Chiara da Luna, My Lady's Dragon
My Lady's Dragon
Chiara da Luna
Chapter 3
The next day Rose packed a small bag, for they would surely have to stay overnight in London; it would take them most of the day to get there by post. Lil grumbled about it taking an hour by air, which Rose acknowledged to be an advantage, but the whole process was so reminiscent of trips with her father that she could scarcely contain her excitement. Her father had had the gift of turning the most ordinary of days into celebrations, To ride in a carriage for a day and bask in his undivided attention! Surely she and Lil would enjoy a similar time and forge their bond as sisters, which Rose acknowledged they had hardly ever been able to do, with their shared life consisting of quick visits and letters, Rose providing most of the writing. But on such a trip, they could finally talk and plan for the future.
She did not bring up the topic immediately, but gave herself over to the enjoyment of gentle swaying of the coach and remarking on the countryside, heavy with impending harvest, as she recalled all the trips to London with her beloved friend and father. How fast the time had gone! How they had laughed! Soon they must be approaching the little inn that offered such delicious little cakes while the horses were changed. She saw a thousand markers that brought up fond memories, each to be lovingly cherished.
"Will this miserable slough ever end?" exclaimed Lil. "In the future, if I can't go by dragon, I shall stay at home."
Yanked back to her present company, Rose said, subdued, "Perhaps we should have brought a game of traveling chess."
"The only thing more boring than staring at vegetation is chess," complained Lil, through coughs.
"I do not care for the game myself," admitted Rose. "Dragon chess is much more interesting."
Lil combined a cough and a snort for commentary. "And these wretched skirts! How do ladies ever get anything done?"
Rose mentally girded her loins for battle. "But will you not have to wear skirts when you leave the Corps?"
Lil stared at her, pop-eyed. "Why ever should I leave the Corps?"
"Your health. Your physician was most insistent." Rose rummaged through her reticule for the letter that had brought her pell-mell to Dover. She handed it to Lil and tried not to fidget as her sister plodded through the letter—one page, with lines not even crossed.
The aviator mouthed the words silently until she reached the end, when she slammed the paper on the seat beside her. "Hanson's an old woman, and you're an idiot to believe him."
Her cheeks flushed, Rose retorted, "An idiot, to believe your medical advisor, who describes your health in such terms that made me fear for your life? What else do you think could bring me here, leaving our brother in care of our aunt?"
"I wouldn't leave Aunt in charge of a cow intended for a dragon meal the next day. So I've not the slightest idea why you posted down here."
"I thought it my duty to care for you in your illness. I was surprised to find you out of bed at all." Rose pulled at the drawstring of her reticule. "I thought perhaps we might hire a house in Tunbridge Wells. We could afford that, with what Mother and Father left us."
Lil stared in horror. "Tunbridge Wells? Lord, Rose, why?"
"It is a salubrious location, and we could live more comfortably there than Bath, which is more expensive. And we would be closer to Wexley. Our brother could visit us sometimes, and we him."
"What in Heaven's name would we do there? Polish the furniture?" Lil shook her head.
Rose fell silent for several sways of the coach. "Of course, Italy would be best for you, but it is difficult to find a way there during the war. Perhaps Uncle would allow us to live in the Dower House, though I do not hold much hope."
"Better and better! We could polish the furniture and watch the turnips grow! Put all these schemes out of your mind, Rose. Nothing will make me fit for Society, and I've no intention of trying at my age. I thank you for your concern, but the Corps will put up with me, even if I have to work in the kitchen. And you said yourself I'm much healthier than you expected. I could make a full recovery and take the place I was born for or at least bred for." She fell in a paroxysm of coughing that ended conversation for some time.
After they stopped for the charming little teacakes while the horses were changed, Rose asked in a low voice, "Will you tell me how Mother died? The letter just said 'in battle.'"
Lil hacked something that could have been partly a sigh. "I didn't see, you know. I was busy being fried on a French ship. I was told that a stray bullet hit Ma in the chest, just an accident of war: The French cannot have meant to hit her. No one tries to kill a captain. The dragon goes insane. Her first lieutenant—Greevey, you know-tried to help her, and he was shot, though he lingered a bit. And Flossie went into a fury, despite a nasty wound in her wing joint. After your ride the other night, you can imagine. The crew just hung on, couldn't even pack her wound—some bright person yelled until he convinced her to go find me, only there I was, part of the boarding party on a French ship, only shortly thereafter Isquierka set it on fire, not realizing that we were there—another accident of war, and they happen frequently around Little Miss Flame Breath. So we're trying to evacuate everyone, but the smoke gets too much for me, and one of the middies tries to drag me out of it. At this point, Flossie spots me and, if you can imagine, goes into a worse rage. She yells for the middie to tie ourselves to something, and she starts sweeping water onto the ship with her tail, which starts putting out the fire, but, Lord, the steam! She picks up one of the rescue boats, dumps the people in her belly rigging and uses it to pour water over the masts and sails. She snatches me up as soon as she can get close and drops rope for the midwingman to make secure to the ship. Then she tugs it toward shore, only it gets tangled up with another French vessel—she drenches it too, to wet all their powder, and loops it a few times to drag it along too. She pulled them into harbor, mostly on one wing by that time, at least very lopsided, and let the ropes drop when there was someone to secure them. She sat still long enough for everyone to get down, shaking off the last few stragglers. Then she took off again, Ma's body in her claws, flying a wide arc because of the injured wing, which was streaming blood like the Thames. Usually when someone dies in battle, we cut their straps and let them fall in the ocean, but Flossie wouldn't have it. She came back alone later, walking, wing dragging, and lay on her pavilion, not moving for days, no matter what the surgeons did to her.
"Greevey swore on his deathbed that Mother had been alive and directing the ship captures. No one contradicted him, of course: it made them all in line for prize money. That's part of what the solicitor wants to tell us: the final accounting." Lil leaned back, exhausted, as though she had fought the battle all over again, and breathed heavy, as though trying to catch breath through smoke.
Rose managed a strangled "Thank you." She stared out the window with her lips pursed into a tight line, her eyes open wide and determinedly dry.
The next morning found her wholly giving into her senses, as she hung onto a lamppost outside the solicitor's office. "Thirty-eight thousand pounds," she whispered. "My mother had thirty-eight thousand pounds."
Her sister hovered anxiously. "And you and I each get three-eighths, with Flossie and our brother get an eighth each. Your share is—"
"A bit over fourteen thousand pounds, which added to what my father left me is sixteen thousand pounds, which yields slightly over 800 pounds per year." She held the post tighter as her head swam.
"So you're a maths genius in addition to everything else? Come on, Rose, you can't marry that lamppost. Not of your station at all."
Rose squelched her eyes shut to make the world stop spinning. "Every girl ever displayed on the Marriage Mart can make that calculation."
Lil pulled an arm over her own shoulders. "Come along, now. Walking will help, I promise. You're in shock, like the other night. This is a good shock. Ma always said that you'd have no trouble getting married if you had ten thousand pounds."
Rose let herself go limp enough for Lil to pull her along. "My old pony could get married if she had ten thousand pounds. Why should I want to get married anyway?"
"It's what you were bred for, isn't it? To be some lucky man's Countess? Or lady. Or missis, as the case may be. Here, down this street a ways."
Rose tripped on a cobblestone; they both lurched forward precariously, but Lil pulled them both upright at the last second. Rose continued, as though in a dream, "I was presented when I was sixteen so that I could be married before Papa died; he wanted me to be provided for. He died the summer afterwards, though, and then I wanted to be married so that I could offer Mother a home when she retired. Why should care to be married now? I can buy my own house. And a companion, I suppose, if you won't live with me. Dear God, not Cousin Sophie, please!"
"Aren't you supposed to fall in love or something of the sort for the continuation and betterment of Society?" Lil steered her around the mess in the streets.
"Society may go hang."
"Quite right, m'girl. Here, into this jeweler's shop with you. Cranston wrote me that Ma ordered something before—before." Lil put a hand between Rose's shoulder blades and shoved.
Rose stumbled inside and smiled in a general way to the room. In the City on the side nearest the covert, like the solicitor's office, it was not a fashionable shop, but respectable and clean. Rose crab-walked sideways to let Lil through. As her sister hallooed the proprietor, Rose turned to the display cases, the one nearest her being full of odd items, some that she could not imagine how to wear.
"Rose, come look at this thing," called Lil. "This here's my sister, Cranston. Lady Rose Danforth. No, I should say, 'Lady Rose, may I present Cranston?' No, that's not right."
Rose cut through her sister's confusion and threw precedence to the winds. "I am pleased to meet you, sir. Thank you for your service to my mother."
"Honored, I am sure, my lady. My deepest condolences to you both. I have been privileged to serve Captain Blakeney—all the Captain Blakeneys—for many years. I think you and the intended recipient will know how to value her last commission to me."
He gestured to his assistants, who brought forward what looked like a large box, almost as tall as Rose. She exclaimed as they opened it wide into a double portrait; she'd never seen a cabinet painting so huge. But of course it had to be, for the dragon eyes for which it was so clearly intended.
The gilt and bejeweled frames made her blink and kept her eyes from the subjects for some moments. When she could focus on the paintings themselves, her eyes blinked more rapidly.
Lil snort-coughed. "As though Mother ever wore a dress like that in her life."
"Oh, but she did," said Rose, surreptitiously dabbing her eyes. "At my court presentation. And when she was presented as a bride. She wore the same dress, made over."
"I wonder how anyone could move in such a turnout, with those lace skirts as wide as a church door and all those feathers."
"Wider, some times. One must practice for weeks, to manage the hoops and feathers." Rose managed a tremulous smile. "I am so grateful that she had this portrait made."
"It was painted from an engraving for a book," volunteered Cranston. "It looked much the same, with the dragon on the left and Captain Blakeney on the right, bowing to each other, as it seemed. Her dragon was very taken with it, and your Mother had the paintings made and framed as a gift for her."
"The dratted dragon book," agreed Lil. "The center engraving, with Ma called 'The Countess of Wexley, long-time patroness of the Aerial Corps' to keep anyone from finding out about female captains. Such stuff!"
Rose smiled again at the pairing. Florenzia and her captain were portrayed out of scale, with the dragon scarcely larger than the lady and her ostrich plumes. Both nodded towards the center—to each other, as Cranston said, Lady Wexley over her fan, Florenzia over a fan-like wing, looking even more like a Society lady. It was impossible not to be amused.
"You've done a bang-up job with the jewels and such, Cranston. We will be happy to pay for it. Florenzia will be in alt over it, will she not, Rose?"
Rose could only nod.
Cranston shook his head with vigor. "My dear Lt.—no, it must be Captain Blakeney now—you mistake. Your mother has paid all that was necessary, sent the final payment on that unhappy day. Best to do so before a battle, she said. Truly, nothing further is owed."
Lil eyed the plump little man. "You're a liar, Cranston. I hope it may not break you."
He drew himself up to as much height as Nature allowed him. "I will be happy to show you her final words."
"Oh, I've no doubt she wrote and sent money. What I do doubt is that it was the final payment. Ma never paid full price for anything except on delivery. But that's your lookout, and I thank you on behalf of Florenzia."
"And for your consideration of us," said Rose. "We take it as a mark of respect for our dearest Mother and are much moved. Perhaps you could show us other wares. You have some curious items; I quite long to hear about them." She gestured towards the cabinet that had first caught her interest.
"Cranston's quite the dragon jeweler," said Lil as they moved toward it. "Smart move, being so near the covert. All these things are for dragons—the big collars, long chains—and look, talon sheaths. Temeraire brought some back from China, all silver and gold. All the dragons are wild with envy."
"How pretty they are! And how cunning—they look like dainty lace gloves," said Rose as she stooped to examine them. Cranston shook his head. "Ah, but they don't sell, my lady. My friend, who is blacksmith, made them, but they have not taken, not at all."
"Of course not," said Lil. "Not a bit of sparkle on them. No dragon ever wanted plain black iron."
"But they are perfect for a mourning dragon," argued Rose. To Cranston, she asked, "Would it be possible to add a few small pearls, perhaps?"
"An excellent idea, my lady," enthused the jeweler. "Pearls sprinkled through the lace, and may I advise diamond chips as well, not so large or many as to violate the mourning note, but enough to catch the eye of the fastidious dragon. I will see to it myself on the instant and deliver them to the covert today."
"The cost," began Rose doubtfully, thinking of how late in the quarter it was and how little money she had left.
"Florenzia could buy half the treasury," said Lil. "And would be happy to. A few pearls and the sweepings from the gem cutter's floor ain't going to bankrupt her."
Cranston named a figure that much relieved Rose, who did not want to spend the dragon's capital or to place out of reach another purchase. "Perhaps, if I make a drawing, your friend could make a small tool for a dragon."
He provided paper for her sketch and contributed suggestions to her original idea. Rashly committing the blacksmith to the enterprise, he then ushered them out the door with many bows and thanks, promising again to have everything later that day. He assured them that Florenzia had an account with him, so that no monies were immediately necessary.
"How odd to think that a dragon has an account at a jeweler," said Rose as she craned her head, searching for a hack.
"She has a bank account; she can have accounts with merchants," said Lil.
"I never knew."
"You didn't need to. But I've been the second trustee since I was of age, British law not allowing dragons to own anything, any more than they'd allow cows to have capital. And Mother always insisted that there be at least two trustees, which is why you're pressed into service now. You don't mind?"
"Why, no. I am happy to do something for Florenzia," replied Rose. "And I promised her that I would buy some fabric, beads, and such for her. Shall we summon a hack to take us to Harding, Howell, & Co? We must have some little time before Mr. Cranston delivers our purchases."
Lil agreed, but it was clear when they drew up in front of that shopping mecca that she had never been there before.
"Good Lord, Rose, why ever would you come here?" she whispered as they pushed their way through hordes of shoppers.
"Because it's not as crowded as Grafton House," Rose whispered back.
Lil moaned and clutched Rose's arm so as not to be swept away in the crowds. Familiar with the layout, Rose made her purchases with alacrity, having decided previously what she needed and what she could afford, but Lil did not seem to appreciate her efficiency. They relaxed in a tea shop-not Gunther's, because Lil had had enough of the fashionable world, but in a very good shop closer to the covert.
Through slurps of an ice, Lil said, "I'd sooner walk through the dragon feeding grounds at breakfast. Some of those well-bred dames would have stuck a shiv in you if they'd had one when you took all those beads. Too bad we couldn't have had Flossie with us."
She agreed afterwards to rest, which she did while Rose examined her purchases and worked on her patterns in her sketch book. As she further disassembled Emily's britches, the better to draw pattern pieces form them, she caught herself humming, as she frequently did while she worked, but she stopped herself, in consideration for her sister. The day, she realized, had been pleasant, almost like a day in London in her previous life, without the onus of an evening party after a full day of activities. Parties could be pleasant, as a treat, rather than a constant obligation, but she preferred her days to be spent with congenial companions, even if the activities were mundane. After such a day, she was encouraged to think that she and Lil might become such companions.
She looked up from her contented reverie a few hours later at the sight of Lil at the window.
"I say, Rose, do you really want to go to dinner? We ate like pigs at the tea shop."
"Indeed. I am happy to accompany you, if you feel like eating more, but I had thought of asking to have soup brought to the room. It is too late to start back to Dover, even if our packages were here; I should prefer to spend the evening sewing, if I can get some work candles."
Lil forced her voice hearty through the hacking. "Excellent idea! I'll find a servant and tell her to send over some soup and candles. For myself, I see an old friend just arrived who will surely invite me to dine, if you can call a meal in a pub dining. You wouldn't, I know. You can come if you like, but I don't think you would like it at all."
Clearly shut out, Rose, baffled, replied, " Oh, no. I am sure you are right. And if you feel able and rested, it would be pleasant for you to see an old friend."
"Yes! That's it exactly. Stuck at Dover, I never see anyone else but the aviators there. If you're sure you don't mind-" The door slammed behind her.
To avoid feeling deserted and puzzled once again at her sister's seeming health, despite her near constant cough, Rose took out the old dress that she planned to sacrifice into a pair of riding pants. By the time dusk crept in and packages, candles, and soup had arrived, she was deep in her project and happy to be able to continue without the tedium of a formal meal. She had learned, over the years and the demands of her days, to work in small bits on her own interests: it was a luxury to have long hours to do exactly as she wished.
The guttering candles and her aching muscles from so long a focused activity brought her to realize the lateness of the hour. She looked doubtfully at her sister's empty bed. Surely she was safe, in the company of other aviators, but Rose had no notion of how to find her. Exploring the pubs around the covert in the middle of the night by herself did not seem the best of plans, and such was her only clue. "Her friend will care for her," she said to herself, picturing how furious Lil would be to be hunted down by her younger sister. She said it again as she forced herself into her nightclothes and into bed, and she repeated it like a prayer until she fell into an uneasy sleep.
13
