The Plight of the Darcy Brothers

by Marsha Altman

  Since they were moving faster than the mail, their arrival was unannounced. They received no reception at the docks at Dover, nor at the house in Town when the carriage brought them home. No one was expecting them home for at least a month, and they could only hope that Georgiana was in Town to receive them when they arrived at the Darcy townhouse. But first there was the matter of getting Grégoire across the long, sloped plank between the dreaded ship and the dock.

  “How is a man who lives on a mountain afraid of heights?” Darcy said as he practically carried him down the plank.

  “Mountains are not generally directly over water,” Elizabeth pointed out as she stepped onto the wood of the dock and then the cobbled stones above English soil.

  The Darcys were back.

  Though their desire to see Geoffrey was now immense, they could not go straight to Derbyshire. They took a carriage to the Darcy house in London. It was not practical or polite to disregard Georgiana, whom they found in the music room, at the piano. That she was surprised at their sudden arrival was an understatement. “Brother!” She ran to embrace him before the equally shocked servants could get his coat off and his manservant could be called. “Sister!”

  “Oh, please don't,” Elizabeth said. “Or I will be ill. Please, I must sit.”

  Darcy, ill only from exhaustion, said as politely as he could manage to the servants rushing to his side to greet their master, “Please get some tea and food, and have it brought into the parlor immediately. And call for a courier.” After Georgiana released him, he helped the green-looking Elizabeth to a comfortable sofa. “Sit. We are home.”

  In her state, she merely gestured to Grégoire, and Darcy realized the massive duty he now had, besides getting his brother back to health. “Georgiana,” he said softly, “please allow me to introduce Brother Grégoire Bellamont of the Cistercians, our half-brother.”

  Grégoire bowed not the polite bow of a gentleman, but the deep bow of an exceedingly humble man.

  “But—that means Father—”

  “Yes, it does mean Father,” Darcy said, knowing the sentence made no sense. “I was as surprised as you are, but he is, in fact, our father's son. He is but five months younger than you.”

  Georgiana looked hard at Grégoire, sizing up the young monk before her in his tattered robes and outright bizarre haircut, before running across the room to embrace him. Grégoire stiffened before accepting this and hesitantly put his arms around Georgiana.

  “I've always wanted a brother,” she said. “I mean, my own age.” She pulled away so he had to look into her face. “Did Father really leave you so poor?”

  “No, he was very kind to me,” Grégoire said in that bizarre, part French, part cultured English accent. Over their travels, he had picked up on the way Darcy and Elizabeth spoke, and now that they thought about it, the change was noticeable.

  “In fact, Grégoire is one of the richer men in England,” Darcy said. “Father was indeed very kind. This is merely his own religious persuasion, and he is as stubborn as the rest of our family about it. But while you get acquainted, I must send some couriers to let others know that we are here.”

  “Yes,” she said as Darcy left, leaving the three of them. Georgiana turned to Elizabeth. “You are home quite early.”

  “We decided rather abruptly to return by ship, which was faster than a land courier, so there was no way to send a message ahead.”

  “Is everything all right?”

  “Oh yes,” Elizabeth said as tea was served. “Just Darcy being his nervous self about getting home safely since we discovered I was with child.”

  “Oh! Elizabeth!” Georgiana briefly abandoned her newfound brother to hug her sister-in-law, despite her modest protests. “How wonderful! When is your confinement?”

  “Oh, I'm barely two months or so along. I haven't even thought about it. I was honestly just thinking of returning home. We will discuss everything later. And Grégoire, eat something; you're on land now.”

  “Thank the Lord,” Grégoire said, as he crossed himself, and the servants appeared with platters of cakes and tea. “His Holiness may be a fisher of men, but I am no seaman.”

  “I think we have proved that, yes,” Elizabeth said, grinning to Georgiana. “He has no sea legs at all. Between him and my feminine ills, Darcy had his hands full the whole voyage making sure we didn't fall off the ship. But, tell me, how is Geoffrey? How much trouble has he gotten into?”

  “I wouldn't say a lot of trouble that I've heard of,” she said. “Or from what I've heard from Mr. Bingley, who is in Town every other week to check on his sister. Or at least, he has not said anything terrible of Geoffrey.”

  “Mrs. Maddox—she's must be nearing the end of her confinement now, am I correct? Oh, I've terribly lost track of time.”

  “She is. It would be at Chatton, but—Dr. Maddox is required in Town, and she will not leave him, or him, her. I dine there most nights. He won't talk about his royal patient, of course, but he has met the king! And he is insane!”

  “The king or Dr. Maddox?”

  “Elizabeth!” Georgiana turned to her newfound sibling, who was taking his food in silence. “Brother, I must explain. Caroline Maddox is Mr. Bingley's older sister, who has married Dr. Maddox, who is now the royal physician to the Prince of Wales. It is all terribly complicated when our three families get together. Chatton, I hear, is a madhouse.”

  “And my sister?” Elizabeth asked.

  She did not have to inquire which one to get an answer. “She is quite well, from what I hear, all things considered. And Mr. Bennet, from Mr. Bingley's description, is much relieved at the settlement. Everyone is. Brother has saved the day again! Oh, now I must specify which brother.”

  It was then that Darcy reappeared in the entrance. “I've posted to Chatton and to Pemberley to open up the place. Darling, do you wish to dine with the Maddoxes tonight or just rest here? We should see them before we go, and if everyone is recovered enough, I would very much like to strike for Chatton tomorrow.”

  “Yes,” she said. “Leave for Chatton tomorrow, please, and I am well enough now. Grégoire?”

  He broke his eating to say, “Now that I am on land, I should be fine.”

  “And Dr. Maddox is a doctor,” Darcy said.

  A similarly exhausted Brian Maddox shambled his way to the Maddox townhouse and was warmly greeted by his brother and very confined sister-in-law, who had not been told a date and, therefore, were a bit, though not overly, surprised to see him.

  “I suppose I must treat my hosts to some gossip, as I'm sure Mrs. Maddox would enjoy it,” Brian Maddox said.

  “Absolutely,” said Caroline.

  “But you have to promise me not to tell the Darcys I told you and to act all surprised when you hear it from them. For I know your promises are much better than mine, and I can actually count on them.”

  “Oh, out with it, already,” she said with a roll of the eyes, leaning on her husband. Even the good doctor's interest looked a bit piqued.

  “Mr. Darcy has returned to England with a bastard brother he did not previously know of,” Brian said. “Though, honestly, I'm having trouble calling a monk a bastard.”

  This was, indeed, the kind of gossip that made Caroline Maddox (nee Bingley) most excited. She almost fell over giggling, and the doctor had to hold her up. “You can't be serious.”

  “I most certainly am. I spent a month on a boat with the seasick bugger. Though he is most pious and—young; he's younger than Miss Darcy, I believe. Don't have the exact dates. He's very much like her, but he looks like what I imagine to be a young Darcy.”

  “So, sweet and pious, but stubborn as hell?”

  “Precisely. They've tried to talk him out of the whole monastic business, but he won't budge.”

  “Oh, thank God,” Caroline said between laughter. “I haven't heard an interesting thing in weeks. Louisa hardly knows anything… Miss Darcy is too polite to even listen to Town gossip… and my dear husband here, who m
ade me this way, won't tell me a single thing about the prince.”

  The doctor, feeling compelled to preserve his dignity, said, “He has brown hair.”

  “That I know! I saw him, dear.”

  “Driving your poor wife batty with your discretion, aren't you, Danny?” Brian smiled, to which his brother could only shrug.

  Dr. Maddox immediately called on the Darcys, who intended to stay only the night in Town, despite their exhaustion, and head toward Derbyshire after Darcy concluded some Town business the next day. He invited them to dinner, and what were apparently four Darcys sat at his table, including a young man who was most certainly a monk. Daniel hadn't seen a proper tonsure in years, even if this one was lacking some care from the journey and the hair on the top of his head was stubbornly trying to grow out again. That and their tales of Rome and France brought back a flood of pleasant memories.

  The Maddoxes did not press too hard, for the Darcys were positively done in, and Brother Grégoire, with his strange mixture of accents, would not speak while eating and looked very intimidated by the number of strange dishes. Brian, in fact, was forced to tell the tale of how he came to meet them in France, though he was uncharacteristically modest about it, and Elizabeth supplied the actual details of how he'd saved all of their lives. Despite the intense interest of their hosts, the guests were released early, off to well-deserved rest. Only Darcy took a moment to corner the doctor in a hallway, which came as no surprise to Maddox.

  “Is Mrs. Darcy well?” he asked mildly.

  “Yes, as much as can be expected. Though the ship was a miserable experience for someone ill in the morning, a doctor in Rome advised us that it would do her no harm. My concern is with my brother.”

  The doctor merely nodded silently, waiting for him to continue.

  “At a later date—perhaps, when we are properly settled at Pemberley, I would like him to be checked.”

  “For what, precisely?”

  “He is a monk from one of the strictest orders. He has spent years destroying his body.” Darcy didn't seem to be eager to explain it, but Maddox was not an uneducated man, and he nodded. “We are now restoring him to a decent state of health. If you would look at him—”

  “Gladly.” He added, “And I do recommend, if I may, that you make arrangements for him to not wear the same robe every day, as I imagine he does. It does lead to diseases of the skin. Perhaps, at least he could wear an undershirt.”

  “He is most intractable about his habits.”

  “How odd,” Maddox said in a tone that meant precisely the opposite. “Well, Mr. Darcy, I will do what I can as soon as I can. Although my consultation may have to wait until after Caroline delivers, if it can.”

  “I believe it can. It has waited years, after all.”

  Maddox nodded again, and Darcy appeared relieved. That, for the moment, was enough.

  The Darcys did end up spending most of the morning in Town, as Elizabeth and Grégoire slept late, and Darcy had to make various banking arrangements. These would be finalized when Mr. Bennet returned to Longbourn, but at the moment, they stood ready, and the trust for Miss Bennet's child, if she delivered successfully, was set up.

  Darcy returned to the house with a coach ready. Georgiana would be joining them, eager to be in Pemberley again and apparently eager to spend time with her newfound brother. But first, Chatton, where everyone they currently held dear was lodged.

  Because Darcy would not let the carriage go at full speed, the trip took a full five days, with nightly lodging in familiar inns (with terrible wines by their new standards).

  They were expected at Chatton, thanks to letters sent ahead, and Geoffrey saw them first, waiting not inside but some way down along the road, and who came running before anyone else could stop him, running straight into his mother so hard that he almost tackled her. “Mother!”

  “Darling!” she said, kneeling to greet him at his level, because she wouldn't dare pick him up. “You've grown,” she said as they embraced. “Oh, I missed you so much.”

  “It does seem so,” said the smiling Darcy, who patted his son on the head. Geoffrey Darcy had gained, in the roughly six months they were gone, nearly an inch. He was nearing three years now, when his education would begin. They had missed so many precious months… it pained him, but he would not show it. “Come here,” he said, when he could finally tear him Geoffrey away from his mother, and Darcy managed to lift his son into his arms. “My, you are getting a bit heavy for this. Did you miss us?”

  “I wrote! Uncle Bingley taught me my initials.”

  “Indeed he did,” Darcy said. “We got your letter.” He kissed him on the cheek. “Now, please greet your Aunt Georgiana and your Uncle Grégoire.”

  He set him down, but Geoffrey only looked up at his father in confusion. “I don't have an Uncle Greg-war.”

  “I did not know it either, until recently. But, you must greet him properly.” He patted his son on the back, and Geoffrey did walk over to his waiting relatives and give a proper, adorable bow to his aunt and uncle.

  “Our little gentleman,” Elizabeth said with tears in her eyes.

  “Finally,” Darcy said, partially in jest.

  Geoffrey did embrace his aunt, or at least her legs, before turning and staring up in wonder at his new uncle. “Why are you wearing a dress?”

  Darcy went to say something, but Elizabeth silenced him with a look.

  “It is a robe,” Grégoire said, bunching up the sleeves.

  “Why are you wearing a robe?”

  “Because I am a monk.”

  “What's a monk? What happened to your head?”

  “Nothing happened to my head.”

  “Then what happened to your hair?”

  Grégoire had stopped at a confused barber in Town and had the proper areas of his head shaved again. “It is symbolic of the crown of the church.”

  “Oh.” Geoffrey, of course, meant it without any comprehension, and then he turned to his father and said, “Can I have my hair—”

  “No,” Darcy interrupted, “absolutely not.”

  “But I want to wear a crown!”

  “That's treason, son. Better not let the king hear you say that.”

  “But Uncle Bingley says that Uncle Maddox says that the king is batty,” said Geoffrey, who turned back to his new uncle. “Are you batty?”

  “I think he is,” Darcy said, and Elizabeth laughed into his shoulder.

  They walked the rest of the way to Chatton. The carriage went ahead of them, so there was a crowd waiting to greet them. The Darcys had arrived.

  “Now, legitimately,” said Bingley, “some of this is my own fault.”

  “You owe me five shillings,” Elizabeth whispered to her husband at the sight of Mr. Bingley with his hands and face dyed red.

  THE SAD TALE OF MRS. REYNOLDS

  “IT IS NOT ENTIRELY his fault, certainly,” Jane Bingley said as she embraced her sister. “But a man should look in his washbasin, before rinsing his face in the morning, to see if someone has poured ink in it.”

  “I wasn't even fully awake!” Bingley defended, crossing his arms and trying to look stern, which was hard to do with a bright red face that only made his hair look even more orange. “And who was responsible for that, I say?”

  “Very little mystery there,” said Mr. Bennet, taking his turn with Lizzy and Darcy.

  “It was a surprise! For Mother and Father,” Geoffrey defended.

  “I suppose I will be checking my washbasin every day now. Or at least locking my door better,” Darcy said, eyeing his son. “We will settle this when we reach Pemberley, which unfortunately for you, will be very shortly.”

  There were hugs and kisses and bows all around. And many congratulations for everyone's sake, for a great burden had come off their shoulders—except for Mary, but she was not carrying it on her shoulders. She did seem much less distressed than when they had left her. Darcy introduced Brother Grégoire, to which Bingley only said rather quietl
y, “The infamous guide.” Elizabeth told her parents the great news, something Darcy discovered because of the shriek from Mrs. Bennet and the flurry and hugs and kisses.

  “At last, at last! Oh, Lizzy, you will be a mother again at last. This time I am sure of it!”

  “I do not believe she ever stopped,” Mr. Bennet said.

  There were trinkets to be distributed, for the Darcys had purchased things for their beloved family in Rome and had been able to bring these mementos on the ship without much trouble. Mr. Bennet and Mr. Bingley were exceedingly happy with their rare books and Mrs. Bennet with beautiful yarns, for she did love sewing for her many grandchildren. Kitty had outgrown ribbons but still loved bonnets, especially those beyond the limits of what could be found in England, and Mary was given a little book of hymns. Little Georgiana Bingley was given a doll that she would carry around for years.

  The Chatton crowd—and it was, indeed, a crowd—was very unhappy at the idea that the Darcys would not be staying the night. But Darcy put his foot down and said he wanted to see Pemberley in the worst way after the long journey, and if they stayed for dinner, they could not introduce it to his brother properly. The mention of “his brother” turned some heads, for Brother Grégoire's presence had not been explained fully, but Darcy assured them there would be time for that when other, more pressing matters were settled. And so, after only a few joyous hours of reunion at Chatton, the Darcys set off on the road with the addition of Geoffrey, who was told he would receive his present when his punishment was over, though his punishment was not specified. The five of them traveled the last three miles to the great house of Pemberley.

  A large audience—almost the entire staff of servants—had gathered to greet their long-absent master and mistress. They also awaited the return of Georgiana and her nephew, who trailed behind his father's coattails. What they did not expect was the last member of the party, the young monk who bowed to them deeper than they bowed to him and would have no one attend to him.