The Ballad of Gregoire Darcy (25 page)

Darcy sent for his townhouse and the Bingley house to be opened, but his family came straight to the Maddoxes. Tears fell as Darcy embraced his long-lost wife. To both of them, it seemed as if five days of separation had been months. “He's alive. He will recover.” He added more softly into her ear, so the children could not hear, “He is having a hard time. He has been tossed from the church, and no one knows quite what to say to him.” He added,“Not even me.”

“The Bingleys are here,” she said, kissing him in reassurance. The pain must have been etched on his face. “They did not want to swamp the place.”

“He will be happy to see them, I'm sure,” he said.

“So he is awake?”

“Yes, but he tires easily and cannot be moved.” He would not release his embrace quite yet. “I missed you.”
I needed you
.

“I am here now,” she said. She laced her fingers with his as she stepped back. “And what do you ladies have to say to your papa?”

“Hello, Papa!” they said, and all curtsied—Cassandra making her best attempt at it, this time managing not to fall over.

Behind them, Geoffrey emerged and bowed. “Father.”

“Can we see Uncle Grégoire?”

“Is he still sick?”

“Can he play with us?”

His children's incessant questioning was not an annoyance. If anything, it was a relief. “You may see him—one at a time. He is weak from his illness, so do not overtax him. Now, in order—”

“Aww!” Anne and Sarah said. “You always do that and Geoffrey always wins!”

“I did not say in
which
order of age,” he said. “Cassandra, would you like to see your uncle?”

Cassandra Darcy, who had not seen him in two years and was unlikely to remember anything about him, was nonetheless eager to see the man they were all talking about. “Yes!” She lifted her arms, and Darcy picked her up and kissed her. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too, my darling,” he said. “Geoffrey, watch your sisters. Oh, and I believe Frederick is in his room.”

Geoffrey nodded, leaving Darcy to escort his wife and youngest child into the sickroom. Grégoire had sat up for some time in order to be shaved, but whatever exhaustion was apparent on his face at first dissolved with his smile. “Elizabeth. And is this Cassandra? I… can hardly recognize her, she's grown so much.”

“Uncle Grégoire!” she cried out, somewhat mangling his French name, which sounded more like “Graywar” than “Gregwa.” Apparently, she did remember him, and delighted in playing with his rosary as Elizabeth inquired about his health.

“I am in the care of good Dr. Maddox,” he said, “and, I understand, a Dr. Bertrand and a Mr. Stevens. I don't remember it, but the Prince of Wales was lacking almost his entire staff that night, or so I am told.”

“And yet the monarchy survives,” Elizabeth said.

“Much to the frustration of Parliament,” Darcy added.

The children were paraded in, each in turn, and Grégoire was no less happy to see each one of them. “I remember when you were born,” he said to all three daughters, having had the good fortune of being present at their births. “What is this bracelet?”

Anne held it up. Her wrist was barely large enough to wear it, and he squinted to read the inscription: “To my darling Anne.”

“It was my mother's,” Darcy said proudly, “from our father.”

“It looks beautiful on you,” Grégoire said to his niece.

Geoffrey was last. “Hello, Uncle Grégoire.”

“Do you want me to say how much you've grown?”

“No, sir.”

His uncle grinned. “Then I will not. But you are a sight. And I hope I will never be a ‘sir' to you, nephew,” he said, his voice dragging. By now, Dr. Maddox was awake, and he announced that it was time for them to let his patient rest. Only with Grégoire's reassurance was Darcy willing to leave the Maddox house for the
first time since his arrival and ride to his own, where his staff were waiting to greet him and wish his brother well. He was not feeling particularly sociable, and nodded politely to each well-wisher. Elizabeth and he had luncheon while Nurse took care of the children. Later on, Elizabeth, sensing his anxiety, sat with him alone in their chamber.

“He blames me,” he said at last. “He said it when he was out of his senses from exhaustion and drugs, but it is true.”

“Darcy,” Elizabeth said, taking his hand, “he does not blame you. He is not capable of such a thing.”

“I have done all the things he accused me of. I removed him twice from abbeys where he was happy, and ruined his monastic career by insisting on sending him a fortune every year and then insisting he hide it from his abbot. I have ruined his life.”

“You have
saved
his life,” she said. “We both remember the boy we found in that awful monastery in France.Whatever has befallen him since, I am still grateful we found him and persuaded him to leave. Bavaria had nothing to do with you—it was a matter of politics. And this,” she said. “You were honoring your father's wishes. You were trying to protect him.”

“So easy to explain,” he said. “So logical. And yet he was at death's door when he arrived in Town. He can't sit up for long. He can't stand—”

“All of which will pass—”

“He has nowhere to go. He has nothing.”

Elizabeth leaned into him, letting him rest on her shoulder as they sat on the sofa. “He has us.”

CHAPTER 17

THE BINGLEYS WERE WELCOMED the next day, and Grégoire greeted them with the same affection with which he had greeted his nephew and nieces.

“How is he?” Bingley asked Darcy as the children took their turns.

“Not well,” he said, and that was enough. Charles Bingley nodded as if he understood everything, and went with him into the study as their wives chatted.

To Bingley's surprise, when Dr. Maddox offered them brandy, Darcy actually accepted a glass. The doctor was his usual calm self, and if he made any note of it, he gave no indication. Darcy was a quiet mess, with dark circles around his eyes. It was not unusual for Darcy to suffer in silence when he could do nothing (or did not know how to do something) for a loved one, and Bingley searched for words to say but found none. Darcy's mood would pass as Grégoire grew stronger.

“Bingley,” Brian Maddox said as he entered, “hello. Have you seen Mugin?”

“He said he wanted to walk to London. I hope nothing has happened to him, but I assume if something had, we would have heard some news of it, considering how he's so distinctive.”

Brian actually looked less concerned than Bingley. “He's probably fine, then.You didn't give him any money for the road, did you?”

“Of course I did. For emergencies.”

“Well, you have your answer. He is off spending it.” He smiled. “He will be fine, I assure you. Though I hope he was not any trouble while we were in Spain.”

“No, none at all. He spent most of the time fishing, or at Lambton.”

“You realize the next generation of Lambton bastards will be foreign looking,” Darcy said.

“I'm not going to dignify that with an answer, old man,” Bingley said, noticing his friend had drained his glass. “Anyway, he's good with the children.”

“For a homicidal thug.”

Bingley turned to Darcy and then to Brian, who only replied,“I won't deny it.” Dr. Maddox kept his eyes on his paper as a servant entered the room.

“The Duchess of ____shire has arrived, Dr. Maddox.”

“The who?” Bingley said.

“I think her title amply described her. Doctor, we ought not get in the way of your profession,” Darcy said.

“She is not a patient,” Dr. Maddox said, putting down his paper and pushing his glasses back up his nose. “Has she given a reason?”

“No, sir, but she is talking with your wife.”

Dr. Maddox excused himself to see to his unexpected guest.

“Have you ever met the Duchess of _shire?” Bingley asked Darcy.

“Unfortunately,” was his reply.

Dr. Maddox was met with a shriek from a diminutive, stout lady stuffed poorly into her bodice, standing in the sitting room with Mrs. Maddox.

“I know you! You're that man who's always skulking around Carlton,” said the apparent duchess.

He bowed. “I am His Highness's physician,Your Grace.”

“I did not know that! You've not been very public about it,” she said. She was decked out as if she were about to head to a ball, complete with diamonds and an oversized hat.

“I suppose not,” he said quietly. “I see you've met my wife. Allow me to introduce my brothers, Mr. Maddox and Mr. Bingley.”

“How exotic a family you have,” she said, looking at Brian, who was dressed in his usual outfit, his longer sword held in his right hand. “And Mr. Darcy! Don't go hiding behind the stairs! I remember your first season!”

For she was indeed a bit older than Darcy, maybe in her midfifties. He emerged with his usual emotionless expression. “Your Grace,” he said and bowed.

“You were such a shy boy.Your poor father had to practically drag you to all the dances, and you danced with no one!” If she was aware of the stifled laughter from the other men or Darcy's mortification, she cared not. “I heard you had married—”

“
Mrs.
Darcy, yes,” he said, cutting her off.

It was Caroline Maddox, of all people, who rescued Darcy. “It has been an honor for us to be graced with your presence. Are you making an inquiry?”

“Oh no! I was merely directed here by my little savior! Where did he—Mr.—oh, his name is so strange, I can hardly expect to remember—”

“Mugin?” Brian offered, for just then the lost Japanese man appeared in the doorway. His clothing was soiled from the road but he was not. For some reason, he had a gold chain around his neck. He bowed and removed his shoes, which made him considerably shorter, even shorter than the duchess.

“This wonderful Oriental—oh, I am very thankful!” She grabbed Mugin and pulled him into her full front, which he did not particularly struggle against, but did look a bit uncomfortable.

The little, portly lady continued: “We were coming down the road—my carriage and my maids, of course—and we were attacked by bandits. Bandits! In these years of peace! I suppose that former soldiers have nothing better to do, now that they're not off killing Frenchmen. One of them was even in a shabby, dirty uniform. The coachman tried to fend them off, but he was no match
for six men, and they demanded of me all of my little treasures—even my wedding ring! To take the ring off a widow's finger! I would have lost all of my traveling items, which I intended for the theater next week.

“But then this man, Mr., er,
Munin,
came out of
nowhere
—
the woods,
it must have been—and attacked them—and him with only a sword and them with good English rifles. The same rifles that defeated Napoleon! In fact, he just kicked most of them, and came out from it without a nick.”

She turned to Mugin, who had no particular reaction. “Of course, I was so very grateful—and he was so very muddy from the weather we'd been having, that I offered for him to return with me and get cleaned up. Unfortunately, we could not mend his Japanese fabrics, but he was a most honored guest! And now he insists that I return him—”

“
Orewa, mascoto janai
,” (I am not a pet) Mugin said to Brian.

“So I've given him my husband's chain—he has no use for it now—so why should it not go to my little Asiatic savior?” She grabbed Mugin again and kissed him. He quickly slid out of her grasp, but with a mark on his lips as a battle scar. “I hope you will bring him to at least one ball while he is in the country.”

“If he wishes,” Brian said. “Your Grace.”

“I must be getting on, but here is my card.” She snapped her fingers and her maid handed it to Caroline. “I insist that you come to dinner sometime, now that I am in Town.”

“We will try,” Dr. Maddox said. “Thank you.”

They said their good-byes, and the duchess was shown out.

“You are in my debt, Mr. Darcy,” Caroline said. “Or I will return the call and ask her all about your first Season. Just remember that if I ever have a favor to ask of you.”

“I will remember,” was all he said, and disappeared to check on his brother. The other men returned to Dr. Maddox's study.

“So,” Brian said, “you came to the rescue of the duchess?”

Mugin shrugged and opened his bag. “I fight. Not get many
chances in England.” He unceremoniously dumped a pile of jewelry and expensive trinkets on the desk. “How do you say—for money?”