The Plight of the Darcy Brothers Read online

  “Perhaps we should call on Maddox,” Bingley said to Darcy in confidence. “To… I don't know, assess things.”

  “He is not the only doctor in England, Bingley! And he would undoubtedly come with Caroline.”

  “So what if he does? We cannot avoid the extended family knowing the whole of it for long, and as she is now related to Miss Bennet, Caroline has almost as much interest in avoiding the scandal as we do. So no harm done there.”

  Bingley had a point. Besides, if Mary was to see a doctor, it had best be the one least likely to gossip. “Fine. But first, Mr. Bennet.”

  “Oh dear God, never did I fear our father-in-law so.”

  “He has no reason to be cross with us. That is, provided we hide the children from him, and even if we don't, he'll hardly be concerned. Might even find it amusing. In fact, it might put him in good humor for the very bad news.”

  “You have a point.”

  “So that is the plan, then. He will see his grandchildren. And then Miss Bennet.”

  “Poor Mary.”

  Darcy gave him a look.

  “How can you be so hard on her, even in private? It's not her fault.”

  “Unlike your own Calvinist leanings, I do believe in free will, Bingley.”

  “That is not to say she wasn't taken advantage of. Even if she thinks she wasn't, with… cultural differences and such. You've been to the Continent—you know they all think we're stuck-up Englishmen with no romantic nature whatsoever, and for good reason.”

  “I never said I had no romantic nature.”

  “But people have thought it of you. I've said it to you, in so many words.”

  “On that, I will relent,” Darcy grumbled.

  “What are we to do, Darcy?”

  “Simple,” he said, as if it was. “I am to save yet another Bennet sister.”

  “How do you propose to—oh. Well, I'm willing to help. She's my sister as well.”

  “You have two small toddlers and a daughter who hasn't said her first words.”

  Bingley frowned. “Point taken. I do feel useless then.”

  “You will be sheltering a young woman with child from considerable scandal. That is hardly the definition of 'useless.' In fact, I believe you will be quite busy for the next seven months.”

  “Plus your child. Who, I imagine, will have us all ink-skinned when the matter is done.”

  To that, Darcy had to hold back his response, as he decided that, with all of the serious goings-on, hitting his brother-in-law in the face would not be proper. Not again, anyway.

  STORM AT CHATTON

  FORTUNATELY, AS THEY WERE able to travel at greater speeds than the elderly Bennets, who had not been informed of the cause for their invitation, Dr. and Mrs. Maddox arrived at Chatton first. This was their first journey there in several months, as the doctor's schedule kept him in London, and he seemed reluctant to take whatever salary was offered from Bingley. Dr. Maddox had a townhouse, small but still far beyond his own means, that Bingley had given the couple as a gift.

  Dr. Maddox insisted that he would provide for his wife, though privately Charles wrote to his sister and said that if the doctor worked himself ragged, she would start receiving checks from Chatton anyway. So Caroline Maddox had two dedicated men trying to satisfy her every want and need, and she never looked more radiant, aside from being a bit worn from the traveling. Upon their arrival, the doctor was quickly taken aside and informed they rather selfishly needed him to see Mary Bennet.

  “Is she ill?”

  They shrugged and pushed him in a room with Mary Bennet, a person whom he had never met, but to whom he was related by marriage. On the other side of the door, the Bingleys and the Darcys waited. He took only a few minutes to reappear.

  “What do you want me to say? She's with child,” Maddox shrugged, apparently unhappy with the stares he was receiving. No, he knew the situation well enough. They wanted a magic answer—that she was wrong or that he could, God forbid, do something about it. “About two months. Or, if you want to go by her own recollection, two months and six days, and I am inclined to believe her.”

  He swallowed, wanting to avoid any further questioning of how close the inspection had been. It hadn't been very close; it didn't need to be. He merely looked at the size of Mary's belly and believed her on everything else. There was no reason to do otherwise. “I suppose the father is—”

  “Gone.”

  “French?”

  “Italian.”

  “He has run away to his home soil,” Darcy said, not hiding his repulsion at the idea.

  “He is promised to the church,” Elizabeth said, partially countering it.

  “Oh, dear,” Maddox said. “Well, I'm sorry I can't be much help in this matter. I am not familiar with Derbyshire's offerings of midwives, but I am sure you are.” He added, “I am very sorry for the circumstances, but there is nothing I can do, beyond being a supportive relation, if you wish the support.”

  That was not the answer they were looking for, and he knew it. So he did what he thought was best, which was to flee the room and let them think it over. He went to his chambers, which were now the same as Caroline's, and found her already there.

  “I know,” she said, as he put his bag down and shooed the servant away. “Horrible, is it not?”

  She did not say horrible in the way that Caroline Bingley would normally say horrible. There was, instead, a hint of sadness. Pangs of sympathy, perhaps? He could not imagine. He was just beginning to understand the whole of the situation himself. Clearly, the Darcys and Bingleys hadn't told Mr. Bennet yet and were still devising their strategy to lessen the blow to Mary. There was a great amount of love in this family, even for one who had so soundly ruined her life when she was entrusted with it by being sent to study abroad.

  It was best to assume this Italian, whoever he was, had just taken advantage of Mary, but the Maddoxes knew love was more complicated than that. Mary, as pious as she obviously was, refused to implicate the man, taking the blame all unto herself—and that was bad for her health and the health of the baby. Maybe that was the real reason Dr. Maddox had been called—to be a buffer between Mary and her father. This musing he expressed out loud.

  “You really think so?” Caroline asked him.

  “I have no idea, honestly. They are keeping her here perhaps because she is too ill to travel, or because they want to avoid the scandal as long as possible. Doesn't she have a younger sister still unmarried?”

  “Catherine. They call her Kitty. A flirtatious girl, if ever I met one.”

  “So, like you.”

  She smiled severely at him. “I did not know you considered me a girl.”

  “Hardly. But—and I mean this in the most positive way— you were flirtatious. So much so, you could not avoid the habit even around Mr. Hurst's poor servant.”

  “And how lucky I was in that. But I cannot imagine the same for Mary. Poor girl.”

  Was this the same Caroline he had courted and married? He had to wonder. There was something almost motherly in her tone.

  Maybe this wouldn't turn out so badly after all.

  The three Bennets were called to Derbyshire without any knowledge of what they were to encounter. Even though they arrived hot from an early spring heat wave and exhausted from the bump of a long carriage ride, they had to cock their heads at the sight of two wild African-painted children running to greet them. “Grandfather!” said the boy who, from his proper dress and general disposition, was undoubtedly Geoffrey Darcy, despite his coloration.

  He raised his arms with the expectation of being lifted, to which a very patient and confounded Mr. Bennet said, “I'm afraid you are getting a bit big and your grandfather is getting a bit old in the back for that.” Geoffrey frowned but still grabbed Mr. Bennet's legs enough to make him stumble a bit, only to be caught by Kitty. Mrs. Bennet was no help, because she was busy attempting to pick up the child she assumed was the silent Georgiana Bingley.

  “My good
ness! How did we raise our children, Mr. Bennet?”

  “I'm not quite sure who is responsible for this, but I may venture that our grandchildren may, in fact, shoulder some of the blame. Or all of it.” He looked at Geoffrey sternly, but it was a very hard composure to maintain when facing off with a boy whose skin was the shade of berries.

  “Lizzy?” His daughter had appeared at the front door, chasing the children, who had run out at the sight of the carriage. Her own expression was not so pleasant. He immediately patted his grandson on the head and turned his attention to his favorite daughter. “Lizzy, whatever is the matter?”

  Despite all of their advice otherwise, Mary insisted on telling Mr. Bennet herself, with him sitting down in Bingley's study and receiving her properly as if at Longbourn. Darcy shrugged privately at Elizabeth's harsh look at this turn of events, saying only in a hushed voice, “It is only right. I would expect nothing less of my own children.”

  So, behind closed doors, Mary Bennet told the entire story. Or, she could have told him complete hogwash, because no one would venture close enough to the door to listen in. Bingley tried, but his wife held him back. The Maddoxes, their presence for the moment unannounced, had remained above stairs. So Elizabeth and Jane were left to tell their mother, along with Kitty, in the sitting room.

  “Ruined! She is ruined!” Mrs. Bennet cried, and they said nothing, because it was an accurate assessment. “Oh, we never should have sent her to that dreadful country. All of that time— only to be taken advantage of by some—some papal rogue! And now he cannot be found!” She called for another handkerchief, having used up her current stash of them. “Kitty, you are ruined as well! Oh, we should have married you to that officer!”

  “Mama!” Kitty looked to her sisters for help.

  “Kitty,” Jane said, sitting down next to her sister protectively. “All is not lost.”

  “For Mary, it is. She will die an old maid now. No man in England will have her,” Mrs. Bennet said, adding, “Oh, Mary!” even though her daughter wasn't in the room—but that was irrelevant. Surely Mary was, at the moment, enduring Mr. Bennet's rarely used but considerable censure. “Oh, thank goodness, this did not happen at Longbourn, or all the neighbors would be talking. Oh, but they will soon enough! Oh, Mary!”

  The last time Mrs. Bennet had wept over a daughter had been when Lydia ran off with Wickham. But Mary, by all appearances, had not acted wantonly, despite the obvious results. Her self-admonishments only made her a more pathetic and helpless figure, one that they could not help but be protective of—even Mrs. Bennet, who was crying out for her daughter's desperate situation.

  Her sobbing was only interrupted by the arrival of Mr. Darcy, who was not noticed until he tapped on Lizzy's shoulder and whispered in her ear, “The door is open.”

  “Does Papa want to see anyone?”

  “I believe it would be best if you were to see him. I've— called in the doctor.”

  “The doctor?”

  He let her make her own assessment, as she ran into Bingley's study, where Dr. Maddox was taking Mr. Bennet's pulse. Her father was full of barely contained indignation as Mary slipped out of the room.

  “Papa,” Lizzy said, kneeling before him and taking his hands, which were shaking with rage.

  “I do not need a doctor!” he said. “I have every reason to be furious.”

  Elizabeth looked at Dr. Maddox, who was looking at his pocket watch. When he was done with his count, he pulled away from his patient and said, “He is in a very agitated state.”

  “That I know!” said Mr. Bennet.

  “Mr. Bennet, please do listen to Mrs. Darcy and take some deep breaths.” With that, Dr. Maddox bowed to him and took his leave, shutting the door behind him.

  Mr. Bennet did not respond, but he did take a deep breath. There was silence in the room as he visibly regained his composure, or attempted to do so. “I have every right as a father to make myself ill over this.”

  “As a father to Mary, perhaps. But not to the rest of us,” she said gently. “Papa, please.”

  Mr. Bennet took one of his hands out of hers and used it to hold up his head. “What am I to do? I have ruined one of my daughters by sending her to France.” He added quickly, “And don't bother me with the business of it being of her own volition, because Mary tried to assign as much blame to herself as possible. She may be out, but she is my responsibility until the day she is married, and now it seems she never will be.” When he looked up, there were tears in his eyes. “I have ruined her.”

  “Papa, you have not.”

  “If only I'd not let her go to France—”

  “She took liberties there you did not know of—”

  “But she seemed so sensible! Well, perhaps not sensible, but so religious! I thought the worst of it would be she might end up in a nunnery, and if that would make her happy, then… so be it. I only wanted to see her happy.” He gave a sad smile. “I only wanted to see you all happy. I put you out one after another, when it wasn't proper to do so. I sent Lydia to Brighton. Oh god, if Darcy hadn't saved us all—”

  “Papa, that is in the past.”

  “I know. I know.” For once, he seemed very old and bumbling and somewhat out of his senses. “Even Darcy cannot save us now. Though, I thank God, Lizzy, you and Jane do not need saving, and Lydia is at least settled, and perhaps Kitty will survive— what with two older sisters who did well—and we shall not lose Longbourn. I have that solace, but so little it is. Even if I forgive Mary, as I will eventually manage to do, she will not forgive herself.” He was now openly crying. “Lizzy, what am I to do?”

  “I do not know,” was her honest answer as she embraced him.

  “I suppose,” he said, after trying to regain his composure again, this time in a different way, “that Mr. Bingley will take her in for the rest of her term and shelter us all, for a time, from the scandal. That may be enough time to marry off Kitty, or perhaps something else will come up. I find myself without an answer to our question. But now—I must discuss it with my sons-in-law, and I must be the properly angry father again. So, please, give me a moment and send them in, will you, darling?”

  “Of course, Papa.” She kissed him on his forehead and left the room. She needed a moment herself, before she could face the waiting crowd in the next room.

  “I'm quite well now,” Mr. Bennet announced as his two sons-in-law and the physician entered the room. He shooed Maddox's attentions away, though he clearly was calmer now, if still not considerably angry. “This is a situation with only one obvious remedy.”

  There was a long silence.

  “I'm very sorry, but I can't go,” Maddox announced.

  “Daniel,” Bingley said, “You had never even met Mary until this day. You can hardly be expected—”

  “But I am the only one here beyond Mr. Bennet with a proficiency in Italian, and I spent a month of my life in Rome itself. So I would be the most logical choice, and Caroline would love to see France. But she cannot travel… right now.”

  “I don't see—,” Darcy said, and then stopped. “Were you ever going to tell us?”

  “I left that up to her. After all, she has to do most of the work.”

  “My sister. With child.” Bingley was stupefied. “I don't know whether to throttle you or shake your hand, Doctor.”

  “They are married, Bingley,” Darcy reminded him. “Out of curiosity, when does her confinement begin?”

  “In four months.”

  “In four…” Bingley had to sit down. “You bastard. You didn't tell us.”

  “I told you—I left it up to her, and you know how she likes grand announcements. The only reason I tell you now is out of necessity.”

  “So we will have two confinements at once,” Mr. Bennet said, his mood not lifted. “Congratulations, Doctor. Under different circumstances, I would be more generous in my compliments, but it seems I must go to Italy now.”

  “Mr. Bennet, with all due respect, you know you cannot,” Da
rcy said.

  “I am not dead yet, Mr. Darcy! Despite arrangements being made otherwise.”

  Darcy turned to Maddox. “Please tell Mr. Bennet he cannot go.”

  “I am not sick!” Mr. Bennet shouted, nearly deafening them all from the shock. They had never heard him shout before or raise his voice, even when he was being stern.

  After an appropriate silence, Maddox ventured, “With respect, Mr. Bennet, I would not advise such a journey.”

  “I do not recall asking you!”

  “I cannot go,” Bingley said. “For… obvious reasons. I can hardly leave Jane with three small children.”

  “Of course,” Darcy said, “I will be going.” He made the statement as if his journey was an already known fact that they had merely overlooked.

  “Mr. Darcy!” Mr. Bennet said indignantly.

  “Darcy, I have to inquire how your languages are,” Bingley said.

  “My French is inexcusably abominable, and my Italian is nonexistent, but that's what a translator is for, and I'm sure there's at least one in the entire Continent for hire. Besides, I am clearly the only one available. Geoffrey is old enough to be on his own for a few months, and Elizabeth has never had the pleasure of seeing the Continent. So it is decided.”

  “It is hardly decided!” Mr. Bennet said. “I have decided on nothing. It seems all the decisions are being made without me, and this is my daughter, Mr. Darcy, not yours.”

  Darcy motioned to the others for privacy. He then sat down next to the infuriated Mr. Bennet, who seemed to be calming down as the room became quieter and he was able to digest all of the information they had thrown at him.