The Plight of the Darcy Brothers Read online

  “My family expects many things of me. Every time I have tried to disobey them, my attempt has ended in failure. Please, Signore, try to understand my position—”

  Darcy was unrelenting. “Your position is apparently quite comfortable.”

  “You are surely aware,” Elizabeth said, a little gentler than Darcy, “that my sister's position is untenable, and that while I know not your local customs, her reputation is thoroughly ruined—and she may well bring down my younger sister Catherine as well.”

  “'The fallen woman.' Yes, I have been told.”

  “Apparently not enough to affect your course of action except to have you running in the opposite direction,” Darcy said.

  “What was I to do? I—I cannot be an Englishman! My family would cast me off! And though I loved Mary, I could not betray all of them—” he caught their expressions. “Yes, I did love her, and still do. It is not a lie, and I will not deny it for a moment. That I should have restrained my baser instincts, yes, you are in the right. That I should have insisted that she accept my offer of compensation—”

  “Compensation!” Elizabeth said, finally raising her voice. “My sister is not a light-skirt, to be paid!”

  “It was the only thing I could think of. Forgive me, but do you not—I do not fully comprehend—do you not occasionally marry for the exchange of monies in England? Something about dowries? The exchange of money to signify a spiritual connection?”

  “Your church would certainly know all about that,” Darcy said. “No offense meant, Brother.”

  “None taken,” Grégoire said, wisely deciding to stay out of the conversation entirely.

  “But I am not false? This is true, that she must be provided for? That the child must be provided for?” Giovanni insisted. “And it is my child, so I must do it. But she refused. She was so pious, a martyr. Like Saint Mary.”

  “The virgin or the whore?” Darcy asked. “I would be very interested to know which biblical Mary you were considering to apply to ours.”

  Giovanni bit his lip. He was caught. He paced the room like a caged animal, only harmless instead of being ferocious, the way Darcy usually was when he paced. “I do not—what do you want me to say? Within reason, Signore, please.”

  Elizabeth touched Darcy on the arm and whispered. “Let me have a moment with him.”

  “With his reputation?”

  “On the balcony. I insist.”

  Darcy sighed, allowed his wife to step out onto the pilaster balcony, and pointed for Giovanni to follow. They stepped out of earshot, facing out and leaning on the railing, but in perfect view of the ever-watchful Darcy.

  “Some things in this life need a woman's touch,” Darcy said to his brother. “Perhaps some day you will discover that.”

  “My apologies—”

  “It is too hot and I am too tired, Mr. Mastai,” Elizabeth said. “Do you love my sister?”

  “Yes. Very much so.”

  “But marriage is out of the question?”

  “Sì. As much as… as I would want it to be. As soon as I finish my schooling, I will receive the tonsure. Only my illness has held me back from completing my studies.”

  “I heard it was why you were in France.”

  “Sì. Because of my fits. A doctor in France said he could cure me, but he was another charlatan.”

  Elizabeth paused. “Do you find the prospect of married life so terrible?”

  “It is not my path, though my decision has not been an easy one. I was struggling with my studies when I met Mary, and she made—it all come alive. I could understand things when she said them. Still, I did not feel very pious.”

  “Obviously,” she could not help but remark.

  “But—I did love her. Or came to love her. The feeling came over me like… how do you call… a lightning bolt. And I could not control myself. Things are different here, Signora Darcy. In Italia, what we did would not have been so terrible.”

  “But, though we are in Italy, Mary is not. And cannot be expected to abandon her own family for you, especially since you will shortly be supposedly celibate.”

  “So you do see… how terrible it is. But I am to do what?” He shook his head. “Every woman I had ever met was jeweled and made up to be perfect. Mary was perfect as she was, without adornments. Humble, pious, thinking little of herself, intelligent, studious… the very ideal of the church. The Virgin Mary.” He put his head down. “A terrible comparison, I know, Signora. But I cannot help it. And I ruined her. Tell me at least that she is not cast out.”

  “No.” Elizabeth's voice was wavering, and she was having trouble hiding it. “Papa was upset, yes, but she is family, and we love her. But her position in society—that is terrible, beyond repair. There is little hope for the Bennet name when this becomes known, if that has not happened already.”

  He sighed again. He was obviously in anguish, maybe in tears. It was hard to tell when he looked away, which was good for her as well, because she could hide her own tears. “If I go inside and offer your husband to deliver everything in my power to give, beyond my person as a husband, he will not kill me? Because he does—appear that way.”

  “No, he most assuredly will not. He is just very intimidating.”

  He bowed. “Thank you, Signora Darcy.”

  “Do right by my sister, and I will be the one doing the thanking, Mr. Mastai.”

  Inside, agreement was quickly reached, now that Elizabeth was there to make Darcy comply. Not that she expected otherwise, but he took one look at her reddened eyes and softened.

  “Tomorrow,” Giovanni said. “I can have a proposal for you tomorrow.”

  “I have your word of honor as—whatever you are, a clergyman, an Italian, a Roman—that you will not flee again?”

  “No, Signore.”

  So, it was agreed. Attempts at further conversation would be too awkward, so they took their leave.

  “He loves her,” Elizabeth said, both sad and relieved at the same time, “but they are too far apart in too many ways.”

  “We will see tomorrow how much he loves her.”

  Their next meeting was very formal and arranged. They sat at the dining table in Giovanni's apartment with an older man who spoke little and was obviously a banker. The Darcys sat across from them, and a paper was passed. Darcy glanced at the number, kept his look of concern and impatience, and passed it back without a word.

  “Oh, and for the child.” Giovanni passed another paper. Darcy took a look at it, and passed it back again.

  Without hesitation, he replied in an even voice, betraying neither disgust nor delight at whatever he had seen, “Mr. Bennet will, by law, receive any monies you wish to grant Miss Bennet. He may do as he pleases, though I have no doubt that he will give Mary access to the money in the fullest possible way. You may set up the trust fund for the child so that he cannot touch it. As I must deliver the check and set up the account, I will probably do so only with Mr. Bennet's approval, as I am only his son-in-law and here by proxy.”

  “I put my full faith in you, Signore.”

  “I will write to him by special courier, and we will wait to see if the terms are agreeable to him. If they are, I will take the checks immediately and return to England.”

  “Of course.” Giovanni swallowed. “I ask only—a small favor. That you deliver a letter I have written to Mary.” He removed it from his robes and passed the envelope over. It was sealed, and Elizabeth took it. “Thank you. She should know I only wish her the best, but there shall be no further correspondence, for both of our sakes.”

  “So it must be.”

  They bowed and left. Darcy was too eager to leave and Elizabeth too eager to know what figures he had seen. As they stepped outside and turned the corner, Darcy going first with his wife and brother practically chasing after him, he turned to them with a smile.

  “It went well?”

  “Better than my own expectations. Though I did not get my chance to properly throttle him, but I suppose I'
ll have to let that pass.”

  “That terribly much?”

  “If your father accepts—and Mr. Bennet will have to have lost all reason not to do so immediately, your sister will be one of the wealthiest women in England.” He whispered the sum, and Elizabeth gaped. “But first, most pressing, I must find that damned Maddox. I am in need of a speedy courier who thinks he owes me his life.”

  “So, you're not going to tell me the sum?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “What kind of man do you take me for?”

  Darcy's blunt stare was enough to get the point across. Brian Maddox took another long swig from his mug. “You're thinking I might run off with Miss Bennet to get the money. Well, I'll let you know I have only the highest respect for the institution of marriage. Hence why I, with my low moral character, have never entered into it. Left two girls at the altar… not at the same time, of course. Though the Turks do have some strange customs.”

  “I don't think I even want the explanation,” Darcy said, “and I will willingly rob my wife of it. Now, the letter.” It sat, composed and sealed by Darcy, on the inn table before them. “How fast?”

  “If I'm lucky, a month there, however long it takes him to decide, and then a month back. Two months, maybe three.”

  “Three months!” Elizabeth said. “It took us two to get here!”

  “You're not a professional courier who is very good at riding and even running with a limp,” Brian Maddox replied. “But— there is the business of me going to England. A risky venture.”

  “Outstanding debts, of course.” Darcy did not even pretend to be surprised.

  “Some have defaulted, since I haven't been spotted on British shores for two years. But some don't listen to rules, if you know what I mean. I would very much like to see my brother and the lovely Mrs. Maddox, if only in passing, but they're in Town. Where some—well, a majority—of my enemies are. But considering I'm otherwise offering to pay my own expenses for travel and do this actual job as a service to a family member, however distant, I'd say you'll be getting off easy by only insuring my safety while in England.”

  “Or I could use a proper courier,” Darcy pointed out.

  “Who'll pass France's embargo in that little time? He'd need a bribe for that, probably as much or more than I am asking. Which is two hundred pounds, by the way.”

  Darcy replied, “All things considered, I do find that reasonable. But if you don't return within three months—”

  “—then I'm dead on a roadside, and you should have hired someone proper after all. Not that a proper courier would go to England and upset Napoleon. And no, believe it or not, I don't gamble. Not while I'm on duty, anyway. Or when my brother's involved.”

  “I have to admit, you and the doctor could not be further opposites.”

  “And you are in quite a position to speak of brothers.”

  Darcy gave a glance to Grégoire and then back at Brian. “And not a word of this.”

  “Of course. None of my business. Well, about as much my business as the matter of Miss Bennet, but that's none of my business anyway. I'm just delivering a letter.” He smiled at them. “By the way, I have an address of a villa just outside Rome for you. You might find it more comfortable than the city itself, if you've had enough of the bugs and the heat and those awful smells.”

  “I might have,” Darcy said. They shook hands, and Brian was gone, taking the letter with him in his rucksack.

  “A pleasant man,” said Grégoire innocently.

  “Certainly an enigma,” said Elizabeth. Darcy had no comment.

  If there was one thing Brian Maddox was right about, it was Rome. It was a most unpleasant place in the summer, if one had no particular religious interest beyond sightseeing. The Darcys took their leave and rented the villa at an extremely reasonable price. It was on a hill, and on a clear day, they could even see the ocean and feel a cool breeze. It was also not far from Rome, close enough that Grégoire could walk there as often as he pleased, which was very often. They saw little of him, except when they joined him, and Elizabeth saw the Sistine Chapel and The Last Supper in all their glory, though she was surprised to find the latter was merely a painting over an ordinary square doorway.

  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.”

  BRIAN MADDOX RIDES AGAIN

  “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?”