• December 26, 1826 Pemberley, Derbyshire, England
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Merry Christmas, dear readers! I hope you enjoy reading this tale of a Darcy family Christmas, complete with dragons, as much as I enjoyed writing it!

A Touch of Christmas Mayhem

December 26, 1826 Pemberley, Derbyshire, England

“Boxing day! It’s Boxing Day!” Little Anne, at twelve years old, hardly so little anymore, danced into the sunny, hot-house-flower-filled morning room with the energy and vivacity of her mother.

And her mother’s commanding presence. Darcy forced back his smile. He was ridiculously proud of her, of all his children. Budding young ladies and gentlemen all, and exemplary members of the Blue Order, not to mention test cases for the Order’s consideration of children in their membership. Something he and Elizabeth kept secret from them. No need for them to bear the weight of such a role.

The sunlight through the east-facing windows and the fireplace warmed the room to near summer temperatures, all for the comfort of the contingent of fairy dragons, both residents and guests. A tiny trickle of sweat trailed down the back of his neck. The things they did for the fairy dragons.

“And pray what is so special about Boxing Day?” Richard Fitzwilliam pushed back the shock of black-brown hair from his hazel eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.

“You know very well, Uncle. You are just determined to vex me.” Anne parked her hands on her hips and struck a posture so like Elizabeth that Darcy laughed. Of the two girls, she most resembled the Bennet side of the family, with a round face, brilliant smile, and chestnut curls that framed her face when not tied back in a ribbon.

“You are excited to deliver the charity boxes?” Richard winked.

Such a tease! Some things would never change.

“Of course, I look forward to that.” It was the correct answer, if not entirely true. Anne sidled around the round table to a seat near the window, scooping up a fragrant Chelsea bun as she passed the serving plate between Richard and Darcy. “But when that is done, it will be time for the panto!”

Richard snorted and sipped his coffee. “Really, Darcy, I cannot fathom that you have permitted such a thing on your grounds.”

“And what exactly is wrong with the Pemberley Family Theater?” Anne dropped into her seat and stopped herself just short of banging on the table, clasping her hands in her lap instead.

“It is hardly the sort of activity of which your brother approves. Hosting so many people in his home. Submitting his children to the scrutiny…”

“Oh, stop that now.” Lydia sashayed in, scolding like a fishwife. Despite her brood of children, she retained all her good humor, and most of her figure. She was a handsome woman, not as handsome as Elizabeth, but no one was up to that standard. “Have some mercy on the poor girl. There now, Anne, do not take him to heart. He is a cruel tease and means only to stir you.”

Little Cosette zipped in, as if on cue, and dove straight into a bowl of Christmas roses, winter honeysuckle, and winter clematis. Her black and red feather-scales stood out among the white blossoms.

“I suppose it is a good thing my Friend is a tatzelwurm and has not taught me to peck at ears, or yours would be well and thoroughly grazed. No offense intended, Cosette.” Anne’s expression turned draconic.

“None taken,” Cosette twittered as she flitted to a bowl of colorful Peruvian and African lilies.

“Anne, that is quite enough.” Darcy’s voice lowered half an octave. “Despite your uncle’s teasing nature, a lady—”

“But a dragon does not tolerate such behavior, Papa. You cannot argue with that. And Mama says when in doubt, I should think like a dragon and act accordingly.”

Darcy fought the urge to drag his hand down his face, which Anne would interpret as a gesture of defeat.

Richard smirked; Lydia smiled and nodded encouragement. Someday soon she would not think it so funny—she had a daughter, cut from the same cloth, who would challenge her.

Darcy drew a deep breath and laid his hands on the table. “Yes, she does, and I maintain that is good advice. However, in this case, you are in no doubt of what you should do. We have taught you the expectations of ladylike comportment and when they are to be used. Despite his unconscionable manners, your uncle is no dragon and must be accorded the proper respect afforded to a Knight of the Pendragon Order. Now apologize to him and do not lead me to think that this theater endeavor has ruined you all for good society or I shall be forced to close the Pemberley Family Theater before it even opens for its first show.”

Anne wilted, but only a little. “Yes, Papa.” She turned to Richard, stood, and curtsied. “Pray forgive my rudeness, Uncle Richard. We have worked very hard on our Christmas panto and would be grievously disappointed if anything were to ruin our diligent efforts to entertain the Christmastide house party.”

“You are, of course, forgiven, my dear.” Richard nodded with all the grace and dignity he would have afforded Elizabeth. “We all look forward to the performance. Your guests talked of little else in the drawing room last night.”

“Truly? Did they really?” Anne clasped her hands before her chest.

“Absolutely. They are all impressed by how much you resemble your mother in your ability to cajole dragons and warm-bloods to work together for a greater cause. You are a true credit to her.”

Darcy tried not to wince. Pray those words did not go to her head!

Anne clapped softly. “Thank you! Thank you! Papa, may I ask Mrs. Reynolds to send a tray upstairs to the nursery, so that I may go over the plans with my brothers and sister and cousins without disturbing the houseguests at breakfast?”

“That seems an excellent idea. Off you go then.” Darcy waved her off.

Richard shook his head and raised his brows as she left. “Irrepressible.”

 “She really is the spit and image of Lizzy.” Lydia sat down and filled her plate. “You should not tease her, you know. If you earn her resentment now, it will be years before she will be persuaded to forgive you.”

“I can hardly believe that a girl of twelve—” Richard said.

“She is just like her mother. Consider the resolve it requires to coordinate—how many dragons and cousins for her little scheme?—so many temperaments not suited for cooperation. I can tell you that much for certain. Do not underestimate the resolve carried in her slender frame. Resolve that can easily be channeled into resentment should you goad her into it.”

Darcy raised his coffee cup in salute. “She is quite right.”

“I surrender to your wise council, both of you. I shall not breathe another insincere word around her.” Richard lifted open hands and pressed back from the table. “By your leave.” He stood, bowed, and retreated.

“I expected that he would have grown past that by now.” Darcy grumbled. “But I think he has not changed since we were boys.”

“Do give him more credit than that. You too easily forget what he experienced in France and how that changed him forever. He puts on the bravado for the sake of your feelings.” How quickly Lydia shifted from gay to serious?

Darcy blinked several times.

“She is right,” Georgiana walked in, Pax on her shoulder.

“How long have you been listening at the door?” Darcy turned over his shoulder to catch his sister’s gaze.

“I did not want to interrupt. It does not change the fact that she is right, though.” Georgiana sat down.

Pax twittered at Cosette and joined her at the bowl of lilies.

“Pray tell me that Lady Catherine and Anne are not in your wake.” Lydia peeked toward the door.

“They do not rise early for anyone. You are safe for at least another hour. And before you ask, Lady Astrid is in the library, gathering volumes to borrow to take back to London for copying. I assured her you would not mind,” Georgiana said.

“She is almost as determined as Historian Bennet to have all known Blue Order documents copied for the main library.” If his father-in-law had his way, the entire contents of the Pemberley library would have been turned over to the Blue Order for safekeeping.

“I think copying those books is an excellent idea. And I know Elizabeth does as well. She is assisting Lady Astrid in the library.” Georgiana reached for a dish of stewed plums.

“Does she not stop, even for Boxing Day?” Lydia asked.

“The business of the Order stops for no holiday. But fear not, she has promised she will be downstair by ten o’clock this morning and not return before tomorrow morning, at the earliest,” Darcy said. “She is determined to see the children’s panto and how the dragons are taking part.”

“It is good to hear that she takes some time off.” Mrs. Gardiner walked in on her husband’s arm, brilliant red Phoenix zipping past them to a little plate of blood and treacle pudding, which had been set on the sideboard especially for him. Not particularly agreeable stuff, but it was his particular favorite since his hatching.

“She can be as single-minded as her father.” Mr. Gardiner chuckled. “And it seems every one of her children is just like her, considering what they have told me of their plans for today’s Pemberley Family Theater.”

“We have heard of little else for weeks.” Darcy laughed. “I think the dragons of Pemberley have been as excited as the children.”

“The question is,” Richard cocked his head, “whether that is a good thing or not.”

---

The next several hours saw a steady stream of visitors through Pemberley’s back door. Tradesmen, all Blue Order members, called and were presented with boxes and shared a tankard of ale with the master of the house. Elizabeth took Georgiana, Lydia, and Little Anne to visit the needy in the parish, with boxes for all. As Elizabeth told it, poor Anne was utterly distracted the entire journey, reciting under her breath the list of things that needed to be accomplished for the panto to go on as planned.

Apparently, she had a good deal of her father in her, too.

Late that afternoon, Darcy offered Elizabeth his arm, and they walked with Richard and Georgiana out to the small barn once used to host Ring’s recovery from his encounter with poachers. It had since been turned to happier uses, becoming a public house of sorts for all the minor dragons living on the estate. Ring, the knucker living in Ring Pond, had appointed himself keeper of the house, ensuring whatever supplies required for the comfort of the dragons were available, communicating with the main house regarding estate matters, and mediating between cranky minor dragons as necessary.

He was surprisingly good at the latter and pleased with the role he created for himself on the estate.

Today, however, Ring played theater manager, overseeing the transformation of the little barn into the Pemberley Family Theater for the pleasure of the guests invited for the Yuletide presentation. He had offered the use of the barn after it became clear that the usual venues were no longer sufficient for the children’s purpose.
They had been so disappointed at their initial plan’s failure, and even more so when Elizabeth declared that they could not press the drawing room into such service, either. Grand as the drawing room might be, it would not accommodate so many dragon guests, or even the estate dragon anymore.

Now that Pemberley had hit another growth spurt, so many things were changing, but those were thoughts for later.

Ring greeted them at the open double doors. The grey-brown hide along his long body shone from a fresh oiling. His delicate fin-like wings fluttered in a gesture reminiscent of a bow. “Lady Sage, Sir Fitzwilliam, may I show you to your seats?” He even wore a cravat, on little Frances’ insistence, no doubt. She so enjoyed dressing up dolls! Now her attention had turned to dragons, who tolerated most of her ideas with good natured humor and patience.

A case of the Gardiner’s imported beetles did not hurt matters either. He sniffed; the spicy, slightly acrid aroma of those beetles hung in the air. The children had probably gotten hold of them. Darcy needed to put in another order for those while the Gardiners were still here. Must remember that.

Ring guided them to seats in the front row of many, which were filling with friendly, familiar faces. Soft background noise grew with each fresh addition. Dust hung in the air, kicked up by many feet.

Darcy sat down and studied the stage, which should have already been obscured by the red curtains hanging along the sides. Bennet’s penchant for drawing and building things turned into plans for this stage. A Blue Order carpenter did the actual work. Little Anne and Ring had overseen the construction, so this was Darcy’s first time seeing it.

A large, knee-high platform took up most of the barn’s back wall. Ring had already intimated that he would be happy to make use of the dark-brown painted floor in the ‘Dragon Pub’ as he had begun calling it, once the theatrical endeavor was complete. He believed it would help him establish dominance when things got a bit growly, as they were wont to do when dragons gathered.

The children, and several of the carpenter’s boys, had painted elements of Pemberley manor along the setting at the back and sides of the stage. The main stairs were in the middle, with a caricature of the drawing room on one side and the library on the other. Three doors appeared in those rooms, one covered with green baize—a servant’s door! How clever. Was that a trap door in the floor near the library? Bennet must have been paying close attention to the panto they had attended last year.

The small pianoforte from the ladies’ sitting room upstairs was brought in and was now tucked away in the far-left corner of the “drawing room.” How did the children convince Georgiana to play for them?

He could credit George with that feat. He and Georgiana seemed to share a connection that went deeper than their names.

Curtains, dyed red for the occasion, swooped down from the sides. Bennet and George scurried to untie the ropes and obscure the stage for their final preparations, probably scolded into action by little Anne, who noticed the oversight. Ring had already asked permission to keep those curtains, too. They would be handy for separating bickering dragons, rather like the way Bondsmen used them during Blue Order conclaves.

It was hard to argue with his logic, but difficult to understand how such measures would be necessary… unless this little dragon pub was becoming far more than anyone expected. Darcy dragged his hand down his face.

Things at Pemberley, especially things involving dragons, evidenced an alarming tendency to become far more than expected. Tomorrow, early, a call upon Ring would be in order.

Audience seats that included both typical chairs—purloined from Pemberley attics and unused guest rooms—and stools and dragon perches for the cold-blooded guests—stood in odd awkward clusters that reflected little Anne’s understanding of her audience’s needs. An extended front row reached into the wings to accommodate all dominance requirements. Cait, Aunt Catherine’s spectacular cockatrix Friend, and her Friend could hardly sit behind anyone else. The household drakes needed space separate from the outdoor staff drakes, as a bit of tension ran between the two groups. The warm-blooded household staff—given special leave to attend the performance—called for several rows, separated by rank, of course. Pemberley’s tenants and their dragon Friends required another section, with sufficient space between the dragons so that all instincts remained in check.

No surprise that Ring’s expertise had been needed to carry this off. It was a wonder they were attempting it at all. Best not consider all the things that might go wrong…

Elizabeth’s eyes darted across the stage, her smile broadening with each new discovery. “What a marvelous place we have here. I think I should ask Cousin Anne to sketch it before she leaves. It is the sort of thing—”

 “That belongs in a monograph?” Darcy raised an eyebrow. “Just how many have you written now?”

“Some things are best not known. Chisholm is supposed to acquire a complete collection of them in the library, should you wish to calculate the exact number once the new ones arrive.”

“So, more than your father has authored?”

“Pray do not tell him that. It is rather a sore subject.” Elizabeth winced. “Although he has become rather more content with matters since the Council decided to name that wing of the great library for him. Who does not like to be honored for their achievements?”

“The honor was well earned, to be sure. So much information, so much history would have been lost, relegated to gathering dust and mildew without his efforts.”

“Oh, look! So many coming in at once!”

The trickle of guests became a babbling, flowing stream of familiar faces, family, tenants, neighbors, friends, a community Darcy might never have experienced, but for the extraordinary influence of his wife. His dear, unique, irrepressible wife.

Little Anne and George stepped out from behind the curtains to the middle of the stage.

“Happy Boxing Day, everyone.” Anne curtsied. How grown up and serious she looked in her white frock with Order Blue sash.

Beside her, Bennet bowed, so proper and gentlemanly in his dark blue Eton suit. He would be off to school soon. “Welcome to the Pemberley Family Theater. We hope you will enjoy our Christmas Pantomime. We shall begin in just a few minutes.”

They curtsied and bowed once more and disappeared behind the deep red curtain.

Georgiana tapped his shoulder. “That is my cue to go. Mrs. Sharpe will bring in all the children in a moment. Ring knows where they are to sit.” She pointed with her chin to a bank of chairs off to the right side, but near the stage. “The little Collinses are still a bit shy around their cousins and I hope not to see them relegated to the rearmost seats, when they are supposed to be seated according to height.”

“I shall wander over there. I understood that Lydia is to be in charge of her own brood, as well as Mary’s. I cannot image what came over her to offer to take on all the children for Yuletide.” Elizabeth scanned the room. “I expected her to be waiting near the children’s seats. Do you know where she is?”

“I believe Little Anne recruited her to provide some help with the backstage portion of the show.”

Elizabeth’s eyes grew wide, and she pulled back her shoulders. “Anne assured me that matters were under control…”

“Rest easy. I am quite certain that they are. Little things come up just before a performance, but that does not mean they are anything to worry about. I do not know for sure, but I heard Frances made some sort of costume for the dragons to wear. She wanted to surprise Little Anne, who does not respond well when her plans are upended, so Lydia stepped in to smooth things over.” Georgiana said.

“That is kind of her, but I really should—”

Georgiana caught her by the arm. “No, no, that would crush the children. They so wanted to do his for you. You must not take that from them. All will be well. Trust them.”

“Oh, very well.” Elizabeth deflated a mite. “There, I see Cosette and Heather. The children cannot be far behind. I will help Mrs. Sharpe settle them into their seats, but I promise I will not interfere backstage.”

“Thank you. That will mean a great deal to your brood.” Georgiana hurried off toward the stage.

Darcy caught Elizabeth’s hand. “Relax, dearest, this is only a panto, not a Blue Order conclave. A touch of Christmas mayhem is to be expected, and, I am told, even welcomed. That is the tradition of the panto, after all.”

“You say that now, but you will forgive me if I ask you if you still believe that once the curtain falls.” Elizabeth tipped her head as she whisked off to join Mrs. Sharpe as she led in a gaggle of giggling children.

Though parents usually left their children behind when attending a house party, as with most things, Pemberley had to be different. Children and dragons must be included. So, the nursery was bursting at the seams. Mrs. Sharp, Mercy and Truth, her pretty little snake-type dragon Friends, welcomed help from the nursery maids who came along with their charges. With twelve children and three infants in their charge, the nurses were all earning their keep.

But the children! Oh, the children had never been happier cavorting with one another and Pemberley’s dragons. The next generation of the Blue Order was growing up so differently than their elders!

A blood-curdling shriek sent Darcy bolting from his chair as the audience gasped and jumped.

Blast it all, Cait!

In all her glossy black and purple majesty, the cockatrix swooped in, circled the room, dove through the rafters before settling on the highest beam so that her magnificent tail feathers dangled just above the audience, out of reach of any unwise enough to try to touch them. Walker and Earl, both majestic but not nearly as showy as Cait, winged in behind her and settled on the same rafter, a wingspan away from her. Who had engineered that truce, and how? Cait and Walker were barely on speaking terms at the moment. Granted, that was not unusual, but still. And though she was Earl’s brood mother, he had not yet attained that level of elegant maturity that would entitle him to sit in her company in public.

Perhaps it was a bit of Christmas cheer that had got hold of them. Or maybe it was the particular dragon ale that Ring had mentioned he was brewing.

He definitely needed to talk with Ring.

Soon.

“Lady Catherine, your presence honors us.” Ring’s forced-calm voice rose above the ambient crowd noise. “We have special seating reserved for you.”

Darcy wrenched around in his seat.

“How nice for you, but I will sit with my nephews. There, over there.” Aunt Catherine stood in the doorway, surveying the barn, gesturing toward Darcy. Ring peeked over her shoulder, simultaneously trying to get into the barn and get a word in edgewise.

Best not leave Ring to the tempers of their resident warm-blooded dragon. Darcy rose with slow dignity and strode toward the door. One should never allow Aunt Catherine to see them ruffled.

How much more like Cowntess Rosings had Aunt Catherine become since taking on the role of dowager when Cousin Anne’s husband had taken residence at Rosings. If Aunt Catherine would not retire to Rosings’ Dower House at his demand, she certainly would not accept Ring’s direction, either.

“Ah, yes, Darcy. There you are. Pray, escort me to my seat.” She extended her arm for him to take.

Overdressed for a theatrical in a barn, and loud enough to set every eye on her. How polite of Aunt Catherine. Whatever it took, Darcy would not allow her to distract from the children’s effort.

“The children will be glad to know you have arrived so they can begin. Anne is with you, no?” He led her toward her designated seat.

“Yes, yes, there with that unpleasant Ring fellow.” Aunt Catherine called over her shoulder. “Anne, do come in and permit Darcy to show us to our seats.”

In the doorway with Ring, Anne rolled her eyes in the family signature expression, no doubt debating the merits of sitting where Ring suggested. It was next to her mother, after all.

A draconic glare from Aunt Catherine brought her scurrying like a schoolgirl to Darcy’s other side. Some things would never change.

“Pray then, come, and sit down. The audience is growing anxious.” He guided them to the seats he and Elizabeth had occupied next to Richard. “I shall have a word backstage. Excuse me.” With a bit of luck, he could find his way to Elizabeth and leave Richard to manage Aunt Catherine.

He would have to pay Richard off with an excellent bottle of brandy, but it would be worth it. Tugging his coat straight, he strode toward the side of the stage, but Dale, Mrs. Reynold’s brown, spotted drake Friend, stopped him.

“Forgive me, Sir Fitzwilliam, but Miss Anne has instructed me that none but the players should pass into the backstage.” Dale rose on hind legs and crossed his forepaw in an attitude much like Mrs. Reynolds instructing the staff. He bore such a resemblance to an old shopkeeper with the odd scales on his face that looked so like a beard.

Not a proper dominance stance for a staff dragon to take with the master of the estate. Darcy bit back the reprimand on his tongue.

No, perspective, he needed to keep perspective. Dale would give way if Darcy insisted. The children would be disappointed to have a show of dominance in the theater. Darcy forced his instincts back with a long breath. “Very well, pray would you relay to Miss Anne that Lady Catherine and her daughter have arrived, and they may begin.”

The tension that had made Dale big released, and he dropped to all fours. “Thank you, sir. I will do so immediately.” He scurried behind the curtain.

Better, much better.

Darcy ambled to the back of the barn. With his height, he could see over the rest of the audience if he stood. Standing back would be a far more dominant position than sitting in front of the stage beside two warm-blooded cockatrix. Should he be embarrassed that he needed that right now? Or was he merely thinking like a dragon and acting accordingly?

 He glanced at Elizabeth, who nodded. So, he was thinking like a dragon, then. Excellent, especially in that it meant if Little Anne took offense, her mother would be able to explain it to her in terms she would understand. That was some comfort.

The red stage curtains pulled back in fits and starts, the thick ropes controlling them quite visible. A cloth backdrop, painted to resemble a dark wood, obscured the images of Pemberley manor. The opening notes of Joy to the World rang out from the pianoforte at the back of the stage.

Georgiana, in a plain dark dress that blended into the background, stood up from behind the pianoforte and curtsied to the audience. “Welcome to the first ever performance of the Pemberley Family Theater. Pray join us in our favorite Christmas carols.”

She sat down and the Darcy children filtered in, followed by the rest of the cousins, herded to the stage by Mrs. Sharpe, Mercy, and Truth. Several of the youngest cousins stared wide eyed at the audience. May, Anne’s tatzelwurm Friend, slithered out from behind the stage, and rubbed herself around their legs, purring loud enough the audience could hear. Fairy dragons from the rafters—six of them, led by April, twittered gently, until the children’s stage terror seemed to dissipate.

The opening notes of Oh Come All Ye Faithful! sounded and their high, innocent voices rose.

Oh come all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant…

Little Anne stepped forward to the front edge of the stage. “Sing with us!”

Darcy caught Elizabeth’s eye as they sang with the rest of the audience. If he listened closely, he could just pick out her sweet soprano from near the stage.

Oh come let us adore Him.

Oh come let us adore Him…

The fairy dragons and several of the more musical drakes sang along. Thankfully, the cockatrice did not. For all their other impressive qualities, cockatrice could hardly manage better than a terror inducing shriek on the best of days.

Though not designed for the purpose, the cozy barn, filled with warmth and holiday spirit, added its own particular soft, fuzzy character to the familiar strains, one that would long linger in his memory. No song had ever sounded so sweet.

The children followed with an equally melodic rendition of Joy to the World and Deck the Halls, after which the Darcy children scrambled off stage and Mrs. Sharpe, with the help of her Friends, escorted the cousins back to their seats.

Bennet dashed back on stage, breathless and draped in a dark cloak that covered him from neck to toes. “Now, for today’s chief entertainment.” He gestured toward the painted woods behind him and backed off stage.

Georgiana played a transitional phrase and something rattled behind the painted trees. Someone fought their way through a hidden slit in the back drop. Little Anne’s face poked out, high in a tree, the backdrop pulled close around her neck. “Today is Boxing Day, as you well know, and the festive season has just begun. Our hero, Harlequin…”

Bennet sauntered out from stage right, wearing a peasant shirt, black mask, and blue, red and green diamond checkered trousers. A classic Harlequin. How serious and purposeful he looked even carrying a gaudily painted slapstick at his side.

“… is waiting for his love Columbine, to walk in the wilderness with him,” Anne said.

Giggling from stage left, Frances scampered in. Pink poufy dress, apron, mob cap and flowers in her hand rendered her a perfect little Columbine.

“But wait, her father, the wicked Pantaloon follows.” Anne slipped out a hand and pointed stage left.

George, sporting tight red vest and breeches, skullcap and ash rubbed on his face in the shape of a grey goatee, stormed out toward Harlequin and Columbine.

“But little does he know, these are far from ordinary woods. No, this is the territory of the Blue Order! And these are dragon woods!” Anne disappeared behind the backdrop.

A moment later, she burst in through a hidden slit at center stage. Wearing a garishly colorful blouse and trousers, patterned with large multicolored diamonds and circles, and ringed with tassels and ruffs in Order blue, she danced between Pantaloon and Columbine.

Bennet, as Harlequin, scrambled across the stage and slapped the largest tree in the woods with his stick. hidden ropes hauled up the painted panels to reveal the interior of Pemberley Manor.

George, as Pantaloon, and Frances, as Columbine, feigned amazement as they admired the new setting. They ran from the drawing room on stage left to the library on stage right, pausing briefly to admire the grand stairs in the middle, gesticulating wildly all the way.

When they reached Bennet’s side, he pointed his slapstick at Georgiana, who played a few bars.

The Twelve Days of Christmas? Yes, that was definitely the tune.

From their position in the audience at stage right, the cousins stood and sang, “On the first day of Christmas the Blue Order gave to me…”

Frances and George ran to the back of the stage and threw open double doors near the pianoforte as Bennet and Anne sang, “A puppy for our Pemberley.”

Pemberley danced—wait, what? She had not done that since her Cotillion—in, carrying her newest puppy in her front paws. The brown and white pointer puppy, a descendent of the original Puppy, wagged her tail and smiled in the way dogs did, proving she had her grandsire’s open and friendly temper. Pemberley managed a little draconic pirouette center stage, and sat back on her haunches in front of the grand stairs, cradling her puppy, her tail tapping in time as Georgiana played a bit of filler music.

Anne pointed at the cousins’ chorus.

“On the second day of Christmas, the Blue Order gave to me…”

“Two zaltys nurses.” George and Frances said more than sang as they rushed stage right to escort Mercy and Truth to Pemberley.

“And a puppy for our Pemberley.” Anne and Bennet sang and danced a circle around Pemberley, her puppy, and the zaltys.

The audience applauded and whispered, no doubt wondering what would come next, which was only natural, as was Darcy’s vague sense of dread. What did they have planned—and just how complicated might it get? He rang a finger around the inside of his collar.

The four children scurried off backstage, through three doors, right, left, and center. They dragged in three extra-tall dragon perches, crude wooden structures, painted to resemble the iron perches found throughout Pemberley manor.

“On the third day of Christmas, the Blue Order gave to me…”

“Three cockatrice.” Anne sang as they backed away from the perches.

No, surely not! Darcy glanced up at the rafters.

Earl, then Walker, then—oh merciful heavens!—Cait swooped down, circled the audience twice and took to the perches, Cait in the middle, of course.

The audience gasped in awe of Cait’s magnificent show. Few outside of Rosings had ever seen her in all her black and purple glory.

How had they convinced any of the cockatrice to take part in this exhibition, much less these three, the proudest of them all?

“… two zaltys nurses…” Mercy and Truth sang-who knew they could sing? They twined round the base of the perches beneath Walker and Earl. Not a bad way to help weight them against tipping. Very clever, actually. Did they avoid Cait’s perch for fear of her temper or of mussing her tail?

“And a puppy for our Pemberley.” Anne and Bennet grabbed George and Frances to dance a ring around Pemberley, her puppy, and the zaltys, who flicked their tails out of the way just in time to avoid little dancing feet.

“On the fourth day of Christmas, the Blue Order gave to me…”

Taloned marching feet pounded a tattoo off-stage. Richard shuddered and rose. With a curt bow to Aunt Catherine, he excused himself to the back of the room. Poor man looked ready to bolt entirely, only the deepest of affection for the performers keeping him in the barn. It was not the first time Darcy had seen this sort of thing. Anything that woke memories of Richard’s service in His Majesty’s army disquieted him.

George disappeared stage left and marched back with Brutus and three others of the house guard, each wearing a harness with a brass Darcy family crest. “… four guarding drakes…”

The drakes faced the audience, teeth bared, growling softly.

Richard reached Darcy’s side as the audience gasped and pressed back into their seats.

“What are they thinking?” Richard whispered, face pale, sweat beading on his upper lip.

The drakes sat back on their haunches and stopped growling. Their tails swished across the stage like dogs wagging. Their expressions faded into something less menacing, but everything about their posture was alert and on guard. Even on stage, they would not shirk their responsibilities.

“… three cockatrice…” The cockatrice extended their wings and flapped. Cait’s perch wobbled dangerously, and she back-winged to steady it.

“… two zaltys nurses…” The zaltys wound themselves a little tighter around the perches.

“… and a puppy for our Pemberley!” Pemberley grinned and held up the puppy.

Bennet and George paraded the guard drakes off stage. Good, they could be a touchy lot, especially in a crowd.

Anne and Frances, holding hands, danced to the front of the stage. They stopped at the edge of the stage and dropped in dainty, girlish curtsies as they pointed at their cousins.

“On the fifth day of Christmas, the Blue Order gave to me…”

The girls threw their arms wide and sang, “Five golden Rings!”

Wood squealed against wood on stage as Bennet, stage left, and George, stage right, led the drakes back in. The drakes dragged in four life-sized wooden effigies of Ring, colored gold, of course, illustrated in the style of Cruikshank. How had Bennet gotten hold of that artist’s work to study? Much of it was not fit for children!

The drakes settled the four wooden knuckers just behind Pemberley and her puppy whilst Ring, sporting a gold cloak pranced on stage and turned several somersaults. He stopped near Pemberley, between the images of himself, and gestured toward the images with a huge toothy smile.

Perhaps he enjoyed the pun a little too much.

“… four guarding drakes…” Brutus and his team flanked the wooden knuckers. Given the effieies’ precarious balance, they were probably there to keep them from falling.

“… three cockatrice…” Good Lord!

Darcy clapped hands to his ears. Did Earl really have to shriek at full voice? Pray they had that out of their system now and would not scream for the next verse. Surely extending their wings or some such would suffice.

“… two zaltys nurses…” trembled beneath the vociferous cockatrice. Poor things. Had the children forgotten small snake-types and wyrms were natural prey to cockatrice?

“… and a puppy for our Pemberley!” The squirming brown and white puppy yipped as Pemberley held her up.

“How long do you think this can continue?” Richard whispered, eyes locked on the growing spectacle onstage.

“Little Anne is her mother’s daughter—”

“How are they going to fit another… oh dear lord!… sixty-three dragons on that stage?”

Darcy gulped and squeezed his eyes shut. “I cannot imagine.” Actually, he could, but best not share the fodder for Richard’s imagination. He might insist upon calling everything off mid-performance.

“On the sixth day of Christmas, the Blue Order gave to me…”

Pray, let it not be huge!

“Six fairy dragons.” Anne and Frances lifted their arms.

Darcy and Richard huffed matching breaths through puffed cheeks.

April led Cosette, Pax, Heather, Verona, and Phoenix—a veritable rainbow of fairy dragons—to perch on the girls’ shoulders.

“… five golden Rings…” The fairy dragons twittered the melody as they flittered around the wooden knuckers.

Oh, that was better. Perhaps the children had thought this out better than…

“… four guarding drakes…” The guards jumped to their feet; their tails lashed against the wooden figures which began teetering.

“… three cockatrice…” They beat their wings in time with the music. Darcy covered his ears just before they screamed.

“… two zaltys nurses…” who braced the perches against the rocking in time with the wing beats, despite their own trembling. Brave little dragons, exactly the sort who should be guarding children.

“… and a puppy for our Pemberley!” The puppy wriggled in her grasp, clearly growing tired of the spectacle.

Georgiana played a bit of filler music as Anne and Bennet disappeared offstage.

What now?

Darcy counted the seconds until they reappeared, pushing a barnyard trough filled with something that smelled like pig slop.

“On the seventh day of Christmas, the Blue Order gave to me…”

Ring dashed off the stage, gold cape flying behind him, to throw open a nearby side door.

That could only mean more dragons. Darcy dragged his hand down his face.

“Seven wyrms a’ eating.” Bennet and George jumped down from the stage to herd in a troop of wyrms led by Azure Forest Wyrms Lapis and Indigo who still lived in Cheapside with the Gardiners. Five shaggy garden wyrms who tended the kitchen garden slithered in behind the Gardiners’ Friends, twining round each other as they went.

Anne curtsied an invitation to the trough, and the wyrms set on it with all the elegance of ravenous, rabid dogs in a henhouse. Bits of slop splattered all the way to the second row.

The audience laughed, albeit nervously, probably wondering what the wyrms would do when the trough was empty. Lady Catherine and Anne bolted to their feet and fled to the wings, out of the wyrms’ range. Ring pressed towels into their hands, as Dale scurried across the front row, offering towels to others similarly sullied.

Anne and Bennet clapped sharply as the wyrms pulled back from their meal and looked at the children.

How had they convinced the wyrms to do that? Wyrms never paused until they finished their meal.

“… six fairy dragons…” April, wisest of the fairy dragons—that was a bit of an oxymoron, was it not?—launched from Anne’s shoulder and hovered over the wyrms, trilling soothing notes and calmed the wyrms feeding frenzy to mere enthusiasm.

Had that been Anne’s plan or April’s?

“… five golden Rings…” All the onstage players gestured toward the wooden figures just as Ring somersaulted back to his position.

“… four guarding drakes…” Bless it all, they needed to stop lashing their tails! Could they not see they would knock the wooden stage piece over on the children?

The audience jumped to cover their ears. “… three cockatrice…” 

“… two zaltys nurses…” 

“… and a puppy for our Pemberley!” the puppy barked—and who could blame it? Even for a dragon-friendly dog, twenty-four dragons on stage would be considered a large gathering under any circumstances.

How many dragons did that make for in the barn itself? Close to thirty-two—too much movement in the audience to count accurately, and there could be more waiting to take the stage yet. Outside of official Blue Order events, such a gathering was unprecedented.

Little Anne had probably never considered that. She was absolutely her mother’s daughter.

“On the eighth day of Christmas, the Blue Order gave to me…”

Elizabeth and Mrs. Sharp jumped into motion, hurrying the older cousins onto the stage. All the little girls wore an Order Blue sash, the boys a cravat in the same shade. Odd how Darcy had missed that detail before.

Bennet and Anne ushered the children into a square, four-couple dance set near the pianoforte, far stage left. Georgiana played filler music until the children arranged themselves.

Darcy’s children stepped together at center stage and sang, “Eight cotillion dancers.”

They gestured to the dance set and Georgiana faded The Twelve Days of Christmas into the melody of the Blue Order Cotillion. Bennet and Anne stood at either end of the set, cueing the dancers join hands and circle to the right, a Grand Round, which was, to their credit, a step in the actual Dragon Cotillion.

“… seven wyrms a’ eating…” The dancers were still circling as the wyrms dove back into the trough for another mouthful. Anne and Bennet had to clap twice to get them to stop.

The fairy dragons swooped down to circle over the wyrms, scolding.  “… six fairy dragons…”

“… five golden Rings…” Frances and George ran to the wooden dragons, arms extended, both tripping over—

“… four guarding drakes…” The drakes scrambled to pick up the fallen children.

“… three cockatrice…” 

Pendragon’s bones! Stop screaming!

Three of the dancing children ran across the stage, away from the cockatrice.

“… two zaltys nurses…” Mercy and Truth unwound from the dragon perches and slithered to herd the children back to the dance set while Pax and Heather flew overhead, twittering soothing notes.

“… and a puppy for our Pemberley!” Pemberley’s tail thumped the stage enough to set all the set pieces quivering as the puppy yipped and squirmed.

Ring ran from one set piece to another, steadying them.

“They cannot possibly fit any more creatures, warm- or cold-blooded, on that stage. Not with all the tails sweeping.” Richard whispered through clenched teeth. “With all the dragons crowded into that small space, someone is going to snap.”

Richard made an excellent point. Perhaps he should—

Darcy jogged two steps and stopped. Ring grabbed the edges of his cloak and lifted them high and wide, like Elizabeth did with her now-famous green cape, and visually separated the cranky dragons. Had that been Ring’s notion or Little Anne’s? Either way, it was a splendid idea. Darcy returned to Richard and pointed at Ring.

“Well, I’ll be. Let us hope he is as skilled as Elizabeth with that,” Richard muttered through his hand.

“Did you know he has been using this barn as a pub of sorts? I imagine he had some practice…”

“A dragon pub?” Richard’s jaw actually dropped. “What are you thinking, Darcy? Not only is that unheard of, but I cannot think of a single way that is a good idea!”

“On the ninth day of Christmas, the Blue Order gave to me…”

Bennet raised the slapstick high and struck the backdrop near a painted window above the grand stairs. A hinged platform dropped with a solid thud, echoed in the audience’s collective jump. Someone unseen pushed a large chest onto the platform and pulled back the lid.

“Nine pucks a’ hoarding!” the Darcy children shouted, rather than sang, barely heard over the gasps of the audience as Quincy, his mate, and seven little pucks popped up from the trunk, throwing bits of colored paper from the chest. Those little ones could not be more than a few months old!

Had they traveled with Lady Catherine? She had brought her butler, James, as well as her lady’s maid, so it was possible Quincy and family had traveled with his Friend, unknown to Lady Catherine.

“… eight cotillion dancers…” The children near the pianoforte joined hands and circled right, some faster than others, turning the circle into more of an irregular oval.

“… seven wyrms a’ eating…” The wyrms dove into the trough on cue.

Anne and Bennet clapped, but the wyrms summarily ignored them.

The fairy dragons dove on the wyrms, pecking their heads, until they backed away from the food.  “… six fairy dragons…”

One wyrm fell off the trough into—

“… five golden Rings…” four of which began rocking.

“… four guarding drakes…” ran to steady them.

Darcy and most of the audience covered their ears.

“… three cockatrice…” screamed at the drake’s clumsy efforts.

“… two zaltys nurses…” corralled the dancers back into their set.

“… and a puppy for our Pemberley!” The puppy jumped from Pemberley’s forepaws and ran around the stage, barking loudly as George and Frances gave chase.

Richard took a step toward the stage, but Darcy caught his arm. Ring was already in motion, deftly scooping up the excited puppy as she ran past and directing the boys back to their places. He handed the puppy to someone offstage.

Disaster averted.

For now.

“On the tenth day of Christmas, the Blue Order gave to me…”

Please, please, please, not ten more dragons.

Bennet and Little Anne ran stage right to the back wall and rotated a piece painted as a door to reveal an unsteady wooden bookcase.

“Ten monographs.”

A trapdoor in the floor opened, and a large box rose into view. Bennet slid it on stage. Anne shut the trapdoor while George and Frances opened the box and held up slim volumes for the audience to admire.

Elizabeth gasped, hands to her mouth, and laughed heartily. Though Darcy could not quite make them out, those must be the titles she had published this year. The ones she had not yet gotten copies of.

Was that? Yes, it was. Jet-black Chisholm, Elizabeth’s secretary drake, slipped into the shadows on stage and loaded the volumes onto the bookcase. She and Little Anne must have conspired with Lady Astrid to have those brought directly here. What a fine joke—no doubt that must have been Bennet’s idea. That was entirely in keeping with his particular sense of humor.

“… nine pucks a’ hoarding…” The pucks tossed out more bits of paper which—

“… eight cotillion dancers…” slipped on as they circled, tumbling arsey-varsey into a giggling heap of childhood and Order blue.

“… seven wyrms a’ eating…” dove into the trough without waiting for their cue.

“… six fairy dragons…” scolded, and pecked at the wyrms, who hissed and growled back.

Ring dashed in front of—

“… five golden Rings…” actually four Rings plus himself.

—cloak raised to separate the fairy dragons from the wyrms.

“… four guarding drakes…” rushed in to pull the wyrms from the trough.

“… three cockatrice…” screamed and beat their wings until the wyrms settled into grudging compliance.

“… two zaltys nurses…” encouraged the tumbled children back into their dance set as Chisholm appeared again and tossed a stuffed dog to Little Anne, who put it into Pemberley’s forepaws.

“… and a puppy for our Pemberley!” Pemberley held the stuffed animal aloft, but her wings drooped just a mite.

Probably best the puppy had a respite from so many dragons, especially the hungry wyrms, which would be enough to worry any small creature.

The Darcy children, who seemed oblivious to the potentially dangerous onstage chaos, gathered at center stage, taking hands as Little Anne pointed into the audience.

From the second row, Sir Edward Gardiner stood and made his way to the end of the row, then headed for the stage.

“On the eleventh day of Christmas, the Blue Order gave to me…”

Gardiner disappeared behind the backstage curtain, to reappear near the front, stage right, a bucket bedecked with ribbons and holly in his hand.

“Eleven imported beetles.”

The wyrms converged on Gardiner as he held the bucket high. He threw a handful of beetles into an unoccupied spot, stage left—the only free space available—and the wyrms followed. He tossed a handful up to the pucks and another to the guard drakes and zaltys. Bird types did not favor his beetles, except for Phoenix, who caught one midair.

No doubt that was more than eleven beetles, but now was not the time to quibble about such details.

Gardiner retreated to stand near—

“… ten monographs…” He plucked several beetles from the shelves. Good thinking lest the wyrms discover those and damage the monographs.

“… nine pucks a’ hoarding…” Two of the pucklings tussled over a particularly brightly colored bit of paper. They slipped off the platform to dangle precariously by their long claws, scrabbling for purchase.

“… eight cotillion dancers’…” circle collapsed as they scrambled away from the dangling dragons.

“… seven wyrms a’ eating…” Half the wyrms dove on the trough, the other half plunged toward Gardiner, to be cut off by—

“… six fairy dragons…” led by Phoenix, diving and squawking at the wyrms.

With a glance at the monographs, Gardiner darted toward—

“… five golden Rings…”

Three beetle-seeking wyrms slithered away from the fairy dragons, toward Gardiner, intercepted by—

“… four guarding drakes…” who growled, teeth bared, and forced the wayward wyrms back to the trough with the others.

Darcy and the audience barely covered their ears before—

“… three cockatrice…” shrieked loud enough to be heard over the growling.

The littlest dancers shouted and cried.

“… two zaltys nurses…” hurried to comfort the terrified children.

The real puppy barked from the wings.

Black tatzelwurm May joined Mercy and Truth, adding her purrs to soothe the children.

“… and a puppy for our Pemberley!”

Richard elbowed Darcy, shaking his head and pointing to Elizabeth, who beckoned them to join her. Though her posture was calm, her color was high and eyes wide.

Pendragon’s bones! What did she see?

They strode toward her. Far more controlled than he would have liked to be, but they must not distract or alarm the audience.

“On the twelfth day of Christmas, the Blue Order gave to me… twelve cousins singing.” The Darcy children and the eight dancers stepped to the front of the stage, joined hands, and bowed.

The littler children still in the wings with Elizabeth and Mrs. Sharpe jumped up and cried, “What about us?” as they ran toward the stage and tried to join the older children.

Darcy and Richard caught three of them, only for them to wail loudly. Nurserymaids rushed to take the children.

“… eleven imported beetles…” The wyrms lifted their heads from the trough and flung themselves toward Gardiner, who threw handfuls of beetles away from the children and other dragons. Unfortunately landing near the—

“… ten monographs…” which the wyrms knocked to the floor and slithered over in search of beetles.

“… nine pucks a’ hoarding…” threw themselves from the platform into the mass of wyrms, scrambling for their share of the beetles.

Several wyrms looked up, finding Gardiner at stage left. No doubt the beetles were all devoured. Gardiner threw more beetles near center stage, away from the precious monographs. Chisholm scurried back through the shadows and piled the books back into the box they came from. She shut the lid and sat atop it, probably worried that a stray beetle might be in the box to lure the wyrms to it.

“… eight cotillion dancers…” looked at each other, offering hands to join in a circle, but Mrs. Sharpe met them onstage and guided them off, stage left, away from the beetle sparked frenzy.

Elizabeth, Darcy, and Richard helped them to their seats as nursery maids handed around a basket of—oh no!— gingernut biscuits.

“… seven wyrms a’ eating…” stopped eating and sniffed the air.

Dragon bones! They smelled the biscuits! The wyrms turned en masse, twining around each other as they converged toward the children.

“… six fairy dragons…” screamed in alarm and flew to the rafters near—

“… five golden Rings…”

“… four guarding drakes…” bounded to the wyrms and herded them back to their trough, reminding them there was still food there.

Richard promised the children biscuits afterwards and sent the nurserymaid outside with the basket.

“… three cockatrice…” launched, knocking perches to the ground, and circled the barn ceiling, with Cait’s magnificent tail feathers trailing low enough to almost brush the audience’s heads. Thank heavens they did not—

They shrieked and most of the audience screamed.

“… two zaltys nurses…” pressed in close to George and Frances, who looked ready to cry after that last shriek.

The puppy flung herself on stage, ran about, then jumped off to run pell-mell through the audience, yipping and yapping, refusing to be caught.

Darcy dove for the puppy and caught her by the scruff of the neck. She wriggled and fought his grasp as he climbed upon the stage.

“… and a puppy for our Pemberley!” Pemberley met him and took the puppy into her forelegs, where the puppy immediately calmed and licked the dragon’s face.

Georgiana played a final fanfare and stopped playing.

Applause filled the barn as the audience stood, whistling and calling, “Hurrah!”

But did they cheer for the performance, or because there was not a thirteenth day of Christmas?

Bennet and Little Anne caught Darcy’s hands and pulled him to center stage.

“Thank you for attending our Pemberley Family Theater,” Darcy bowed. “As I understand, a table of refreshments awaits us outside.” Hopefully, it was the right thing to say.

Ring and Dale assisted the audience out while Chisholm took the box of books off stage.

“Did you like it, Papa?” Little Anne asked.

“It was the most memorable pantomime I have ever seen.” And that was wholly true.

“It went ever so well,” Bennet glanced at the stage behind him. “Nothing fell over this time. Everyone did so well.”

Except for the dragon perches, but maybe they intended that. Best not ask what had fallen during their practices, though. “Yes, yes, they did. So much dragon cooperation is quite an accomplishment. I am sure your mother will want to know all about how you managed such a feat.”

“You think so, Papa?” Anne’s face glowed.

“I have no doubt. She is quite impressed. Why do you not go ask her yourself?” He pointed to Elizabeth, who beckoned the children to join her.

Two of the guard drakes helped Quincy and his mate gather the pucklings and guide them off stage. Was that Aunt Catherine’s butler there in the wings? Surely that would help corral the unruly youngsters.

Two more guard drakes attended the wyrms as they licked the trough clean. Gardiner offered more beetles to those who would meet him outside, a sure way to garner their cooperation. From there, Dale would probably see the garden wyrms back to their territory himself.

“All together a very successful performance, I would say,” Ring approached, tossing his gold cape over his shoulder with a flourish. Knowing him, he might just take to wearing it regularly now.

Darcy glanced about the debris littered stage and shrugged, but smiles and laugher lingered as the audience filtered out. So, there was that. “I was hoping to speak to you about this pub you have been hosting…”

“Excellent, excellent. I had hoped for a conversation as well. Quite the reputation we have gained, you know. I am certain today’s events have only strengthened that. Surely a good thing for Pemberley, I would say.”

“I had no idea there was a reputation for the pub at all. I do not adequately understand the nature of your pub endeavor. It is definitely time we spoke—”

“About a name for the place. Yes, my thoughts exactly.” Ring fumbled for a piece of paper under his arm.

“That is not precisely—”

“I had an inspiration during the performance, you see, and I would like your thoughts.” He unfolded the paper and handed it to Darcy.

A pencil sketch of Quincy and his family on and around the treasure chest.

“Nine Pucks, or the Puck’s Hoard, I am not really sure which. But I think it strikes the right tone. What do you think?”

What did he think? Now was not the time for that much honesty. “It sounds like the venue for a touch of Christmas mayhem.”

Ring threw his head back, laughing. “Pucks’ Mayhem? I like that, sir, I truly do. I look forward to discussing it with you tomorrow, then?”

Darcy nodded. Yes, tomorrow. Today, he would enjoy the remaining mayhem, despite his every instinct to quell it. Tomorrow would be soon enough to restore order back to his life.

Somehow.
 

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