My Lady's Dragon
Chiara da Luna
Chapter 7
The next morning, after her music practice with Florenzia, Rose asked Molly to bring food for both her and Lil so that she could wait in the pavilion until her sister emerged from her room. The younger sister was pleased that Florenzia decided to join the other dragons at the feeding pens, leaving the pavilion in cavernous silence, but Rose's stomach was shrieking by the time Lil staggered out, yawning and wiping crusty eyes.
"What, Rose? I thought you'd be at nuncheon by now." Lil turned aside to cough more vigorously than usual.
Rose laid down the slate that she was frowning over. "I had a great many essays to correct. I thought that they would wax eloquent on the topic 'On the Superiority of My Dragon,' but they appear to lack the ability for proper expression on any subject."
Lil sank onto the sofa and yawned again, though a cough caught her midway. "You can't compare them to your own education."
"I do not. I compare them to the village school, where Mrs. Marsh terrorizes the young Wexley tenantry—future farmers and servants every one-into a semblance of education. I do not feel that I ever properly appreciated her. I wish I still had the influence to increase her wages." Rose kept her eyes downward. "I do miss the work I did as Papa's secretary. If there should be any such duties that you find tedious, I should be happy to assist you with them."
Lil opened one eye but gave it the full force of a glare. "Thank 'ee kindly, my ever-so- accomplished sister, but all that's left to me of my captaincy is the infernal paperwork, that the dragons increase with their spontaneous redistribution of their crews, and as long as I'm able, I'll do my duty. I've no doubt that you could do the tasks better, but they fall to me, and I shall not let it be said that I have failed in any duty that I could perform. Whatever anyone says, I am not lazy."
Rose gasped. "Why, whoever would say such a thing in the face of your injuries and illness?"
"The same ones who think it's awfully clever of me to have arranged for my sister to take over so much of my duties." Lil sat up straight and slung herself to her feet.
Rose held out a hand. "Do not allow such ill-natured talk to distress you. Neither Florenzia nor I would ever think such a thing—nor allow anyone to say so in our presence."
"No, the two of you would coddle me in cotton and put me on the shelf, confirming all the rumors. The devil fly away with you all! I believe I am tired after all, and will rest as you so often urge me." She stomped back to her room, leaving Rose to try to focus on ill-written essays with swimming eyes.
Rose noticed fewer pupils in her class that day and tried to follow her own excellent advice of not allowing it to bother her at all. If Berkley and his intolerant friends chose to withdraw their crews from her tutelage, so much the better. She was not hurt by it, not at all.
The next few days saw one or two more students staying away, until Rose felt the class size was quite manageable, particularly when those lost had been the noisiest. In fact, she had hardly noticed the remaining troublemaker before. This boy delighted in bullying the younger ones, spoiling their work when they were ready to submit it, giving them the wrong answers when the elder students tutored the younger. Rose kept one eye on him at all times and thus saw him tip an ink well onto a cadet's fair copy of her letter. Over the girl's outrage, Rose said, using her performance breathing to be heard, "Mr. McGinnis, we have had all of your company that we require. After you present your apologies to Cadet Middleton, you are dismissed."
"I didn't do nothing." He took refuge in the cry of the ages.
Rose answered, "I shall be happy to speak to your captain about the nothing you do. School is a place to do something, and your nothing wears on all of us. Present your apologies and leave."
"But I have to learn my lessons," he whined, scraping a boot toe on the pavilion floor, which made Florenzia raise her head and frown at him.
"But I do not have to teach you," responded Rose.
Florenzia grumbled, "I should think Lily would like to know about this as well. I cannot think how she came to choose such a person."
He might have muttered something like "Sorry" as he ran.
The remaining students were polite and attentive for the rest of that day and the next.
The day following, Berkley came to the pavilion a few minutes before classes were scheduled to start. He had three cadets and four ensigns in tow; Rose realized how much of a presence his crew had been. Of course, Maximus was one of the biggest dragons in the covert and therefore had the largest crew.
Rose paused in her distribution of slates and looked at him inquiringly.
Berkley shuffled his feet. "Better the gentlemen than the hooligans," he muttered. To Rose's unasked question, he replied, "There's no one but the rowdies who aren't in school, and I don't like the influence for my squeakers. So, if you can forgive my manners, my lady, I hope you will accept my crew in your class." He did not have a paper to read from, but he sounded as though he did. Before Rose could reply, he dug into his pocket and brought out a handful of shillings. He counted seven into Rose's hand. "Here's compensation for your trouble and their supplies."
Rose flushed and struggled against a lifetime of training that called on her to refuse, but she kept silent, unwilling to interfere with the lesson he was plainly trying to teach.
"There now, I have made an investment in you, and I expect a handsome return from each of you," he addressed his crew in his growling bear voice. "You are to mind Lady Rose and your books."
"But not at the expense of your duties," added Rose with some severity. "I do not want to hear such a report of you when your country needs your best efforts."
Berkley broke into a surprised grin. "Why, I call that handsome of you." He clapped her on the shoulder, and she staggered, more from astonishment, but it made him embarrassed again. "I beg your pardon, madam, my lady, that is." He picked up her hand that still held the coins and placed a kiss on top of it.
She withdrew her fist, smiled, and curtsied in hopes of dismissing him. The boys she felt she could handle, particularly in their subdued state.
She found her pupils even more tractable and eager, with Berkley's crew anxiously showing their manners whenever possible. Rose began to enjoy teaching, especially the dragons. The dragon chorus grew every day, and they all mastered the basics quickly, soon moving beyond simple hymns.
She reluctantly brought each day's practice to an end, often scurrying late to the dining hall. One day she heard voices and nearby laughter, one saying, "You can't expect the daughter of a belted earl to acknowledge the likes of you and me, Laurence." But Granby was laughing as he said it.
Forgetting to be embarrassed, she laughed back at him as she took both his and Laurence's proffered arms. "I do beg your pardon, gentlemen. The dragon's last chorus was still ringing in my ears and I could hear naught else. When most of one's musical life has been spent in solitary effort, with an occasional duet, and, very occasionally, a high treat, glees after dinner—why, you have no idea how magnificent it is, to hear twenty dragons caroling in the sweetish harmony, far beyond any village concert or Christmas choral effort."
"Actually, we do have some idea," said Granby. "One can hear them anywhere in the covert."
Rose shook her head. "I will not allow it to be the same as standing in the center of them, blasted from every side by the sweetest notes." An awful thought occurred to her. "I hope you do not find their efforts annoying."
"Not in the slightest," answered Laurence. "They were doing a quite credible effort at Handel today, and I have enjoyed them at their hymns, though words of heavenly praise sound odd in dragons' mouths."
"I do not see why it should be so," argued Rose. "For the Psalm says, 'Let everything that has breath praise the Lord.' You must own that dragons, particularly yours, have ever so much breath. Oh, that I had half of it!"
A trio of officers passed them by at this point. Rose knew only Martin, who did not look at her. But he said to his companions, a captain and another lieutenant, who grumbled in agreement: "Something really must be done about those dragons caterwauling all the dashed day long. A fellow can't think in that din."
Rose's shoulders slumped.
"It is odd," said Granby, "how a man will seem to be as true as fellow as you might meet anywhere, and change into such a cur in a few years' time. Do not mind them, Lady Rose. No one—no one of any sense—would deny our dragons such any amusement at all, much less one so innocent and improving. Even my beast, of no artistic bent at all, has joined in for fear of being left out, and she has noticed the improvement in her breath control, and consequently, her flaming. I am very happy to have her interested in something besides fighting and gold."
Rose made a stiff attempt at a smile while Laurence said in a grave voice. "Lady Rose, I beg that you will accept my word that having the regard of your dragon can compensate for the poor opinion of most of the human race. All the captains who will speak to me-"
Rose noticed the odd construction of his sentence and his hesitation.
He continued, stouter but just as serious. "They are as happy as Granby and I at our dragons' new interest. We-the dragons and their captains-would object most strongly if they were asked to stop singing. Temeraire has written to his mother in China, proud, because he is engaged in what China feels is a proper dragon pursuit. 'She is certain to be pleased,' he said, 'and Ming too.' He bids me to ask you how to spell the name of the Handel work they were singing today. It sounded marvelous to me, as fine as anything I have heard in the opera house."
"Oh, Handel! I do think even street singers would sound well singing Handel. They were singing choruses from Judas Maccabeus," said Rose a gravity to match his. "I will be happy to write it down."
"Iskierka does not care for any of that, only that she will sing again tomorrow." Granby squeezed her arm. "Promise me you will do the same."
With a fleeting glance at the departing Martin's back, Rose said. "I do promise."
Rose continued with her work, finding that the more she concentrated on it, the less she thought about other's opinions. Teaching school subjects (including Sipho's Latin), religion, sewing, and music to both dragons and humans made for long days, which somewhat solved her problem of what house to dream herself to sleep with at night. More than once, Rose nodded off during the prayers she read to Florenzia each night. She would wake to Florenzia's anxious question "Are you sure that is the end? I thought prayers ended with 'Amen.'" And as Rose mumbled to the end of the prayer, Florenzia would fetch Captain Blakeney's sleeping pad-"Such a treat, she said, made of the finest down"-and placed it on her foreleg. She tenderly placed Rose on the pad and tucked a blanket around the young woman, though 20 human steps would have carried Rose to her own bed, and Florenzia herself would scarcely have to lean over to reach through the door to Rose's bed. Once Rose woke during this process and frowned at the ceiling, unsure of her location. "Florenzia, your pavilion is so beautiful and well-appointed. You must make your ceiling likewise, perhaps painted with a blue summer sky and fluffy white clouds, so that however dreary the winter, you have the assurance of summer's return."
The dragon nuzzled Rose into place on the sleeping pad. "When you have slept outside all your life as I have, you will not want a sky overhead. Maybe a painting of draperies? Or real draperies? My captain intended to have a fresco painted—you see the white plaster, all ready for paint. She planned to have the ceiling of the large dining hall at Wexley copied. That's why she asked you to make a drawing of it. Very handsome it was, your effort, not just a little sketch, but a lovely watercolor of nymphs, trees, animals, flowers—I did not perfectly understand it. But my captain was rightly proud of you, said the painting was very like. She had it framed and then took it to an artist, to show him what she wanted. Perhaps you can retrieve it for me? I do not know that I need Wexley on my ceiling. I have never been in the place in my life. Unless, perhaps you would like it? Rose? Rose?" Florenzia carefully laid her head besides the sleeping figure and daintily curled her tail around them both.
Late Saturday afternoon, Rose was cutting material under Florenzia's critical eye when Emily stumbled into the pavilion, her arms full of packages. "Rose, my dress has arrived! Do help me get into it!" She eyed the yards of black fabric spread out on the floor. "Whatever are you doing? Making a hatchment to hang over the pavilion entrance? I saw a house with a hatchment, and Mother said that it was because there was a death in the family."
Rose sat back on her heels and smiled. "No, I'm making a reticule for Florenzia. We shall add more beads and decoration later, but she wants it as soon as possible, even in an unadorned state."
"Are you going to take it into battle with a pig stuffed inside in case you get hungry?" Emily asked with a snicker.
"I had not thought of that," said Florenzia. "But it is a very good idea, although I would not want to get my lovely reticule bloody. And I could hit with it."
"Get Gong Su to dry some strips of meat for you," advised Emily, still joking. "Not as messy that way, though not as much ballast, either."
She glanced at Rose, was looking thoughtful. Their eyes met as they shared a vision of battling dragons swatting each other with reticules. Rose clapped her hand over her mouth to force back giggles, and Emily advised, "Or maybe not. It would be a shame to mess it up, after all the work Rose is doing to make it pretty."
It was Florenzia's turn to grow thoughtful. "I shall ask Perscitia. She does not fight, but she is very clever about designing new things, whether for battle or comfort. I have had much more time to talk to her lately and have come to appreciate her much more than I did. Perhaps a reticule solely for battle, made of canvas, so that one shouldn't mind if it were damaged. "
Trying to distract the dragon, Rose scrambled to her feet. "Florenzia will excuse me now, I'm sure. Now that the reticule is cut, I can sewing the seams very rapidly, perhaps tonight. Shall we go to your room, Emily?"
Florenzia eyed the packages eagerly. "Do change here, Emily, so that I can see your finery. I have a lovely bath that my captain liked very much, and I shall set out the screens for privacy. Molly can go to your rooms to fetch anything you require."
It seemed a good idea to both Rose and Emily, and in short order Emily was soaking head to toe in one of the large copper bowls sunk into the pavilion.
"Perscitia's design," explained Florenzia. "She and my captain worked it out. For one wants water, especially warm and hot water, so often. There is one bowl for water or tea, one for cooking, and one for bathing, and another for eating, another because you just never know, and those flowers near the edge are growing in smaller bowls filled with dirt. Pipes run under the flooring, bringing water from the ocean, which is very easy to heat, particularly with Iskierka around—she has her uses. And by some process that I do not precisely understand, the salt is removed from the water so that we all have fresh water to drink. You have only to turn these valves, which both humans and dragons can do, with Percitia's clever addition for talons. In the winter, we have the pipes running water, the bowls filled with coals, and the fireplace that my captain insisted on to keep us warm. I am never cold any more."
"This bath lovely, like bathing in a lake, only nice and hot, without the worry of what else might be in the water with you. I should bathe every day if I had such a thing." Emily sighed and sank into the water over her head.
Florenzia was pleased. "I shall speak to Temeraire. My captain was most insistent on cleanliness. She said that one could face anything after a bathe. Now, which underdress will you wear? The green or the peach?" She leaned over to peer as Molly reverently spread out the garments over the chairs.
"Oh, the peach, I think. Might as well accustom myself to the frills, and I can wear Lady Allendale's garnets." Emily scrubbed her hair furiously with a lavender-scented soap.
Lil wandered out of her room to see what the commotion was about. "Smells like a house of joy in here. Lord, Emily, have you joined My Lady's Brigade? Fine feathers for fine birds!"
"The feathers!" cried Molly. She dashed to her room and returned with an armful of feathers, ribbons, and other ornaments. She dropped them on a small round table and scarcely seated herself before she was picking up feathers to scrutinize and compare with various ribbons and beads. "That yellow!" she exclaimed, looking at Emily's dress.
"Do not even attempt to match it," advised Rose, crossing to the table. "Let it shine alone in its glory, supported by pale lemon or peach. "These feathers are very nice, very clean. Are they the ones that Mr. Parker acquired?"
"Parker!" Molly sniffed to make her point. "I don't have to use his feathers, I don't. He told me it was my duty to gather them. So I asked Sally to catch them up for me, as soon as they dropped, for she feeds the fowls every day. And I promised to trim her Sunday bonnet for her in exchange. Only, Lady Rose, it is a very shabby bonnet. Do you think I might trim one of your plain bonnets for her? You have so many."
"That is an excellent idea, and the very reason I acquired so many plain bonnets," approved Rose. "Oh, not for Sally especially, but so that I could trim one whenever the occasion required. You have done very well, Molly."
Lil agreed. "She might not be worthless, after all. Better than that blighter Parker any how. Pardon me for asking, but how many feathers are you going to stick on Emily's head?"
Molly frowned, concentrating. "I don't know," she said. "How many will fit on her head?"
Lil laughed and coughed. "You'll have her looking like a chicken herself."
"Three," said Rose on a firm note. "This is dinner, not a ball. But we will dress her hair, so-"
"Yes!" Molly darted into Rose's room and emerged with an armful of implements. She set them down with care, one at a time, on her work table, and then ran to the great fireplace to build a fire. The giant portraits of Florenzia and the Countess of Wexley, placed on either side of the fire (but far enough away to avoid smoke damage) seemed to gaze at her with approval.
"Hi," cried Emily. "I don't know what most of that machinery is, but get those scissors away. Put them in my sight, over by Lil. You're not taking them to my hair. I've just got it a perfect to go into a good braid."
The fire blazed up, making Molly jump back. She ran to the sofa to pick up her ever-present magazine. "But we have to cut your hair. Look, the latest fashions, just last month, show ladies with different lengths of hair, drooping curls all over."
Emily expressed her opinion in a way that should have blistered the paint on the walls.
Rose intervened. "Now, Molly, we can't cut Emily's hair—how inconvenient that would be every day! I will show you how to pin it up so that it looks like it's different lengths, but we must wait for it to dry more.
"And the irons in the fire?" asked Emily with suspicion.
"Those are to make the curls, though, Molly, do fetch the pomade also. Lt. Roland's hair is more fine than mine. Pomade might be better—and you are accustomed to my thick, bristly hair. Hers is much finer; you must be wary with the tongs, or you will burn her hair."
Emily yelped.
Boots clumped across the floor. By the sound, Rose knew them for Lavinia's steps, even before the young officer laughed at Molly's brandishment of her chosen weapon and Emily's splashing distress.
"I have brought the mail," said Lieutenant Dane. "You will be glad of this, Molly: our slippers have arrived from Dover. And letters all around, including you, Lady Rose." Lavinia handed Rose her letter, on much more handsome paper than the other letters.
"Thank you, Lieutenant," said Rose, emphasizing the title, as Lavinia had. They tried to be punctilious with titles in front of others for Lavinia's sake, who was known far and wide through the Corps as Lavvy. Recognizing the paper and handwriting, Rose murmured excuses and stepped away to read her letter.
"Oh!" squeaked Molly. "Show me, Lavvy—Lieutenant."
"Don't drop that thing!" yelled Emily.
Molly carefully set the tongs back in the fire before dashing to Lavinia and her bounty. She tore open the package and gazed in loving awe at her new treasures. "Ooooooh, they are so beautiful. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Florenzia! Only see, Florenzia has bought me a pair of slippers that fit! Satin!"
Florenzia purred. "Try them on, dear," she said, most unnecessarily, for Molly had flopped into a chair, the better to rip off her boots with abandon. " They do fit! I can save my others until I grow into them. But these are ever so much nicer, with these pretty ribbons and rosettes, too! And, look how I can dance in them." She skipped and twirled the full length of the pavilion. She presented an odd sight in an aviator's uniform with blue satin slippers, but her audience controlled their amusement.
Molly came to a stop in front of Rose, still some ways away . "Look, Lady Rose, how nicely they fit! And that comfortable, I can't tell you! They exactly match my new dress too. Why, whatever is the matter, Lady Rose? I mean, is there any way that I can assist you."
Rose pulled herself together, conscious of all eyes turned to her, even, from the splashing sounds, Emily's, who asked, "Bad news from home, Rose? Or mayn't we ask?"
"Don't tell me Aunt's gone and croaked," said Lil. "Not that one would call that bad, not to make her go white like that. Sit down, Rose before you fall down."
"I am sure you aunt must be a lovely person, to have given you that lovely mourning brooch," said Florenzia, moving so that she could swing her tail to Rose's, which gave Rose a place to sit. "But do tell us, Rose."
Gratefully sinking down on the offered seat, Rose reflected that privacy was not a Corps value. "My aunt commands me to return to Wexley at once."
"What a dreadful person!" exclaimed Florenzia.
