T’was the Night Before #2
“When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.”
The younger children gasped, eyes wide. Pemberley pressed her neck out over the edge of the nest, her eyes wide as the children’s. April held very still, in a way unusual for fairy dragons, almost as though holding her breath.
“What happened, Papa? What did they hear? Tell us, please!” George begged.
“The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below. When, what to my wondering eyes should appear-”
“What, Papa! What? What appeared?” Frances trembled in anticipation.
“A miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer, with a little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.”
“You mean St. Nicholas?” Anne asked.
“Why did you call him Nick, Papa? Is that not disrespectful to nickname a saint?” Naturally Bennet would see it that way.
“Why was it a miniature sleigh? Are dead saints very small?” George screwed his face up, thinking very hard.
“What is a reindeer?” Frances asked. “Are they like the deer we have in the forest?”
“The muntjac are very small. I do not think they could pull anything.” Anne’s forehead creased.
“What if it was a miniature sleigh? Maybe that is why it is so small.” Bennet seemed very sure of himself.
“Reindeer are special deer that live in cold places.” Elizabeth gestured for the children to settle down and turned her gaze on Darcy.
“More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, and he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name; ‘Now, Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! On, Cupid! On, Donder and Blitzen! To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”
“Top of wall? Reindeer jump very good.” The tip of Pemberley’s tail flicked with interest as her wings rustled. “Deer in forest jump too, but I not think that good.”
He must not laugh at the young dragon’s sincerity. She was at that age where her feelings were tender but her sensibility was limited.
Darcy formed his face into something proper and continued.
“As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane -and before you ask, a hurricane is a kind of very big storm with a lot of wind- the wild hurricane fly, when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky. So up to the house-top the coursers they flew…”
“Flew? Reindeer flew?” Anne exclaimed.
“Deer not fly.” Pemberley extended her wings slightly. “They no have wings.”
“I do not think deer, even reindeer, can fly. Especially not with a sleigh behind them.” A crease formed between Bennet’s brows.
“I think they were dragons, not deer,” George whispered.
“Yes!” Anne clapped and jumped to her feet. “That is the only thing that makes sense!”
“Drakes sometime pull carts. Wellesby pulls the farm cart around the estate, but he does not like to go into the village with it.” Bennet looked to Anne for agreement.
“Yes, yes, that makes far more sense. Perhaps St. Nicholas heard dragons.”
“Of course he heard dragons.” Frances clambered to her feet, which led Bennet and George to do the same. She leaned against the nest and laid her tiny hand on Pemberley’s neck. “Important people like saints must hear dragons.”
“I bet the reindeer are dragons who persuade people that they are reindeer,” George declared.
“Yes, yes!” Frances jumped up and down. May sprang from the floor to the edge of the nest to avoid little feet. “That is what dragons do, they persuade.”
“Of course, they would have to if they were going to pull a sleigh, just like Wellesby does when someone visits the estate who does not hear dragons. That is why he does not like to go into the village… he finds all that persuasion disagreeable,” Bennet said.
Anne sighed and looked at her mother. “But it still does not make sense.”
“What does not make sense?” Elizabeth’s ever-patient voice seemed a bit thin.
“Well, perhaps I am wrong, Papa, would you read a little more?”
“I will if you all sit back down.” He waited until they settled back on the pillows, although May stayed on the nest. “With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too. And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof the prancing and pawing of each little hoof.”
“No, no! That cannot be. I was right… how can he allow the dragons to do that?” Anne was on her feet again, fists balled. “That is just so wrong.”
“What is?” Elizabeth sighed again; she was getting close to exasperation.
“The moon is bright and the dragons are flying! Worse, they are landing on a roof and are quite noisy about it! What if there are servants who do not hear dragons about? We do not even know if the storyteller hears dragons.”
“She is right.” Bennet stood shoulder to shoulder to Anne. “The Blue Order rules are clear, dragons must not allow themselves to be seen. If they are persuading people they are deer and deer can-not fly, then they should not be flying when they might be seen. Those are the rules, right?”
“Those are rules.” Pemberley sat back on her haunches and spread her wings. “Yes, those deer-dragons are very wrong. What they are doing very dangerous.”
“Then why write a story about it?” Frances asked.
“Won’t a story make more people want to do it? They should be good examples in the story.” George insisted with his entire body.
Anne gasped and pressed her hand to her mouth. “Oh! I understand! I understand! It all makes sense now.”
“How?” her siblings pressed in around her.
“Think about it, Bennet, I am sure you will see.” She crossed her arms over her chest, just like her mother did when trying to make a point.
Bennet’s eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped. “Of course! It is so clear!”
“Tell us!” Frances tugged his coattails.
“I think the writer- what is his name, Papa?” Anne asked.
“Clement Clarke Moore.”
“Mr. Moore must be a Dragon Keeper, or at least a dragon Friend to these flying dragons.”
“And he was the one who let them, or at least saw them, flying when they should not have been,” Bennet cut in.
“He must have known it was wrong and dangerous. He is either a very bad Keeper or Friend, or the dragons do not listen to him and did it on their own, very unwisely.”
“It bad not to listen to Keeper.” Pemberley nodded as only a very long-necked creature could nod. “I always listen to Keeper and her.” She looked adoringly at Elizabeth.
Perhaps that was a bit of an exaggeration, but all in all, Pemberley was a very good little dragon.
“But these dragons did not listen, or were not stopped. It is hard to know which.” Anne glanced at Pemberley. “And after they flew in the moonlight, there was a very big problem. They had been seen.”
“And maybe the local fairy dragons or cockatrice or tatzelwurms were not very persuasive- ” Bennet said.
“Or maybe they did not like the unwise dragons very much or were stubborn about helping. That could have been the problem too. But since the persuasion was not happening, or not working or something like that, then the Keeper or Friend, whichever he was…”
“He had to be a Keeper.” George thrust his jaw forward. “There are no small dragons who fly that do not persuade people they are birds and everyone knows birds fly.”
“But then what sort of dragon-” Bennet turned to his brother.
“Firedrakes are too big, as a rule. What do you think, Pemberley?” Anne scratched under Pemberley’s chin.
“Wyverns, like Longbourn, it must have been wyverns. Or maybe just one. Or could be two.”
“Wyverns, yes! You must be right. So then, the wyvern or wyverns’ Keeper knew there would be trouble. So-”
“So he made up the story and got it printed in the paper!” Bennet’s smile was truly triumphant. “He was very clever and made a warm-blooded sort of persuasion to go along with the dragon persuasion and cover up for what the dragons did.”
“It is the only think that makes sense, right Mama?” Anne cocked her head exactly like Elizabeth did.
Elizabeth pinched her temples with thumb and forefinger, shaking her head, her shoulders shuddering just a mite. “Of course dear, it does make sense. Under those circumstances, a Keeper would have to do whatever he or she thought possible to protect the dragons.”
“You see, I am right!” Anne liked very much to be right. She helped her siblings settle back onto their pillows. “What happened then, Papa?”
Indeed, what happened? The real question was what would his very clever children make of the rest of the story?
A home invading saint who brought gifts?
No, that was certainly too much, at least for tonight!
“He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, and away they all flew like the down of a thistle, but I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, ‘Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night.’”
“See! He realized it was dangerous and got the dragons to go back to their lairs! I knew it!” Anne grinned.
“I like the dragon story, Papa!” Frances sidled up to him. “Will you read it to us again, next Christmas Eve?”
“I want to know more about the sleigh-pulling wyverns and their Keeper!” George was suddenly at his other knee.
“That would be an excellent story.” Anne laid her hand on her sister’s shoulder.
“It would be,” Elizabeth said. “Perhaps we will tell it next year. Or if you want, you children might write it and we read it for next year.”
“Yes!” George pumped his little fists at his side. “We could write a play and perform it, like a theatrical for Christmas.”
“What a grand idea! May we start to work on it now? I know just where to start it!” Anne grabbed George’s hand and at Elizabeth’s nod, the children raced upstairs.
Elizabeth and Darcy looked at each other. Next Christmas was going to be very interesting.