Mr. Darcy's Great Escape

by Marsha Altman

  It occurred to Jane that she had no idea exactly how much he’d been told, or even if he knew of his inheritance of Rosings. Elizabeth said nothing but squeezed his hand as Jane spoke. “He is very frustrated at being incapacitated, especially right now. It seems he unintentionally picked a fight with his warehouse manager, who was upset about not being paid.”

  “The business is under, then?”

  “No, actually. It seems Mr. Maddox returned home not only with his wife but with a significant stock from the Orient. If not for my husband’s injuries, he would be spending much of his time assessing its worth.”

  “I must say that Mr. Maddox has an amazing capacity for appearing only when he is most needed or least wanted,” Elizabeth said. Darcy seemed to half-smile at that. “Or both. Have you spoken to him much since our arrival?”

  “A little. He is very busy taking care of his brother. He’s barely left his side,” Jane said.

  “And his wife? Her Highness?” Darcy asked.

  “I spoke with her through Brian. She speaks five languages fluently, but her English is limited. She and Mr. Maddox—forgive me for saying this—they have been through a lot.” She watched Darcy’s reaction very carefully, but he didn’t seem bothered by it—or all that aware of it—and Elizabeth nodded for her to go on. “The story is that they went east instead of west, deep into Russia, where they were pursued by her father’s men all the way to the coast. They boarded a ship, but had to abandon it when everyone contracted typhus. Their tiny boat washed up on an island in the very north of the Japans, and the locals took them in. From there they had to walk to—I can’t pronounce it, but it’s a port in the south where the East India Company docks. It took them a year just to travel through Japan, and then three months at sea to return to England.”

  “On foot?”

  “On foot. Mugin—the man who rescued you—went with them most of the way as a bodyguard. So did another man, but he died in the city. His name is very hard to pronounce or remember.” She added, “They have promised the story in full—when everyone is ready.” She rose. “I won’t take any more of your time, Mr. Darcy. But you do look much better than you did when you arrived.”

  “Thank you,” he nodded, and did not attempt to rise without the aid of his servants. It was obvious he was beginning to fade, and she didn’t want to tax him. He exchanged a brief word with his wife and was then helped back up the stairs.

  As soon as he was gone, Jane embraced her sister. “He will be all right.”

  “I know. It’s not how he looks. He was so upset when they cut his hair, but I didn’t mind—I just can’t bear to see him so—troubled. I told him about Rosings, but he didn’t have a response. The papers are being drawn up, and he’ll sign, but I don’t know if he really cared.”

  “He needs time, Lizzy. Caroline said Dr. Maddox is the same way.”

  “I only wish he would tell me what happened to him, what he’s thinking—”

  “Lizzy—was Mr. Darcy ever one to tell anyone what he is thinking?”

  That brought a smile to her sister’s face. “I suppose not. He is safe, and all are delivered from danger, even Grégoire—oh, Jane, I never told you about Grégoire!”

  “What about Grégoire?”

  Her sister was now fully smiling. That in and of itself was a burden off Jane’s shoulders. “God, I shouldn’t say it, but I suppose if I don’t, Caroline will. When we found him, he was—well—not exactly tending to his vow of celibacy. Our timing was most unfortunate for everyone.”

  “Grégoire? No! It cannot be true!” Maybe the others were right. Maybe she could only see the good in everyone. But still—this was their family monk.

  “He was so embarrassed—it was the only time, or so he says, and I think he may be believed. But I admit, we had a few chuckles on his behalf, especially because after Darcy has spent so much time chiding him about his monastic impulses, we find him with a woman!” They broke into laughter. “He saved her from some soldiers, and she was very appreciative.”

  “Lizzy!”

  “I know! I shouldn’t be saying such things about a brother! But still—” She covered her mouth. “It is so good to laugh.”

  Jane could not contradict her about that. Unfortunately, she was silenced by the casual entrance of Grégoire. “Is everything all right?”

  Neither of them could think of what to say to that. They only managed to stifle their giggles for a few seconds before breaking into full laughter as Grégoire looked on, dumbfounded. They eventually recovered but excused themselves from enlightening the poor monk.

  ***

  There were many legal matters immediately pressing, and Darcy, without reading them, signed the contracts regarding the Fitzwilliams living in Rosings despite his ownership of the property. He just nodded when it was explained to him, ignored their concerned looks, and retreated to his chambers. He was “not at home” to any further visitors unless it could not be avoided.

  One person did appear unexpectedly and was received by Elizabeth very gratefully. Mr. Bennet did not however ask for Mr. Darcy’s presence nor have any wish to bother him. “Being assured that he is back in the country will be sufficient,” he said to his daughter, “for the time being.”

  “At least wait until his sideburns grow back,” Elizabeth said. “He is most self-conscious about it.”

  “Mr. Darcy? Self-conscious? I’ve never heard of such a thing!” he said. “Now, where are my grandchildren? Your mother will not relent about my superior age, but I am still quite sure my mind is sharp enough to remember having them.”

  Elizabeth laughed and asked for the children, who were in the middle of being bathed and was told there would be some delay, as young Master Geoffrey was most resistant to the idea. “How is everyone at Longbourn?”

  “I confess I had become so used to your mother not having attacks of nerves that it quite surprised me when you were gone. She did worry for you, though she will not be quick to admit it,” he said. “And Mary prayed most extensively. Unfortunately, it was often out loud and over grace, so I was subjected to many dishes that had gone cold by the time she was done.”

  She embraced her father. “How is Lydia? Is she remarried yet?”

  “Sadly, she is finding that a widow with two children and little inheritance is not the most pleasing of prospects. But I imagine she will find someone when all the soldiers come back from war and are too muddled by their experiences to notice,” he said. “It is good to have you back, Lizzy.”

  “It is good to be back, Papa.”

  “Master George has been enquiring about his uncle most prodigiously,” he said. “He seems eager to renew his acquaintance with his cousin.”

  “How is George?” she asked. “The most I’ve seen of him was at Rosings.”

  “He is well. Entirely a different person from his mother and father—more like his uncle, I would dare to say. He reads without instruction, and he says very little. Quite confounding in some ways, but I am not one to complain about a well-mannered boy. And his sister—well, it does help pass the hours to have Mrs. Bennet up in arms about that cat.”

  “She is not too upset, I hope? It was I who agreed to it and convinced Lydia.”

  “She would be more agreeable to the animal in general,” he said, “if it was not so intent on playing with the strings of her needlepoint.” He sighed with a smile. “But in comparison to her many speeches about marriage and poverty, I can manage with a few complaints about a kitten.”

  ***

  Dr. Maddox was in his sitting room, trying desperately to concentrate on the words on the page in front of him. That in of itself was enough of a distraction for a while, but not for long. He was still too weak from his long imprisonment and subsequent fever to go out, or attend a lecture at London University, and he did not have it in him to ask others to provide distractions for him. He had learned man
y years ago to be independent, and that lesson was not so easily forgotten.

  The task before him he was finding too difficult. Many times he closed his eyes or dropped the book as exhaustion lulled him into sleep, only to be startled again by a fresh wave of pain in his hand from his healing wound.

  “Dr. Maddox,” said the servant, bringing his presence to Dr. Maddox’s attention. “Your wife insists.” The man was bearing a tray with only a glass of juice on it.

  He grumbled and had to put down his book, which he wasn’t doing much of a job of holding up anyway, to take the glass. The sight he’d seen in the mirror wasn’t pretty, but that didn’t mean he had much of an appetite.

  “Darling,” his wife said, entering the room. “Oh, don’t stop on my account. You haven’t eaten anything today, have you?”

  “No,” he said after he finished the glass. “Ugh. I think the oranges are off or something. Anyway, my appetite will come back, just not today.” He added, “And please don’t give me that look. I don’t want to argue about the opium again. I’m tired of being cross with everyone.”

  “We know you don’t mean it,” she said. She had not come in to have the same fight they’d had every day since he’d regained consciousness. She sat down next to him, and he put his arm around her. Yes, having one’s wife leaning on one’s shoulder could be suitably distracting. “Well, you have permission to mean it if it’s to thrash your brother.”

  “I’m not capable of thrashing my brother.”

  “He doesn’t seem to think that. He is still walking around armed.”

  “That is because my brother has gone completely and utterly betwattled. The armed guard is for whenever we all decide to exact our revenge.”

  “At least, there, we can call it cultural differences. Though Nadezhda has given me the impression that Mr. Mugin was an oddity even in Japan.”

  “How is she? What is she like? We’ve not—had much occasion to talk.”

  “She is a… strong woman,” she said, not unkindly. The wives had a shared language of German, so they could converse. “She has been through quite a lot. Her father was very kind to her, but he had expectations she could not meet.”

  “Maddoxes like strong women,” he said with a smile. “We’re notorious for it.” He looked at her. “Dear, your hair is… well, it’s more of an orange. I don’t know why they say it’s red. It isn’t.” He kissed her on the forehead. “It’s orange.”

  “Thank you so much for noticing it,” she said. “Are you feeling better?”

  “I don’t know why I—didn’t, before. So much.” He took off his glasses and then put them back on again. “There’s so much of it.”

  “Yes, dear.”

  “What color is Nadezhda’s hair? I don’t—I haven’t seen it. She wears the—the thing—” He waved his arms around his head to indicate the veils.

  “I think it’s black. ‘The thing’?”

  “’The thing.’” He laughed. “I’m a very articulate man.”

  “It is the reason I married you.”

  They descended into laughter, and it felt so unimaginably good that it was only in the silence following that he tried, very hard, to focus on the glass, on the table, in front of them. And couldn’t. “You—you drugged me.” He detangled himself from his wife and reached for the glass, but his coordination was so poor that he only succeeded in knocking it over, where it rolled harmlessly on the ground. “The juice.”

  Caroline stroked his hair, even though it was still considerably shorter than his usual cut. “Darling—”

  “I promised—I promised myself—”

  “Daniel,” she said more seriously, “it was years ago, and you weren’t trying to recover from an injury, however small.” She helped him straighten up and to lie back with his head against the wall, because he found his body too heavy to do it himself. “I know for a fact that you haven’t slept well in two days. Look at you. What kind of doctor doesn’t take his own medicine?”

  “I took an oath,” he said, expending most of his concentration to say it clearly. Caroline, despite being beside him, was becoming a blur. “Caroline, I took an oath.”

  “Well, I didn’t, and I’m tired of dealing with an obstinate husband who won’t let his body rest, is making himself sick, and is cross with us because of it.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I did it because I can’t stand to see you suffer for one minute longer. And I don’t regret it. I love you, Daniel, but you sometimes have no idea of what’s best for you and must cede that authority to your wife. Now, lie down and rest.”

  “I—here? Now?” Because, honestly, he was feeling quite wonderful and had no desire to just sleep it off. Well, maybe exhaustion was finally getting to him, but this was the first time he wasn’t in pain… in as long as he could remember. It was all a little fuzzy.

  “Yes.” She helped him lie down on his couch. “I’ll see that you’re not to be disturbed. Now be still and rest, Daniel.”

  “Yes, marm,” he said, trying to raise one hand to touch her before she left, but it just flapped up and fell down. She seemed to blow him a kiss as she had the double doors to the room shut behind her. She’d taken off his glasses too, so that didn’t help. Yes, there was no reason to fight it. It felt different this time. He’d been drugged for the surgery, of course, but that was unavoidable and necessary to protect his heart from the pain. And then there was darkness after that, and he was back in England, falling asleep in his sitting room like any lazy rich man with a house in West London, while his wife did some pretty embroidery and his children ran circles around Nurse. Nothing had happened or changed, and all was right in the world. He could, at last, rest.

  That was the last thing he remembered until he was listening to the same servant repeat something over and over again. He had the feeling he’d heard it many times now, without any recognition, as he was cruelly pulled out of sleep. He had a crick in his neck from his position. He managed to grab his glasses and put them on to face the very nervous but insistent servant. “Yes?” But it came out more of a yesh.

  “The—his Royal Highness to see you, sir.”

  He was hallucinating. How delightful. “Terrific. Send him in.”

  Chapter 26

  Sick Visit

  “My God, man,” said the Regent. “I’ve never seen you so content. You must be taking some of your own medicine, if you know what I mean.”

  “I do,” he slurred, gesturing for His Highness to take a seat. He was still lying on the couch, his head propped up by the pillows. “Wife—drugged me.”

  “Is this a regular habit of hers?”

  “I wish,” he said as they shared a laugh. “Seriously—I swore off it all years ago. Years and years. You know.” He closed his eyes. “I’m serious.”

  “You are a terribly serious man. It is good for a doctor, but a bit frustrating at times. I imagine you will be in some fits when you come off this stuff and realize whom you were talking to.”

  “Oh, I’d be in a lot of trouble,” Dr. Maddox said. “First, I can’t even—even get up to bow. You have to do that a lot with royalty.”

  “Of course,” said the Regent. “And your patient is probably an incomparable arse.”

  “No, but I’m sick of treating his venereal diseases,” he said. “God. I told him not to sleep with people who must be so obviously diseased—”

  “Come now, Doctor. Not all of us have your expertise.”

  “Must I write an essay or something? Honestly.” He tried to pick his head up as he heard the sound of metal clinking and saw his son running through the exasperated legs of two guards with gigantic ceremonial lances, barring entrance to the now-open doors. Frederick Maddox was only five and so had no real trouble maneuvering around them and racing to his father’s side.

  “Aunt Nady wants to know if you want to eat with us later.”

  “Where’
s—where is your mother?”

  “Out. She said she had to get Uncle Brian new clothing because he dresses all crazy.”

  “Your Uncle Brian does dress like a crazy person,” he said, petting his son’s mop of brown hair. “Now turn around and say hello to our guest.”

  “Yes,” said the Regent. “I would be delighted to make the acquaintance. I assume this is the young master.”

  Frederick turned around and bowed politely to him. “Frederick Maddox, sir.”

  “You have a sister, don’t you?”

  “Emily. But she’s taking a nap.” He said, “Don’t you know any manners, sir?”

  “I know quite a bit about manners, Frederick!” said the Regent, and Daniel laughed. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because you’re supposed to stand up, bow, and say your name. It’s polite.”

  “Did your father teach you that?”

  “He did! He taught me everything I know.”

  “Well, then,” said the Regent, “he should have taught you that I am a prince and, therefore, not required to bow to anyone but my own father, who can’t tell me from a tree anyway.”

  “Really? My father can’t see too well, but I think he could tell me from a tree,” Frederick said.

  “You are much smaller than a tree,” Dr. Maddox said. “That is the giveaway.”

  “See? Your father is very clever,” the Regent said, putting one of his hands on Frederick’s tiny shoulders. “He is one of the smartest men I know. You’d do well to listen to him, even when he’s out of his senses, which I suspect he is at the moment.” He patted him. “Now, run along and play or whatever normal children do at your age.”

  That was all Frederick needed to scamper off at top speed, leaving confused guards in his wake. The Regent was silent, and Dr. Maddox was sure he was close to nodding off when the Regent finally said, “I am not in the custom of visiting my doctors in their homes. Perhaps I should inquire beforehand as to whether they are sitting in a drugged stupor before making my appearance.”