The Plight of the Darcy Brothers (28 page)

When Grégoire had explored the city enough and spoken to enough people, he even got them entrance to the Vatican Observatory, where they saw the exact place where priest-scientists had created the Gregorian calendar used to this day. He also took them on an abbreviated tour of the catacombs, until Darcy declared that he had seen enough bones of saints to last him a lifetime, mainly because Elizabeth was looking pale at the grim sight.

They certainly had enough to occupy their time. Now at ease while awaiting Mr. Bennet's response, they toured on the days when it was not too hot and relaxed otherwise after the long trip. They were secretly glad when Grégoire spent some of his time elsewhere, probably holed up in some confessional booth, because some activities demanded privacy. Even though their time on the road had not totally separated the Darcys, they had never been fully at leisure, and some things were better enjoyed when fully at leisure, with an excellent bottle of French wine and a book that, until this point in their journey, had been carried but had gone unused.

That was not to say they were free from concerns. They both admitted to a growing impatience to see their son and their family, whom they had not heard from since Paris. The post was
intolerably slow, and they could not expect to hear from them until Mr. Maddox returned, so they contented themselves with making up stories about all of the possibilities Geoffrey had gotten himself into. That brought laughter to temporarily ease the pain of separation. But other than that, and other things they couldn't change, their life was ideal. They often sat or stood on the balcony and watched the sun fade in the west.

A month after they had sent Maddox, Grégoire mentioned that it was some saint's day and he intended to spend the night in a vigil, or something Papist of that nature, and they knew they were going to be alone. Maybe he realized the gift he was granting them and maybe he didn't, but neither inquired. Instead, Darcy merely uncorked a new wine to celebrate the date and put his arms around his wife from behind. She was watching the sunset, now turning the sky a brilliant shade of orange.

“Darcy,” Elizabeth said, her voice amused but still carrying a certain gravity, “I'm late.”

“SHAVE IT.”

“What? I could never—”

“It is my recommendation, Your Highness.”

But His Highness did not look pleased at the process. “So it is lice, then.”

“Yes.”

“Anything else?”

“Wash it first with whiskey or vodka, scrubbing thoroughly, and then with soap and water. That should do the trick.”

Dr. Maddox's patient groaned. “You can tell? From that far?”

“I'm not coming any closer, Your Highness. With all due respect.”

“Christ. I'll look so odd.”

“I do not believe anyone will notice it. Except perhaps your wife.”

“Are you serious? I haven't even seen Caroline in years, much less slept with her.” He caught the look on Maddox's face before he could recover. “Oh, that's right. Your wife is also named Caroline. Well, I promise not to sleep with her, either.”

“… T-Thank you, Your Highness.” Maddox quickly returned to his tools and began slowly replacing them, as they would not be needed. A lower servant than he would do his dirty work, if the prince didn't do it himself. Either way, the imagery made him shudder. “But—uhm, while we are on the topic of names, I was wondering if you would remember a mutual friend of ours, Miss Lilly Garrison?” He swallowed and latched his bag, knowing he would have to face the prince for this.

“Garrison? I know a few—
Oh.
You mean, Lilly. I never got her last name.”

“Neither did I, admittedly, until she showed up at my house.”

“She did? The nerve of that… that whore! I mean, even for a whore, that's preposterous… showing up at a client's house—”

“I was never a client,” he corrected. “I was merely the doctor on call. Even if I had that inclination, I would never subject my body to such unsanitary conditions. I might get lice.”

“Well put. But then why is she bothering you?” The prince slapped himself in his bushy head. The image would have been amusing if Maddox had not terrified by the conversation and busy with that emotion instead. “Of course. Did she blackmail you?”

“No.”

“Then she wants it from me. I haven't responded to her letters, or the letters someone wrote for her, so she went out of her way—I will not have my own physician so unjustly treated. Tell me, at least, that your wife was not at home!”

“It is not important,” Dr. Maddox said. He needed some of that whiskey he had mentioned now, to steel himself. Shame it wasn't around. “I feel obligated to mention that she is with child.”

“Feel obligated? What do you owe her?”

“Nothing. But she is a woman in need, despite her profession.”

“Ah, I see.” The prince, despite being on the path to moral and physical self-destruction, was a rather clever man. “She went to you because you are so noble and also had access to me, knowing perhaps you would put your own life at risk, speaking treason to the prince by making implications against the State, since I am the State, that my marriage to Caroline of Brunswick is not sacrosanct. Which would make you a great fool, putting your head on the chopping block for some whore.”

Maddox mumbled, “Yes, I am quite a fool in this respect.”

“Then…” The prince sighed. “What do you want?”

“It is not what I want. It is what Miss Garrison—Lilly—wants.”

“Compensation, of course. Well, let me tell you something, because I know you are a discreet man. If I gave compensation to every whore or lady carrying a royal bastard, the State coffers would be empty.”

“Then just this one, perhaps.”

The prince laughed. “You insist upon it? Have you forgotten your place, Doctor?”

“You will refuse, and we will never speak of this again, or you will either fire me or have me killed. But yes, I will insist upon it, because I have not forgotten that a gentleman is always in the service of a lady.”

“That woman is no lady. Do you remember that she stabbed me? Even when I continued to see her after she was obviously with child?”

“I am aware. But that does not change her biological composition. She is, and shall die, a lady.”

The prince laughed. The folly of youth, perhaps, but they were basically of about the same age. In many ways, Prince
George reminded Dr. Maddox of his brother, not always in a good way, but he passed no judgments. Not knowing what to say, he pursed his hands behind his back to hide the fact that his stable surgeon's hands were shaking.

“You are very… I don't know, knightly. Like those old legends about going through a terrible battle for a woman's honor. Even if the woman doesn't deserve it.” He chuckled. “Fine, I will send her something, but we shall never speak of this again. If Lilly ever approaches you again, tell her she is doing so against orders of the State, and that if she bothers you further, there will be no 'Miss Garrison.' Am I understood?”

“Perfectly,” said the doctor, not quite believing what he was hearing. He bowed, deeper than he usually did. “Thank you, Your Most Gracious Highness.”

“Your ridiculous sense of honor is going to get you in trouble one of these days, Doctor,” the prince said, slapping him on the arm. “But not today. You are quite a lucky man in that respect.”

Indeed, he was. He had the whole way back to fathom the length to which the prince's mercy extended. Maybe Caroline was right, and the prince just liked him and the way he mixed the proper formality of a skilled physician with actual concern, but never an improper comment until today. He had survived, career and spinal column intact.

He arrived home in time for supper and was to deliver the news to Caroline immediately when a maid stopped him and handed him a note. “We were handed this by the doorman after the post had already been delivered.”

He tore open the seal of Maddox and read it.

Dear Brother,

I have some excessively hasty business carrying a letter to Mr. Bennet in the North. If you wish to catch me, you'd better head to Derbyshire immediately. Sorry for the rush.

B. Maddox

“Daniel? What's the matter?”

“Brian,” he said. “He was—apparently in Town today, long enough to drop off this.” He passed it to his wife, who read it quickly. “I told you he was a courier these days. Apparently the Darcys have employed him.”

“Then you must go at once!”

“But I could not—”

“Don't be ridiculous. I have nearly two months. Now, go to Chatton and see that beloved brother of yours. And try not to let him talk you into giving him
too
much money.”

He kissed her on the cheek. “Agreed.” He grabbed his sack again and instructed his footman to have a horse saddled and ready. “Oh, and the prince said yes.”

“Yes?”

“To Miss Garrison's request. Though we are never to speak of it again, and she is never to speak to me again. Those were his conditions, which I found very agreeable.”

“Oh, Daniel!” she hugged him as best she could at her stage. “Congratulations.”

“You were cheering for me?”

“I am your wife. I pray for success in all of your endeavors, no matter how stupidly noble. Now go and see that rogue of a brother of yours.”

“I'll tell him you said that.”

“You would not
dare
.”

About that, she was definitely right.

The company of Chatton was sitting down to dinner when the bell for the front door rang. As they had not heard from the Darcys since they left France, Bingley ran past his servants and answered the door himself. He was not expecting a thoroughly soaked and muddied Brian Maddox. “Hello?”

“Mr. Bingley,” Brian bowed to his brother-in-law. “Sorry for the intrusion, but I have a letter for Mr. Bennet.” He wiped his hands on his jacket, reached into his rucksack, and retrieved a formal, sealed envelope. “Express from Italy.”

“Mr. Maddox, please do come in at once,” Bingley said, for it was pouring, and the man was obviously exhausted. “We'll see to your horse. Do you mind if I give it to Mr. Bennet myself so you can rest a bit before joining us for dinner?”

“That would be lovely, Mr. Bingley,” Brian said, and handed over the letter as the servants rushed to help him out of his overcoat and escort him somewhere where he could be properly changed and cleaned.

But Bingley wasn't concerned with that. He rushed back to the dining hall. “Mr. Bennet.” He handed him the letter with Darcy's seal on it.

Mr. Bennet excused himself to Mr. Bingley's study, shutting the door behind him. Dinner halted entirely as the adult residents and guests of Chatton stood outside the door, including a very pregnant and confined Mary Bennet, listening to the silence within. Even though only a few minutes elapsed, it was
an unbearably long time before he reappeared, a grave look on his face. “Mary.”

She joined him inside, and the door was shut again. Jane hugged her husband, who whispered encouraging comments in her ear.

“Now, enough of all this pretense of secrecy,” Mr. Bennet said, as he made his daughter sit in the chair beside him. His mood was entirely different when the door was closed. He was almost—content. “The letter is, obviously, from Mr. Darcy. I will read it to you, and then you may see it for yourself, if you wish, as you are, of course, his chief concern.”