“Stronger,” Grégoire said with a tired smile.
“And how is little Robert today?”
William Kincaid said. “Why, my son is not little. He’s robust and vigorous—”
“He’s an infant, dear,” Georgiana said. “He’s allowed—required, actually—to be small.”
Dr. Maddox hid a smile. “Lord and Lady Kincaid,” he said, “would you care to join us for luncheon?” He could see that Grégoire was tiring, but it would take subtlety to get the infant out of his arms and allow him to sleep.
They agreed, and Georgiana left first to set Robert down for a nap, William following in her wake.
“Such a wonderful child,” Grégoire said, as Dr. Maddox helped him stand and make it back to his bed. He still could not stand on his own, as his body continued to recover from a long illness. “So much life in him.”
“Indeed.”
Grégoire was settled comfortably on his bed. “You’ve done so much for me—and I know of no way to repay it. Aside from money, I suppose.”
Waving off the remark, Dr. Maddox said, “Money is as meaningless to me as it is to you in matters of family. I am satisfied enough that we could save you.”
“I heard it was very close.”
“Yes,” he said. “But you will be well. It is only a matter of time, now that the stitches are out.”
“Who would want me now, so scarred?” he joked.
Dr. Maddox said with a chortle, “Are you wishing for intimate companionship, Mr. Grégoire?” Grégoire went red, but it was a good feeling for both of them. Dr. Maddox continued, “No one has wanted to ask if you’ve had thoughts about your future. When you arrived, you were quite in despair about it.”
Almost two weeks had passed since his arrival at the Maddox home, and Grégoire answered, “My memories are poor of that period, but I do remember parts of it; the passage from Spain to England, not at all. Thank goodness, too, for I am inclined to be ill at sea. I remember only the abbot’s voice and then talking to Father LeBlanc. There is little between that.”
“You have not answered my question.”
“No,” Grégoire said, grasping the cross on his rosary. “I do wish to return to Pemberley, but beyond that—I have much thinking to do. Or perhaps I will travel, in the spring. Not very far, or my brother will follow me with an armed guard.”
Dr. Maddox chuckled. “He would. But you realize there are questions to which there are no answers. I don’t suppose I am the first one to tell you that.”
“No, but there are ideas I have never heard before. Have you read The Confession of St. Patrick?”
“I have not.”
“Darcy purchased a copy for me when I asked for anything in Latin. I doubt he knew exactly what he was purchasing or cared. It is here.” He pointed to, but not did reach for, the pile of books stacked up on the table beside the bed. “St. Patrick used to pray spontaneously, as often as he felt the grace of God, while he was herding sheep in captivity. He says it was sometimes as often as a hundred times a day.”
“They could not have been very long prayers, or the sheep would have all got away.”
Grégoire laughed. “I do not know much about sheep. I was always more of a gardener. More a planter of men than a shepherd of men, which I realize after having said it aloud, makes little sense.”
They shared another laugh. “You have the world before you, if reading is to be your occupation for a time,” Dr. Maddox said. “You have that to look forward to.”
“True. Now if I may have some privacy, it is time for Sext, the sixth canonical hour.”
“Would you like a watch to keep track of these things?” Dr. Maddox said, looking at his pocket watch. It was indeed 12:15.
“No,” Grégoire said. “I always know anyway.”
Dr. Maddox nodded. “After that—get some rest. Doctor’s orders.” He gave him a pat on the arm and left, pondering the mystery of the former monk’s internal clock.
Daniel Maddox did thoroughly enjoy his partial retirement, which allowed him to go to bed with his wife at a normal time. It was only when they were comfortably settled in bed that he said, “The Regent asked me to visit the king.”
“For an assessment?”
“He wants me to see him. The Prince worries about his own mental health, after all.” He added, “He asked me to take Frederick with me to Windsor.”
Even in the partial darkness, where he was basically blind, he could see her alarm. It was more that he could sense it, without even touching her, as she shrieked, “He said that?”
“His exact words were, ‘He is fond of children. Take your son. That will break the ice.’ He did not bother to clarify which son, though he very well knows I have two.” He reached out and she found his hand. “I’ve spoken to His Majesty’s staff several times. He is completely out of his mind and does not look well. As a result, he has almost no visitors.” He added, “I don’t want Frederick to see that, even if it is his grandfather.”
“Why not? You bring all kinds of gruesomeness into this house. And besides, he doesn’t know the connection.”
“You think the Prince is right, then? That Frederick should see him before he dies?”
“You believe that is the prince’s intention?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” He tightened his hold on her hand. His were so calloused that he sometimes felt almost bad touching her soft skin, as if he would mar it “I just get nervous when he mentions Frederick, however subtly he does so.”
She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. “I know. I do, too. But it seems to happen anyway.” She said, “The Prince may be feeling sentimental.” Then she added, “Is he mad?”
“The Prince?”
“Yes. Like his father.”
“No. I’ve seen no signs of it. He is just a glutton, a drunk, an addict, and a pervert. He is not mad, however, if that is some consolation.”
She responded, “That is a great consolation.”
He could not disagree.
CHAPTER 20
The Noncourtship
TO EVERYONE’S GREAT RELIEF, Grégoire was at last released from Dr. Maddox’s care. He was relocated to the Darcys’ townhouse in London, where he was greeted by the staff with enthusiasm and seemed overwhelmed by the experience. Despite the circumstances, Darcy and Elizabeth delighted in having all of the Darcys under one roof for the first time since Georgiana’s marriage. Mary Bennet continued her stay, as Joseph was often lonely at Longbourn and enjoyed the time with his cousins, even if the ones closest to his age were girls. Mr. and Mrs. Bradley finally paid a visit to Grégoire, bearing young Brandon and Julie, along with George and Isabella. Mercifully, the visit was short enough to keep Mary and Lydia from getting into a heated conversation in the sitting room.
On the third day, Grégoire was well enough to join them at dinner, if only briefly. On the fourth, it was not Dr. Maddox who called, but Dr. Bertrand. His attention was to his patient, and he did not seem to mind when Darcy explained that the ladies were out with Mrs. Bingley.
Dr. Bertrand sighed at the extensive scarring on Grégoire’s back and the ones he had created on his forearms to save his back, but Grégoire heard it and just shook his head. “I know people with fewer scars who are unable to do such things as walk normally. I am quite blessed.”
Although Dr. Bertrand did not know how this man could bring himself to say such a thing and mean it, he offered no opposition. “As soon as you are strong enough, you can return to Pemberley, if that is your desire.”
“I admit I am eager to go home,” he said. Then his eyes lit up. “Look who it is!”
Joseph Bennet stood in the door frame, half hiding behind it as Dr. Bertrand helped Grégoire roll his tunic back down. “Uncle Grégoire, you said you would do my Latin homework.”
“I said I would help you. But it is time for none, the fifth canonical hour.You will have to wait a bit, Joseph.”
“What is it?” Bertrand said. “What is the text, I
mean?”
“He is supposed to translate some of Virgil’s poetry, I believe.”
“Very challenging. Is that true, Mr. Bennet?”
Joseph nodded.
“I can help him. Or try, at least,” Bertrand said. “And you should rest, Mr. Grégoire.”
“I know. After prayer, I will rest, if you will lift this particular burden off my shoulders, though it is not normally a burden.”
“I understand.” Bertrand turned to Joseph. “Why don’t we see if I remember anything from my exams?”
It turned out he did, and he sat on the sofa in the sitting room, helping Joseph translate a particularly difficult set of poems. He was impressed not only with the boy’s comprehension, but his penmanship. “Who is your tutor, Mr. Bennet?”
“Mother and Grandfather. Grandmother didn’t know Latin anyway, and then she had a stroke.”
“I am sorry to hear that.”
“Grandfather likes it. He says she’s nicer now. She kisses him a lot.”
He blushed a little. “Mr. Bennet, I’m quite sure you shouldn’t tell people your grandmother had a stroke. Or the other bit.”
“Well, it’s really evident.”
“That does not mean you should say it. But that is for your mother to decide.” He looked up. “Speaking of—”
“Mummy!” Joseph jumped up and hugged his mother, who was still removing her bonnet as she entered with Mrs. Darcy and Mrs. Bingley. “Dr. Bertrand was helping me with my schoolwork!”
“Was he?” Mrs. Darcy said before Mary could respond. “Dr. Bertrand, I trust your patient is doing well?”
“He is.”
“The patient is eager to return to Pemberley.”
“I think it will be possible in the next week or two,” he said. “Excuse Dr. Maddox’s absence, he was on an errand—”
“That’s quite all right,” Mrs. Bingley said.
“Will you join us for luncheon? It seems no one else will be home in time,” Mrs. Darcy offered.
Mary shot her a look, which Bertrand intercepted. The look wasn’t cold, but perhaps she did not want to be in his presence. Or was she afraid? He could diagnose patients better than people. He decided to chance it. “I’d love to.”
“Really, Mary. I’ve never seen someone so intent on chasing off a perfectly amiable gentleman,” Elizabeth said when they returned to her sitting room.
Truly, Mary had done nothing to chase him off. She had not been rude at the meal. She had not ignored him. She had contributed to the conversation. She had not, however, rushed to return his affections, which, although discreet, were enough to indicate a preference. In fact, she had announced that she was leaving for Longbourn as soon as the Darcys returned to Pemberley and the Bingleys to Kirkland.
“I am not a romantic, Lizzy.”
“I do not believe this is a situation calling for a romantic gesture.”
Mary looked down at her knitting. “It is all ridiculous. I will return to Longbourn, where I shall remain while Papa still lives. And Dr. Bertrand is tied to town. Am I supposed to indicate that I am to remain here indefinitely when it is not true?”
“Hertfordshire is not so terribly far from town if one is a good rider,” Jane said. “Especially since they have redone the roads.There is no reason to call off a courtship because of thirty miles.”
“It is not a courtship!”
“Very well,” Elizabeth said. “Tell us what you find so displeasing about him, and that shall be the end of the matter.”
“He has no reason to court me.”
“That is not a character fault. Nor is your argument logical.”
Mary stared at her sister. “Must I state the obvious?”
“Mary,” Jane said kindly, “he seems to like Joseph very much. Mr. Bradley was not discouraged by the presence of not one, but two, children. And he does not have to provide for Joseph, because Joseph has a trust. If he saw any reason to hesitate, he would have done so.”
“He could be a fortune hunter.”
“Then he is an inadequate one,” Elizabeth said, “for no one has said a thing about money, and even if they had, Papa controls your inheritance and would refuse it to a rake.”
The younger Bennet sister looked down; apparently, she could think of no more to say.
“Did you speak to Joseph?” Jane asked.
“I will if I need to, but not before. Speaking of him, I must make sure he is not bothering Mr. Grégoire. Excuse me.” And she abruptly left her sisters, taking her needles with her.
Elizabeth and Jane exchanged glances. “Why is she so cold to the idea?” Jane asked. “Perhaps she does not wish to be married at all. Some women don’t.”
“I am not convinced. She would have had no reason to continue a charade of pleasantry with a man she did not like.” She sighed. “Perhaps her heart still belongs to another person.”
“Can you mean two people?”
“I do. And one of them is gone and never to return,” Elizabeth said.
Grégoire’s health improved steadily, partly because he was able to eat more and more. He could walk on his own, and one day he ventured outside the townhouse. The next day, Darcy took him to a bookshop, where, with his own money, Grégoire purchased a number of books in Latin, Greek, English, and French—whatever suited him that they were sure Pemberley did not have.
As soon as they were given leave to return to Pemberley, they made ready to depart. Dr. Bertrand called a final time to advise them to go slowly. It happened that Mary was set to depart later that afternoon, and somehow, with all of the servants and children running about, she encountered him alone in the library. Or perhaps the meeting had been carefully arranged behind their backs.
“May I call on you in Hertfordshire?” he asked bluntly.
“Why?”
He blushed. “For all of the reasons a man normally calls on a woman, Miss Bennet. And I would like to see Master Joseph.” When she did not answer, he lowered his voice. “Are you really so averse to me?”
She clutched her locket. “No.”
“Then may I ask you a question?”
She looked up at him nervously. “You may, Dr. Bertrand.”
“Did Joseph’s father give you that locket?”
Her response was a look of horror, but she did relinquish her tight clutch on the locket. “Yes.”
“Are you still in love with him?”
“I don’t know—I knew him only briefly.” She added, “But he is Joseph’s father.”
“So he is alive, then, with no intention to return to you.”
She was caught in her own lie. She hadn’t actually said Joseph’s father was dead, but it was the official story. “No, he is not coming back.” She continued, “His family meant him for the church. He may well be a bishop by now for all I know.” She looked up to find no horror or disgust on his face.
“You are not the only one to have done something that has since plagued you,” he said. “I was a surgeon at Waterloo.”
“That is a very noble task!”
“For the French.”
There was a silence.
“My parents were nobility. They came here to hide during the Revolution. My relatives stayed and were slaughtered. I was born and raised here, but in the final years of Napoleon’s reign, my parents repatriated, and so did I, to finish my education. I served in the army because I needed the clinical experience.”
“Does Dr. Maddox know?”
“He is the only one—except for my family—who does.”
There was another silence.
“My parents will be somewhat disappointed if I tell them I am courting an English girl from the country,” he said, “but as we are in England, they cannot be all that surprised.”
She murmured, “I have some money. Giov—Joseph’s father provided him with a trust and me with living expenses. My father keeps hold of it. It is to be my inheritance. If you want it, you will have to impress him.”
“I do not want it,” h
e said, “but I will try to impress him anyway.”
Dr. Bertrand left and was not there to see Mary off, but judging from her expression, no great rift had occurred between them. She even admitted, after much inquisition by her sisters, that he had asked to call on her, but made them swear not to say a word. And with that, and all the good-byes, Mary and Joseph were gone.
The next day began early; the Maddoxes called—all of them, actually—as the doctor gave Darcy various powders to be mixed with water if Grégoire lost his health on the road.
The Kincaids would return with the Darcys to Pemberley. It was on the way and Georgiana was eager to spend more time with both her brothers, and William was eager to please his wife. It took three full coaches to fit everyone and then other vehicles for the servants and nurses, but they were off. The passage took four days, instead of three (it could be done in two, with luck and speed). Dr. Maddox’s instincts had been right—the bumping of the carriage tired Grégoire easily, and made him ill by the side of the road, for which he was embarrassed. Darcy shooed away the coachman and attended to his brother personally. They spent three nights at the inns along the way, encountering one innkeeper’s wife who knew Grégoire from his previous wanderings but did not recognize him; he had to be reintroduced.
Darcy sent a rider ahead to inform Mrs. Reynolds of Grégoire’s return. Mrs. Reynolds was to instruct the servants not to fuss over him, even though they had all heard something of his poor health and return to England. Instead, they were to focus on the former mistress of Pemberley and her husband. He was also just Mr. Grégoire now—or Mr. Bellamont if they were uncomfortable with that name (with his irregular parentage, he could not truly claim the Darcy name). His old servant, Thomas, was there to greet him and help him out of the carriage. Even without his monastic appearance, Grégoire was recognizable. They got him inside without incident, and he rested until dinner while Viscount Robert Kincaid was admired by the maids who had once attended Georgiana. The rest of the servants welcomed their master and mistress, and the heirs to Pemberley who followed them, eager to be home and not uneager to show it.
The Ballad of Gregoire Darcy Page 19