Brian nodded. They were both too tired to continue the conversation, and Dr. Maddox was due back, so he rose and Brian saw him out.
“I’m just a crazy man with too many swords, Danny,” he said as Dr. Maddox climbed into the carriage. “You’re the real knight.”
*****************************************
Brian Maddox watched the carriage disappear from his sight before he turned back inside and climbed up the steps. Entering his quarters, he found the main room empty, and deposited both his swords on the table before stepping into the bedchamber.
“You just take the wind out of my argument when you do that,” he said to Nadezhda’s sobbing. He had tried to prepare himself, but of course, like most things in life, he had failed. “I really did have an argument. I was going to say something valid, and now I can’t.” He pulled her into his arms and they sat together on the mattress they’d pulled on to the floor. “Should I be a good husband or a good brother? What do you want me to do?”
“How can I apologize for something I don’t think is wrong?” she asked him in Romanian. “I never told her to put her life in danger. I taught her how to defend herself. I made her happy. She’s such a lonely child.”
“But she’s not ours.”
Nadezhda tore off her head covering. “I will never understand England.”
“In all fairness, I think you understand it perfectly well. There are customs everywhere that just don’t make sense sometimes,” he said. “We have to apologize because it makes people feel better when they’re hurt. And Bingley and Jane, seeing their daughter suffering – that hurt them.” He added, “Georgie made her own choices, but I think it would help her if we took some of the responsibility for them. And at the moment, she needs all the help she can get.”
“I want to say she made me proud,” she said.
“They won’t understand that. It’s beyond their comprehension.”
“I want them to understand her. I want her to be loved by her parents.”
He felt her trembling, and some ancient ghost of a memory haunted him in passing. “She is loved by her parents. She’s not understood, but she is loved. There is a difference; we just haven’t noticed it.”
Nadezhda had ample sleeves to wipe her tears, no matter how many of them there were. “I don’t want them to suffer – I don’t mean to inflict this on them. But I still love her.”
“And I still love you, and I won’t think of not demanding an apology from Bingley and Jane for what they said to you. Somewhere, there has to be a middle ground.”
“The Middle Way,” she said.
“Are you a Buddhist now?”
“No, I still have my heretical Papist beliefs, thank you very much,” she said. “But I am willing to consider the options.”
For the moment, that would do.
Chapter 20 – The Wife of Bath’s Tale
Lady Georgiana Kincaid was able to arrive before her half brother Gregoire. “Brother!” she said, and embraced Darcy.
“We came as soon as we received your message,” Lord Kincaid said, shaking Darcy’s hand. “Fortunately our worry has already been relieved. While the horses were resting, a local told us of Master Geoffrey’s rescue.”
“Yes,” Darcy said, unsure exactly what the locals knew, beyond that the heir to Pemberley had been recovered, the gang killed, and its remaining member scheduled to be sent to Australia.
“I’m sorry we live so far away,” she said. “How is he?”
Darcy tried to smile. “He’s recovering. His hearing is – temporarily diminished. Nonetheless he will be very happy to see you. As will Elizabeth – she is with him now.” He turned to the young Viscount Kincaid, now old enough to walk on his own. “And how is my nephew?”
“Hungry!” Robert said – not rudely, but very insistently.
“Tired from a long journey,” his father said, “if a little fussy. Robert, be polite.”
Robert Kincaid bowed and was carried off by his nurse to be cared for. Lord Kincaid turned back to Darcy. “We did come as fast as possible. Too late to be of any good, I’m afraid.”
“Anything that puts a smile on my wife’s face will be good,” Darcy said.
“It’s serious, then.”
“We won’t know the finality of his condition for days. Maybe weeks. And if that were the only thing, it would be enough.” He took Lord Kincaid aside and told him the whole of the story, including the part that they were making a point not to make public, or even known to the servants.
“It seems Miss Bingley has outdone me,” was the earl’s response. “In terms of costumed antics.” His swinging from a chandelier in full tartan was still a not-so-fond memory for Darcy, at least for the sake of Pemberley’s lighting.
“I suppose there is ... some humor in that,” Darcy said. Yes, he could admit that there was. Maybe shock was giving way to perspective. “Her parents might not be so appreciative of it, though.”
“I will keep that in mind.”
*****************************************
Geoffrey was suitably distracted by his aunt and small cousin for some time, but it left them both secretly frustrated, having to resort to paper and pen for any kind of detailed responses. He also hated not being able to hear young Robert’s babble. But Elizabeth was thrilled to see Georgiana, and Darcy was relieved for that alone.
His son was becoming a fussier patient with each passing day. In a way it was a relief; the doctor was encouraged that his senses were not lost. Geoffrey could fully open both eyes now, and even read for prolonged periods of time. But if being unable to make conversation wasn’t annoying enough, he was still confined to his bed, and as the young man recovered his strength, he was more inclined to do otherwise.
He was home for nearly a week before he could stay fully upright for a few minutes, although still with his father holding him up. “Are you all right? Do you need to be ill?” It was hard to break the instinct to ask him something, and Geoffrey was concentrating too hard on keeping his head up to be able to read lips or facial expressions.
“I’m all right,” Geoffrey said, though it didn’t sound much like it. Reynolds was standing over him, ready for anything. “I’m all right,” he repeated. He swallowed. “I need to lie down.”
He had lasted almost two minutes. Darcy held up two fingers as his son was eased back onto the pillow. “God damn it,” Geoffrey said, and Darcy had not the heart (or the ability) to remind him about his language. “I want to be better.”
“I know,” Darcy said, and held up the card that said that.
“You’re not – upset that I’m not to finish Eton?”
Darcy shook his head. “No.”
“I must be truly ill, if I want to go back to school.”
Darcy smiled and patted his son on the hand before letting him rest.
“It is an improvement,” Dr. Maddox said to Darcy as encouragement.
Darcy was not encouraged.
“Mr. Darcy,” said the servant at the door, “Mr. and Mrs. Bellamont have arrived.”
Now that was encouraging.
*****************************************
Married life was good to Grégoire Bellamont-Darcy. He still had his bald spot, but the rest of his hair stayed in place, with only a few grey streaks in the brown and as wild as ever. When not otherwise employed, he was usually wrestling his wild son, a toddler with the deadly combination of his father’s tireless energy and his mother’s stubbornness. Sometimes they traveled with a proper nurse, and sometimes they did not, depending on the length of their stay. Caitlin was mostly responsible for him, mainly because she was the best person at catching him.
When Darcy made it down the stairs, Elizabeth was already greeting them. That gave it a certain formality despite her best intentions, and Darcy bowed to his guests. “Grégoire. Mrs. Bellamont.” He looked down at the boy who had suddenly grabbed his leg. “Patrick.”
“Uncle Darcy!”
“Patrick!” Caitlin s
aid. “One of t’ese days yer gonna trip someone!” She scooped him up. “’e’s wound up from the trip.”
“Well, then he’s welcome to be wound up together with Viscount Robert,” Elizabeth said. “Maybe they will tire themselves out.”
“One can only hope,” Darcy said. Robert Kincaid and Patrick Bellamont were only two years apart in age and got on fabulously with each other to the exclusion of anyone nearby, mainly because they both had somewhat similar impenetrable accents, and could run circles around Danny Maddox as he tried to figure out for the life of him what they were saying. “Geoffrey’s resting now, so perhaps Patrick can see his cousin later.”
“How is he?” Elizabeth asked.
“Aggravated,” was all Darcy said, which was enough, and turned to his brother. “We’re so relieved you’ve come.”
That was putting it mildly.
By the time their new guests were settled, Geoffrey was ready to receive his aunt and uncle as best he could. Grégoire was very quick with the pen, but it still made for an exhaustive experience. Their physical presence – that they were here for him – was more to the point.
“Uncle Grégoire,” Geoffrey shouted, either quite unaware that he was doing it or unable to control it, “thank you for coming.”
Grégoire nodded. “Of course.”
“My father – is he in the room? I can’t see around that corner.”
He shook his head.
Geoffrey took his uncle’s hand. “I’ve never seen my father like this. I believe he needs you more than I need you. Though, if you wish to work a miracle on my eardrum, I would be forever grateful.”
Grégoire smiled and nodded.
“I’m old enough to understand that you can’t grant wishes, but you’ll have a hard time convincing Father of that.” Geoffrey frowned. “And I always thought he was the most sensible person in Derbyshire.”
Grégoire wrote and handed him the paper. He is not the only one who thinks I can work miracles. I wish that I could, but it is only by God’s grace that wonders happen, and He is not to be bought or bargained with. He took the paper back when Geoffrey had read it, and scribbled on the other side, With that said, His grace is not to be underestimated.
“I don’t regret it,” Geoffrey said. “Shooting the rifle, I mean. Even if I am deaf, I still would do it over again, to save Georgie.”
Grégoire wrote, If I am wrong and the Lord God can be bargained with, you are a very good bargainer.
“That’s not what I meant,” Geoffrey said, and blushed.
*****************************************
Even though he had heard the story once from Darcy, Grégoire cornered Elizabeth in the chapel after Compline to discuss Georgie, as he had been warned to tiptoe around the Bingleys, who were still frightened and confused.
“Yes, it’s all true,” Elizabeth said. “I wish I had been there when they argued with the Maddoxes – and yet, I’m glad I wasn’t.” She was exhausted, and looked it. “I cannot tell them what they did wrong or even if they did anything wrong, as parents. She did save my husband and my son, and now she’s just suffering for it.”
“They are not supporting her?”
“They are supporting her within their abilities, but they cannot condone her actions. If Anne or Sarah were to put themselves in danger like that – ” She looked down at her hands. “Georgie has always been distant and reserved. It seems the only one who understood her was Nadezhda, and she was wise enough not to share.”
“Not everyone adheres to the same mold of society,” he said. “And as devastating as it seems within your circle – somehow, room is always made. You accepted Caitlin.”
“Caitlin is a wonderful woman who loves you to pieces.”
“That does not qualify her for a Season in London, though.”
“I hardly think she would enjoy a Season in London, or you would have endured one for her years ago.”
“Of course. But who knows? Patrick might one day parade around with the dandies of Dublin for all I know.” He chuckled at that. “I can only hope not, but anything that makes him happy.”
“He’s so much like Geoffrey was. Do you remember? He was a little troublemaker.” Elizabeth smiled at the memory. “Though Geoffrey we could understand when he tried to explain himself later.”
“I can understand him.”
“Can I confess something to you?”
“As long as it is not a formal confession.”
She laughed. “I find myself not always comprehending your wife’s words.”
“That is probably for the best,” he said. “When I don’t understand her, I assume she is swearing. There is my confession.”
Elizabeth giggled. “You will talk to the Bingleys?”
“If they can understand my accent.”
*****************************************
“'Oh, have you slain me, you false thief?' I said, 'And for my land have you thus murdered me? Kiss me before I die, and let me be.' He came to me and near me he knelt down, and said: 'O my dear sister Alison, so help me God, I'll never strike you more – ’”
“Grandpapa!”
Mr. Bennet looked up from his book at his convalescing granddaughter, peering at her over his spectacles. “What is it?”
“I thought her sister’s name was Alison. How can the Wife of Bath also be named Alison?” Georgie asked.
“On this, I do not believe Chaucer was ever clear. After all, he never quite finished his famous Tales. Now, do you want me to finish before someone comes in and finds me reading you this bawdy tale?”
“Yes, Grandpapa.”
“Good, then,” he said, and cleared his throat. “'What I have done, you are to blame therefore. But all the same forgiveness now I seek!' And thereupon I hit him on the cheek, and said: 'Thief, so much vengeance do I wreak! Now will I die; I can no longer speak!' But at the last, and with much care and woe, we made it up between ourselves…'” (1)
“He made up with her? After she punched him?”
“Well, to be fair, he punched her as well, so I believe it was even,” Mr. Bennet said, and he was about to continue when the door opened and Mr. Bingley entered. “Ah, the prodigal son returns.”
“Mr. Bennet. What are you reading to my daughter?”
“A good, old, proper English tale of marital felicity,” he said, closing the book. “Only something I would have allowed any of my daughters to read – Oh, wait. Did not one of them run off with a scoundrel? Perhaps I should have stuck to Fordyce’s sermons.” He sighed. “But then again, it all turned out all right in the end, didn’t it? A rich man rented Netherfield and it was all happiness and wonder - ”
“And you can stop before we get to the embarrassing part of that story,” Bingley said. “Georgie, have you had your medicine?”
“I’m all right, Papa,” she said, “as long as I don’t move much.”
“Well, you had better take it, because you are about to.”
“What?”
“Precisely what I said,” Bingley said, passing Mr. Bennet in the armchair and pouring a spoonful of Dr. Maddox’s concoction for Georgiana, who reluctantly swallowed. “There. Now I can let him in.”
“Who?”
Bingley opened the door, “Kinasi!” and Monkey came bounding into the room, first climbing onto Mr. Bennet’s knee, and then into Georgie’s awaiting arms, sniffing her side, where the bandages were. “Monkey, you behave yourself, because I had to get special permission from someone. And you will need special permission from me to not be in a pen forever if you hurt my daughter just when she is recovering.”
“Do you really think he can understand you?” Mr. Bennet said.
“He can sense when another creature is injured,” he said. “Though my daughter is not a creature.”
“I missed you,” Georgie said to the monkey, scratching his soft fur so he squealed with delight. He did position himself in such a way that his weight rested away from her injured area. “Papa, thank you. How lon
g can he stay?”
“Until you recover or he misbehaves. Whichever comes first,” Bingley said. “And now I owe Darcy a massive favor. Monkey, sleep!” But Monkey of course would not sleep on command. “Well, stay!” This the animal did do, even though he still chirped in protest as Mr. Bennet rose and Bingley tucked his daughter in. “If he keeps you up, toss him out. Physically, if you must.”
“He won’t. I promise.”
Bingley kissed his daughter on her forehead. “Good night, Georgie.” Monkey squealed. “Good night, Monkey.”
By the time Mr. Bennet was up and at the door and the servants had extinguished most of the candles, Georgie was already asleep, Monkey curled up beside her like a doll. “Well, I’ve finally done something right, perhaps,” Bingley said, and escorted his father-in-law to his own chambers.
from The Canterbury Tales, “The Wife of Bath’s Tale”
*****************************************
The next day, not one, but two people (well, creatures, as Bingley had called them) were carried back up the stairs in an armchair. It was Georgie’s second visit to Geoffrey and Monkey’s first. Fortunately the animal got on fabulously well with Gawain, who was more overprotective than usual. “Good dog. Good Monkey,” Geoffrey said. Someone had to make sure neither patient tired themselves out, and Grégoire offered, taking a seat at the writing table moved up next to the bed.
“How are you?” Geoffrey said, and Georgie shrugged. “Well, you look better.”
“Thank you,” she said, and he seemed to understand her. He was a fast learner and they didn’t always need the cards for common words if the person speaking was looking at him straight on.
“So we’re both fine, as long as we never move.”
Georgie quickly wrote, Apparently, that is the plan.
The Knights of Derbyshire Page 23
