In which Bennet is unconvinced.

Anne perched on the edge of the short, white table in the attic’s corner nursery. Every time she returned from school, the room felt shorter and smaller. As though she belonged here less and less. Eventually, she would not fit at all as the chairs became too short, and the table too squat to accommodate her knees underneath. The rocking horse and dollhouse no longer held her interest. And there was not a book on the shelf worth her while to read.

No, she definitely did not belong here anymore.

“Wassailing? You want to go Wassailing?” Bennet scoffed, rolling his eyes.

Now a full twelve years old, and home from school on his holidays, he tried to put on an air of dignity and importance that he had not earned. Someone needed to remind him he was not the eldest—even if he was to inherit Pemberley. Nor was he the most learned—she had been in school longer than he. He was most certainly not the smartest—one only had to listen to his blathering to realize that. And he certainly was not the best, no matter what he thought of himself.

He did not even have a dragon Friend yet. She was the only one of the Darcy children to have a Friend. Cousin Thomas, Aunt Collins’ eldest son, had a Friend. Aunt Fitzwilliam’s eldest also had a Friend. That meant the three of them in a kindred sort of society that Bennet was not part of.

And it did not look like it would change any time soon. He was too busy for a Friend, too impatient to deal with the time of great hunger. Not to mention, his school had no provisions for Friends. Which meant any Friend would have to remain at home while Bennet continued his education. And that was no way to treat a Friend.

He sat in one of the small white chairs near the table, his knees pushed up into his chest. He looked as uncomfortable as she felt.

“Yes, I said wassailing.” Anne crossed her arms over her chest.

“But why? I do not see the point of it. It is not generally done in our region.”

“Why does that matter? It is what ordinary people do during the holiday time and I want to do it.”

“It is a custom of the South and West. There must be a reason that people do not do it here.” He tried to put on Father’s authoritative expression, but it just looked silly on him.

“Are you saying that means it is wrong?”

“Not wrong, but … unusual. And if you are looking to do something normal, then it makes little sense to go wassailing.”

“Wassailing is normal for many people.”

“So is having an estate full of dragons. But that does not seem normal enough for you!” Bennet turned away and harrumphed, tossing his head for good measure. Wrenching around in the tiny chair did nothing for his dignity.

“You are jealous that I had an idea that you did not come up with yourself.”

“I think it is a stupid pastime and I will not participate.”

“That is fine. I only invited you out of courtesy anyway. We will be better off without your company.”

“We? Who is in this ‘we’?” How he hated being left out of anything!

“George, Frances and I. They think the idea is lovely and they will join me.”

“They are babies and know no better.”

“We are not!” George stormed in, Frances trailing behind. “I will be going to the vicar’s school next year, and then to the same school you are attending. I am no baby!” George looked a very great deal like Uncle Fitzwilliam, more so when he was stomping about declaring how things would be.

“Me neither. Mrs. Sharpe is teaching me to read and I can write all the names of all the dragons on Pemberley. Babies cannot write. I am not a baby, either!” Frances lifted her head high and crossed her arms over her chest. She had mama’s eyes and Aunt Fitzwiliam’s sense of fun.

“We both think Anne has a good idea and we will support her in it.” George stepped to Anne’s side, shoulders back and chin up.

“You are going to follow her?” Bennet sneered.

Oh, that was a step too far. Just a step too far. “Mother will find out you said that.” Mama’s draconic sensibilities were not wise to cross.

“I suppose you are going to tell her?”

“I do not have to. You know there are dragons everywhere in Pemberley. At least one of them heard you, probably several. And you know about their loyalty to the Lady Sage—”

“I said nothing about Mama. They have nothing to report.” Bennet puffed his chest, but worried lines furrowed his brow.

“But you implied that her leadership was—”

“I said nothing about her—I was talking about you. Whatever you may want to believe, you are not her.” Bennet leaned toward her as his words turned sharp and clipped.

“True. I could never pretend to be.” It would be his tactic to poke at her the same way the girls at school did. “But while you may be the heir to Pemberley, I will be the heir to her seat on the Council.”

Bennet jumped to his feet. “There is no such thing! Council seats are not inherited. Keeps are.”

“But replacements, heirs if you will, can be designated for training so they are prepared to step into roles. It makes the Council stronger that way.” And just last year, Anne had gained the counsel’s approval to study with Mama in her capacity as Dragon Sage.

Bennet narrowed his eyes and stuck out his tongue. He hated to be reminded that it was Anne who had inherited Mama’s way with dragons, not him. And that she might well outrank him in the Order someday.

He was more like Papa, business-minded, taciturn at times, but entirely trustworthy. There was nothing wrong with that. He just did not like having to share importance with anyone, especially a sister.

“I do not have to listen to this. Go make your own fun and be fools yourselves. I have more important matters to attend to.” Bennet stomped out, slamming the door behind him. Mrs. Sharpe would seek him out for a sound scolding for that.

“He is different after coming home from this term at school.” George frowned and dropped into the chair Bennet had left. It fit George much better.

“He does not like us anymore.” Frances said.

“He does not like anyone. Maybe not even himself.” Anne frowned thoughtfully as she dragged the rocking horse close to the table and perched upon it.

“I don’t understand.” George’s crestfallen face tugged at Anne’s heart. Bennet was his hero, and he felt Bennet’s attitude and abandonment the most.

“I think, and of course I do not know for certain, but I think,” Anne stared at the closed, white-painted door. “He is finding his dominance challenged at school, and he does not like it.”

“He is not a dragon.” Frances rocked the horse gently.

“None of us are, and yet Mama said we warm-bloods fight for dominance as much as dragons do. And we dislike having it challenged, just as much as the dragons.”

“But he is at school. That is no one’s territory. At the vicar’s school, we learned about territory. A school is shared space, like common land. It belongs to no one. And even if it did, it would be the headmaster’s territory, not a student’s.” George pulled his shoulder back, proud of his learning.

“That is true, but that does not stop anyone from parading around and trying to claim what is not theirs. We have heard it often enough amongst the fairy dragons, the wyrms, even a few of the forest drakes have done that. The territory is Pemberley’s, everyone knows that. But they try to take a stand and carve out a little piece of it for themselves. Warm-bloods are like that too.”

“But why does the school allow it? Ours does not. The vicar’s wife is oh so very insistent that the bigger boys do not lord it over the smaller ones.”

“I suppose it might be because it is a smaller school, intent upon teaching the foundations of good dragon Keeping. That is very different from the school Bennet is going to. Bennet will go to university, and he needs to know Latin and the like. I thought he had already learned about dominance and territory and minor dragons from the vicar’s school. But maybe he’s forgotten those lessons.” Mrs. Fieldings never let her charges forget those ideals, but who knew what happened at Bennet’s school?

“Well, I will not. You can be assured of that. I don’t want to go to university. I just want to Keep a dragon.”

Now was not the time to remind George that he was a younger son, and there might well not be an estate with a dragon for him to Keep. He should know that, though. But that was Mama and Papa’s problem, not hers.

Maybe he could find a place for himself as a solicitor and serve as an agent of the Order. He could be indirectly involved in dragon Keeping that way.

“What about the wassailing?” Frances asked. “Does this mean we are not going to do it?”

“Of course not! We three will go. Come along, we will stop by the kitchen first. Mrs. Reynolds has set the things we need aside for us. Then we will see Ring about the preparations.”

Watch for part 5 next week! Catch up with prior chapters here.

While you wait, check these out!

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Want to spend a little longer in Christmas past?

Discover the real traditions of the Regency holiday season in A Jane Austen Christmas, or join Elizabeth and Darcy for a festive visit to Pemberley in The Darcys’ First Christmas. After all, reading about a Regency Christmas is delightful. Spending one with the Darcys might be even better.