Page 112 of Miss Bennet's Dragon
Conversationally, I added, “I saw our drake put down a mad dog once. Right in front of me. I would not flinch to see it again.”
On the other side of the room, the door burst open. “What is this?” cried Lydia.
Wickham backed away from me, hands raised in apology. More than apology; he was frightened.
“Your husband has chosen to stay in town,” I said to Lydia. “Your ferretworm will stay with him. But you are welcome at Longbourn, if you wish.”
Lydia stalked between us to face Wickham, her tall frame tight with fury. “Youfool.” She slapped him, a crack that startled me and made him wince. He fumbled the start of an explanation, but she cut him off. “Get out!”
Wickham scurried out of the room. He was cowering. I felt a surge of triumph.
Lydia’s back was to me, her shoulders heaving with anger. Or tears.
“I am sorry,” I said and reached for her shoulder.
She spun and shoved my hand away. “Sorry?You meddling, jealous thing!”
“What?” I said, taken aback.
“Iam married.Iam the foremost sister. Not sickly Jane. Notyou. But can you imagine what Mamma has been whining at me?” She crumpled her face in cruel mimicry of our mother. “?‘Mr. Bennet said Lizzy is mistress of Longbourn.’ Even dead, Papa is playing favorites. Longbourn should be mine!”
I was speechless with shock.
In the sudden silence, the flapping of our drake’s wings was audible. He had drawn closer, looming and threatening. Dust and leaves lifted by his wings chittered against the glass.
“Go away,” Lydia snapped irritably and flipped her hand at the window. The drake wheeled through the air and flew out of sight.
She thrust her other hand impatiently toward the doorway. Scrambling sounds approached, then her ferretworm scampered in, a quadruped with a narrow body like a ferret, although people argued which creature was named first. Lydia’s had sleek black scales and heavy claws on his front paws for digging. She scooped up the creature and scowled at me.
I was still struggling to comprehend what I had seen. She had summoned their ferretworm with a thought. Banished our drake with a wave of her hand. No ordinary wyfe had those skills.
And I had not called our drake. Why had he come? Had Lydia sent him to spy on Wickham and me?
“Husbands are disappointing,” Lydia said, in the petulant tone she would use to dismiss an ugly bonnet. “I do not much like marriage. Except there is no other way to be rich.” She stabbed her finger at me. “Do not try to dashout and win a husband. I would be most vexed. Not that any man would want a shrewish, tiny thing like you.”
“What hashappenedto you?” I said, not believing my ears.
“I have become important. I have a most famous admirer. And I have better toys than men.” She grabbed her ferretworm’s jaw, forcing him to look up at her, and crooned, “You know to behave, don’t you?” She pinched the skin on the ferretworm’s throat, and the creature squealed in pain.
In a reflex of revulsion, I closed my eyes and cast my awareness to her ferretworm. It was an impulse—to free the creature, or to humble and embarrass her.
My mind slogged to a stop, caught in a murky morass of darkness that was foul but powerful, like the suction of mud in a bog. I sensed the glimmer of the ferretworm’s mind buried far beneath.
I pressed against the murk. Darkness surged, a flood of sticky filth that extinguished the glimmer. Effortlessly, I was driven out.
I opened my eyes and met Lydia’s narrowed gaze.
“Imagine that,” she said softly. “Precious Lizzy has tricks.” She stalked to the doorway. “You would be wise to keep your tricks away from me, sister. I am the Child of the Lake.”
41
CURATE MINCEKEEP
The rattle of a coach faded.I stood in our sitting room, one hand pressing my temple, fingernails biting to anchor my spinning mind.
Mary came in. “Our sister is more foul than I thought. She was horrid to Mamma, who is hurt and miserable. I must go back—”
“Our drake!” I cried. If Lydia took him, we were lost.
