Mr. Darcy's Great Escape

by Marsha Altman

  His only thought was of Nadezhda, half-collapsed at his side. He was inclined to join her, not feeling well on his feet. He was very aware, not only of the lapping water against his boots but the presence of others around him, swords drawn. He drew his pistol, though he doubted he had the strength to do more than hold it up and fire once or twice. “Stay away,” he said in Russian, even though in the poor light, these people did not look Russian. They were positively Oriental, with their strange hair in buns, their odd swords, and their eyes. They had left the mainland, he was sure—so they could not be in Cathay—“If you touch her, so help me God,” he said in Romanian.

  Someone shouted at him. It was an order, but it was incomprehensible. He did not know if they recognized what he held in his hands when they came after him. He’d been in similar straits before, certainly, but not with a wife by his side, and not when he was so utterly sick and exhausted.

  How the gun went off, he could not properly recall. It fired harmlessly into the air, gunpowder drifting down as he was knocked in his side by the butt of a weapon, and he collapsed. “Nadezhda…” he whispered. She was gone, and so was everything else.

  Chapter 24

  Dawn Breaks

  1812

  The sky was getting light when England came into view, first in the form of the waning light of the lighthouses, then the lamps of Dover. Darcy eventually gave in to his wife’s subtle suggestions, as well as his own body’s, and fell asleep on a pile of blankets. In fact, almost none of them were able to make it through the night except the crew.

  Elizabeth woke first, from her uncomfortable position leaning against the beam. In the early morning light she was surprised to see Brian Maddox seated on the bow, the longer of his two swords against his shoulder for convenience, staring out at the approaching skyline. His wife was curled up beside him, very much asleep. He managed to rise without waking her to bow to Elizabeth. “Mrs. Darcy.”

  “Mr. Maddox. Have you been awake all night?”

  “Yes.” He put his sword back in his belt, or sash, or whatever it was, and stepped further out to the edge with her, away from the sleeping crowd. “It seems I am the cause of all of your troubles again, Mrs. Darcy.”

  “Not all of them,” she corrected. “But—most.”

  He blinked in the light. “I would not take it back. I certainly didn’t ask Danny to come rescue me. I wrote many letters telling him to do precisely otherwise, which he didn’t get or didn’t listen to.”

  “The former.”

  “And Darcy chose to accompany him?”

  “Darcy was also looking for his brother. He just had the misfortune of falling into the count’s trap first.”

  Brian nodded. He had been changed, undoubtedly, by whatever he had experienced himself. How, it was difficult to tell. “I am sorry for the difficulties, Mrs. Darcy, but my responsibility was to my wife, and I had to see it through. That I do not regret.”

  “We’ve heard different tales, and I’m sure you have your own, but as I understand it, your father-in-law gave you little option but to run.”

  “Yes. We ran so far east to escape his agents that we wound up at the end of the world.”

  “‘Here there be dragons.’”

  He chuckled. “Indeed. Coincidentally, they’re positively obsessed with dragon imagery. In the Orient, I mean. If I must now return to the backward Englishman stance and call it that.”

  “You must have quite a story.”

  Brian smiled. “You must be somewhat forgiving of me now, to be so casual about it. Yes, in fact, I do.”

  “How long were you in England?”

  “Only as long as it took for me to arrange this ship. The night we arrived and found the house shut up, we went to the Bingleys’, and then there was that,” he shook his head. “A long story. Excuse Mr. Bingley’s absence; he is nursing a concussion.”

  “You didn’t!”

  “Certainly not! But my brother-in-law has to learn a thing or two about warehouses in Town and facing unpaid workers by himself. Fortunately, we were there in time. Between that and here, I believe, it was three days. Mugin offered to go ahead.”

  “By boat?”

  “I believe he swam, at least some of the way.”

  Behind them someone said something incomprehensible, which Elizabeth took to be Japanese, indeed, it was Mugin standing there.

  “He says he swam about halfway, but it was freezing,” Brian explained. “And then a ship happened by and picked him up.”

  “Is that true?”

  “Probably,” Brian said, giving a knowing look to Mugin, who shrugged dismissively and walked off without a bow to either of them. “He’s temperamental, but he’s saved my life more times than I can count. So no argument here.”

  “Is he some type of hired warrior?”

  “I guess that’s one way to describe him. He wanted to get out of Japan for a while, so he rode with us, all the way to England.” He turned away. “I suppose we should start waking everyone. I can see land there.”

  Land. For a brief moment, Elizabeth thought she had never heard a more beautiful word in her life.

  Brian knelt beside his brother, putting a hand on his forehead. “Danny?”

  Dr. Daniel Maddox opened his eyes, looked up at his brother and whispered, “My God… Y-you’ve… gone bald.”

  Brian laughed. “It’s just shaved, I assure you.” He glanced up at Elizabeth. “His fever broke.”

  “So… I’m not hallucinating,” the doctor said.

  “No,” his brother assured him.

  “And I grew up? Got married? That… all happened?” he said, gasping. “Not just… recovering from some cataract surgery i-infection?”

  “No, Danny. I really did marry a princess, and you have two children and a royal commission. Oh, and everyone thinks I’ve gone insane. They may be right.”

  Dr. Maddox smiled but was too exhausted to say anything else. He laid his head back down on the pillow, with Caroline still asleep beside him.

  ***

  Their arrival was greeted with little fanfare. There was no precise time on the boat arrival, but Jane abandoned her husband’s side (with his encouragement) to be there to meet the carriage from Dover. The sun was barely up when they all arrived, truly a dirtied, bloodied, over-exhausted mass of people who somewhat resembled the people she loved. Darcy of course insisted on stepping out of the carriage himself, if with the aid of a cane and Elizabeth. “Hello, Mrs. Bingley.”

  “Mr. Darcy,” Jane said, curtseying. “It is so good to see you.” There was so much joy in her heart, but this was not the time to express it. He needed to get into his house, where Georgiana and his children awaited him. “Brother Grégoire.” He seemed to be carrying a large box on his back.

  It was Dr. Maddox who was not conscious and needed to be carried by his brother and Lord Fitzwilliam. All of the men had a few days’ worth of beard on them, except Mugin, who seemed to be wearing a French officer’s coat. “Mr. Mugin—”

  “Hai?”

  “Your coat. It’s uhm…”

  “Was cold.”

  Nadezhda whispered in Japanese in his ear, and he bowed to her. “Gomen nasai.” He removed the coat, bowed to Jane, and kept walking.

  “How is Mr. Bingley?” Elizabeth managed to whisper to her.

  “Cranky, but he will be fine, I’m told. He sends his regrets—he does wish to see both of them, but he cannot be moved.”

  Elizabeth hugged her. Only briefly, because her coat was soiled and there was just so much to do, but enough to acknowledge: It is over. We are home.

  ***

  The children were not up when the Maddoxes arrived at their house, and Caroline checked on them both but did not wake either in their nursery. She didn’t want them to see their father until he was at least cleaned up.

  Fortunately
or unfortunately, Dr. Maddox seemed to slowly be returning to consciousness when he was carried up to the master bedchamber. Brian immediately turned to the shocked servant and gave instructions to contact the physician who had treated his brother since he was a child. “Where does he keep his opium?” he asked Caroline.

  “In his study, but no one knows the recipe.”

  “He didn’t write it down?”

  Caroline shook her head and turned to her husband. “What is the recipe for your opium medicine?”

  Dr. Maddox, his voice stilted by pain, merely said, “No.”

  “Well, I don’t care what he says; I’m getting him laudanum.” With that, Brian disappeared. As servants came and went, forced into a rush to open the house for the master and his wife, the door remained open, and there was a knock on the doorframe. Nadezhda Maddox stood there pensively. She was still wearing her silk robes, which Caroline had to admit had the most beautiful prints of flowers on the corners that she had ever seen, but the princess now also had her hair covered in a complex set of veils.

  “Entschuldigen Sie,” she said in German. (Excuse me.) “So sorry, know small English.”

  “I speak German,” Caroline replied, continuing in that language, “And so does my husband.”

  Princess Maddox—if she was still a princess at all—curtseyed. “I am so sorry, Dr. Maddox.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Caroline said for her husband, holding his good hand.

  Nadezhda cautiously stepped into the room, as if she was violating some sacred temple, even if servants were running to and fro. “My failure as a woman caused all of this. If I could only conceive—”

  “Your Highness,” Caroline said, not really sure how she was supposed to address an ex-Austrian princess, “everyone has a little trouble. My sister is barren, and her husband supports her nonetheless.” Actually, her brother supported Mrs. Hurst, but that was neither here nor there.

  “I drove my father mad—”

  “Your father was not mad,” Dr. Maddox gasped. “Just… cruel. Not your fault.” He shifted in bed. “I think I have a spare—pair of glasses. Mine are rather filthy. In the lab, darling?”

  “Of course,” Caroline said. In the hubbub of returning home, she had almost forgotten. She kissed him on his forehead, picked up the keys from the dresser, and excused herself.

  Dr. Maddox immediately opened his eyes and turned them in the general direction of Nadezhda. “Has my brother been a good husband?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Brian is the very best of men.”

  He chuckled. “I never thought I would… hear someone say that.” He swallowed. “Thank you. I feel—much better.”

  Dr. Hulbert arrived within the hour. Dr. Maddox was sitting up, with the help of many pillows. Hulbert checked his hand, listened to his chest, looked in his mouth, and looked carefully into his eyes before giving him an exam with Dr. Maddox’s glasses on. Dr. Maddox passed, but he said very little over the course of it. Normally, Daniel Maddox was most prodigious about his health and would probably be babbling on about it. Hulbert frowned. “Well, the news is mainly good. The infection does not seem to be spreading, though the fever may continue for a few days. In fact, the most distressing thing aside from your weight loss is… lice.”

  “Lice?” the Maddoxes said in unison.

  “Your hair is infested. I’m surprised the doctor in Prussia didn’t notice it.” He closed up his bag. “And you should tell the other fellow you were with to have himself checked. Now get some rest, Daniel. Mrs. Maddox?”

  She gave Dr. Maddox’s hand a squeeze and followed the doctor outside, where he shut the door behind them.

  “I’ve never seen him like this,” she admitted, finally able to release her worry, if only a little.

  “Is he more aware than he was when he was first rescued?”

  “He wasn’t even conscious when he was first rescued.”

  Hulbert was a much older man, his hair mainly white, but still very spry. “I understand he’s been through a lot in the past few months. He’s malnourished and in pain. He needs rest, but he will recover. I don’t think there is any permanent damage.”

  She sighed with relief. “And the lice?”

  “He needs to be shaved and his head dunked in whiskey. It can be bad whiskey, as long as it’s strong.”

  She paused. “The children are here. I don’t want them to see him like this.”

  “How old are they?”

  “Five.”

  “They’ll hardly notice, though I would buy him a wig of some sort.”

  “Mother?”

  They turned toward Frederick Maddox, standing in the hallway, almost pulling on her dress to get her attention.

  “Frederick!” she said, unable to hold back her affection as she knelt down and hugged him. “My darling. I’m home and your father is home. He’s just very tired.” She kissed him on both cheeks and then on the head. “Where is your sister?”

  “Sleeping.” He looked up. “Who are you?”

  “Dr. Hulbert,” the old man said, bowing.

  “Frederick Maddox,” the boy said in a proper little bow. “Who are you?”

  “I’m your father’s eye doctor. I’ve known him since he was—well, almost as small as you, but not quite. But he was very young.”

  “Am I going to go blind like him?”

  Caroline looked at her son in shock, but Dr. Hulbert didn’t miss a beat. “I don’t think so, Master Frederick. His condition is very rare.”

  “Frederick,” Caroline said more sternly, “why don’t you have Nurse dress you so you can properly see your father?”

  This idea the boy took very well, and he disappeared down the hallway the way he came.

  “I never told him about it,” Caroline said. “I’ve never said it in his presence—”

  “Children are smarter than we think,” said the doctor. “Or, at least, more intuitive. I remember a young Master Daniel whose older brother and I conspired to keep his fate from him. So he read every medical book he could find in English until he figured it out. He was twelve.”

  “How long do you think he has?”

  Dr. Hulbert spoke very kindly. “The specialist in Scotland gave him four years. Obviously, I gave up guessing a long time ago. He told me he’s determined at least to see his daughter come out.” He turned his head at the sound of someone ascending the steps. “And if it isn’t—good God, man, what happened to you?”

  “Dr. Hulbert,” Brian said, bowing. “In short: marriage, Russia, Japan. That will have to do for the moment. I have some medicine to shove down my brother’s throat.” And with that, he bowed again quickly and disappeared into Daniel’s room.

  “That was short,” Dr. Hulbert said. “I cannot fault him for that.”

  ***

  At the Darcy townhouse, Elizabeth had a real fear that Darcy would crush his sister. Georgiana was so small and so readily embraced him, unaware of how much support he needed to keep standing, and it was a lot of weight to take on. The servants fortunately rushed to help their ailing master and take the box containing the reliquary off of Grégoire’s back.

  Darcy’s manservant, Mr. Reed, appeared almost in tears as he attended to his master, removing the torn coat they had picked up in Austria, and helped him to the stairs. Darcy responded to queries, but mainly in a “yes” or “no.” The only thing that finally made him stop was his son, standing at the top of the stairs. “Geoffrey.”

  Mr. Reed and Elizabeth were there to brace him as Geoffrey raced down the stairs and crashed into his father. “Father! I was so scared, I didn’t know—”

  Darcy smiled sadly but said nothing, only patting his son on the head. There was something removed about his reactions.

  Anne Darcy was quick to follow her brother and was raised by Elizabeth to kiss her father so that he could retreat up
the stairs and into his bed. He left in his wake a nervous silence for Elizabeth, still holding her eldest daughter, as Grégoire and Georgiana had their own embrace.

  “Father—he’s going to be all right?” Geoffrey said, tugging at Elizabeth’s dress.

  “Yes, of course,” she said, hoping her voice carried more assurance than she felt in her heart.

  Chapter 25

  Unexpected Guests

  A brutal three days passed before Jane received word that Darcy was willing to receive visitors. It was some time before Mr. Darcy made his appearance, slowly shambling down the stairs with his walking stick and awaiting them in the sitting room. As Jane entered, he retained his English manners, however a struggle it was.

  “Mr. Darcy,” Jane said. “Oh, please don’t—”

  But Darcy was still Darcy, and he paid no heed as he struggled to rise to his feet to properly bow to her. He did sit back down rather quickly though, instead of waiting for her to be seated as she passed him a letter. “Charles sends his regards,” she said.

  “Of course.” Sadly, both of them were stuck in their own homes for the moment. Darcy would probably recover enough in a few days, but Bingley was still resting from his head injury.

  There was something oddly formal about the situation in the sitting room, despite the three of them, because of so much that could not be said. Elizabeth had prepared her for seeing Darcy, but it hadn’t been quite the same as seeing him with his clothes hanging off him, his face sunken, with no proper sideburns, wearing a brown wig that Elizabeth said was his father’s. He was distracted—by what, she dared not to imagine. His eyes were unfocused and rarely concentrated on her or any particular thing in the room. His usual veneer of intensity was gone, even if his words were formal.

  “How is Bingley?” Darcy said. “I’m not—entirely clear on the circumstances of his injuries, though they have been explained to me.” His eyes darted around like he was lost. “It seems much has occurred in my absence.”