Mr. Darcy's Great Escape

by Marsha Altman

  “The count?”

  “Our host. He said you offered a favor.”

  “Oh.” He looked a bit embarrassed. “I—promised to say a Mass so that his daughter will not miscarry. She is with child again.” The part about Olaf’s son taking ill had been false; the part about the failed confinement of his daughter last year had been true.

  “That was it?”

  “Yes.”

  He was hiding something, but she accepted his answer, too tired to do otherwise. It did not seem pressing. Instead she removed her outer layers and crawled into bed beside her husband, listening to his steady breathing and occasional cough no matter how many blankets she put over him. But he was here, beside her, where he belonged. Where they were and how they had gotten there, for the moment, did not matter.

  ***

  In the morning, Grégoire was already up when she knocked on his door. Of course, he rose earlier than all of them, no matter how tired he was. In the hallway they encountered a tense Fitzwilliam, still not fully dressed. “How is Darcy?”

  “Still sleeping. He called out for you during the night, Grégoire,” she said to her brother-in-law. “Except he called you Gregory for some reason.”

  Grégoire shrugged. “Has anyone spoken to Mrs. Maddox?”

  “Yes,” Fitzwilliam said with a frown. “Dr. Maddox is not well. He has a fever, from the infection in his hand. He needs rest and, at the very least, an apothecary.

  Elizabeth felt a pang of guilt; apparently, Darcy had fared well. On the other hand, it wasn’t his brother who had run off with Count Vladimir’s daughter.

  “Yes, I discussed it with Count Olaf last night. He says the best thing to do is to make straight for Frankfurt, which is large enough to have a decent surgeon, and from there we can write to Darcy’s man in Berlin and have him deliver a message to England. Beyond that, we’ll have to find passage somewhere along the coast of Hanover. It’s not safe to travel to England anymore, just from it.” His frown deepened. “I’m not positive that either of them are well enough to travel, but we don’t have much of a choice. If we don’t leave before the heavy snows set in, we’ll have to winter in Transylvania.”

  ***

  At breakfast, Count Olaf joined them, as did his wife and son; they discussed various routes out of the country and various places to stop for shelter. It had not snowed the night before—a good sign, he judged. “The only thing I regret,” Olaf said, “is not being able to see the look on Vladimir’s face when he discovered our ruse. Perhaps he hasn’t, yet.”

  “And Trommler?”

  He shrugged, “That man, as far as I can tell, is the type of person to survive. Unfortunately.”

  Their few items were packed, and the reliquary was returned to its hiding place in the now well-padded wagon. A hung-over Darcy attempted to get up but eventually needed Fitzwilliam to carry him to the wagon.

  Their departure from the castle was an odd one. They were eager to be gone but wanted to say proper good-byes to the man who had so needlessly put himself out and in great danger for them. However, they could not bring themselves to celebrate, and their good-byes were muted.

  “Go with God, Brother,” Olaf said to Grégoire.

  “Go with God,” Grégoire said as he made the sign of the cross.

  ***

  “Uncle Bingley!”

  The shouts of two children, probably racing in his direction with the intention to grab hold of him and perhaps topple him, was enough to make a very tired Charles Bingley smile as he entered his London townhouse. “Prepare yourself; I am about to be trampled,” he said to his doorman as the Maddox children appeared around the corner. “Hello, chil—” But that was about as far as he got before Frederick and Emily Maddox reached his legs, and he succeeded in standing only by grabbing on to a pillar. “Careful! You’re both much too big for this!”

  Emily raised her hands a silent question, and he picked her up with a groan. “You’re getting too heavy, Miss Maddox. I bet you’re going to be at least your mother’s height.” He looked down and patted Frederick on the head. “And you—you’re practically a man now.” Actually Frederick was five as of a week ago, but he was unaware of that fact. His birthday was celebrated with his sister’s. “Look at you.”

  Louisa Hurst finally appeared, trying to follow her niece and nephew with a more graceful, womanly entrance. “Hello, Charles.”

  “Louisa. How are they?”

  “Quite eager for next week.” She turned a stern eye to the children. “And you are both up past your bedtimes.”

  With a collective groan, a servant finally herded off the children as Mr. Hurst hobbled in. “Mr. Bingley.”

  “Mr. Hurst. How are you both? Is there any news?”

  “There’s a package that was passed on by the Maddox housekeeper, but it’s not from the Continent,” Louisa said. “It came last week. No return.”

  “To Dr. Maddox?”

  “To Frederick.”

  He nodded. “Does he know about it?”

  “No. We weren’t sure what to do.”

  “I’ll handle it,” he said. “I’m sorry I’m later than I said I would be—I was held up at the business office.”

  “I thought you hired a manager for that,” said Mr. Hurst. Louisa Hurst had already put in her objections to Bingley reentering the family business, and said nothing at this juncture.

  “I did, but—there’s only so much he can do with the embargo. The company hasn’t had a shipment in six months.” He shook his head. He didn’t want to talk about this in front of his sister. “Where is this package?”

  “In your study, with your other post. None of it from the Continent—we checked as it came in. How is Jane?”

  “She is fine. Worried, but fine,” Bingley said, which was his regular answer, and he said his good nights to his sister as he went into his study. He left the door open, and Mr. Hurst followed him.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” Hurst said, sitting down on the chair across from him. “You would think having two children would make the house livelier, but it’s actually been rather quiet.”

  “I don’t mind,” Bingley said as he quickly shuffled through the post, mainly concerning his business venture, and a few from people who had heard he was in and out of Town and were sending their invitations.

  “Any hope for the business, Bingley?”

  He sighed. “I don’t know. I either pay the workers for essentially doing nothing, or throw up my hands and let them all go. The warehouse is empty, and no money’s coming in.”

  “Will you have lost much?”

  “Hardly anything. I wouldn’t have gone into it otherwise. Still—I feel bad, not paying men who think they have jobs. These are dock workers, not idle gentlemen.”

  “But they’re not actually doing their jobs.”

  Bingley just shook his head. “Anyway—let’s see about this.” He pulled the brown package closer to him and retrieved his pocketknife to cut the strings. There was no return address. “I assume it came on Frederick’s birthday?”

  “Precisely. Or do we really know? Or just the day his mother died?”

  “I don’t know. I was never clear on that myself. For some reason, I don’t want to bring it up, even with Caroline.” He severed the strings and tore off the brown packaging to reveal a box. “I feel sort of guilty, opening his present for him.”

  “My understanding is the doctor does it without a second thought.”

  This didn’t make Bingley feel much better as he opened the box to reveal a set of toy soldiers, half painted British and half painted French, lying against fine silk. “Goodness.” He spun the box around so Hurst could get a look.

  Mr. Hurst picked one up, examining it. “Very nice. Young Frederick will be ecstatic.” He put it back in its place. “Who will this be from?”

  “I don’t kno
w. Usually the doctor makes that decision, but I don’t think he’ll be back in time.” He crossed his arms. “I bought Emily a doll—I suppose this year it could come from the Bingleys, alongside her present.”

  “Was the doll made of gold?”

  “They can’t tell the worth of things. And it’s a very nice doll,” Bingley said, closing the box and flipping it over.

  “Looking for the royal seal?”

  “We’re not supposed to say that out loud, Mr. Hurst,” he said, settling into his chair.

  “Someone should say the obvious,” Hurst said. “I agree with your plan. Louisa and I already bought him something. He’s been trying to find it all week.”

  “Jane is going to come down for their birthday and bring the children.”

  “All of them?”

  “We thought—well, it might take their minds off the situation. The house might be destroyed in the process, but so be it.” He smiled at that, one hand still on the box of soldiers.

  ***

  The five of them took shifts through the night and the next day, until they had to stop and pay what seemed outrageous for a change in horses. The road was long and brutal, rarely paved except for the old Roman roads. A week at full speed was enough for everyone, and it was obvious that their husbands needed not only proper food (and a shave) but a doctor.

  Grégoire held Darcy upright long enough to make sure he swallowed the contents of the container of soup and then helped him back down. Elizabeth climbed up next to Caroline. “How long do you think we should ride?”

  “As long as we possibly can. Out of Austria, at least.”

  The half-ruined wagon rolled into Frankfurt. The best inn they could find was in poor condition from the chaos of war, but it would do. Grégoire was sent off to find a decent doctor, if one was to be found. The reliquary was put in the Maddoxes’ room, as it seemed that the doctor needed most any blessings it would bring.

  At last, after the innkeeper brought up food and drink, Elizabeth was left alone with Darcy. “Darcy,” she said, taking his hand. “You need to drink.”

  To her surprise, he coughed and responded, “Maddox, I’ve just had the loveliest dream.”

  “Oh?”

  “Elizabeth was with me,” he said.

  She kissed him on the forehead, and he opened his eyes. They didn’t seem to entirely focus, but enough for him to say, “Oh.”

  “That’s all I get for going to Transylvania to rescue you?”

  He smiled weakly. “You are… preferable… to waking up next to Maddox.”

  “I would hope so,” she said, all of the desperation coming out of her. Relieved as she was to find him alive, he was not well. “I’ll help you up.” “Help” was an operative word, because she did most of the work, as he didn’t seem capable of moving much himself or even lifting his own deteriorated weight, but finally she had him resting against the headboard enough for him to drink. It took him a long time to finish the bottle, but he managed, and seemed to stay awake this time as she put it away.

  “Where—where am I?”

  “Frankfurt. We’ve just arrived. Grégoire is looking for a doctor as we speak.”

  “Doctor—” he stumbled. “Grégoire?”

  “Yes, you have a brother named Grégoire.”

  He was too impaired to respond in his traditional way, which bothered her as he answered simply, “He’s here?”

  “We found him in the monastery. It was dissolved, but he was still there. He posted, of course, but like everything else, it didn’t reach us in England.”

  He made a motion that seemed to be an abbreviated nod. “Dr. Maddox?”

  “He’s in the next room, with Caroline.”

  “Bingley?”

  “Yes. I don’t know another Caroline.”

  “No… I mean… where’s Bingley?”

  “He didn’t come. He’s watching the children.”

  “Oh.” After some time, he said, “Clearly… we should have been… more specific in sending for help.”

  “Would you prefer Bingley holding your hand right now instead of your wife?”

  “No,” he was aware enough to respond. “But… you know that’s not the point.”

  “I know. But you’re safe; everyone is safe.” Safety, of course, being somewhat relative. She kissed him and let him drift off again, as he clearly wanted to do. She would have been content to just sit there and watch him breathe, reminding her that he was, despite his state, very much alive and out of harm’s way, but there was a knock on the door. “Come.”

  It was Caroline. “How is he?”

  “We spoke. He seemed a bit annoyed we didn’t send Mr. Bingley in our place.”

  “How is that not surprising?” Caroline said. “Daniel woke, but only for a few moments.”

  “Did he say anything?”

  “He asked me to look at his hand and give a description. I’m not sure he really knew where he was, but he was still trying to be a doctor.” Usually, at this point, Caroline would look annoyed, in her half-jesting, half-indignant sort of way, and roll her eyes. Instead, she just looked tired. Her hair wasn’t properly put up. She sat down on the bed next to Elizabeth. “I told him not to go and do something stupid, like get captured by a baron and tortured for information he didn’t have. And now—” but her tears prevented her from speaking further.

  Elizabeth placed a hand on her back. “But he’s alive. And it’s only his hand.”

  “He can’t lose his hand! He’s a surgeon!” Caroline cried. “Of all the stupid things for him to do—he had to go after that insolent brother of his! Who’s smarter than all of us, for staying out of this!”

  Elizabeth did not try to talk her out of it. As Darcy slept on behind them, Elizabeth let her sister-in-law cry until she was spent. It took a very long time.

  ***

  It was getting late when Grégoire returned with Dr. Schauss, who spoke German and some French. The priority was with Dr. Maddox, who was finally roused with smelling salts and a good quantity of juice as his wife explained everything to the doctor.

  Dr. Schauss removed the bandages and inspected the hand. “It’s infected.”

  “That I know.”

  The doctor cut away more infected flesh and cleaned the wound properly, then gave Dr. Maddox some laudanum for the pain, and Dr. Maddox, who could not sit up on his own, leaned entirely on Caroline. “I’m so sorry,” he said in his first real words to her.

  “You? Sorry? It’s that idiot brother of yours who should be sorry,” she said, but her usual veneer was cracking. She considered herself fortunate that he could not see her tears. “When I get my hands on him—”

  “As noble as he may have been,” he mumbled, “I’m inclined to agree with your sentiments.”

  ***

  The first person to arrive in the morning was actually the barber, and Elizabeth Darcy and Caroline Maddox finally could be positively sure that they had recovered their husbands and not some random prisoners. Since Dr. Maddox could see no solid shapes with his pain medication, he could not object and got a much closer trim to his bangs than he normally kept, as well as a shave. The barber was thoroughly confused by what Dr. Maddox said to him when he learned of his cut by feeling the top of his head, that he ran out of the room and attended to Darcy. He then proceeded to form the sideburns in the German style, which incensed Darcy to no end, and the poor barber had to deal with two angry customers and two apologetic wives before running off with his payment.

  “You look fine,” Elizabeth assured him, though she was holding back her laughter as she said it. But in fact, upon closer inspection, he did not look fine. A messy beard and overgrown hair had only disguised how sunken his features were. “My darling,” she whispered, and he gave a token kiss on her cheek before collapsing back in bed. “My hairy, mangy darling.”

  C
hapter 20

  Risky Business

  The birthday celebrations of Frederick and Emily Maddox were not muted—there was no way for them to be, with so many children and so few adults to handle them. It was a physical impossibility. Only the age and height factors kept Frederick from lording his presents over Geoffrey but didn’t stop him from pestering Charles III into some jealousy, while Georgie turned her nose up at Eliza’s fascination with Emily’s new doll, and Anne and Edmund ran around with their newfound mobility. With Sarah being passed around, it was almost forgotten how many adults were absent. With the ruckus, only Jane, who had taken Sarah aside to try to calm her crying after having her ears poked by her elder sister, heard the knocking at the door. She quickly passed Sarah Darcy to Mrs. Hurst and disappeared to see to the caller.

  Bingley presided over the ceremonies, held in his townhouse, with amusement and delight at the horde of children before him. When Edmund was close to knocking over the writing stand, he picked him up and held his year-and-a-half-old son in his arms. Trying to put any worries out of his mind, he only looked up when he heard a gasp.

  Jane stood in the entrance to the sitting room, holding an opened letter in her arms. Her eyes were already red and her face wet with tears. There was a silence that came over all of the adults to the point where the children even picked up on the changed mood and quieted down. Finally she recovered from her shock and said with a weak smile, “They’ve been recovered. Elizabeth and Caroline have found them.”

  Bingley kissed his younger son and set him on the floor, running to embrace his wife. Slowly, after many cheers and assurances to the children—now not halfhearted—the story came out as Jane summarized the letter in Elizabeth’s handwriting, but signed by her, Caroline, and Lord Matlock. “After leaving Berlin they found Grégoire in Munich, where he was hiding from the soldiers in the basement of his monastery. From there they traveled by wagon into Austria, and ransomed Mr. Darcy and Dr. Maddox from the count. Mr. Brian Maddox has still not been located—no one knows where he is—but they are all recovered.” Her voice broke several times, and she had to pause to recover herself from such raw joy. “Lizzy writes from Frankfurt, where the doctor had to have his hand mended, but he will be all right. She sent this letter to Darcy’s man in Berlin, to make sure it would reach us. By now they should be on the coast, trying to acquire passage to England! Charles, they are coming home!”