The Plight of the Darcy Brothers (14 page)

THE FEW DAYS LEADING up to the royal ball were as busy for Dr. Maddox as those leading up to his wedding had been, mainly because he had to manage his normal patient list and wonder how he was to be dressed properly. Fortunately, Caroline was walking on air and did a lot of the work for him, procuring him a sword and setting up his haberdasher appointments. While he was busily nervous, she was busily in a sublime mood, and what little time he had left was busy taking advantage of that, which led to a lot of late nights that had nothing to do with calls for his surgical services.

When the evening arrived, he was still no closer to finding the source of his invitation. The point was that he had it, and his wife was the happiest he had seen her since their wedding day— and that alone was enough of a comfort, even if seeing Caroline walk into his chambers in her beautiful emerald gown did make him a bit weak in the knees. “You are quite dashing, Daniel.” She kissed him, meanwhile straightening out his collar.

“I do hope so,” he said. “I do hope I won't be called for military service of some sort,” touching the sword at his waist.

“It's
ceremonial
, dear,” she assured him. “But are you saying you would not lay down your life for king and country?”

“If it is to be between king and country or be a husband to a wife and father to a child, then I suppose I will opt for treason,” he said, and his hand strayed to her stomach, which was hidden behind layers of gown. Fortunately she was not far along enough to make a ball an impropriety.

“I do not deserve you,” she whispered, and then continued in her normal voice. “Your hands are shaking. Are you nervous?”

“I've—never been—”

“—Nor I.”

“It has been quite a while since I've been to a proper ball.”

“Do you remember how to dance?”

“Every good gentleman knows how to dance.”

“Then you are only obligated to stand up with me, or perhaps someone else you run into that you know. So, you may do as you please. You are not an eligible bachelor whom women will be chasing after while you stupidly dance with every one, which only serves to confuse them as to your intent.”

“I will assume you are speaking of your brother.”

“Charles may have had blinders on to everything but the fun of dancing with a pretty girl, but he did manage to land one with a great deal of sense. Still, the process was both amusing and embarrassing to watch.”

“And you?”

“And me? I was not so silly.”

“I did not presume that you were. But what did you do while your brother gallivanted about?”

“Made jokes about it with Darcy. To no avail.”

“Good luck for me, then.”

She laughed, and that in itself put him more at ease. It was well timed, for the servant entered just then to say that their carriage was ready, and it was time to depart.

The Royal Ballroom was in full display and decoration, dwarfing Pemberley and everything but a vague memory from his trip to Versailles, but that had not been during a ball, when the room was filled with people dressed as opulently as the windows. This was above both of them, and their invitation was checked. But after appropriate introductions were made, Caroline quickly made herself a welcome addition to the gaggle of chatty ladies. She was in her element; there was no doubt about that. That her husband was not was irrelevant to him, so long as she was happy.

“You are Brian Maddox, no?”

He bowed to the man in front of him. “Daniel Maddox, sir.”

“Ah, the doctor.” The man bowed. He was wearing a gold chain and various insignia. “Excuse me—I am Lord Stephan, Earl of Maddox.”

They did look a bit alike, if vaguely, and seemed to be in the same age range. “Very pleased to meet you, my lord.”

“My lord! Please, we are cousins. I must be Stephan.” He smiled. He sort of reminded the doctor of his brother, minus all of the debts, lying, theft, and the limp, as far as he knew.

“Daniel.” They shook on it. “I must introduce you to my wife, as soon as I, uhm, find her—”

“Probably chatting away with the rest of them. Best to let them do it, yes?”

“Perhaps.” Instinctively, Maddox took the glass of champagne that was offered to him—for his nerves. He knew very well that alcohol was a poor tonic, and tended to make things worse rather than better, but he saw no other options. He had to sit it out. “I am unfamiliar with these events, I admit. Is His Majesty to make an appearance?”

“He does, on occasion, but only when he's sane. But you probably know more about that than I do. Where was your degree?”

“Cambridge and the Academy in Paris,” Dr. Maddox said, sipping his drink. “But I'm no mind doctor. No, it was just idle curiosity.” The sudden burst of trumpets made his stomach turn. “What is that?”

“Probably the Prince of Wales arriving. Fashionably late, of course.”

The doctor nodded and finished his drink, which was quickly taken from him by a near-invisible servant. The general activity in the ballroom stopped, people cleared away, and conversation died down—slowly enough—to make way for the present head and future king of England, George Augustus Frederick, the Prince of Wales. His title was announced, and combined with the music, Dr. Maddox found the sound quite deafening. Between his general nerves and the champagne, the doctor was a little light on his feet.

That was until the prince entered, and Dr. Maddox saw him clearly. The doctor was ready to swoon entirely; only grabbing onto his newfound cousin's arm kept him from doing so.

Dinner in the Bingley house was an ordinary affair with current guests in residence, so that meant a lot of talking on Mrs. Bennet's part and a lot of nodding silently while rolling his eyes on Mr. Bennet's part. Bingley was at the head of the table, with his wife at the other end and their guests between them. The Hursts and the Maddoxes were in Town, and Bingley, being used to the most unwelcome houseguests, was more than happy to welcome the Bennets to Chatton for Mary's term. That did not, however, always make their visit easy.

“Mary, you must eat something!”

“Mama! I've eaten!”

“So little!” Mrs. Bennet had eventually made the transition from a mother concerned about her daughters' future welfare to a mother concerned with the immediate issue of her daughter's pregnancy, especially now that the rest was out of their hands. “Mr. Bennet!”

“What?” he said, looking as though she had never said anything like this before, which was amusing to watch. “Oh, I'm not foolish enough to tell a woman with child what she should or should not be doing. Do you ever remember me telling you to eat more or less?”

“Then you should know to back me instead of this foolish business of always contradicting me!” said his wife. “She must eat more! I will call for a midwife, if I must, if no one here will hear sense! Mr. Bingley?”

“Hmm?” he said, attempting to imitate Mr. Bennet's exact “surprised” dinner expression. According to Jane, in private, he was getting rather good at it. “Oh yes. Midwife. I'll call for one in the morning.”

“Mama, I am not unwell,” Mary insisted. “I am just full.”

“You always ate like a bird. Proper for a lady, I suppose, but a lot of good it has come to. Now Lydia—and Lizzy, they are eaters. Could eat a horse.”

“Mama!” Jane said, as her husband broke out into laughter. “Charles!”

He mumbled an apology and covered his mouth.

Of course, Mrs. Bennet was ready to fill the uncomfortable silence. “Now perhaps Lydia can finally see Derbyshire. Mr. Bingley, would you treat your mother to finally being able to see her daughter and grandchildren without having to travel to Newcastle? Because Mr. Bennet has forbidden them to Longbourn and Mr. Darcy has forbidden them to Pemberley… and I would like to see them.”

“She would talk, though, Mama.” Surprisingly, this came from Kitty before anyone else could say it. “About—you know.”

“Kitty! Have some respect for your sister! Who would she tell, the regimentals at Newcastle?” She turned her attention back to Bingley. “Mr. Bingley, would you please be so kind as to invite the Wickhams to Chatton? If only for a short while?”

The rest of the Bennets openly cringed at the idea. Bingley hid whatever he was thinking and merely said, “I will put it under serious consideration.”

“Oh, do not be so stubborn! You have no dispute with Mr. Wickham. And when is Mr. Darcy so far from Derbyshire that we can afford to invite him?”

“My dear,” Mr. Bennet said, “Mr. Bingley is the master of Chatton and can invite and not invite whomever he pleases and for whatever reason, if I need remind you.”

Bingley sat back in his chair, looking a bit lost in thought. “I will consider it. I would hardly want to get in the way of you
seeing your own grandchildren, Mrs. Bennet.” Actually, he didn't want to get in the way of Mrs. Bennet and anything. She did have a point about neither Darcy nor Elizabeth being even on the same island as Wickham. When would they have a chance for that again?

But something else was occupying him, and he was largely silent for the rest of dinner. Bingley had only met George Wickham once, on the day of his wedding, but knew of him extensively by reputation. He had no reason to be hostile to Wickham, if he ignored the past, but that was not what bothered him.

“Charles?” came Jane's voice, shaking him out of his apparent stupor. “Are you all right?”

“Oh. Oh, yes, I'm fine,” he said.

“
Tell me later
,” she whispered, and dinner continued. He would not escape her. That was also on his mind as they wrapped up dinner, all through the evening, and as they got all of the children to bed.

“What was that about?” Jane said, as she helped Geoffrey put on his nightshirt. They were in the other nursery, the twins already asleep.
Thank God
, they were now sleeping through the night, because Jane refused a wet nurse and handled her children personally, which made it terribly hard to sleep at times.

“What was
what
about?”

“You were—thinking.”

He placed Georgie in her cradle and tied up her nightcap. “Am I not allowed to think?”

“Was it about Wickham?”

“Should we really discuss this in front of the children?”

“Where we discuss it does not concern me. Do you have an issue with Wickham coming or not?”

“No. To be perfectly honest, aside from me once helping Darcy to toss him out a window, we've never had an uncivil conversation. We barely know each other, and I'm sure he would be on his best behavior.”

“What was that about—?”

“The point,” he said, briefly interrupted as he leaned over to kiss his daughter good-night, to which she giggled, “is that I was thinking of something else. But it is not for me to say.”

“It is not for you to say?” Jane asked, because she had never heard him say that.

“Yes, sadly.” He leaned over and kissed her. “This is a most private matter that, since it does not involve your sister and hardly involves me, I have no business in sharing, unless you insist.”

“Perhaps when Wickham arrives, if he does arrive, I will insist. But until then, you may have your secret.”

She kissed Geoffrey and left. Bingley heaved a sigh of relief and looked over into Geoffrey's crib. “You have
no idea
.”

Thankfully, Geoffrey was too sleepy to answer. He turned over and ignored his uncle entirely.