in the absence of a mistress for a few weeks.”

  “I hardly think any of them believe this to be a learning opportunity for Lydia. Perhaps she sees it as an opportunity to get away from Papa’s temper?” How bad had things become in her absence?

  “He can be unpleasant when cross.” Aunt Gardiner nodded but looked unconvinced.

  “And do not doubt he is that. Mary says the fate of Longbourn is hanging in the balance.” She propped her forehead on her hands and swallowed the acid at the back of her tongue.

  “Perhaps she has bought into the same rhetoric that your father and Longbourn proclaim.” Aunt grumbled under her breath.

  “But what if—”

  Aunt rapped the table with her knuckles. “You have been torturing yourself with that idea long enough. I want you to go to the Order today and ask that question of Lady Astrid, ask her to introduce you to Minister of the Keeps and Minister of the Blue Court to get their opinions as well. In fact, if you tell Lady Astrid your concerns, I think she would arrange a tea for all of you to discuss the matter.”

  “I ... I could not. It would be presumptuous. I dare not ask so much.”

  “My dear, she drafted much of the language in the amendments to the marriage clauses. I am certain she would welcome any opportunity to discuss it.”

  “She was permitted to—”

  “To compose the legislation, yes, she was. You can imagine it might be very satisfying for her to talk with another woman about such things.”

  Elizabeth rubbed her forehead. “It is still difficult to believe such things can happen.”

  Aunt hid a chuckle behind her hand. “Where do you think the Bluestockings derived their name?”

  Elizabeth’s eyes bulged. “Surely not!”

  Aunt shrugged, lips curved in a tiny smile.

  The housekeeper scurried in with the morning post on a silver salver.

  “Another letter from Mary? Here, this is definitely for you.” Aunt passed a thick missive to her.

  She opened the seal and a pile of sealed letters tumbled out.

  These came for Lizzy some time ago, but Papa has kept them hidden away in his desk. I believe his intent has been to burn them. I think that unfair. She deserves to have letters directed to her. Would you please keep them safe until such time as we find her?

  Elizabeth’s face went cold. Three, no four letters with the return direction listed as Pemberley, Rosings Park, Kent. Though they were written in a young woman’s hand, they were no doubt from little Pemberley.

  The poor dear, she must be thinking terrible things because her letters had not been returned! Hopefully it was not already too late to remedy—

  “Are you ready to go, Lizzy?” Uncle stuck his head into the morning room, shrugging on his coat.

  Elizabeth tucked the letters inside her commonplace book and gathered her books. “As soon as I get April and my pelisse.”

  Uncle escorted her to the Order and promised to return for her that afternoon. Everything she had planned for the day would wait until she read her letters in the library and penned her response. Perhaps she might even press one of the messenger dragons into service to deliver them immediately.

  Just inside the door, Drew, a minor drake she frequently saw in the library, nearly ran her over.

  April squawked and scolded, hovering close to Drew’s long green nose. “Open your eyes! Get your nose out of your book, and watch where you are going!”

  Elizabeth picked his book off the floor and handed it back to him. “You read dragon script?”

  “Read, write and tutor it.” He bowed, bending his front knees to drop his head and shoulders below hers.

  Why of all times did she have to run into the very scholar she needed now?

  “I have never met a dragon who could write before.”

  Drew puffed up a bit. “It is not a common accomplishment among dragon kind. It requires a certain disposition—”

  “A
nd thumbs.” April snorted and flittered back to Elizabeth’s shoulder.

  “Opposable digits are helpful, but be assured, it requires more than just that to be a true dragon scribe. I have yet to meet the tatzelwurm who can write.” He raised his head just a little higher than Elizabeth’s, glaring at April.

  “Perhaps I might ask your assistance. I have been studying dragon script, but I am in a terrible muddle sorting the vowel markings from the accent marks.”

  The crest on the back of his head lifted. Oh, he was a proud fellow.

  “I would be honored to be of assistance. It can be a difficult point to decipher, especially if the script was not written neatly in the first place.”

  “Perhaps we might find a worktable in the library. I can show you the sample I am struggling with?”

  Hopefully this would not take very long. He did not seem the long-winded type.

  Drew followed her to the library where they found a large table, brightly lit by a sunbeam.

  She laid out her commonplace book and the two books she had been consulting on the matter. “Here is the sample I have been trying to decipher.” She pointed to a segment she had copied from memory from one of the Netherfield paintings and another similar one from the map room. “It seems like this book from the library and this one from Papa’s collection are at odds with one another. This one says I should read this character as a vowel, the other says it is an accent mark, but it cannot be both—”

  Drew squinted at her commonplace book. “Forgive my boldness, but it can be both.”

  “I have never heard such a thing.”

  “The way you formed this character, is it an exact copy of the original?” He tapped a word with his neatly trimmed talon.

  “I wrote this from memory, but yes, I think it is accurate.”

  Drew gazed at the characters, turning this way and that, until his head was nearly upside down. “This is very, very interesting. May I copy it?” He fumbled in his satchel for a journal and a pencil.