The children and Jane giggled as Mr. Bingley made a flourishing bow before lowering himself to his knees, taking Jane’s hand.
Clearing his throat theatrically, he proclaimed, “Miss Bennet, the sunshine princess of Gracechurch Street. I am not a man of long speeches or wit, but I have loved you since that first assembly when I saw you across that hot, cramped room. And you have proven yourself the kindest, goodest, and most precious princess the sun has ever shone on. Will you, Miss Bennet, make this dragon the happiest, friendliest dragon of Kingdom Cheapside by agreeing to marry me?”
“Yes, yes!” shouted Rose, clapping her hands. “Sir Bertram, did you see that? You will marry me, too, won’t you?”
“Rose, shush,” Alice hissed, scribbling in her sketch pad, no doubt capturing the moment.
Jane’s face shone radiantly as she took both of Mr. Bingley’s hands and nodded. “Yes, yes, dear Charles. I will marry you.” And I stood at her side, blinking and watching her accept the love that was offered without regret, and her face was the beauty of a goddess that carried her through four months of silence without recrimination for her beloved friendly dragon.
Mrs. Gardiner gave her blessing, the children cheered, and while they did not kiss, given the presence of children, they stood there beaming at each other as if the months of waiting and grey days were simply absent.
I embraced my sister and wept, possibly more for my own sad state than happiness for her. Mrs. Gardiner dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief and said she had always known, and the children celebrated by attempting to dress Sir Bertram in a wedding bonnet fashioned from a napkin and a piece of lace.
We went into the garden. All of us: Jane and Bingley, Mrs. Gardiner, the children, Sir Bertram, and I. The sun was thin but willing, and the garden looked almost pretty with the daffodils pushing through.
“Mr. Bingley, where is the sad dragon?” Samuel asked, skipping at his side. “Is he at Pemberley?”
This twist caught me by surprise. The children had made up a story about Darcy in his absence. Mrs. Gardiner set about clipping daffodils, and Bingley settled on a rock with Alice, Rose, and Samuel gathered around. Jane held Thomas, showing him the budding leaves, and I picked up Sir Bertram and held him in my lap, admiring the patterns on his hard shell.
“There was once a castle very like Pemberley, but we shall call it Dragonstone, because there was also a very sad dragon,” Bingley began. “He was sad because he was lonely.”
“How come he isn’t friends with the friendly dragon?” asked Samuel.
“I’ll get there.” Bingley laughed. “This dragon was sad because he is responsible.”
“That’s a big word,” Alice noted. “Why is he responsible?”
“Because he must guard everyone he loves. He guarded his castle. He guarded his tortoise, Sir Bertram; he guarded his friends, but most of all, he guarded himself.”
“Why?”
“The sad dragon had a terrible secret,” Bingley’s voice dropped conspiratorially. “He was frightened.”
“Dragons are not frightened,” Samuel objected.
“This one was. He was frightened because he did not know how to talk to people without roaring, and every time he roared, the people ran away, and every time the people ran away, the dragon decided that roaring must be the correct approach, since nobody stayed long enough to tell him otherwise.”
Rose leaned against Bingley’s chest and sucked her thumb. “Was the tortoise his friend?
“Sir Bertram was his only friend. They had known each other for sixty years, and Sir Bertram never ran away, because tortoises are far too sensible to be frightened by noise. He simply pulled his head in and waited until the roaring stopped, and then he came back out and ate a strawberry, and the dragon felt better.”
“What happened next?” Alice set down her pencil.
“One day the dragon met a princess.”
“The sunshine princess?” Samuel jumped up in recognition, pointing to Jane.
“No, not the sunshine princess. This princess was sharp and had excellent aim with an apple. When the sad dragon roared, she threw an apple into his mouth and told him that his roaring was rude, his fire unnecessary, and his scales needed polishing. And the dragon, who had never been spoken to that way, was so astonished that he stopped roaring and just… stood there. Looking at her.”
“Did the princess like him?” Rose whispered.
“The princess thought he was the worst dragon she had ever met. She told him so, repeatedly, with great eloquence. But the dragon did something that surprised everyone, most of all himself. He gave Sir Bertram away.”
“Why?”
“Because there was another princess—a very beautiful one, the one the dragon had done a bad thing to, and the tortoise was his way of saying sorry. He carried Sir Bertram all the way across the kingdom to a house full of children who needed him, and the dragon visited every week to bring strawberries and clean the tortoise’s shell, but really, he came because the sharp princess was there, and he could not seem to stop coming.”
“Did the dragon tell the truth?” Alice asked, and her eyes darted to me.
