“Did they all decide?”
She whispered to Grégoire, who wrote and handed him, They’re still not speaking to each other.
“What? Still?”
She nodded. ”The room was very tense.”
“Is that why I haven’t seen Uncle Brian and Aunt Nady?”
They both nodded solemnly.
“What is this nonsense?” Geoffrey shouted, louder even than his regular shouting, since this was intentional. “Why are they still angry? How long has it been?”
Georgie held up two fingers. “Two weeks.”
“Two weeks? And what has my father done?”
Grégoire wrote out a response. He is busy with you, Nephew.
“That’s ridiculous! I don’t care how worried he is, he should still – what are you doing? Let me speak.” While he talked, he was inadvertently sitting up, and Grégoire quickly came to hold him back down.
“I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” Grégoire said, his hands occupied.
Whatever part of that Geoffrey understood was enough. He fell back on the pillow, frowning and scratching Monkey’s back as he stared out the window. They waited patiently – as there was little else for them to do – until he turned and said, “I’ll need paper. And my seal. Reynolds knows where it is.”
“What – ”
“I won’t sit here and wait for them to stop being angry about whatever silly thing they’re angry over. I can’t walk, but I can write.” He turned to his uncle. “What are you standing there for? You wanted to help, right?”
Grégoire nodded. “Yes.”
“Then help me now.”
As per his instructions, they called Reynolds and shut the door to everyone else. Even with a proper stand made out of a breakfast tray set up before him and all of his materials at the ready, Geoffrey was still visibly struggling to put the words on the page, either because he couldn’t focus his sight or couldn’t concentrate. It was grueling to watch him pass out or be ill each time he sat up, the ink staining the rest of the page where he stopped writing, but he would not relent. It took almost the course of the entire day between rest periods and his limited faculties, but he intended to write, and write he did. As the sun began to set, Reynolds lit the wax and an exhausted Geoffrey stamped his seal on all eight letters. He ordered them addressed and delivered accordingly, but would not settle down until Georgie held his hand and spoke to him. Even though he could not hear the words, they succeeded in lulling him into sleep.
Chapter 21 – To Whom It May Concern
Let me begin by apologizing for my uneven hand and possible impenetrability. This letter was written to the best of my abilities at this time...
From there it varied, but even the opening lines made some eyes begin to water, braced for the inevitable with the shaky text, the ink blots of abnormal size, and the words scratched out and written again. With a heavy heart Darcy read his son’s letter. Geoffrey had been raised to have remarkable penmanship, like his mother and father, so the very appearance of the letter indicated the level of his disability, temporary or not.
Father, I am grateful that you have let Miss Bingley recuperate here, where the best doctors are available, even when you may feel that other members of the family have given you cause to ask them to leave. I am glad I am not Master of Pemberley now, and forced to face an argument between various segments of the family. That said, I will admit to you now that I know Georgie is greatly distressed. Her Highness, Princess Nadezhda, has always been her closest ally, and I cannot help but wonder (when I have little else to do because of my infirmity) who else has stepped up to support her? Am I the only one who has personally thanked her for my rescue?
Darcy frowned. The answer was yes.
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In her own study, Elizabeth was already crying. She wished so much to embrace him, but he had written instead of speaking to her, and that had to be respected. She had to at least complete the letter.
Aunt Bingley is confused and I imagine you have sought to comfort her, but there is no need to comfort her about having a mad daughter. Georgie is not mad. Her actions to save me were strange but perfectly comprehensible, perhaps the only way she could have acted and she would quite possibly have escaped with her identity intact, were it not for her injuries. I do not think anything she did held a hint of impropriety.
Did he not understand the gravity of it, or was he right? Georgie had not run off with a man. She had fought one, and to protect her identity as a woman, done so in disguise. That, Elizabeth could not deny.
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Sir Daniel, I have no doubt that you understand that there is an emotional component to physical suffering, and that even the most distracted patient has some awareness of their surroundings and how they are perceived by others. My parents have not said it, but I know they are terrified. First they were terrified that I would die; now they are terrified that I will never hear again, and though I can have a reasonable life without proper hearing, they only wish the best for me. I must conjecture, then, (thus proving that patients are indeed aware, no matter how dizzy and ill they may feel, or how silent the world is to them) that even if Aunt and Uncle Bingley have not said a word to Georgie about her actions on said day, or her previous attack on Mr. Hatcher to try to discover my location, she knows very well that they disapprove, or are even scared for her sanity...
Dr. Maddox paused in his reading. His eyes were bothering him again, from a combination of things, and Geoffrey’s letter was not easy for anyone to read. He knew his wife had gotten her own letter, and he heard murmurs from the servants that at least four had gone out. When he was ready to read again, he entered the guest bedchambers, where his wife was sitting in bed, her hand over her mouth. “What does he say? Or is it private?”
“Has he scolded you for being a poor physician?”
“In a way. You?”
“Geoffrey is more observant than we give him credit for. He thinks me a woman who puts so much emphasis on the good behavior of young ladies in proper society that I would therefore not comfort my brother and Jane about Georgiana’s ... you know.”
“Yes, I know. Because we all can’t speak of it.”
Caroline sat up. “Well, maybe we should.”
*****************************************
“What did he say to you?” Brian asked his wife. His voice was gentle, but protective, mainly because she was openly weeping as she held the letter before her, reading and rereading the scrawled words.
“I should have told them,” she said. “He’s right.” She leaned into her husband’s robe. “I’m not Georgie’s mother. Jane is. She deserved to know.”
“He said that?”
“He implied it. I don’t know if he fully understood the implications –maybe he did.” She clutched the letter as she wrapped her arm around her husband, who kissed it. “He’s not a child. And he knew someone was helping Georgiana along.”
“He’s a Darcy. They’re very intuitive.” He held up his letter and let her read from it.
You know very well that my father has a distaste for violence, especially since the death of Uncle Wickham, so for you to draw your sword on Uncle Bingley – I cannot imagine the turmoil that must have put him through, while he was still readying himself to grieve for me as I lay in my coma.
“He goes on,” Brian said, and read the next sentence aloud.
Forgive me for saying it, but your system of honor is nonsense if it leads you to be so dishonorable. And is there no room for forgiveness when the family – especially your own brother – has granted you so much?
“How could he know this?”
“Maybe he was listening to all those jokes you’ve been making about being the scoundrel of the family,” she suggested, and they read on.
*****************************************
From his own notes and reading many different languages (or attempting to do so), Charles Bing
ley was accustomed to near-illegible handwriting – but not from a Darcy.
It must pain you to think that you understand your daughter so little. I do not think any man can claim a full understanding of his daughters, otherwise they would never be surprised by their actions. Our own family history has proven that Mr. Bennet was surprised many times in many well-repeated stories, some good and some bad, that I have heard or overheard over the years.
You should know this: I do not understand Georgie. I have never understood her, nor have I attempted the feat. I like to think I know when I am beaten, and therefore have never tried to fully comprehend her actions or her intentions. Perhaps that is why she has opened up to me in ways that apparently she has not with her other cousins or her own siblings, because she has no fear of a reaction beyond amusement. That she would take action to rescue me does not surprise me; how she did it does. In truth, if she had been completely conventional about it, I would have been a bit disappointed in her!
Somehow, while blinking back his tears, Bingley succeeded in smiling at that.
*****************************************
Aunt Bingley,
I have no understanding of a woman’s proper place in society. I have been told, most prodigiously, how to expect women to act, and to be disappointed when they do not act appropriately within our social circle. Please do not tell my father I’ve told you, but he has lectured me on how to spot a flirt or a fortune-hunter, now that I’ve come of age, he would be most displeased if I did not attend Cambridge because I was no longer a bachelor. I know women are to be modest but some are not. They are to present themselves as pleasing to the eye but not too much, and without the use of scandalous things like makeup or perfumes. They are to wear gloves when appropriate, and keep their hair up and sometimes covered, and I am never to be fooled into what could be misconstrued as a compromising position with anyone I do not wish to marry.
Georgie is perfectly capable of being all of those good things I have just mentioned, and many others I am forgetting because I admit I am having trouble concentrating, and cannot write as fast as I can think. I wish I had my father’s patience, but then again if I did, between that and my illness, I fear this letter would not be produced before midsummer.
But I have lost the topic. Georgie is capable of being modest and shy and demure. She has her wits about her and is honorable and polite in every way, and she has always adhered to the rules of society when they were demanded of her (her hair is one admissible exception). That she broke those rules to save my life is of no consequence to me and I do not understand why it would be of consequence to anyone else. The rules of polite society are not meant for a situation involving a violent man who kidnaps sons and attempts to murder their fathers. They are meant for ballrooms and afternoon calls and dinner parties, none of which occurred (to my knowledge) from the moment I disappeared.
Nor is she mad; you must know everything was perfectly calculated, even reasonable. Much of it was to save her own reputation by extensive disguise, and it would have worked and in essence, did work, if the wolf rumor is left to tavern tales. She never revealed her plans to me, and has never had cause to since I have begun my recovery. I do not require an explanation. She did what she had to do to save me and to save her father, mine, and Uncle Brian. There is nothing simpler than that.
Though she is obviously, right now as I write this, in great physical pain, I know it would be lessened if her family supported her. I will not go so far as to accuse you of casting her out in any way, and I have no doubt you have cried by her side when she slept and held her hand when she was awake. But there is a chasm between you and it pains her, even though she won’t admit it. Her Highness, Princess Nadezhda, supported her and probably still does, but she is not Georgie’s mother, and no amount of willpower on either side can change that.
Georgie once told me – and do not tell her I said this! – That her earliest memory is of speaking to you and watching you fainting in shock, and how concerned she was for you then. In her own way she has always been concerned for you, because she is afraid that she has always been a disappointment to you. But she is who she is and it pains her too much to deny it. And I think we would both agree she is in enough pain already.
Jane’s sobbing must have attracted some attention, because her husband appeared at her side when he had previously been in his own chamber, his own letter still in his hand. Without words he embraced her.
“I failed my own daughter,” she said. “She needed me and she could not bring herself to say it.”
“You did your best,” he said. “And thank God, there is time to try again.”
*****************************************
Darcy was not entirely surprised when it was announced that the Maddoxes – Brian and Nadezhda – were at the door. Everyone seemed to have retreated to their own quarters, so he received them alone. They stood on the front steps, waiting for his pronouncement, which was a cool but perfectly polite greeting by name.
They bowed. “I would prostrate myself on the ground,” Brian said, his usual ebullience gone, lost in humility, “but you would probably think me a wild savage.”
“I already do,” Darcy said, “but that is no reason to get your head dusty. Welcome to Pemberley.”
“How is your son, Mr. Darcy?” the princess said as they entered the main hallway.
“An accomplished writer, it seems. Much like his uncle,” Darcy said. “He is on the mend. As is Miss Bingley.” He turned his head at the sound of footsteps. “And speaking of, it seems – ”
Mr. Bingley, looking a bit worse for the wear, stepped up to the little party. “Darcy.” He bowed, and turned to the Maddoxes. “Your Highness. Mr. Maddox, I apologize for my implications. I was so distraught – ”
“I should never have drawn live steel. Not in Darcy’s house, not anywhere on a relative,” Brian interrupted. “We were suffering and you were suffering. A lot of bad things were said.”
“On both sides.”
“I deceived you,” Nadezhda said. “Gomen nasai.” (I’m sorry)
“Wakarimasu,” Bingley replied. (I understand)
Brian, with less formality, embraced Bingley, who eagerly returned it as the more reserved Darcy and Nadezhda watched on. These men were partners in business and in travel, and cousins more distantly by marriage. They both seemed delighted to have some semblance of relations restored. But this meeting still left one person unaccounted for.
“Where is Mrs. Bingley?” Brian immediately asked.
“She is, at the moment, occupied,” he replied.
*****************************************
When Jane finally had regained enough of her composure to enter her daughter’s chambers, Dr. Maddox was there. He bowed. “Mrs. Bingley.”
“Dr. Maddox. How is my daughter today?”
“Better. I am lowering the dose. But she is very tired from being up all day yesterday, assisting Geoffrey.”
“I’m all right,” Georgiana insisted from her bed. She was beginning to recover her strength now, two weeks after the actual damage had been done. With that, Dr. Maddox nodded and excused himself, and Jane seated herself beside her daughter.
“You’ve been crying,” Georgie said.
“I never get anything past you,” Jane said. “Or so you think.”
“I know you’ve been worried about my psychical health.”
Jane looked down, and took her daughter’s hand. It was so small and she had such fair skin, like her father. “It took me – some time to understand it. Or not understand it, so much. I won’t tell you everything Geoffrey wrote to me, but he is – well, the Darcys have always been exceptionally wise, except when it comes to matters of courtship. There they need a little help.” She smiled briefly. “Geoffrey seems to enjoy being pleasantly surprised by your behavior. He has a certain appreciation of it.” She said, “He knows you better than I do.”
Georgie’s tone softened. “Mama, he’s my age. We were r
aised together, and grew up as the best of friends. Though I did beat him at being born.”
“Yes. And your father won five pounds off of it.” But she did not explain this, even when Georgiana raised her eyebrows in surprise. “I always thought – my mother loved me and I loved her, even though sometimes she was embarrassing, and she was so anxious about us being married that she almost drove men away – but I always knew what she was about. She wanted me to be safely settled. She always said I was the most beautiful of us and had the best chance of a good marriage.” Jane swallowed. “When you were born, I told myself that I would never be the fretful mother and make a fool of myself, trying to interfere in everything to my daughter’s advantage and pushing her to balls and to make herself look pretty. You were like Lizzy in a way, so much smarter than I am and so observant, and quiet when you wished to be, and assertive when you did not. And I thought, ‘Oh dear, I have to raise Lizzy.’ But you were someone else entirely. I didn’t know what to do. No one taught me how to be a mother. They taught me how to raise a proper daughter and all that nonsense, but it never made you happy. After a while it seemed like nothing I could do or say could make you happy – ”
The Knights of Derbyshire Page 24
