The Darcys and the Bingleys

by Marsha Altman

  Chapter 13

  The Intruder

  Darcy apologised for the lack of staff due to the weather, which seemed to bother Mr. Maddox not in the least, and the master of Pemberley found himself taking his own guest’s coat and finding him a towel and a blanket for his hair after he shut the door. “I have sent most of the staff to their quarters,” he explained as he led him down the long corridor to the sitting room, “to keep warm. How you made it here, I have no idea.”

  “This? This is a minor dusting,” Mr. Maddox said, attempting to dry his hair, which was a frizzy mess. “You’ve obviously never wintered in the Carpathian mountains.”

  “No, I cannot say I have.”

  “Thank you for letting me in. Obviously, I am here for my brother, who I assume by your lack of further questioning is here.”

  “You have assumed correctly,” Darcy said, his voice carrying its normal levels of reservation, though he was not to be an ungracious host. That would be insupportable. He finally reached the door that led to the warm room and realised he would have to announce his guest himself.

  That did not come to be. He barely had properly stepped into the room when Mr. Maddox disposed of his blanket. “Danny!”

  “Brian?” Whatever surprise was quickly overcome on the doctor’s part, and he put down the book and hugged his brother. Without foreknowledge of their history, one might assume they were the best of friends as well as brothers. “You had to make an entrance, didn’t you?”

  “Always.” He bowed to the crowd, and Darcy introduced them in turn. “Very pleased to meet you all. I apologise for my intrusion, but it was hard to calculate when I would be arriving, and all of the inns are full.”

  Now that they were standing next to each other, the familial connection was obvious. Brian was shorter but older and did not wear glasses, but they both had the same black hair that curled itself in clumps. The chief difference was that the doctor kept his hair longer in front and trimmed in the back, while his older brother took no effort to hide his face but just kept his locks long everywhere, so it faintly resembled a lion’s mane. “I came as soon as I got your letter—and the loan, thank you.”

  “The post has been inconsistent up here,” the doctor said, “at least during the worst of the storms.”

  “Storms! Ah, to be an Englishman again and consider this a terrible winter. Everyone in Town is all complaint. But I suppose it is relative.”

  “I assume you have been travelling some,” Dr. Maddox said.

  “Some! All right, I admit I did not get as far as Russia, but otherwise I’ve been about. Prussia, Istanbul, Austria . . . by the way, the vampire tale is nonsense—or so I was led to believe while I was there.”

  “What vampire tale?” Georgiana inquired.

  “He is talking of an old legend,” Elizabeth explained. “Monsters and all that. Very popular in fiction.”

  “Gruesome fiction,” Darcy said to his sister, “inappropriate and fanciful, at best.”

  “He’s trying to discourage her,” Elizabeth said to her father.

  “Well, it’s certainly not Chaucer,” Mr. Bennet said in jest. “Well, Mr. Maddox, your return to England then was most fortuitous because you are here in time for your brother’s wedding.”

  “So it seems,” Brian said, and gave his brother a tap on the arm. “Fate, almost.”

  “Yes,” Darcy said coldly.

  “Mr. Maddox,” Elizabeth said in her hostess voice, “it is most wonderful to meet you, but I fear I must put my son to bed, and I much desire to hear all of the tales of your travels to the Continent. So perhaps you will save them for tomorrow. I will find someone to set you up with a room, and you may stay in here as long as you wish, but I must retire.”

  “I completely understand,” said Mr. Maddox. “I am sorry for my late appearance, again, Mrs. Darcy.” He bowed as most of the rest of them took the hint to retire, leaving the brothers to catch up as the fire burned down.

  ***

  When Elizabeth finally joined her husband in their bedchamber, he was not in bed but sitting by the fire in deep concentration. She let a hand stray in his direction as she passed, and he kissed it. “Well, you can stay up, but I am at least getting under the blankets.”

  He grunted.

  Elizabeth changed into her bedclothes and took her place in the bed that was meant to be exclusively hers but that they always shared, where she crossed her arms and said, “Are you going to make me wait all night?”

  “Oh.” Suddenly his tone softened considerably. “I’m sorry.” And he began to remove the outer layers of his own clothing.

  “Perhaps I should have been more specific,” she said. “I was talking about Mr. Maddox.”

  He huffed in disappointment. “You were?”

  She bid him come closer and kissed him. “First things first, if Mr. Maddox is to stay here, you must try to be a bit more civil.”

  “Civil? I was being perfectly civil. I was just being Mr. Darcy,” he said. “Everyone knows I am still a gracious host, even if I completely lack any social skills.”

  Elizabeth laughed as he sat on the bed beside her. “I would not say any. But I would say, knowing you very well—and remember, Mr. Maddox does not—that you were even more unsociable than you usually are around mixed company. In fact, I would say you were downright suspicious.”

  “And you are not?” he said, untying his boots and tossing them aside. “The doctor’s long-lost brother, who ruined the family fortune and left him in destitution before fleeing creditors and apparently went as far away as Istanbul to do so, suddenly reappears just before his little brother marries into fortune? There is nothing to consider in that?”

  “I am not saying there isn’t,” she replied. “But that does not mean you must constantly give him a look like you suspect he’s about to run off with the silverware.”

  “Perhaps that is what I’m thinking.”

  “I am not saying that your fears are completely unfounded,” she said, “or even downright sensible. But he is our guest, and we must give him the benefit of the doubt until Dr. Maddox, who knows him better than we ever shall, tells us otherwise.”

  “You are a very trusting person, Lizzy.”

  “I am merely a proper hostess. I am by no means trusting of Mr. Maddox. I will be most displeased if you turn your back on him. Though, if you must, perhaps he will hit you on the right, and your scars will be symmetrical.”

  “I have a scar?”

  “I suppose you can’t see it. Well, it is very small, and I will be the only one who will ever see it beyond your manservant and Dr. Maddox—or at least I should be.”

  “You will be.” He kissed her, and they collectively set their fears and concerns about Brian Maddox aside.

  ***

  Mr. Maddox proved himself a most pleasant fellow, considerably less shy than his brother, and that, of course, made Darcy all the more suspicious of him. “I trust very few pleasant people,” he admitted to his wife.

  “You trust very few people,” she responded.

  Mr. Maddox regaled them all with his tales of the wilds of Eastern Europe, and the only comfort Darcy took in his being a threat to Georgiana’s marital status was that he was over fifteen years her senior, which violated no rules of society but certainly would be a bit odd. And as far as Darcy could tell with his very scrupulous eye, his sister was inclined to look at their new guest more as someone out of her age range and therefore merely an interesting enough man. Dr. Maddox seemed pleased enough at his presence, and if he had any serious suspicions, he would not voice them, even when Darcy and Elizabeth both took turns cornering him privately about it.

  At long last, the weather cleared, and the roads opened up. “So I am finally to meet the beauty who has captured my brother’s heart?” This, of course, made his brother blush. “Well, he’s too modest. Someone else will praise her, surely, as you are all family.”

  There was a very awkward silence. Later in private Darcy lamented, “Why is
it I am constantly being called to praise Miss Bingley?”

  “You must admit, she has improved since her betrothal,” Elizabeth said. “Something about being less haughty and insufferable when in love. I have no idea where I am getting this notion, but it suddenly popped into my head that it might happen to people.”

  “Dearest Elizabeth, remind me again why I put up with you?”

  “It must be my excellent conversational abilities.”

  ***

  The Bingleys arrived in time for dinner. “Jane sends her regards,” Bingley said as he entered with his sister. “But Eliza has a sniffle, and she would not leave her.”

  “I will visit now that the roads are clear,” Elizabeth said.

  “Well, they’re not all that clear. We’re barely here, I assure you.”

  Dinner was a most pleasant affair, as Mr. Maddox got to tell some tales anew and some he had apparently saved. Bingley seemed to be enjoying himself, but whether Dr. Maddox and Caroline were paying any attention was anybody’s guess. Elizabeth was only glad that it took the attention away from her husband, who was quieter than usual and had been at every dinner since the older Maddox had arrived. Anyone else who took note of this kept it to himself.

  In fact, the first time Darcy spoke at all was in reaction to a servant whispering to him. “Good God!” Darcy said.

  “Darcy, what is it?”

  He grumbled, “It’s snowing again.”

  They had to scurry to the parlour to see that it was, in fact, beginning to snow.

  “Well?”

  It took the good doctor a moment to realise the question was directed at him. “What? I’m a doctor, not a scholar of weather. If you want to know how snow is made, I would be happy to tell you. If you want me to tell you when it’s going to happen, I must disappoint you.”

  “Mrs. Reynolds,” Darcy said to the house manager, “please see to the arrangements for Bingley and Miss Bingley for the night.”

  It was but a night. Darcy made a quiet joke to Bingley about standing outside Caroline’s room with a shotgun, to which Bingley blushed and gave no response. What could happen in one night?

  Chapter 14

  Motherly Instinct

  Elizabeth woke up with a start. Her heart was racing, and the very sound of it was audible only due to the complete silence of their bedchamber, aside from Darcy’s breathing. She put a hand on her forehead and tried to chide herself out of it, but she could not. Finally, she tugged on her husband, and he half mumbled a questioning response.

  “I have had a terrible nightmare.”

  He flipped over, an act that a month ago would have given him some discomfort. “What was it about?”

  “I . . . don’t properly remember. Something about Geoffrey.” Now that she had said it, her mind was set. “I must see him.” She slid off the bed and was putting her clothes back on, which were in a pile on the floor, while her husband sat up in a muddled state of half awake. “Now!”

  “I am not one to test a mother’s instincts,” he said at last, and also found his clothes (they were hanging on one of the bedposts) and was putting on his robe when he heard his wife shake the door.

  “It’s locked.”

  He frowned. “I didn’t lock it.”

  “But it is locked. So one could logically conclude that you did lock it.”

  Now coming to his senses, he put on his slippers and grabbed the set of master keys from the bed stand, shuffling over to a very impatient Elizabeth. “Very well.” He put the key in, and it turned, but the door still would not open. “Huh.”

  “Is it locked from the outside?”

  “The bedchamber of the mistress of Pemberley does not lock from the outside,” he said. “Very few don’t. This is one of them.”

  “Well, try another key.”

  “This is the correct key. The door is unlocked.” Instead of jiggling the handle, he gave it a push. “I think—I think it’s bolted.”

  “Why would it be bolted? Could there be something blocking it?” She thought about it. Their door was at the end of a long hallway, giving them the appropriate privacy. There was no reason why there would be something in front of the door unless someone had gone out of the way to put it there. “Darcy—”

  “I know.” His voice now was rising to the level of hers. He gave the door a solid shove, the best he could manage without putting a shoulder into it, which he was not eager to do. “It is bolted.” He tugged at the door handle. “I’m sure of it.” He ran to the pull cord and rang the bell for the servant. “Someone should come.”

  “Perhaps if we make a noise,” Elizabeth said, unwilling to be idle. “Hello? Is anyone out there? Mr. and Mrs. Darcy are unattended!”

  There was no answer. There was only silence. “Damn these thick walls!” he said, and turned to his dogs. “Well, don’t just lie there! Bark or something! Make yourselves useful!” In response to their master’s pleas, one of them got up, climbed up on his chest with her paws, and licked his chin. “Useless mutt! That’s not what I meant when I said useful!”

  “They cannot understand you, Darcy!” Elizabeth said, in no mood for humour, and neither was he.

  ***

  Three weeks, Daniel Maddox thought as he lay awake in his bed—at most. Two, maybe, if this damned snow would stop. My rotten luck. He looked at his watch again; it was half past midnight, and he doubted he would get any sleep at all. Maybe I should read up on the circulatory system. That always makes me fall asleep—such a boring system. He relit the candle and shuffled through the stack of books on his bed stand, but none piqued his interest (or noninterest as it were). Tristan and Isolde, Troilus and Criseyde—I need something that’s not romantic! Or, at least, ends well! He had his hands on a copy of The Merchant of Venice, which he had not read in several years, when the door to his room opened, and his brother burst in. “Hello?”

  “Danny,” Brian said. He was fully clothed and for once looked serious. “Get up, please.”

  “What is it? Who’s ill?”

  “Just—do it, all right?”

  A little too startled to comprehend, he threw on his clothing as quickly as possible, which, as a doctor, he was quite competent of doing. “Now what is it?” he said as he stepped out in to the better-lit hallway. And that was when he felt the point of sword on the back of his neck. “Brian?”

  Brian looked at him sheepishly, which would normally be endearing but this time failed to be so.

  “Drop your things,” said a very familiar voice, and Dr. Maddox dropped his black bag and raised his hands. “Turn around.”

  He did not need to see whom it was to know, but it was nonetheless best to face his enemy. Lord James Kincaid looked considerably worse off than when he had last seen him in passing at the Bingley townhouse. He was unshaven, his clothing a mess, but the most relevant issue was that he was holding a rapier to Maddox’s throat, just barely scraping the flesh.

  “You’re making a mistake,” the doctor said, somewhat afraid to swallow. “Pemberley is filled with people. All I have to do is—”

  “Not only is Pemberley on a skeleton staff, but that staff, upon hearing a noise from you, will find their chambers locked, and so will everyone else. So we have all the privacy we wish.”

  Maddox inched away only slightly, and though Kincaid kept his blade up, he did not press him. “Brian, what’s going on?”

  “Unfortunately,” his brother said, “his lordship is the master of ceremonies.”

  “But you’re part of this.” He shook his head. “I should have known. How would word reach you in Bulgaria that my situation had changed?”

  “Your brother did not spend all of his years on the lam in Europe,” Kincaid said. “He spent some time in Australia recently, where he and I came into some financial dealings that did not end well for him.”

  “Look,” Dr. Maddox interrupted, “if you’re a creditor and you wish to be paid off, we can arrange something, but not here or now, please.”

  “Your brothe
r paid off his debt to me by giving me the master keys to Pemberley.” Kincaid mock bowed to Brian Maddox. “Thank you, Mr. Maddox.”

  “I can’t believe—” But this was not the time for accusations. Or maybe it was; he didn’t know. He was not accustomed to having blades pointed at him. “So what can I offer you? Whatever my conniving brother has told you, I am a man of very small fortune and will remain so for some time.”

  “There are a couple of ways this may proceed,” Kincaid said, reaching into his pocket and producing a rolled-up document. “As someone of your intelligence can surmise, my object is Caroline’s fortune, which you will have legal access to on your wedding day. Your first option, of course, is to sign papers agreeing on that date to provide me with the funds by check.”

  “And I suppose my second option is to get run through,” Maddox said.

  “If you want to be stupidly noble about it, then you may do as you wish, but it will not help at all. For you see, I have, of course, a backup plan. I had much time to think this out properly while I was waiting for your brother to bribe the guard to my cell. Apparently, twenty pounds was sufficient.”

  Maddox steamed, but he could not be angry with his brother now. There would be time for that later, if he survived. “And?”

  “Well, I could run you through or leave you unharmed. I really have no preference. But your refusal to sign brings our dear Caroline into the picture.”

  Maddox stepped forward with indignation, and Kincaid raised the blade so the doctor had to raise his chin to avoid his throat being cut. “Easy now. I’ve not done anything to her yet. But that option lies open, as you are no match for me, and she is a woman. In fact, with all of the English propriety and social strictures, if I had my way with her tonight, I may well end up married to her tomorrow, thus obtaining my intended goal without even involving you. Unless . . .” And he dragged the blade so it drew blood. “ . . . you want to watch.”

  Maddox’s reaction was interrupted by what was obviously the bell ringing in the middle of the night—apparently not part of Kincaid’s elaborate plan. He was distracted, and Maddox reached for anything that could be a weapon, despite his lack of abilities, and found only the candlestick mounted on the wall. Before he had time to dislodge it, Kincaid collected himself and struck at the doctor.