Page 35 of The Dragoneers of Longbourn and Pemberley
There was being insignificant — where the house had been before she had flown — and then there was being embroiled in scandal. There was always worse that they could descend to.
She might have proven that Lelantos was a strong and admirable dragon, but she had also proven that she — and therefore Longbourn house — were wild things that couldn’t fit into society. She would never find someone who would marry her, and her sisters’ chances would be disastrously impaired. Except, perhaps Kesley, here with her in every step.
The house was ruined. It wasn’t Lelantos’ death that had done it; it was her own dreams, failing spectacularly.
A tear dropped from Valeraine’s cheek onto the rich flooring.
Kesley wrapped his arms around her, and she laid her head on his shoulder. He squeezed her with all tenderness, allowing his shirt to become wet and his trousers muddy where her gown brushed them. He hugged her until her distress and grief were all rung out, holding her together when she couldn’t do it herself anymore.
He patted her back and said, “All hope is not lost. How about this: we will procure a dozen eggs, and raise a brood of dragons together. We will form a new grand house, where you will race our dragons and where I will charm our investors, and we will never be sad again.”
Valeraine hiccupped a laugh. “Where will we get these eggs?”
“We’ll find them somewhere. Perhaps all the ladies of the kingdom will give them to you, as a token of their admiration for your riding. Then Pemberley will rue the day he set himself against us.”
It was a comforting dream. There was only one problem: “We won’t build a new house. We’ll rebuild Longbourn, and make it shine.”
“Of course.”
He released her from the hug, self consciously looking at the wet patch on his shoulder. “I should return to the ball, before too many wonder where all of these Longbourn sisters are disappearing to, and what gentlemen are also missing. Stay firm, Val. I am sure this will all look better in the morning. If the news of you flying is breaking, I will announce myself as the masked rider.”
She nodded, and he left her alone to begin the task of laundry so this gown would not be ruined, along with everything else.
Merna arrived in the room, sent by Selaide to report. She had a spring in her step, evidently happy to have left Mamma under such a stalwart excuse as running an errand for Selaide — an excuse their mother would never dispute.
“Mr. Pemberley is not speaking to anyone,” Merna said. “He has refined his scowl utterly, and turns it on anyone who approaches him. Only the Nethenabbis have dared to talk to him. Mr. Nethenabbi has continued to dance with Alyce.”
Valeraine would have expected this to lessen the anxiety of her heart, but it had the opposite effect. What was Pemberley waiting for? Would he not spread the news, even to his closest friend?
Valeraine retired to bed with these thoughts, sharing a cramped mattress with her sisters that night.
Overnight, her anxiety transmuted to anger. How dare Pemberley presume to control her? Why was his word the final one on who could race and who could not? He talked of honor and grace, and yet he was standoffish, and proud, and rough in the derbies.
She would go to Pemberley in the morning and dare him to tell the world of her racing. She would make sure he knew in no uncertain terms that this was not idle gossip to pass around, but the height of a private matter, which he had shoved himself in the middle of without anyone’s approval or invitation. She would argue with him until he pleaded for release, surrendering to the force of her will. He considered Longbourn to be beneath him, but she would be certain to show him that didn’t mean he could destroy it without guilt, like it hadn’t been worth anything in the first place.
He would still be at Rosings in the morning. Pemberley estate was easily twice as far away as Longbourn, after all. He would be one of the guests staying the night.
When dawn broke, Valeraine rose like a storm and stalked down the halls. She saw a passing servant girl, and asked her where Mr. Pemberley was.
“He and his party left earlier, Miss.” the girl said.
He had already run away. Had he run back to Netherfield, or to his home at Pemberley manor? Was he going in silence, or in great sound and fury to ruin Longbourn house?
He left without a word to her.
Is that what she was to him? Nothing? The woman whose reputation he held in his hands, and she wasn’t worth a goodbye? He could have threatened her, or blackmailed her. He could have gloated his power over her. He could have reiterated his admonition not to race again.
Apparently, she wasn’t even worth that.
Chapter twenty-seven
From Dragoneers to The Lowest of the Low
by our trusted correspondent, Scaleheart
I have the most interesting news to share. Those following the plight of the W— family might wonder if they have any farther to fall. Surely, their circumstances could not get any worse?
The selling of their lands is dull news, as it went to their neighbors (split between the J— and U— houses). But the exciting news is where the W—family will be living next. They will stay with their distant cousin, at the R— nest south of Kinellan City.
