Page 22 of The Dragoneers of Longbourn and Pemberley
The news of the Rosings derby was received as expected. Mamma was ecstatic.
Valeraine would race, but it would be for nothing if Papa didn’t do the work of negotiating breeding deals. Valeraine enlisted Kesley to broach this with Papa, as he had always been one of Papa’s favorites. They entered his office in the evening, when he was working with the sums of tenant accounts.
Papa’s office was the only place in Longbourn house that was his domain. Elsewhere, Mamma instructed the servants to keep tidy, but here sprawling stacks of papers were allowed to persist. Elsewhere, the wooden window frames had been painted to match the furnishings of the rooms and draped with complimentary curtains, but here the windowsill wasundecorated and plain (which admittedly did match the desk and uncomfortable chairs). There was a bookcase, mostly full of logbooks and almanacs with some of Papa’s favorite novels. Papa’s office was a place without the bustling meddling of Mamma. It was, in short, Valeraine’s favorite room in Longbourn house.
Valeraine laid out her case to Papa clearly: there had been interest (from Mr. Rosings himself) into Lelantos after the Netherfield derby. After the derby at Rosings, there was likely to be more. This would be the ideal time to make a deal with someone, as there would be many interested parties freshly impressed.
Kesley sat next to her, looking pretty and supportive.
Papa listened patiently, then stewed over the topic for a painfully long pause. “Val, Lelantos isn’t a young dragon with hot blood. It would be a substantial burden on any nest that hosted him for breeding. I don’t think anyone will want to deal with us.”
“Lelantos has a proven longevity that no other line can boast. If he wins the derby, people will want that fire in their hatchlings.” Valeraine was on the edge of her seat, a hair away from standing up. They needed this.
“Even if they do, I don’t think we can spare Lelantos for the years it might take. Our tenants need him for the tilling, the harvest, the heavy lifting.”
“It’s part of our crops in exchange for the future of Longbourn. You must see it, Papa. We need to make this sacrifice. If Lelantos dies now, we would fail our tenant farmers completely. We would be haunted for the rest of our days by what could have been. Longbourn has been neglected for hundreds of years, but we can repair it right now. One egg can turn the tide.”
“When Lelantos dies, it is the end of Longbourn.” Papa said it so calmly, as if it was a trifle. Just the end of their house. As ifit was an inevitability, instead of one caused by mismanagement of their nest and his own complacency. “With the Netherfield house being established, we may even be able to transfer our tenants to them.” Papa leaned back in his chair, serene and relaxed.
Valeraine sprang to her feet. Her fists were shaking. Her father was giving up and settling for a slow descent into mediocrity and death? When they were so close to success? There was so much that needed to be said to him, and yet she was speechless.
“Sir,” Kesley cut in, “if a housedidwant breeding rights with Lelantos, would you consider it?”
Papa paused, thinking it through slowly. He said cordially, “If they would give us a fair contract for it, then yes.” Then, Papa looked at Valeraine, standing over him in her righteous frustration. “But if I go to the houses for a deal, it will only look desperate. We are a strong house who will fade out with dignity, not one who begs for scraps.”
“Papa,” Valeraine protested, “we don’t need to fade out. If we get an egg, I’ll hatch-mother it. I know dragons, and I’m sure I’ll do well. A new dawn will come to Longbourn.”
“Reaching for it will bring embarrassment to our family when you fail to even obtain an egg.” Papa spoke firmly, much more forcefully than typical. She was really trying his patience now. “What would you have me do? Write to Uncle Haupter and take out an advertisement inThe Dragoneer’s Journal? ‘Dying house needs eggs? Hatch-mother with no experience ready?’ ”
“We completely understand,” Kesley said smoothly, rising from his chair. “I will race in the Rosings derby, and we will all hope for the best of outcomes. You are very generous to be willing to consider a deal.” With that, Kesley put his arm around Valeraine’s waist and attempted to guide her out of the room.
“We are going to win this derby,” Valeraine declared, “and there will be so many people wanting to breed with him that we’ll have our pick.”
“I think it unlikely,” her father said as she was pulled out the study door.
In the hallway, Valeraine wrenched her arm out of Kesley’s unresisting hand.
Kesley, knowing her too well, remained silent, waiting for her word.
“I will prove him wrong. When I bring him a fabulous offer for a dragon egg, he will see how foolish he has been.”
Kesley nodded. “I would expect nothing less from you, my Val.”
“And thank you. For removing me from that office before I said something unforgivable.”
Kesley reached out to cup her cheek, soft and comforting. “Your fire burns so brightly. It must be why you get along so well with dragons.”
For a moment, Valeraine allowed herself to take comfort from Kesley’s hand. She leaned her head into the gentle touch. He cared for her, and he would support her. There was one person, at least, who would not stand by while Longbourn withered.
Kelsey went to do some nest chores alone, and she went to the blue sitting room, which was shady and cool during the summer evenings.
Selaide was in her favorite corner armchair, working on some sewing project that Valeraine couldn’t be bothered to identify.
When she saw her, Selaide brightened. “Val, I have the best news.”
“Is it that Papa will bother to save the house? Because otherwise I do not want to hear it right now.”
Selaide gasped. “No! He won’t agree to negotiate with Mr. Rosings?”
