My Lady's Dragon
Chiara da Luna
Chapter 5
In the silence between them all, Lt. Lavinia Dane's footsteps rang loud on the parquetry floor.
"Hullo, Lavvy," said Lil. "My sister and Emily have been fighting highwaymen. Have you ever heard the like?"
Lavinia nodded. Her wide grin made her freckles dance across her round face. "Oh, yes. Just like she and Miss Meggars used to do around Wexley. My mother would write me every time they brought down another one. All the tenants was right grateful to them for making the roads safe. I promise, I was jealous with rage—here I was, sitting at school or running meaningless errands, with all this excitement going on at home."
"Where was her father during all of this excitement?" asked Florenzia, still disapproving. "I understood that he was to protect her."
"Lord love you, Florenzia, there weren't a highwayman daft enough to hold up the Earl," replied Lavinia. "No matter how rich he was. And they knew he wasn't rich and wasn't likely to wear any jewelry worth the risk. And after awhile, they wouldn't hold up women or young men either, because it might turn out to be Lady Rose and Miss Meggars. Something fierce, they were. I don't know as I was so very surprised—I fought many a battle with Lady Rose on our dragon trees when we were children, and she won, often as not."
Rose made an embarrassed gesture and leaned her face on her hand to hide her confusion. "I think—I am quite sure—that Meggy meant it so, to trap them. My father began to suspect and said as how he fancied there would be no more holdups. I don't know how-"
"Of course she did. Told everybody, she did. By the time the Earl stepped in, a baby and a crippled Granny could have held a picnic on the road without harm. But I don't mean to keep you up when you must be exhausted," Lavinia said to Rose. She then carefully aimed her words directly been Rose and Lil. "I only wanted to explain how I came to suggest Molly Meadows as runner, hoping I wasn't being too forward."
Lil waved a dismissive hand. "As Flossie's lieutenant, of course you can recommend anyone you like. Flossie says this girl is to be our maid—like we need one. The girl will probably not be best pleased about that."
"But she will," said Lavinia. "That's how I came to suggest her. Florenzia wanted to engage a maid for the two of you, and when I went to Wexley, I fell into conversation with Lizzy Meadows, who is Molly's sister. She's in service as a lady's maid, and Molly's declared for some time that she would like to do the same. Only—well, she's the fifth daughter, and her family was happy to send her to the Corps and be spared her upkeep. She does very well in school, but no one's picked her as a runner, because she's always saying that she's going to be lady's maid. So I thought maybe she could be both and perhaps, Lady Rose..."
"Certainly," said Rose, jerking herself straight with a start. "I should be happy to provide her with a recommendation, if she persists in her wish. I suppose there's no difficulty for her to leave the Corps?"
"No, only most people don't, because of having no training to be anything else," said Lavinia. "I will bring her around tomorrow afternoon. Good night, and thank you, Emily and Lady Rose, for your defense of the Dover roads." With a salute and a cheery wave, neither precisely directed at anyone, she was gone.
Emily took her leave likewise, and Lil rose abruptly and went to her room, a small one in the back of the pavilion. Rose bid Florenzia an abstracted good night and slowly approached her mother's room, a large one near the front of the pavilion.
Someone had changed the sheets on the bed, for which Rose was grateful, but the rest of the room looked untouched. A small desk in the far corner, under the lone window, looked out over the courtyard. Rose automatically picked up the clutter—the dried pen, a copy of La Belle Assemblée from the month of her mother's death, an unfinished letter. Rose saw her own name at the top of the page; this would have been her mother's last letter to her. It talked of sleeves and the political musings in La Belle Assemblée. Her own last letter lay near by, covered with tick marks in her mother's handwriting, with similar marks in her mother's copy of the magazine; thus her mother had kept track of what she had answered, or perhaps intended to answer from Rose's letter. Rose had no idea how hard her mother had worked at their correspondence: Captain Blakeney's letters had always sounded so breezy and spontaneous: "By the by, Rose, did you see the hash in the House of Lords? A pretty way to go on, I don't think. The party will be lucky to maintain its hold."
A pretty cloisonee box lay open on the desk, a box full of letters tied with pink ribbons, of all things. Rose would have sworn that her mother didn't own a ribbon, much less tied up correspondence in that manner.
One letter lay on top of the others, folded but released from its captivity. Rose unfolded it while justifications to read correspondence not addressed to her ran rapid fire through her brain. Her favorite, that perhaps this letter required an answer, died as she recognized the handwriting.
"My dearest Belle," wrote Rose's father, "I beg your, Florenzia's, and the nation's pardon, but you must come to Wexley, whether it be convenient or not. My end cannot be far now, as you can see from my wretched hand, for which I apologize, and you cannot wish our darling Rose and Baby Basil to be alone at such a time. Rose now writes all my letters for me, but I cannot give her such a commission as this one.
"So please make all haste to come, as soon as you receive this. I should wish you to choose any furniture or furnishings that you would like to have, and that will be more easily accomplished if I am above ground."
Rose paused to look at the desk, its familiarity now explained. It had stood in her mother's apartments at Wexley. She returned to her father's last written words.
"Not knowing how much time I have left, I want to be sure to tell you that you have been the most wonderful wife I could have imagined. I do not know why God created me as I am—though you may be sure that I soon will demand an explanation—but I do know that no man was ever so blessed in his wife as I have been. Each of our children is a treasure.
"I have arranged in my will for Miss Meggars to continue as Basil's nurse..."
And though she seized on the excuse that she must make sure her father's wishes were carried out, she found that she could not read further. She carefully folded the letter and replaced it in the happy little box with its bright flowers and curling dragon. The unfinished letter to herself she folded and put under the pillow. Though the day had been full of excitement—or perhaps because of it—Rose found sleep elusive. She stared into the dark, at a loss. She was used to put herself to sleep by imagining the house she would someday live in. First it had been a house with some shady figure of a husband in the background, where she could welcome and care for her father, a house that resembled Wexley in many ways and sometimes was Wexley, when she decreed that said husband should reside there. Later she had imagined a snug little estate (again with the undefined husband) where she could welcome her mother in that lady's retirement. The grounds were always extensive, so that Florenzia could visit them, or perhaps in the far future, live with them. After Mother's death and the surgeon's letter, Rose focused on the little house she would share with Lil in sisterly companionship. She tried now to create a house of her own, which she certainly afford, without the necessity of a husband, but it held no charm. Instead she touched the letter under her pillow and remembered Papa telling her small self that she could rest easy at night, for Mother and her dragon were protecting her and all of England. Rose's eyes closed.
She arose the next morning before first light deeply rested. She couldn't immediately recall the last time she felt so comfortable in a place. She couldn't manage to scold herself for the fanciful notion that she was closer to her mother now than she'd ever been. "Life has not been so fraught with comfort that I will turn it down where I find it," she argued to an invisible critic—and pulled herself up short, thinking Lil might have said something similar about her London escapade. Chastened and compassionate, Rose arranged a fine black lace tucker over her evening gown, turning it into a day dress. Her mother had bought the lace for her at a pretty penny when they were getting their blacks together after Papa's death. She felt that she should present a formal appearance for her first day as teacher, Florenzia having ordered her junior crew to report to school in her pavilion on that day after their drills with the Chinese Scarlet Flowers. Rose left her room in a sober mood.
Florenzia opened a great green eye. "Shall you sing now?
Rose went to the pianoforte. She explained to Florenzia about warming up her fingers and voice and trudged through those exercises, punctuated by yawns and stretches, which Rose felt she could allow herself in what was supposed to be a private area, shield by Florenzia's bulk and the unseasonable hour of the day. Florenzia hummed along as soon as she grasped the notes. Rose noted, at first without much pleasure, that when she had reached the top and bottom of her own range, that the dragon could comfortably sing both higher and lower. Then her curiosity came to the fore in trying to discover just what Florenzia's capabilities were.
By the time they had moved from exercises to songs and then to arias, they had collected an extensive dragon audience, some still munching bones and dripping blood from breakfast. Rose had been so lost in the music, as was her wont, that she did not notice them, despite their being larger than some villages, until some offered humming harmonies.
"That's quite enough," said Florenzia with some severity. "This is the only time that my captain's daughter has to practice her music, and she must not be disturbed. Now, Rose, I do not think I have mastered that last run that ended in a trill. Will you demonstrate it again?"
To the sea of drooping heads and tendrils spread before her, Rose murmured half- promises about forming a dragon chorus. Florenzia turned it into a commitment by telling them to report after the crew's lessons in the late afternoon.
Rose then spent the morning reviewing the books used by her prospective students. On the whole, she approved of Mrs. Pemberton's choices; Rose thought she could guide the youngsters through their lessons until their teacher's return. However, when she returned to the pavilion after nuncheon, she found, instead of the ten students she expected, closer to fifty. Parker, beaming like an angel, jumped up from his seat near the fore, and presented her with a bouquet of feathers, mostly chicken, but at least five peacock feathers spouted out like an unruly fountain. "I got the feathers, my lady. They're very clean, don't you think?"
Narrowing her attention to him to avoid the thought of the coming calamity, Rose snapped, "I do think so, nor do I think they ever touched ground, despite my very specific orders not to touch the birds in any way."
He arranged his features in a soulful, hurt expression. "You wouldn't want dirty feathers, would you? And I was wounded in the effort-Sally dinged me proper, she did, saying I disturbed her birds."
"Of course she did, and you not only disobeyed my orders-"
"But you're not the captain. You said so."
"-but Lord Admiral Roland's orders. And as for this-" She swept her hand out and was appalled anew at the growing crowd in front of her.
She was still staring aghast when Captain Granby appeared, shepherding six students of his own. She looked down in confusion, highly conscious of Florenzia's interested study.
"I can't tell you how grateful we are that you've offered to take Mrs. Pemberton's place," he said with his ready grin, his one hand firmly on the shoulder of a recalcitrant cadet' who cast her a murderous look. "It's very well for the third son of a lord; Laurence is perfectly capable of imparting the education he received, but some of us are third sons of coal merchants, and have very little learning to impart. I've always done my best, but I hail Mrs. Pemberton as a blessing, and you likewise. I'd like my crew to be more educated than I am." He studied her face; she knew she looked stricken. "You didn't, did you? Offer to teach in Mrs. Pemberton's place."
His cadet piped up. "Parker said as how we had to come, and his dragon would drop us face down in the dragon midden if we didn't."
"That boy is born to be hanged," said Granby, with a thoughtful glance at the seraphically smiling Parker. "That, or Lord Admiral. It's often a matter of luck. Shall I send them all away, Lady Rose?"
"We are very pleased to welcome your crew and others," said Florenzia, whose ears missed nothing said in the pavilion. "I am pleased to be able to offer my services during my convalescence, when I cannot contribute to the war effort.
Rose managed a tremulous smile. "I will try, if Florenzia is to help me. I doubt it can be worse than the Village Children's Treat." She tried not to remember that she'd lain awake all night with a stomachache before each year's Children's Treat."
"I will stay and add my basilisk glare," said Granby cheerfully.
At that moment, Lil emerged from her bedroom. "Flossie, have you kidnapped an orphanage? What do we want with all these squeakers?"
"We will teach them in Mrs. Pemberton's place," said Florenzia, still blithe. "I am sure that my captain would want us to do so."
"We will?" asked Lil.
"Why, whatever else will you do?" asked Florenzia.
Lil looked around the pavilion in disgust and took herself as far away from the students as possible, commandeering a chair from a midwingman, who joined the majority sitting on the floor.
Rose reminded herself who she was—as though anyone here cared-and declaimed in her best recitation voice, unused since she'd left her own schooldays behind. "Good afternoon. I am Lady Rose Danforth, and I will assist you in your lessons until Mrs. Pemberton returns."
"You call her Lady Rose. Every time," Parker advised from his seat in the first row.
"Thank you, Parker." Rose continued, "To better acquaint myself with your abilities, I should like you to write a letter to your family, first on your slate so that I may review it. When it is corrected, you may then make a fair copy to send."
"Ain't got no family," called one of the brats.
"They don't even remember my name," said another.
"Then you may write to a friend or instructor at Loch Laggan or Mrs. Pemberton or, if you truly have no one in the world who would not be pleased to hear from you, you may write to me." Having carried on a correspondence with her mother since she first could write, Rose was baffled at the idea of having no one to write to, but she knew better than to show it.
"Don't see why we have to write anyway," muttered another protester from the back.
"Don't you?" she asked, invoking her own gimlet-eyed governess. "Do you expect to always be in the presence of those you love or do business with, that you shall never have to set words on paper? Do you expect to always be in the presence of your superiors? Or will you have to write requests for supply or reports of your activities, possibly to those who have never met you at all and know you only by your untidy scrawl on a dirty piece of paper? And with such a slovenly introduction, will these superiors decide that you should be elevated to captain? Or will they say, 'What dragon would take such a one, who cannot master his own language?' Even though as an aviator you will travel more widely than your contemporaries, still you will form and maintain many relationships by letter only. If you would not go into their presence in dirty linen and mud-caked boots, would you inflict on them a sloppy ill-formed hand, to cause them grief as they try to understand you?"
"Bravo!" cheered Granby. "I wish you'd been my teacher."
Support came from an unexpected quarter. Lil rasped, "Better take an advantage of this superior instruction. M'sister is ever so learned and accomplished, according to our mother, who wished I could be likewise. I quite wish I'd attended to her, or I would not be having such trouble with all this endless paperwork that goes with being a captain. It's not all riding a dragon, you know."
Rose gasped, but no one seemed to notice because Florenzia was speaking. "I, for one, will not have any unlettered barbarians in my crew. My captain was an educated lady, as is her daughter, and I will not endure any less. How tedious that would be, to haul around a bunch of ignoramuses!"
Fifty pairs of eyes (or possibly a million, it seemed to Rose) shifted back and forth between her and the dragon. For an instant, the outcome seemed in doubt; then the children scrambled for their slates. Rose breathed a sigh of relief.
She then noticed the three older students who had joined late and stood somewhat behind her. None of them looked happy: Emily, furious; Demane, fearful; a dark, younger boy who had to be his brother seemed only resigned.
"Emily, I am so glad to see you here!" exclaimed Rose.
"You might rather wonder at it, seeing as I am all but eighteen," spat Emily. "But my captain has ordered me to continue my studies, and my mother orders me to obey my captain and 'take advantage of all education opportunities.' Stuff! It's all right for you, Demane: you can write and ask for more crew for Kulingili, as he has seen fit to grow another ten feet, but who am I to write to, when I see my mother every other week?"
"Perhaps you could write to Excidium," suggested Rose. "Florenzia loves to receive letters. Or surely in your travels, you have made friends who would like to hear from you." As Emily grew thoughtful, Rose turned to Demane. "Why don't you write down your requirements, and we'll later add the salutations, when I have discovered exactly how the letter should be addressed."
Demane grinned in relief. "That I will, my lady. I am never knowing how to talk to anyone and so usually don't talk at all, so I don't offend." He then punctiliously presented his brother, as though he were reading from an etiquette book.
Sipho acknowledged the introduction with better grace and gave her a weary smile. "I suppose I should help the younger ones?"
"I hope all you older students will help them get started. But, Sipho, I have promised Captain Laurence to write to a childhood friend who is in his third year at Oxford, to see if he would tutor you this summer, with the goal of preparing you for Oxford. It would be well if I could include a letter from you, describing your studies so far," replied Rose, her cheeks burning at the memory of last night's dinner conversation with Laurence, whom she had tried to avoid, since Florenzia had disclosed her plans. She had hinted airily to Captain Laurence of an understanding between her and the young man in question, as a defense against any dragon's plans, when the only understanding there could be between the third son of a vicar and the second daughter of a threadbare earl was that no understanding was possible.
Sipho brightened. "Really? A tutor for me? He would come here among the dragons?"
"He is the son of the vicar of Wexley," said Rose. "He has ridden Florenzia many times. He has been looking for a job as a tutor, and this one will allow him to spend much time at his home, if he is willing to go there on dragonback—it's scarcely a twenty-minute flight."
"That would be beyond anything great!" Sipho enthused. "I'm confident of my maths—I study with Temeraire—and Captain Lawrence has started me on Greek and Latin, but he never went to University."
"I can help you somewhat with Latin," offered Rose. "I studied with the vicar's sons, and we told his wife that Latin was much like Italian and perfectly respectable. But nothing would convince her that Greek was not an improper language, and she always pulled me out of those lessons to do something in the kitchen."
"I would be grateful," said Sipho. "And perhaps...perhaps you could look over the dragon book before it goes to press. They will list me as editor, which Mr. Wilberforce says is good strategy for the abolition movement—I don't exactly understand all that—but I would like for someone older, that is, more educated to read it." His voice dropped lower. "But you mustn't say anything to anyone. I've told the ferals that it's too late to make any more changes. Every day they think up a new chapter to their story!
Rose assured him that she should be happy to assist and swore secrecy. She then spent the rest of the afternoon going from child to child, spelling words, and advising on grammar. She had just collected all their slates when Lavinia Dane climbed the steps to the pavilion. She was accompanied by a thin girl of twelve with light brown hair rigidly plaited with a profusion of bottle green ribbons and tied off with a tiny white flower at the end. She would be a handsome woman when all her parts caught up with each other, but at present her features were sharp, her arms and legs long and gawky. Lavinia introduced her as Cadet Molly Meadows and left her there, moving to Florenzia's head and engaging her a low-voiced conversation.
Lil leaned back and crossed her ankles. "So, Cadet Meadows, you wish to be our runner."
"And maid," the girl whispered, her back rigid and chin high and brittle. "Lavvy and Florenzia said 'maid.'"
Lil frowned. "That's as may be, Cadet Meadows, but you need to satisfy me that you know one end of a dragon from another: which to approach with a harness and which to approach with the shovel." She fired questions about dragon statistics and flight strategy, which Molly answered snappily—her schoolwork was good, as Lavinia had promised. Lil continued with scarcely a pause to cough, "Load my pistol for me, Cadet Meadows. Take the flags and signal to Mr. Parker over there in that crowd of hooligans that he should report at once. Take this message to Lt. Roland on the double."
As Molly took off across the compound, Rose asked, "Does she know them, then?"
"If she can't find out, we don't want her. I'm not picking a runner just because Flossie likes her hair style."
Molly returned in short order, panting, to say, "Lt. Roland says she can't come right away but will as soon as she's released from her current tasks."
"That's a disappointment," said Lil. "I was counting on her to help show your fencing skills, since I'm forbidden to exert myself. No matter. Rose, surely you can hold that foil while Cadet Meadows goes at you. She can't hurt you; there's a button on the end. Cadet, Lady Rose has just boarded your dragon with evil intent, though not much skill. Take this other foil and prevent her from advancing."
Rose imitated Molly's grip on the foil and brandished it. She tried to hold it level against the girl's attacks and trusted that her skills with a tree branch in childhood games would count for something. She contented herself with defensive passivity, merely giving Molly something to clang her foil against. Then Molly thrust straight at her, as though to pierce her heart. More worried that the foil, even buttoned, would pierce her lace tucker, Rose offered an abrupt block and went more on the offensive, to keep the blade further away. Several openings arose when she could have made a similar thrust at Molly's heart, but Rose didn't want to be the victor. When the girl's hand began to tremble and her blade scrape awkwardly, Rose swept both their blades up and over to the side, coming to rest with hers on top. "I do beg your pardon, Cadet," she said, adding a breathless effect. "I am quite unused to so much exercise and must beg you to have mercy on me."
"That's enough to give us an idea of what you can do," Lil said. "Very good, Cadet Meadows. You too, Rose."
"I should say so!" said Emily, joining them. To avoid disturbing the duelers, she had been remained at the far edge of the pavilion with her hand pressing down on Parker's shoulder to restrain him. "I didn't know ladies learned to fence, Rose. I'm impressed."
"I was fencing?" asked Rose. "We used to fight with sticks and branches when I was a child. I do remember my nurse saying that if we were going to do so, we should do it properly. I didn't know that what she showed us was fencing."
"Pretty good technique you showed. Appalling grip you have, but that can be taught," said Emily.
Nonplussed and somewhat embarrassed, Rose turned to Parker. "Mr. Parker, would you fetch some lemonade?"
"Seeing as how I'm ensign now, I'd say that was the runner's job," he said.
Rose's eyebrows snapped together as she glared. "Would you not wish to oblige your dragon by waiting on her guests?"
"No need to go all ladylike on me. I'll just fetch the lemonade, shall I? Mebbe Sally won't ding me on the ear again." He backed toward the edge of the pavilion.
"I'd think you would," scolded Emily. "If I'd talked like that to my captain or my dragon, I'd have been sent back to school.
Parker no doubt missed the last part of her statement, as he was halfway across the compound, but his speed indicated that he absorbed its spirit. When he returned with a jug of lemonade in one hand and holding the other hand over his ear—Sally had a long memory—the new runner was sitting on the sofa beside Rose with the latest issue of La Belle Assemblée open across their laps. Florenzia leaned over, studying the fashion plates, while Molly demonstrated her ability to tie ribbons in the bows and knots shown.
"I am very fond of this periodical," said Florenzia. "My captain used to read it to me and show me the fashion plates. She gave it as a subscription to her daughter many years ago, thinking Lady Rose would like the patterns and music. And she thought she would just say 'Very true, my love,' if Lady Rose were to say something about hems or semiquavers. But she found it necessary to take a subscription for herself, for Lady Rose would write her about the political essays and the serial stories as well."
"Oh!" said Rose. "I worked so hard to understand the Corn Laws and the discussions of the war. Papa had to explain everything to me—at least, at first, when I was fourteen. I thought she wanted me to learn such things. Of course, I did like the patterns and music too."
"She was very proud of you, and frequently said that you had made a good citizen of her," Florenzia consoled her.
Rose poured lemonade for everyone, including Parker, in a gracious gesture. Lil informed him in a gruff growl that he was to teach Cadet Meadows her duties as a runner, which did not include doing all his current work as well. He started on a glib assurance that faltered under Rose's and Florenzia's furrowed-brow glares, which were strikingly similar.
"So I am Florenzia's new runner?" asked Molly. "For certain?"
"I suppose so, since Flossie wants you," said Lil. "It's nearly dinner time for the youngsters. Parker will show you to the dining hall. I suppose you'd better take the bedroom between mine and Rose's, if you're going to be a lady's maid as well." She waved towards the door.
Molly beamed and tore off a smart salute. She grabbed her bags and darted for her new quarters. She emerged dressed in what was probably her finery for her brother's wedding, in true country fashion: a dress made for a larger and older person cut down not to her size, but several sizes too big so that she could grow into it. Her new slippers had old stockings stuffed in the toes: slippers that would be scuffed and tattered by the time she grew into them.
"My sister, her that's maid to Lady Castain, she made me this dress," said Molly with pride. "Florenzia said she likes her crew to dress for dinner."
"Your sister is an excellent seamstress," said Rose in all sincerity. The dress had been made over expertly, but Molly had probably never had a dress in her life that fit. Rose decided that the girl should have a new bolt of fabric to make herself a properly fitting outfit. She would certainly need to know how to do so to achieve her life's ambition.
Parker, who had wandered to the courtyard to trade insults with friends, now peered over the edge of the pavilion to jeer. "Wotcher think this is? The palace?"
Molly turned on her heel and went back to her room. Fearing that the cadet's feelings had been hurt, Rose turned on Parker and swelled her lungs with a blistering speech. Before she could deliver it, Molly marched out of her room, clad once again in her uniform. She hopped down from the pavilion and crashed her fist into Parker's nose almost in the same motion. She followed up with a kick in the shins and a chop with both hands to his back, which left him moaning in the dirt. She then climbed the pavilion steps, returned to her room, and donned her elegance again.
Rose looked to Lil for guidance. Lil shrugged. "Think she's probably handled it."
"Nicely done, that was," said Florenzia with satisfaction. "Parker, you will treat ladies with respect in the future."
He muttered something through his blood-covered hand that he dashed well would; he'd no idea they were so fierce.
Another boy stepped forward to offer his arm to Molly. "Cadet Gerry Adams, of Temeraire. I'd be pleased to escort you to dinner."
With delicate steps, Molly descended the pavilion and laid her hand on Gerry's arm. With a final kick at Parker, who had risen in protest, she replied, "Thank you, Cadet Adams. I should be pleased to accept."
With Parker trailing behind, alternately groaning and protesting Gerry's thievery, they made a stately parade to the dining hall.
"I think she'll do just fine," said Emily.
"I should think so," agreed Lil.
"I have a proposal of instruction," said Emily. "I would be happy to teach you further in fencing and shooting, Rose, if you would teach me the five Scottish songs of Haydn. I have already learned the first one, and if I have learned them all when Mrs. Pemberton returns, I needn't have any more music lessons. Except for a duet of some kind, and I daresay you can teach me one."
"I should be happy to," replied Rose. "But my experience is that the reward of learning one song is having to learn another harder one." She thought of the Mozart aria currently propped on the pianoforte, her teacher's last fiendish gift.
"No, one must be fair to Mrs. Pemberton. She keeps her word on such things. After I had ten drawings in my sketch book, she allowed me to stop drawing lessons. She said that I can quit music lessons when I have mastered the five Scottish songs."
"And a duet."
"Yes, that seems to be some kind of mating ritual, to sing duets with a prospective suitor." Emily snorted in scorn, echoed by Lil. "She doesn't think I'll need more than one, and I think that's one more than I'll ever use. Still, it's a small thing—I hope."
"Spare me," said Lil, pulling herself upright to a standing position. "I've had all the instruction and music I can take today, no matter which end of it I'm on. Flossie, be a dear and carry me to the dining hall. It's time to relax with friends."
They all agreed and moved to the edge of the pavilion, only to stop short. A herd of dragons, as many as would fit in the courtyard, pressed close. Rose could identify many of their recent meals, still dripping from the massive jaws, and queasily avoided thinking about those she could not.
"If you please, my lady," said a black, sleek heavy weights, as tall as Rose's oak-tree dragon at Wexley, "we are here for our music lesson." He at least was clean, still wet from a recent washing.
"How pleased I am to see you all," said Florenzia. "Lil, I shall be somewhat delayed."
"We'll leave you to it, shall we?" said her sister. "Come on, Emily. We'll go out the back way. Don't worry, Flossie. I'll rest a long the way."
Rose cast the escapees an indignant look before turning to face the sea of dragons. She put a hand on Florenzia's side to support herself as her knees threatened to give way. Eager, expectant dragons are still creatures as big as the buildings of London with serrated teeth. She drew a deep breath, the better to throw her voice to the back row. "The first rule of music is...to wash your face before attempting it."
