The Ballad of Gregoire Darcy (4 page)

ALTHOUGH ELIZABETH DARCY privately held the opinion that
her
children had been the most beautiful babies in the world, she said otherwise as this particular newborn flailed his tiny limbs around. “He is the most adorable boy I've ever seen.” And Viscount Robert Kincaid was indeed a little treasure, still rather pink and often refusing to open his eyes. His hair—what little of it there was—was brown, like his father's.

Lady Georgiana Kincaid (née Darcy) beamed with motherly pride, as could only be expected, and well deserved after the nerveracking and life-threatening experience that was labor. Despite everyone's fears, all went well, and Baby Kincaid came into the world after just six hours of labor. Within only four days, Georgiana was well enough to stand at the christening, with her brother and sister as godparents.

The Darcys had arrived in the last weeks of Georgiana's confinement, children and all. The mansion was not how Elizabeth remembered it—it had been renovated to be more livable, but you could make a castle only so modern. Lord Kincaid was in fine form. He was good at hiding his nerves, expressing them mainly in fencing with Darcy and Geoffrey. The latter had recently been allowed to take up the sport and seemed to relish it with his father's old enthusiasm. Between Darcy having to fight on his weak side and Geoffrey's age and inexperience, Kincaid easily bested them both,
but was good enough to make it not seem as such. Darcy was not so much determined to see his son a fighter as he was to see the future master of Pemberley engage in all forms of masculine activity, and not be overwhelmed by the influence of three younger sisters. Fitzwilliam Darcy loved all of his children as much as a father possibly could, but there were moments when they were all in a room together that he felt he could sympathize with Mr. Bennet. And his daughters weren't even near puberty yet. He didn't wish to imagine it.

Darcy had worried obsessively about Georgiana's state during her entire pregnancy. He had been relieved that she did not conceive during the first few years of marriage, and the earl did not seem to mind in the least. When she did conceive, she was five and twenty, and it was obvious that she was ready, physically and emotionally. Still, during her labor, he had to steel himself with a full glass of whiskey. Their mother had died giving birth to her. He had little memory of the labor—it was a woman's thing—and had been thoroughly confused by this small thing that was supposed to be his sister, though where in the world she had come from, the young Master Fitzwilliam could not tell and no one had enlightened him. But when his mother had taken ill the next day, he noticed. He would have stayed with her, but they mostly kept him out of her room. He saw her only twice before her death two days later. He had lost his mother and was left with this tiny thing that made noises but did not seem as though it would ever be a person. It was not a fair trade. Only his father could assure him that some good had come of it, and as Georgiana grew to be his darling sister, he came to believe him.

Georgiana did survive the labor, and by all appearances remained in good health as Darcy held his new nephew in his arms. William Kincaid stayed with Georgiana as soon as he was allowed back in the room, even while she slept and he sat awake. It was a happy time for all of them. Only one person was missing.

“Mr. Darcy,” Lord Kincaid said to him on the third day, “I've
asked for a painter to come and make a small portrait of Georgiana and Robert for her brother. Do you think he would take it?”

“I think he would love it,” he said. “I will send it with my next correspondence, as soon as you say it is prepared. Did you tell Georgiana?”

“Not yet.”

“I'm sure she will be glad to hear it.”

Grégoire was missed, but by all accounts he was happy in Spain and very busy there, working with the community. When he could arrange it, he would escape the hot Spanish summer to England, but that didn't happen every year. Surely, this year, with the birth of a nephew, he would get permission.

The Darcys stayed for the christening and for the next few weeks. Georgiana would not be traveling for some time and was reluctant to have them leave. Elizabeth found herself unaccustomed to being without her sister, especially with Mr. Bingley abroad, but Jane was in London with her children, and the Hursts stayed with her, and of course the Maddoxes were in Town until the Prince left for Brighton. The Bingleys (sans Mr. Bingley) would be traveling to Longbourn for the summer as soon as Georgiana Bingley returned. Jane had been cajoled into allowing her daughter to accompany Princess Maddox to Ireland for a brief tour of the coast. The princess had never been to Ireland without her husband nor had Georgie been there without her father so they stuck together while Mr. Bingley and Mr. Maddox made a business trip to Japan (with a stop in India). Their last correspondence had been from a post office in Johannesburg, to say their ship had rounded Africa's coast safely. Beyond that, correspondence would be unlikely, as it would move no faster than they would.

The adults adjusted to the scattering of the family with the knowledge that it was brief, but the children, so accustomed to one another, complained bitterly. Geoffrey was not eager to go to Scotland. He had already lost Georgie and now he would not have Charles, only three younger sisters. Lord Kincaid, whom he
had always liked, filled that void to some extent, although Geoffrey remained frustrated that the man he had to spar with was so much taller than he was.

“One day, my boy, you'll grow as tall as your father and you'll be ducking under doorways and bumping your head,” his uncle said. “So don't go complainin' now. You'll hit it soon enough.”

Geoffrey scowled, but his uncle was right. Geoffrey was twelve. His voice had already dropped an octave (even if it didn't
stay
there all the time) and he had cramps in his legs from rapid growth. He could pick up any one of his sisters, even Anne. But he still couldn't look up at his father and think,
That is what I'm going to be someday
. Or, at least, he couldn't believe it when it did strike him.

And then, of course, there was the
question.
He knew it was awkward, but he didn't know why. He could just sense it as he held his cousin Robert. “So babies come from stomachs?”

His father's immediate response was stony silence, which was what his father did when he was uncomfortable. His mother's response was to laugh and lean into his father. “Essentially,” his father finally said, staring out the window instead of at him. And that was it. That was all he was going to get. Geoffrey looked back down at Robert. If Uncle Bingley were here, he would explain it to him. Uncle Bingley couldn't keep a secret. When he returned, Geoffrey would ask him.

“What did he say?” Anne asked him immediately when he left the room.

“Nothing.”

“He's Papa. What did you expect?”

And so that mystery remained unsolved. At least, that is, until Uncle Bingley came home.

“It's a boy,” Jane announced to her audience of the Hursts and the Maddoxes. The post had arrived after luncheon, but she had held it for dinner. “Robert Kincaid.”

“
Viscount
Robert Kincaid,” Louisa said.

“Perhaps we should give him a few years before he is required to use his title,” Dr. Maddox said.

“And at least five before he must attend a ball,” said Mr. Hurst, raising his glass of whiskey in a gesture for the newborn.

“Does he take after his mother or his father in appearance?” Caroline asked.

“Lizzy says that he has Lord Kincaid's hair and Georgiana's eyes.”

“Is he a lively child?”

“I don't seem to recall any newborns being interested in anything other than eating and sleeping,” Dr. Maddox said to his wife.

“I believe she is asking if he is a screamer,” Louisa said.

“She doesn't say,” was all Jane offered. Even if he were, Lizzy would not write it to be read publicly.

“What you don't want,” Caroline said, “is twin screamers.”

“Oh
goodness,
” Dr. Maddox said. “
Yes
. God, yes.”

“Unhappy memories, Dr. Maddox?” Mr. Hurst said with a smile.

“I remember leaving for work in the evening with both of them screaming, and then returning in the morning to the same state of affairs.”

“But you weren't there at night!” Caroline said indignantly. “You had somewhere else to be!”

“Oh, hush, Caroline,” Louisa said. “Whenever you complained about Charles, Mama would remind you that you were the loudest of all of us as an infant.”

Caroline Maddox stared down her sister as her husband covered his mouth with his napkin to prevent her seeing his expression. “I don't recall any such nonsense.”

“You were four—how would you? But
I
remember it.”

Mr. Hurst burst out laughing, which was a godsend. Most of the rest of the room did the same as Caroline silently fumed but would not, even after much prodding, admit to it.

“It's so hot out,” Georgiana Bingley said, looking up at the sky. “Why is the water so cold?”

Princess Nadezhda Maddox shook her head. “The ocean is always cold. Don't be a baby.” She had already waded in ahead of her niece, holding up her kimono to her knees so her bare feet could soak in the salt water. “What would your father say?”

“That it's not proper for a girl to play in the ocean without a suitable bathing costume?”

“Well, good that he's in the Orient, then, and not here to say that,” Nadezhda said. Her English was very good, and she retained a charming Romanian accent. “Now come in.You get used to it.”

“My dress will be all messy!”

“Georgiana Bingley!” her aunt said with mock indignation. “When have you
ever
cared about a dress being dirty?”

Georgie could offer no opposition, so she stepped out of her sandals and splashed into the water, which went up to her knees much quicker than it had for Nadezhda. “It's rocky.”

“Not if you know where to step. Look down and see how beautiful the water is,” Nadezhda said, and Georgie did so. “The first time I ever saw the ocean was in Russia, on the coast. The port was half frozen and the water was so dark it wasn't blue. It was almost black. Not like this.” She kicked at the water, splashing Georgie, who cried out and then laughed. “The second time I saw the ocean from land was when I came to the docks at the filthy Thames. Look how beautiful this is.” All around them was green—the rocky coast and the rich shades of the Irish fields. It seemed to color the water an odd and perfect shade of blue.

“Will yeh be needin' anyt'in' else, Yer Highness?” called O'Brien, their coachman, as he doffed his dirty cap. “'Sides from da towels and da tea.”