The Ballad of Gregoire Darcy (27 page)

Nearly two weeks after his arrival in England, Grégoire had some surprise guests. Mary and Joseph Bennet traveled from Longbourn, bringing regards from Mr. and Mrs. Bennet (who no longer traveled) and Mr. and Mrs. Townsend. They happened to arrive on the day when his stitches were being pulled, and had to wait some time to see him. Mary passed the time with Elizabeth and Mrs. Maddox while Joseph played with Frederick. It could not be said that Mary Bennet had livened up, but she no longer had the same tendency to go on moralistic rants, as they bored her most important audience, her son. Instead, she'd been forced to tell more interesting tales as part of his education, and so expanded her own reading tastes to find them. She did not read Gothic novels, but she read Shakespeare as often as Hannah More, and there were always the comings and goings of Hertfordshire to chat about.

Meanwhile, Dr. Bertrand had been called in to help make absolutely sure nothing went wrong, as the work was rather extensive, to the point where they gave Grégoire a dose of medicine. He bled a little, but said nothing, and was already drifting off as they dressed the wounds. “An excellent patient, as always, Grégoire,” Dr. Maddox said. “He is quite a tough man,” he said to Bertrand as they exited the room, letting him rest.

“Indeed,” Dr. Bertrand said, and if he had anything else to add, it was interrupted by the appearance of an eight-year-old boy with black hair and slightly olive skin.

“Can I see Mr. Grégoire now?”

“No, Mr. Bennet. Sadly, you will have to wait a bit longer, as he is resting. And where are your manners?” Dr. Maddox said, and bowed to him, and the little Bennet returned the bow. “Mr. Bennet,
allow me to present my colleague, Dr. Andrew Bertrand. Andrew, this is Joseph Bennet.

“
Is he nice?
” Joseph asked in Italian.

“
I like to think I am
,” Bertrand replied in that same language, to Joseph's horror.

Dr. Maddox did not hide his smile. “Do not presume there are none so learned in the language arts as you, young Master Bennet.”

“
Dites-lui que je suis désolé
,” (Tell him I'm sorry) Joseph said shyly in French to Dr. Maddox.

“
Vous pouvez le dire vous meme
,” (You can say it yourself) Dr. Bertrand replied. Joseph looked as if he would have liked to run away, but Bertrand only smiled. “I have a French name, you know. And all of the civilized world must speak it, apparently.”

“Do you know Latin?”

“I had to learn it for my exams at University,” he replied amiably.

“It's
hard
.”

Dr. Bertrand knelt down to his level. “I did not know four languages when I was your age, Mr. Bennet. If I had tried, I would have found it
very
hard.”

“Joseph!” came a cry as Mary Bennet hurried into the room, curtsying to both of them. “Dr. Maddox, I apologize—”

He waved it off. “It is fine. This is Dr. Bertrand, who is assisting me with Grégoire. And the Prince Regent.”

She curtsied again as she pulled her son to her. “I am sorry if my son interrupted your conversation. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

He bowed. “You as well, Mrs. Bennet.”

“Miss Bennet,” she corrected with a shy smile, and excused herself, dragging Joseph with her.

“Good-bye!” Joseph said and waved.

Dr. Bertrand waved back. “The father is Spanish?” he asked Dr. Maddox.

“Italian,” Dr. Maddox said, and then slapped his forehead. “Oh, I forgot. I was supposed to say he was an Englishman who died in the war.”

Bertrand nodded. “Of course.”

“You understand.”

“I never heard otherwise. All kinds of things happened in the war. All sorts of confusion.”

“Yes,” Dr. Maddox said. “You wanted that recipe. If you will wait a moment, I need to retrieve it.”

“Of course.”

Dr. Maddox left Bertrand and climbed a flight of stairs, only to find his wife hiding in a doorway at the top. “Invite him to dinner!”

“What?”

“I said, invite him to dinner! Are you deaf?”

“No. All right, I'll invite him to dinner. But I already know he can't do it tonight. Regent's schedule and all that.”

She frowned. “Well, what about tomorrow?”

“I don't know his whole social schedule.”

“Well,
ask him!
”

“Yes, yes,” he said, not seeing a reason to put up an argument with his wife. As he reached for his laboratory keys, he said, “May I ask why?”

“Because Miss Bennet will be in town for only a week.”

“So?”

She shook her head. “Your sex is so mentally dense that I wonder sometimes if there's any brain up there at all. Perhaps you are all moving on instinct.” Before he could reply, she hurried down the stairs and rejoined her female guests.

Dr. Maddox shrugged to himself, unlocked the laboratory door, quickly wrote down the recipe, and relocked the door before returning to the main level. “Here you go. Oh, and are you available for dinner tomorrow night? Mrs. Maddox
insists
on inviting you.”

No bachelor in his right mind would turn down a good meal. “Thank you. Usual time, I assume.”

“Yes.”

They said their good-byes, and Dr. Maddox turned curiously to the sitting room, where he could hear the Bennet sisters and his wife talking. He could not make out the words.

“Huh,” was all he said as the plan slowly revealed itself to him. He shook his head.
Mrs. Maddox and her schemes
.

Never one to intrude on female conversation, he made his way to Grégoire's room, where he found the door already open and Joseph Bennet sitting in the chair beside Grégoire's bed.

Dr. Bertrand did return for dinner the following evening to find Darcy in the parlor. “Dr. Bertrand.”

“Mr. Darcy.”

“I am in your debt, Dr. Bertrand, for what you've done for my brother.”

“He is a fighter, Mr. Darcy.”

That did not elicit a smile from Mr. Darcy, but as Bertrand had quickly learned, Darcy almost never smiled. The best he had ever seen was a little half grin. “We have quite a party tonight. My wife and her sister are here, as well as the other Maddoxes, of course. Speaking of which—”

Brian Maddox, who was wearing black robes and only his short sword, and an Oriental gentleman, Mr. Mugin, entered. “Dr. Bertrand. Darcy,” Brian said.

They exchanged greetings as the door to Grégoire's room opened and a young man emerged, maybe ten and four by his height. From inside, a conversation in very broken Latin, between a child (presumably Joseph Bennet) and Grégoire could be heard.

“Dr. Bertrand, if you have not already met him, allow me to introduce my nephew, Mr.Wickham,” Darcy said proudly. Mr. Wickham bowed and mumbled a shy greeting before exiting.

“Is he your nephew by your wife?” Dr. Bertrand asked.

“Yes,” Mr. Darcy said. “But there are many former Bennets. My wife has four sisters, one of whom is married to Charles Bingley, whose sister is Mrs. Maddox.”

“So we are all connected,” Brian said. “Distantly.”

“Four sisters? What about brothers?”

“None. Just five daughters of Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, who live in Hertfordshire,” said Brian.

Dr. Bertrand knew enough about English property law to see the problem there. “They are close in age?”

“One after another. If you want the full story, you'll have to ask Mr. Bingley, who unfortunately isn't here tonight. Darcy won't tell it because apparently it involves a rejected proposal.”

Darcy replied only with a cold stare and then pointedly turned to gaze out the window as Dr. Maddox joined them. “Dinner is served. Or is about to be. Honestly, I have no idea how this house runs.”

Andrew Bertrand liked dining with the Maddoxes. Dr. Maddox, when he was not shy or overly formal, as he was when speaking to a patient, was a cheerful man, clearly happy with his station in life. His wife was a bit haughty, and did not mind teasing her husband, but always in a friendly way. How they had ever come together, Bertrand had no idea. Mr. Maddox, despite his appearance, was an overly gregarious Englishman, far more talkative than his brother and with far more to tell. His wife, Princess Nadezhda, was quiet at first, and then quite open when not among strangers and did not hesitate to express her opinions. She seemed to endlessly exchange glances with her loving husband, and so the foursome made for good company.

Tonight, they were joined by Mr. and Mrs. Darcy. Mrs. Darcy was lively and witty, and her husband was reserved but amiable. He was suffering the strain of having had a beloved brother at death's door. The addition to the table was Miss Bennet, who resembled her sister in some ways, but was not the same at all.

It did not take him long to figure out the plan. However, he respected Daniel Maddox, and he trusted him not to throw him into the fire. Besides, if Andrew had stayed at home, his parents would have done the same. He had sat at many dinners with many friends of his parents and their young daughters.

Miss Bennet neither fawned over him nor showed disgust with her relatives about the unexpected dinner guest. Her manners were
mild, but she was not silent, and not afraid to speak up on any matter religious. He judged, based on her quotations, that she bordered on Evangelical—she was certainly no Methodist—or had been Evangelical at some point in her life. However, she was not obnoxious about it. From what he gathered from snippets of conversation, she had studied in a French seminary about nine years earlier. Usually, daughters of gentlemen engaged themselves in frivolous society concerns. Or they studied religion in a vague and sentimental way. But Mary seemed to be a scholar, even of traditional Catholic texts. Andrew Bertrand, a lapsed Catholic by circumstance, was impressed.

The dinner, he thought, went well. If anyone was pushing Mary on, it was subtle, or she was reluctant to comply. She could, however, be engaged in conversation. Unfortunately, the conversation ended with dessert, as after-dinner entertainment did not interest the Darcys. Princess Nadezhda never sang or played in mixed company (she was very modest). And Mugin usually left to do whatever it was he did at night after saying several things in Japanese that Brian would refuse to translate. Dr. Bertrand had to leave anyway, to attend His Highness at Carlton, so the party was dissolved without the usual port and gossip, and he left to go to work, hoping there would be no medical disasters that evening. He already knew that his mind would be elsewhere.

For Mary Bennet, who was staying with the Darcys, her mind was not on its usual track either. She held her tongue until she saw Joseph to bed. Then she unleashed her fury on her sister, whom she found reading in the library.

“Do not ever subject me to that again!”

“What?” Elizabeth said innocently.“Was the company so objectionable? I thought you liked the Maddoxes.”

“You know very well what I mean,” Mary said, sitting down in a huff.

“If he was really so unappealing, then yes, you have no reason to see him again, except by happenstance. However, you did not seem so inclined during the meal.”

“I was being polite!”

“There were many guests at the table, all near or distant relatives, with whom you could have made conversation—or none at all, if you really wished.”

Mary fumed silently.

“Please, if you object to Dr. Bertrand, I would be most interested in what you have to say. I would wish any distraction these days.”

“I—I have no
objections,
but you know that is not the point.”

“If you have no objections, then there is no point.”

“I'm a mother,” she said, “with a
young child
.”