“I have seen the risk. The London school serves poor families. We lose children to illness.” I puffed a sigh, wondering what to say next. This was important, but not why I had asked to walk with her.
We entered a small public park. A seawall abutted the river. Couples wandered arm-in-arm. I gathered my courage.
“Let us sit for a moment,” I said and dropped on a bench so suddenly that Mary overshot by several paces. She returned and sat by me.
I squeezed her gloved hand. “In our conversation last night, you said you could not tell me what was wrong. You are no happier today.” Mary eyed me warily. “Do you remember the ball when you accused me of being complacent?”
“Lizzy. I was angry.”
“You wereright. You are never complacent. I admire that about you.” She smiled hesitantly, and I took a breath. “My complacency affected my relationships. My… romances. I was blind to other people’s feelings. So, I am resolved to do better. To see others more clearly. I have rejoiced to see you joyful these last months. When you are suddenly so sad, I can guess why.”
After a silence, Mary gave a shaky half-laugh. “I am not brave enough for this discussion.”
“You and I have overcome trials before. My loyalty is to my sister, no matter the circumstances.” I tightened my grip on her hand. “But it is a serious situation. I know that Dr. Davenport is married.”
Mary stared at me with the most perfectly stunned disbelief I had ever witnessed. Then she burst into laughter.
“What?” I said.
“Oh, Lizzy.” She hooted through a hand clapped on hermouth. “Oh my.”
“What is so amusing?” I said uncertainly.
“The irony. Or the relief.” She pulled off her spectacles and wiped her eyes. “Dear Lizzy. You do see clearly. I am in love.” Her cheeks flushed, and she became still. “I have never said that. To anyone.”
“Evidently, you are not in love with Dr.Davenport,” I said, then hoped that had not sounded cross. I was dismayed I had been so mistaken.
“No.”
“Well, who then?” I ran through acquaintances in my mind. Mary rarely discussed men. The few she mentioned, she knew through Georgiana, like Mr. Knightley.
Mary settled her spectacles in place. “Unexpectedly, this has been profoundly clarifying. I think it is wrong for me to tell you before I have… before I say all I can to the person I care for.” She sighed. “More likely, I am a coward.”
“You are the bravest woman I know.” It felt good to speak from my heart and not puzzle with my brain.
She hugged me and whispered, “You may see the truth before I am brave enough to speak.” She threw her head back and took several huge breaths. “It is beautiful here.”
The park was a small square with skeletons of rose bushes, bedraggled hedges, and snow stomped into mud. Across the street, a row of run-down tenements bustled as men set out to their jobs. The day had grown colder, the silver of the sky darkening a shade.
I patted her gloved hand. My sister was in love. “Yes,” I said.
A songbird swooped to a deft landing at Mary’s feet. It had gorgeous blue feathers with aquamarine edges, iridescent as a peacock. But its beak was strange—a tiny muzzle covered with sapphire scales. Its entire face was a jeweled mask. I checked the feet. Ebony claws, wickedly hooked. “That is a draca. Afeathereddraca.”
“Yes,” Mary said. “Georgiana and I have seen him before. He lands at the window when we compose. Listen.” She whistled three notes. The draca’s head flicked back and forth, then he sang the notes, sounding rather woodwind and revealing needle-like teeth.
“I have never heard of a feathered draca,” I said.
“I found references in a Chinese scroll.”
I looked at her in surprise. “You readChinesenow?”
“Georgiana taught me the characters she knows, but that is a few dozen. Itwas the drawing I recognized.” She whistled another pattern, and the draca repeated it. “He is drawn to the wyfe of song.”
“He is drawn toyou,” I said. His attention had been on Mary the entire time.
Mary opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. She could hardly disagree when Georgiana was not present.
“You see?” I said. “Mary Bennet is far from mundane.”
