• The Darcy children and dragon Friends return for another installment of Christmas chaos!
• December 25, 1827
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The Darcy children and dragon Friends return for another installment of Christmas chaos!

December 25, 1827

After the pudding, Mrs. Sharp gathered the children and took them upstairs to roast apples and toast, and play games in the family parlor. The other nursery maids would assist her while the adults enjoyed their own company in the drawing room. As soon as the children departed, every adult at the table collapsed into helpless peals of laughter. All consideration of good manners aside who could possibly blame them?

Darcy pulled Elizabeth aside. “Pray, my dear, will you excuse me for a little while?”

“You want to go see Ring, I imagine?” Elizabeth had that all-knowing look on her face.

“Given the children’s story, it seems prudent.”

“I am afraid I agree.” She bit her upper lip and glanced over his shoulder, halfway between laughing and fretting. “ I am sure I can keep our family entertained whilst you … both … are off on such an important task of dragon Keeping.”

“Both?” From the corner of his eye, he saw Richard just behind him. Darcy took her hand and held it to his cheek. “Thank you for understanding. We will return as soon as possible.”

Richard followed Darcy out. They gathered his coats, hats, and lanterns and headed outside.

“Can you imagine, Ring trying to make a Christmas pudding?” Richard chuckled.

“I am afraid I can, that is the problem. He has the best of intentions, but they often turn into … well, you saw that panto last year.”

“I will never forget that Christmas panto. I think we should consider ourselves lucky that they did not want to revive it this year.”

“Who is to say that they did not.” Darcy paused to give Richard a knowing look.

“You did not forbid them, did you?”

“Elizabeth merely suggested larger minor dragons on the estate would so enjoy receiving carolers. That was enough to set them practicing day and night. Unfortunately, sore throats and rain kept them from their endeavor. That might explain some of their anxiety over the pudding.”

 “All told, it is rather endearing that the children would go to such lengths to remedy the problem. Is it not?”

“Endearing, yes, I cannot disagree.” Darcy pinched his temples.  “But I am a wee bit worried what could happen if they should take it in their heads to deal with something more serious than a missing pudding.”

“You have only yourselves to blame, you know. Neither you nor your wife are exactly shrinking violets when it comes to dealing with issues. It could be considered quite your fault that I—”

Darcy held up his hand for silence. “Great heavens, what is that noise?” He held the lantern out in the direction of the small barn.

“I dread to say it, but it sounds like a number of dragons enjoying a raucous night at the pub, which is, I might add, the sort of thing I would have never thought to hear myself to say.”

Darcy threw up a hand and doubled his pace toward the pub.

The large barn doors were flung open, the window shutters propped open, and lantern light poured out into the night.

Ring met them a dozen steps out. “Sir Fitzwilliam, Sir Richard, what an honor it is to have you call upon us this evening. We are just about to serve the Christmas pudding your children so kindly prepared for us.”

“For you? That is not the story they told me.” Darcy grumbled. It would be nice if he could get a single, reliable story about what was going on.

“It was intended for the house to be sure, but when I went to deliver it, I was assured that the family’s pudding was already on its platter for service tonight. The Cook assured me that it would be right and proper for me to serve this one at the pub.”

“I see.”

“Is that a problem, sir? I am sure telling them that it is not available will not create too much wide-spread disappointment.”

“Pudding! Pudding! Pudding!” A foot-stomping chant rolled out into the night.

“Not a problem at all.” Darcy held up an open hand. “I just wonder if your clientele will find it appealing. As I understand, it may not all have gone according to plan.”

“Not to worry, you would be surprised what the average dragon can enjoy eating.” Ring led them inside. “Especially if it is something usually forbidden them.”

Wooden stage dressings from last year’s panto lined the walls, including four images of Ring himself—five golden Rings, as it were.  Admittedly it was a clever joke, but Ring seems to like it a bit too much.

“Shall I bring out the pudding?” a shepherding drake—Tawny, was it?—trundled out to ask.

“Yes, do so! Pray come in and join us, Sir Fitzwilliam.” Ring bowed low.

“Keeper!” Pemberley bounded up to them. She would not fit comfortably inside the small barn for very much longer, but for now she enjoyed the opportunity to informally engage with the minor dragons of her Keep. “Come see! I am to flame the pudding!”

“Perhaps, in the interest of all concerned, it would be best for you to do that outside.” Richard pointed to a mostly bare spot on the ground near the barn.

Good thought.

“You do not think I can control my flame?”

Actually, that was exactly it. Despite her practice, Pemberley still lacked reliable control. “A firedrake’s flame makes smaller dragons nervous. I think it will be less fearsome outside, where there are clear routes of escape.”

Pemberley sat back on her haunches and cocked her head, thinking. “Yes, that seems smart. Ring, you lead them outside?”

“Of course, Vicontes.” Ring bowed, a habit he had apparently learned from Pemberley’s butler, who often made an appearance at the Puck’s Hoard to keep Darcy abreast of the goings-on there. He fetched the pudding from behind the bar.

A group of at least a dozen dragons of various sorts and sizes followed Pemberley and Ring out to the bare patch Richard had identified.

“Step back, I will set out the pudding.” Ring unwrapped the pudding cloth, spread it on the ground and laid the pudding atop it. “Vicontes, if you will do the honors.” Ring scooted out of the way, carefully behind Pemberley.

Darcy and Richard did the same.

Pemberley filled her chest with a deep breath, hiccupped, and belched a solid jet of flame at the blob of pudding on the ground.

Since it had not been soaked in brandy, the pudding did not light the way one would have expected. A few of the ragged edges caught flame though and burnt those bits to cinders. The cloth beneath scorched and smoked.

“Is that enough?” Pemberley coughed a bit of smoke out.

“I should think so.” Ring said. “What is done next?”

“Generally, we eat it.” Richard said softly and stepped back.

“Eat!” One of the dragons in the crowd shouted, and they all descended upon the pudding as though they had not eaten in months.

Bits of pudding went flying. Perhaps one of the wyrms did too, flung out of the way for one of the cockatrice. A lesser cockatrix dove into the mix, retreating again with a mass of pudding snatched in her claws. In short order, only cinders, and a few shreds of the pudding cloth remained.

“Good Lord, Darcy!” Richard whispered through his teeth. “Have you ever seen such a thing?”

“Good! Good!” A pair of forest wyrms cried. “Can do again?”

“Do you mind if this becomes a Christmas tradition?” Ring asked.

Darcy shrugged. “I … I suppose there is no harm in it.”

“Excellent, but pray,” Ring clasped his front paws together, “do not tell the children, I would like to surprise them with it next year.”

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