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

by Maria Grace

  “How is everyone at Longbourn?”

  “I am sure I should not say so, but I wish you had not left. Papa has been unwell since that day and has only got worse. Mama has only been kept in tolerable order because of Jane’s wedding—which you missed. Jane was very disappointed over that. And now it is over, Mama is diligently trying to see Kitty and Lydia married off to officers. And Longbourn! The creature is inconsolable in your absence. He does nothing but grump about, demanding to be placated in every possible way whilst complaining all the while that I am not you. Please come back.”

  Elizabeth held her breath and counted to ten—almost to ten—and slowly turned to face Mary. “I told you what Longbourn did.”

  “He has denied it most categorically. And I believe him.”

  “So then what did I hear coming from the cellar?”

  “Your own conscience reminding you of what you must do for the good of all.”

  “And you truly believe that?”

  Mary pressed her fist to her lips. “I am sorry. It was not kind of me to say such a thing. I am just overwhelmed.”

  She took Mary’s hands between hers. “What has happened?

  “Everything. Or nothing. I really do not know. Everything is so different and confusing. And Lydia has been saying some very strange things of late.”

  “You know I have never been able to make her out. If she were a dragon—”

  “How can you make jokes as such a time? Lizzy, I am truly frightened.”

  “I wish I had answers, Mary, but I am as much at a loss as you.”

  Mary covered her face with her hands, muffling a sob. Elizabeth pulled her into her shoulder and held her close.

  Uncle approached and laid a hand on Mary’s shoulder. “She has been beside herself with worry over the summons. She has invented all manner of disastrous outcomes.”

  “She is not far from right.”

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  “Whilst in Kent, Mr. Collins discovered dragons. I am sure they are planning to try his fitness before the Conclave. They will not permit him to leave if he is found wanting.”

  Mary’s sobs grew louder.

  “Great heavens, I had no idea.” Uncle slipped his arm over Mary’s shoulders. “We shall make it through this. I am certain of it. I had best take her home, though.”

  He guided Mary to his carriage and a few minutes later, they were gone.

  “Miss Elizabeth?”

  Why did Darcy choose now to appear—and stand so very close?

  “Forgive me, I could not help but overhear ...”

  “The ability to hear dragons does make one apt to hear other things, too, does it not?”

  “Whatever may happen with regard to Longbourn and Collins, I hope you know you have all the support my sister and I can offer.”

  How hopeful his expression, here in the moonlight.

  He ran his fingers along the edge of her shawl. “It is chilly out here. Perhaps you should come inside. You would like some drinking chocolate, perhaps?”

  No, she really did not. But the offer was so thoughtful and his eyes so warm, she could hardly say no.

  The next two days flew by in a frenzy of researching and preparation, which might have proved overwhelming had it not been for Darcy’s unwavering presence and calm. How welcome it had been when he had placed himself between her and those who might distract her from her work. No one had ever left her feeling so protected.

  Pemberley’s case was not as clear cut as they had hoped, but with what they had learnt and Rosings’ support their chances of success were good.

  Elizabeth stared up at the ceiling. Plaster moldings—ivy with tiny fairy dragons playing amongst the leaves—stared back down at her. A moonbeam reached the little mantel clock. An hour before dawn. Just an hour and she could begin preparations to face a day that would forever change everything she knew. It did not seem right that a single day could make such a difference. Then again, Pemberley’s hatching had changed everything in a single day, too.

  How many other lives could change in a mere moment today?

  Mr. Collins’.

  Now that he had seen dragons, the only way the Court would accept him into the Order would be for him to have a full-time supervisor, one who would tutor him in all aspects of dragon-kind until he was fully initiated. Since it was her fault he made the discovery, it would probably fall to her to be his keeper.

  She pressed her knuckle to her mouth. How much of this trouble was, at its heart, her fault?

  To start, she had spoiled Longbourn. She could see that now after dealing with Pemberley and trying to train her up properly. So much of his petulance she had tolerated, even abetted by giving him precisely what he wanted.

  If she had not allowed him to have been so selfish, he would not have sent Pemberley away. If she had not been so impulsive, she would not have run away and Georgiana’s letters would have reached her. If she had not been so stubborn, she would not have run from Collins; she would have accepted him and his life—and possibly the fate of her mother and sisters—would not hang in the balance at the Blue Order Court today. How many were suffering for her selfish, headstrong ways?

  But those thoughts were not at all helpful. She dragged herself out of bed and donned Aunt Gardiner’s blue gown. She had been right; a suitable gown did make it easier to face the demands of the day. Not very much, to be sure, but even very small bits helped.

  ***

  Darcy handed her into the carriage and climbed up to sit beside the driver. Without a chaperone to accompany them, it was the only proper thing to do. Still, she would have welcomed the company.

  April, Cait and Walker had already gone ahead with Pemberley and Rosings through the dragon tunnels. Minor dragons were not usually included in the Court proceedings and never attended a Conclave, but their testimony was essential to several of the matters of the day. So they were permitted to attend under escort from a Ranking dragon.

  Someday Pemberley would be able to perform that function. Was it too much to hope she might have the privilege of seeing that one day? It was unlikely, though. Longbourn usually did not attend Conclaves and probably would not begin to do so.

  They walked into the Order. Colonel Fitzwilliam met them in the front hall. His silence echoed the tension that seemed to fill the building. Liveried servants, human and dragon, scurried about, footsteps soft, voices muffled. They might not know the precise issues facing the Conclave today, but they were obviously aware of their gravity.

  A Court Bondsman, dressed in blue court robes with his hood nearly covering his face, escorted them deep into the bowels of the building to a witness box along the side of the court floor. He latched the wooden gate behind them. It was a little like being in a cage, symbolic more than functional, but the sense was still there.

  They sat in the front of three rows. Would Lady Catherine arrive later to fill one of the empty chairs? Who might be called to the others?

  The court room was the only room on this deepest level of the Order offices. The ceiling rose four, perhaps five stories above them, above a round stone floor as large as four substantial ballrooms put together. Flying dragons could easily soar within. Dragon tunnels entered the floor from nearly every direction with mirrored wall sconces mounted between each tunnel. Three levels of balconies circled the room, guarded by somber wooden rails. Between each section of railing, brass mirrors backed tall, eight-hour candles. Cockatrices flew around each level, lighting the candles, the room brightening as they went.

  Three imposing stations graced the head of the round room. Three rows of elaborate chairs on raised platforms rose in the center: the Gallery where the Order officials would sit when the Court assembled. On either side were the judge’s bench for the Minister of the Blue Court and the raised station and desk for the Chancellor of the Order, The Earl of Matlock, who would preside over the Conclave.

  The levels above them gradually filled with Dragon Keepers, by rank, the highest ranking on the
nearest levels. Major Dragons of every shape trickled onto the broad floor with what appeared to be dignity but was really more tension. Only the most important of matters could convince them all to gather so close together. Liveried attendants escorted them to their designated place in the court.

  How much thought had to go into the placements of the arriving dragon peers? Like-types and ranks had to be separated. Certain types had to be kept apart—and basilisks had to be separated from all, including each other. Perhaps that was what those partial walls near the far tunnels were for.

  Distinctions of rank had to be preserved, placing the biggest dragons closest to the proceedings. Raised platforms circled behind that rank to lift the lower-ranking major dragons high enough to see, but not to have their heads above the highest dragons.

  No wonder Longbourn did not attend Conclaves. Assignment to the rearmost rank would remind him of his insignificance, and that would not do.

  It was sometimes easy to forget that the Pendragon Treaty was as much a peace treaty between dragons as it was between men and dragons.

  The noise level rose as the chamber filled, a dull, deep roar that pounded at the base of her skull. How would they hear anything above that?

  Fitzwilliam elbowed her. “There, Pemberley arrives.”

  She followed his pointing chin to a tunnel almost directly opposite them. The room’s roar dulled as Rosings entered, her right wing sheltering little Pemberley.

  No doubt that little demonstration of maternal affection was designed precisely to communicate to the Conclave. Walker, Cait and April flew in behind them. The roar increased even louder than it had been before, not unlike a ballroom when unexpected guests arrived. The party was escorted to a dragon-sized railed and gated box close to the Minister of the Court’s bench.

  Rosings looked calm and in her element. April landed on Pemberley’s head and seemed to be singing. The tension in Pemberley’s posture seemed to ease. There was nothing like a fairy dragon to calm one in a crisis.

  “Collins arrives.” Darcy whispered, not looking at her. His hands were clenched and shoulders tense.

  Collins walked behind Lord Matlock, flanked by two very large, robed escorts. Probably footmen pressed into service as Bondsmen. Most likely they were there for Collins’ safety should he try to bolt, able to stay him before a dragon’s prey reflex was triggered. She shuddered. That was a sight she could happily live without ever seeing.

  He was secured in a witness box between Matlock’s station and the Officials’ gallery. Interesting. The rails were higher, nearly shoulder height, and the gate locked behind him. The burly Bondsmen remained stationed outside either side of his enclosure.

  A Bondsman approached with Uncle Gardiner and Mary, and another escorted Lady Catherine. Interesting, Anne was not there. Had she not been summoned or was her “health” keeping her away?

  Uncle and Mary slipped in the row behind her. Lady Catherine took the chair beside Fitzwilliam.

  Uncle laid a hand on her shoulder. “How are you?”

  “Ask me again when the Conclave is dismissed. I will not know before then.” Elizabeth glanced back.

  Mary clutched her hands together, rocking slightly, face ghastly pale. Hopefully she would not swoon. Longbourn was the only major dragon she had really ever known. Seeing so many at once must be overwhelming to her. Had Papa not thought to prepare her better for this? Elizabeth reached back and found Mary’s hand. Mary squeezed back, the edges of her lips lifted for just a moment.

  Elizabeth scanned the room again. Where was Longbourn? If he missed the Court—

  A loud gong cut through the room’s roar, and an eerie hush fell over the room. The Minister of the Court led in the Blue Order officials, robed in blue, gold and ivory. They took their place in the gallery.

  Lord Matlock, blue robes resplendent with heavy gold trim, mounted the steps to his station. He nodded at the Minister of the Court whose white wig identified him amongst all the other officials.

  The Minister carried a heavy oaken staff toward his bench. Fully a foot taller than himself, gold—or possibly ormolu—vines wrapped the length. A firedrake, wings spread, holding a blue spherical gem in its mouth topped the staff. He rapped it on a large metal plate embedded in the floor just behind the judge’s bench.

  The tones reverberated in her skull. Across the room, Pemberley and April cringed at the sound. A lindwyrm in the back row snapped at the wyvern next to him. Two Bondsmen ran between them—brave souls—and hoisted a large black curtain strung on heavy poles to block their view of on another. Two more intervened, one for each dragon, talking them down from their defensive postures.

  The minister mounted the steps to the bench and opened the proceedings by reading a summary of the Pendragon Treaty and the Accords. While it satisfied the peers’ need for pomp and circumstance, it was also an obviously necessary reminder to all the dragons of the behavior required of them.

  A softer, higher-pitched gong chimed three times. “The Court of the Blue Order and the Dragon Conclave of England are now in session.”

  A brief roar of assent, then silence.

  “Secretary, Baron Chudleigh, read the first case.”

  Chudleigh rose from his place, front and center of the officials’ gallery, and unfurled a scroll.

  That bit of drama was probably unnecessary, but it was very showy.

  “The case of The Blue Order versus William Collins.”

  A Bondsman urged Collins to rise and face the Conclave. He needed support on either side, his knees too weak to hold him. Given his pallor, he might faint at any moment. Not an excellent way of obtaining dragon respect.

  Cait swooped past the Minister of the Court’s bench and landed on the railings near Collins. He jumped back.

  “I am to translate for you,” she squawked in her parrot-voice that sounded nothing like her.

  “Collins is the heir to Longbourn estate, an established dragon territory. Despite being totally dragon-deaf, he accidentally discovered dragonkind. The Conclave must decide whether to accept him as a deaf-speaker—or not.” Chudleigh’s voice boomed through the room.

  Collins gulped and wobbled between the Bondsmen.

  “Is he truly dragon-deaf and immune to persuasion?” Cownt Matlock grumbled from the front row. What a stunning blue-green firedrake, even larger than Rosings, with flaming orange eyes that missed nothing! What stories he would have to tell!

  Instead of translating, Cait said, “April, please come and sing to him.”

  April zipped to the box and hovered in front of Collins’ face, singing sweetly. The Bondsmen beside him yawned, and their eyes drooped. Matlock and the Minister of the Court did the same, but Collins remained white-faced, eyes wide.

  “Perhaps I should bite off his generative bits?” Cait hopped toward him.

  Both Bondsmen jumped back, hands shielding their family jewels. Collins remained unmoving.

  A wave of laughter cut through Conclave, human and dragon alike. Fitzwilliam chuckled, though neither Darcy nor Uncle Gardiner did. Mary was probably blushing painfully. She never appreciated dragon bluntness.

  “The point is established. Collins is entirely dragon-deaf.” Matlock stretched and shook his head.

  April looked a little too satisfied with herself.

  Matlock went on to ask for the case in favor of Collins’ provisional admission into the Blue Order. It began with his standing as heir to a dragon estate and ended with Lady Catherine and Mary testifying to his tractability in the right hands, not that Collins appreciated the latter point very much, though.

  He should have. It could very well be the thing that saved his life.

  Collins’ treatment of Rumblkins, as told by Rustle and April and tempered by Uncle Gardiner, was a mark against him, as was his anti-dragon attitude. Collins himself, though, managed to argue that it had changed since coming to know that dragons existed. Now he was actually quite fascinated by them.

  Terrified by them was probably more accura
te.

  “And just how did you become aware of the existence of dragonsss?” Barwines Chudleigh slithered forward, toward Collins.

  Collins shuddered a bit. Snake-types in particular unsettled those unaccustomed to them.

  “I ... I ... that is to say, it was Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s fault all told. I made her an offer of marriage, one sanctioned by her father and Lady Catherine and, as I understand, the dragon Longbourn himself. Yet, she refused me. Refused me and ran off into the woods. I chased after her and came, unknowing, into a lair full of dragons.”

  A roar resounded from a tunnel at the back of the room. “She should have accepted the offer. She promised to do so!” Longbourn stormed in.

  Bondsmen with curtains dashed to his side, raising the black cloths to shield him from the view of the nearby dragons.

  The Minister of the Court struck the floor gong. “Order! Come to Order.”

  Matlock rose. “Since these cases are inextricably intertwined, Lord Secretary, I recommend we pause in the case of Collins and hear the case of Miss Elizabeth Bennet versus Longbourn.”

  The Conclave roared their assent.

  The Bondsmen escorted Longbourn to the final empty box near the center front of the court. Collins stared at Longbourn, blinking hard. No doubt, the first time he had seen was had been lurking in the Longbourn estate cellars.

  Elizabeth and Uncle Gardiner rose. Her mouth went dry. She licked her lips, but it did not help.

  Chudleigh lifted his scroll. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet, junior Keeper to Laird Longbourn, has filed a complaint charging first that Longbourn insists she marry against her will, an act now forbidden by the recent changes to the marriage clauses of the Accords. Secondly, he threatened her, treating her as prey—”

  That drew gasps from the gallery above. A cold wave trailed from her face down to her toes. She would never forget that moment.

  “—using his venom until she fainted and could have suffered substantial harm. And finally, that Laird Longbourn attempted to use draconic persuasion upon her when Collins first offered her marriage.”

  The dragons hissed at that. Longbourn cringed and roared.