“He didn’t,” Georgie replied. “He was a bit surprised. You – thought this all out, did you?”
“I’ve had little else to do.”
“What about your lessons?”
“I always finish them too quickly.”
Because Edmund was smart. In a way, it was good that he was the second son, because he was clever enough to make his way in the world. He showed no inclinations towards religion and was about as adverse to violence as everyone else in the family (with one obvious exclusion), but he would probably either take an interest in the shipping business or start one of his own. “Thank you,” she said abruptly.
“For what?”
“No one’s ever ... really said anything about it to that sort of extent. An appreciative extent.” She had put her life on the line to save Geoffrey, and though she had never expected a congratulatory slap on the back, the appreciation of her plan was pleasant. “I really do intend to behave.”
“I’m sure,” he said with a smile.
*****************************************
April became May, and Geoffrey’s health was restored enough to ensure that he could begin Cambridge in the fall, despite his disability. He did not, however, take to his own task of joining his father when he met with tenants. It was not that Geoffrey had lost interest in Pemberley, but he hated being questioned or stared at, at least when he could not formulate a decent reply. So he wandered and followed every trail in Pemberley with his faithful hound at his side. He made one attempt at fencing and found his balance was not restored enough for such rapid and often awkward motion, and he suspected it might never be. He kept mainly to himself, because that was so much easier to do, and read more than he was accustomed to doing, or played with his youngest sister, but was generally silent.
A hard tap on the ground brought his father’s presence to his attention. ‘We’re leaving for church,’ his father said, or Geoffrey was able to conjecture that he said. It was Sunday and they were dressed for it.
Geoffrey Darcy stayed behind when the rest of his family went to church. He did not want to go, not out of any existential crisis, but for more logical reasons. He knew he would be gawked at, being the Darcy heir who survived a kidnapping and defeated his own captors. He would have to watch everyone else just to follow the service, none of which he could hear. The crux of the service was the sermon, and unless he sat very close and tried to watch the preacher very hard, he would understand nothing of it, so he was released from attendance.
Geoffrey was hardly alone at Pemberley. The Bellamont family did not attend the local services and he had their company.
On this particular morning, he was trying to enjoy the good weather and sunlight by going for a walk. He did not stray beyond Pemberley’s grounds and he took a rifle with him as a precaution, though little good it would do him if an attacker came from behind. So he sat in the shade overlooking the hills of Derbyshire, his back against a log. In the distance he could see the spire of the church where normal people were singing hymns whether they wanted to or not, no matter how off-key. Mr. Bennet was undoubtedly sleeping through whatever part of the service was not done standing. Anne and Eliza no doubt spent a lot of the time re-adjusting their bonnets to look just perfect as Georgie scowled at both of them. He could see it all in his mind, but if he’d been there, he would hear none of it.
There was a hard tap on the log, waking him from his reverie. He felt the vibrations and looked to his side. Uncle Grégoire, having finished his own private services, had walked up to find him, put his staff down and sat down on the fallen tree. ‘How are you?’ Geoffrey watched his lips closely to understand the words.
“Fine,” Geoffrey lied.
Grégoire nodded and with a pleasant smile removed something from his bag. It was a few of the little wooden figures that he liked to carve, but someone had painted them so they were a bit more distinguishable. One was quite obviously a man on a cross. “I know that. That’s Christ on the cross.”
The next wooden man was a soldier, judging from his spear, and from his red cloak covering most of his body, probably a Roman. Grégoire set the soldier up next to Jesus and began poking him with the spear.
“Longinus, who stabbed Christ to make sure he was dead,” Geoffrey said. “I did study my bible, you know.”
Grégoire just smiled at him and took out another figure. This one was harder to make out, and Geoffrey had to peer closely to see it. It was another person with a sword and a red helmet – no, that was hair. This figure didn’t stand very well because instead of feet he had little stubs of stilt sandals. “Georgiana?” But his uncle removed the final figure, that of a man in a brown cloak, holding up a rifle. Together the rifleman and the sandaled soldier struck down the Roman, knocking him over. Grégoire picked up the Jesus figurine and raised it into the sky. “This bible story I’m not so familiar with,” Geoffrey said, picking up the rifleman that was obviously supposed to be him, “but I like it all the same.” When Grégoire pressed the figurines into his hands and closed them, obviously meaning for him to keep them, Geoffrey bowed to his uncle. “Thank you.”
His uncle embraced him, kissing him on the head. When all the world was falling apart, Grégoire Bellamont-Darcy still had that serene smile on his face that said – all would be right.
“Church is over,” Geoffrey said at the sound of the bells in the distance. The residents of Lambton would slowly be shuffling out, making gossip and thanking the rector for a job well done no matter how much they disliked the sermon, and his parents would be –
- the bells. He heard them. The sound was very distant, but so clear, not muffled by anything else to be found in man or nature. “The bells.” Geoffrey fell to his knees. “I can hear them!” In a fit of joy he grabbed his uncle and shook him by his tunic. “I can hear!”
Grégoire looked him full in the face and said something that was clearly, ‘Praise God.’
Chapter 23 – The Courtship
Geoffrey could hear – mostly in higher tones. His overexcited sisters made a game of pressing the keys of the pianoforte from the top to the bottom of the range, and seeing how far he made it. At first, he could only hear the piercing of the first key. Patrick Bellamont and Robert Kincaid decided to make a game of squealing as loud as they could, but Darcy put a stop to this immediately for everyone else’s sake. He couldn’t stop Monkey, but the smile on his son’s face made it worth it.
They had a feast of celebration after his hearing had returned enough to hear the murmur of conversation through his one good ear. He wrote to Dr. Maddox, who politely suggested an ear horn, an idea that Geoffrey did not take well to.
“You should do it,” Georgie said.
“You say that only because you wish to make fun of me.”
“Maybe. So?”
He just smiled at her.
His career at Cambridge for the fall now assured, Geoffrey began to resume his normal duties at Pemberley. If he couldn’t always hear the tenant’s voice, he could read their lips, and he was still just an observer. His father was in good health, all things considered, and barring accident or sudden illness, Fitzwilliam Darcy would live a good thirty or forty years more. And with the son and heir back in good health, a feeling of calm that had been missing was restored, even if no one had quite realized the disquiet.
Life for Geoffrey would have been perfect, if not for the fencing. His balance was still not totally restored, and could be set off easily by a fall or a spin. His various attempts with his coach failed and left him in bed for days, until a heavy-hearted Darcy persuaded him to give up the sport. Ironically, Geoffrey was permitted to shoot again, provided he covered his left ear to protect it with a special piece made for him by Dr. Fergus. His right ear was dead and would remain so for the rest of his life.
May provided him with plenty of distractions, when Charlie returned from Eton and they could shoot together, or play cards, or whatever other activities boys their age found to do.
In Ju
ne, George Wickham made his triumphant return to Pemberley to visit his favorite uncle. Not only had he succeeded at Cambridge, but after much haranguing, he was permitted to retake his exams and have his credit restored at Oxford, so he had a year of University under his belt, and would continue at Cambridge in the fall.
“My sister is already in Town,” George said. “Believe it or not, by my suggestion.”
“I thought the Maddoxes extended the offer to host you this summer?”
“They did,” he said to his uncle, “but I thought it might be a good idea to ... try to restore relations with my parents. She is not, however, going to any balls unless I escort her.”
“As I am sure you are most eager to do.”
George smiled shyly and took a drink.
*****************************************
When the adults had gone to sleep, George Wickham, nearly twenty and feeling very much the adult, knocked on his cousin’s door and was welcomed in. Geoffrey poured him a drink, but not one for himself, to which his cousin raised his eyebrows.
“Drinking made me dizzy before,” Geoffrey said. “I can’t imagine what it would do to me now.”
“So you’re a temperance man, then?”
“Temporarily, I suppose.”
“A shame. I enjoy watching you get drunk and moon over Georgie,” George said, continuing before Geoffrey could reply with anything more than a blush, “Where is your faithful companion?”
“Gawain’s right here,” Geoffrey said, snapping his fingers for his hound to come loyally to his side.
“You know very well what I meant.”
Geoffrey turned away, collapsing into his armchair. “Georgie is playing nice at the moment.”
“She did give us all a bit of a shock.”
Geoffrey just swallowed his tea.
“Are they thinking of sending her to Town?”
“I don’t know.”
“Haven’t asked her?”
“No,” Geoffrey snarled. “What is this? If you want to know Georgie’s comings and goings, ask her. Or if you cannot bring yourself to do so because she’s so intimidating, ask Charlie. Maybe she will go to London. Maybe they’ll put her in a seminary – all for just trying to save my life. What am I supposed to do about it?” Geoffrey scratched his sideburn. “I am going to Cambridge, which I’ll be lucky to get through without that blasted ear horn, and she will go to ... Town. And balls. And wherever they make her go.”
“She is eighteen.”
“She can be five and twenty. She has fifty thousand pounds. She can marry whenever she pleases,” Geoffrey said. “What do you care?”
“I don’t. You’re the one yelling.”
Realizing he was, Geoffrey tempered his voice. “Give me a drink.”
George, sitting closer to the wine, poured his cousin a small glass. “Well, if I am to endure the social life of Town for my sister’s sake, perhaps it would be nicer with Georgiana on my arm.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Of course not. You would ride to Town and put a bullet in my head before the second dance.”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“Because I’m trying not to state the obvious.”
“Stop smirking! You look like my father when you do that.” Geoffrey said, finishing his wine. “I am half-deaf, dizzy, and about to enter Cambridge. I have enough to do without needing to decipher your riddles, Wickham.”
“You certainly will, when you discover the first exams are all in Greek.”
“What!”
George raised a glass. “To Cambridge, and my future roommate, gullible and lovesick as he is.”
“You are lucky I had to give up fencing, Wickham. I am serious.”
“Lucky indeed,” George said with a cruel smile.
*****************************************
Good relations had been entirely restored between Bingley and Brian, and the Maddoxes in general. Brian and Nadezhda returned to their home outside of Town when business could no longer be avoided, and Bingley made a trip in June to check on things, and brought Georgie with him, perhaps as a sign of good faith between them.
It was only then that Georgie first got to speak with Nadezhda truly alone, even if her father was only a few rooms away, talking to Brian. Georgie knelt on the cushion across from Her Highness, who was in her most formal kimono, with her hair perfectly tied up. They sat on the tatami mat floor, with a long box resting on the floor between them.
With great ceremony, Nadezhda removed the cover, revealing a very familiar sword with jutte metal attachments to the hilt and a knitted shoulder strap.
“Mugin’s sword!” Georgie was thrown off by seeing it. She knew she should have expected it, but it brought to the surfaces so many emotions.
“What Brian told you the note said,” Nadezhda said, “was not precisely true.”
Georgiana looked up as Nadezhda passed her the note. Of course, she could barely read kanji. “I only recognize – something about an ookami.”
“Wolf. Correct. All it says is, ‘For the next wolf,’” she said. “Brian didn’t know what it meant. I wasn’t sure, until you proved it to me, but I had my suspicions. That said...” She closed the case. “The wolf has to go away for a while.”
Georgie nodded, sitting very still, when all she wanted to do was grab the box and run.
“There will be a time for the wolf again,” Nadezhda said, with a gleam in her eye. “I’m sure you will manage to get yourself in some kind of trouble. When you do, we will give it to you.”
“You told Brian-san?”
“I did. And he agreed.” She pressed her hand on the cover of the box. “When the time comes.”
*****************************************
July was pleasantly hot after such a cold winter. The Darcy sisters made much use of Pemberley’s lake, with their nurse and watchful brother to look after them. Derbyshire was quiet after the well-known death of Mr. Hatcher, but Darcy was playing it safe with all of his children. With all that had happened, there was a record low in tenant disputes brought to Mr. Darcy, and most afternoons he let his son go to enjoy the wilderness before he departed to Cambridge. Geoffrey was used to being at Eton, but University was different, and he would return not a boy, but a man. It was the lazy summer that no one at Pemberley really wanted to pass. The Kincaids retreated to the cooler north with many hugs and kisses for their nephew, who had aged more since their arrival than the few months that had passed.
Charlie babbled nervously with him, no doubt anxious about being the oldest family member at Eton. It would be his last year and Edmund’s first, and until this point, Geoffrey had been the oldest. Still, Geoffrey was sure Charlie would assume the mantel with some grace.
There came a time when packing could not be delayed. Geoffrey spent as much time as possible playing with Gawain, who would be left behind. The old hound tired easily, never fully recovered from his wounds, and was resting on a mat in the library as Geoffrey went through the titles on his bookshelves, looking for anything he would need. He was alone when a servant said, “Miss Bingley to see you, sir.”
He just nodded and Georgie entered. “When did you become an intellectual?”
“I’m not to turn into George, if that’s what you mean,” he said. “Hopefully not, anyway.” Geoffrey opened the book to the title page. “I won’t need this.”
“What is it?” she said, approaching him.
“Le Morte D'Arthur,” he said, and closed it, a little cloud of dust floating away from it. “Not exactly a Greek philosophic classic.”
“Have you read it?”
“Some time ago. Or it was read to me. Honestly I cannot remember,” he said, replacing it on the shelf. “I remember Sir Gawain does not come off too well.”
“Poor Gawain,” she said, glancing at the dog, who looked up at his name being called. She knelt beside him and scratched behind his ears. “Who will take care of you when Geoffrey is gone?”
&
nbsp; “My father is rather fond of him, and more so when no one else is around, or so I am told,” he said. He paused in what he was doing, distracted from his books. “He reminds him of his own hounds, though if either of them ever saved his life, it is not a story I’ve heard.”
“Because they were not noble Sir Gawain,” she said as the hound licked her face, “who was so rudely portrayed by Malory.”
He stepped towards her. “If you really wish to take him – ”
Georgie stood up, to Gawain’s whine. “Monkey is enough, thank you. Though, I will be lonely.”
He smiled. “Are you admitting to a weakness, Miss Bingley?”
“I am allowed to have my share. A refusal to act proper when I think it’s ridiculous to do so, a lack of interest in dancing and singing and embroidery, never a proper Season in Town– ”
“So, no going from assembly to assembly with Izzy?”
Georgie turned around to face him. “I am sorry to disappoint. Or surprise.”
“You hardly surprise me,” Geoffrey said, “and you never disappoint.” He paused uncomfortably. “I don’t believe I ever properly thanked you for ... what you did in March.”
“Whatever do you mean, precisely? I did so many things in March. It was an entire month.”
“You will make me speak of it?”
“If you won’t, then no one will.”
He grinned and looked down, rather bashful. “I am thankful that you dressed up like a wolf, tried to kill Hatcher, and rescued me from captivity. I could not be more grateful.”
The Knights of Derbyshire Page 26
