Chapter 33
Chapter thirty-three
Valeraine dressed with purpose for her tour of Rosings nest. She chose a plain mauve dress of divided skirts that was sturdy enough to work in, and yet had just enough style to not shame her in front of rich women.
She was here to conduct business, to be taken seriously, and to complete her mission.
This was not a party to attend, or a gentleman to woo.
She went down to breakfast, and it was only Miss Elfrieda at the table. No Pemberley, no Mr. Rosings.
“Has Mr. Pemberley already breakfasted?” Valeraine asked.
Miss Elfrieda did not look up from the newspaper.
The serving woman in the corner answered, “Yes, he has. He left early this morning to return home.”
The newspaper made a crinkle as Miss Elfrieda put it down on the table. “Do not answer for me. Miss Valeraine was clearly not talking to you.” To Valeraine, she said, “Bennington needed to return home on some sudden errand. He flew off before I even awoke.”
“Thank you. And good morning, Miss Rosings.”
“And to you, Miss Longbourn.”
The serving woman left and returned with a full breakfast plate for Valeraine.
Elfrieda said, “I believe you have a meeting with my brother this morning?”
“Yes, that’s right.” Valeraine put a bit of quiche in her mouth, and it was heavenly. She again mourned her un-savored dinner.
“I hope you find what you’re looking for. However, Miss Longbourn...”
Valeraine looked up from her plate. Elfrieda was frowning, her arms crossed.
“Don’t agree to anything you’ll regret,” Elfrieda said. “My brother can be persuasive, but he doesn’t always live up to his promises.” With that, Elfrieda left the table.
Her plate was cleared away, but the newspaper remained on the table.
Valeraine began reading, starting with Scaleheart, of course.
It was a piece on hatch-mothering. Valeraine carefully ripped the article out of the newspaper, and tucked it in her pocket.
The advice would be useful soon, she was sure.
When she had her own hatchling, she would tame it carefully.
She wished Lady Scaleheart were here so she could pry her for more details.
She would have to find a matron to mentor her, when her egg was hatched.
When Valeraine stood up from the table, and the serving woman moved forward to take her plate, she realized she recognized this servant. Not just from dinner yesterday, but from last year, at a ball she had attended.
“Excuse me, but are you… Miss Wintgomery?”
The woman ducked her head. “Yes, I am.”
“How long... I mean, it’s so tragic. But I don’t need to tell you that.”
Miss Wintgomery laughed bitterly. “No, you do not. Perhaps I should tell you, instead.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to —”
“It would be instructive. Your house’s dragon is ailing, is it not? Any day now you will be in my position: the girl who was once part of a dragon house.”
“Our dragon isn’t so poorly as that.”
Miss Wintgomery shrugged. “I’m not supposed to argue with the guests.” She took Valeraine’s plate away.
Valeraine felt a little weak in the knees.
If Papa disowned her, she could be serving tables in a month.
If Lelantos died, that would be her whole family’s lot. They would lose first their status, then money, then land, then the last scrap of dignity.
Valeraine wouldn’t let that happen.
It was time to meet with Mr. Rosings.
There were two buildings that made up Rosings nest, each of which could hold twelve dragons.
Valeraine pushed open the door to the first nest building, and heat washed over her.
It might feel nice in the middle of winter, but now the nest was sweltering.
Lelantos was always warm to the touch, but this felt like the heat of a hot summer day.
It was the heat of a building full of dragons.
The next thing she noticed was the smell.
She was familiar with the stench of dragon guano (though she had managed to always dodge the chore of shoveling it, using her status as a lady).
This guano smelled sick, or perhaps they had let it rot instead of collecting it as fertilizer.
The last thing to hit her was the noise.
Snuffling, growling, some little screeches that she couldn’t quite place — they might be hatchlings. There were also people shouting.
“Come here! Get your wing over —”
“Just a little bit more, that’s it.”
“You stupid —”
This is what Longbourn could be in a hundred years: bustling and powerful (though in her dream, it wouldn’t smell so rank).
She counted six dragons in their stalls right now, and probably fifteen people working in the nest. Half of the dragons were pure white in color.
The rest of the dragons were a variety of colors and builds, less closely related.
Valeraine asked a servant for directions, and was brought to Mr. Rosings in one of the stalls. He was stroking the nose of the white dragon from the derbies, which had sharp claws on the ends of its wings and a sleek body made for speed.
“Mr. Rosings,” she began. “That’s a spectacular dragon.”
He turned and gave her a charming smile, glorying in her attention and flattery.
She had him in the palm of her hand. “We are always spectacular, aren’t we?
This is Yokull.” He gave the dragon an affectionate pat.
“It’s almost time to retire him from racing; it’s been fifteen years with him as our primary.
I haven’t yet chosen our next primary, but once I train them, they’ll be even better than Yokull. ”
“Your nest is full of winning dragons.” Valeraine thought she might be laying it on too thick, but Rosings seemed to only take it as his due.
“Rosings nest is the best. You have a keen eye for dragons, for a woman.”
“How could I not be impressed? Rosings and Longbourn could both profit from an alliance.”
Mr. Rosings nodded. “Bold, Miss Longbourn. You cut right to your interest. Let us discuss the possibilities.”
This was it. “I propose we breed Lelantos with one of your dames, likely here at Rosings nest, and —”
Rosings interrupted her with a guffaw. “You can’t be serious. What use is Longbourn’s dragon, at death’s door? You didn’t think I was sincere, at the ball?”
Valeraine felt like a startled rabbit, moments away from being shot. Was this not a possibility that Rosings wanted to discuss? It must be a negotiation tactic. “Lelantos is not so frail. He did beat Yokull in the derby, didn’t he? Imagine what his children could do in their prime.”
Rosings gave a dismissive wave. “Little tricks and luck, only. Does he have any children?”
“Not that I know of,” Valeraine had to admit.
“Well, there you have it.” The finality in Rosing’s tone punctured her heart.
“Lelantos is magnificent, and if paired with your fine dragons here —”
“Yes, paired with our dragons, the eggs could be wonderful. You propose a loan of your dragon to Rosings, to breed?”
“I do, yes.”
“So Rosings would take on the significant risk of housing a dragon for only a chance that he is not too old to sire?”
“There’s no evidence that drake virility —”
“The longer Lelantos nested here, the more he would settle, and we could coax him to fathering. The true reward would only come over many years. And who knows how many years that old dragon has left?”
“There’s been no signs of an imminent death. Lelantos may have fifty more years, easily.”
“No, a loan will not do.” Rosings was not even considering her arguments. He had already mapped out the conversation. “This is what we must do, fair Valeraine.”
“What is that?” she asked, wary. He was toying with her, like he had this in mind from the moment he answered her letter, but had put off the announcement to amaze her with his brilliance.
“Longbourn will give Rosings your dragon as a gift.”
“You are a fool —”
“As a dowry,” he said slickly, knowing that it would silence her.
It did.
As a dowry? “For whom?”
“For you. I see you have a hatch-mother’s fiery spirit. You come from a dragon-house, and you are not scared of the beasts. You would make a serviceable mistress of Rosings.”
She had come here for an egg, not a husband. Her mind was spinning, a wheel come loose from a wagon. “For me, to be married to you?” Valeraine finally got out.
“I pondered on the qualities I would need in a wife: and the primary was handling dragons. You are also appropriately comely.”
This was everything that Mamma had ever wanted for her.
She would be mistress of a grand house, full of dragons and wealth.
She would escape the sinking ship that was Longbourn house.
She saw that comfortable life stretching out before her.
She would have hatchlings to tame. She would have respect, and money.
She would get to stay with Lelantos, ‘til death did them part.
Rosings said, “I will of course go to your father to work out the particulars; I am sure he will agree to the generous offer.”
Papa probably would agree to the dowry, even if it stripped Longbourn of their dragon. Lelantos was dying anyway. In exchange, he would have a daughter married and powerful connections to Rosings that would make it at least possible to marry off her sisters somewhat advantageously.
Longbourn house would die. She would be its killer.
If she became the mistress of Rosings, she would instantly have everything she had been working for. She would have security and a grand nest with hatchlings to take care of. It was entirely the correct option.
It would not be Longbourn. It would not be her home. She would be running away from the sinking ship, instead of repairing the hull.
“I cannot. No.” Valeraine should have said it prettier, with more tact and care. Her mind and heart were in too much disarray.
“It is only natural for a woman to be timid. I am entirely willing to wait to announce our engagement until I have publicly courted you. Will two months suffice? We’ll both be in Kinellan City, and we can attend balls together.”
“I will not marry you.”
This bold statement, delivered with conviction and desperation, finally seemed to turn Rosings’s mind to the possibility that she might be declining him.
Then, he chuckled and thought better of it. “I know women like to play tricks with their suitors, to say ‘no’ when they really mean ‘ask me again.’ It is a technique to test the mettle of their men. Miss Valeraine Longbourn, will you marry me?”
“I will not. I am not trifling with your feelings —”
“I see you are attempting to increase my ardor with suspense! Very well, I will discuss the particulars with your father, and court you as I have outlined. In two months’ time, we will be engaged to be married.”
“I cannot think of a way to put this more plainly if you are so insistent on misunderstanding me. I have no desire to marry you.”
The point would not strike home. Rosings shrugged and merely said, “I will write to your father.”
Valeraine left the nest.
He would never take her rejection, and he would never give Longbourn house an egg. This whole trip had been a waste, her silly hope reaching for the impossible.
She returned to her room, and began packing to return to Kinellan City. She would need to write to Papa as well, to repair this damage before the news reached her mother.