Chapter 1 – A Most Unexpected Visitor

For once, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy had his massive study to himself, but he did not revel in the privacy as thought he would. Since her first days at Pemberley, Elizabeth had been fascinated by this male sanctuary, and had thoroughly invaded it, even when he offered her many alternate locations for her own writing and reading, and what little financial business she had to contract with her minor personal income. He had not the will to shoo her away, and she seemed to realize it. Her goings in and out became more of a silly war of personal space, one both sides were content to occasionally win and occasionally lose (though Darcy had to admit he most often lost, but was compensated thoroughly later that night).

As it was, on this beautiful fall morning, he had the room truly to himself, because Elizabeth was five miles away, tending to her confined sister at Chatton Hall. His only reason for being at Pemberley was for business which he hurried to finish. Only his highest scruples would not allow him to sign contracts before reading them, even if it meant another few hours without Lizzy and Geoffrey.

His son was yet another loss in the study. Since he had learned to crawl, he spent far too long (according to Nurse) rolling around on the carpet in front of the desk. Usually when infants were brought to see their father it was largely for show, but Darcy was quite content to let the toddler have his way about the room, ruining whatever clothing he was bundled in. In fact, the servants had become quite adept at stepping around the young Master Geoffrey.

The servant this morning had no such worries as he entered. “Mr. Bingley, sir.”

Bingley was in Town. Darcy knew that as a fact. He had received a letter and had business of great import in London that could not be avoided, and with Jane still a month away, he was finally convinced by his wife to answer the call and high-tail it to Town. That was only two days ago, by Darcy’s estimation, but he didn’t question it and gave an approving nod.

The man who entered immediately after him was indeed Charles Bingley, still carrying his hat and looking rather weather-worn. He had clearly been riding, perhaps from Chatton. “Please forgive – “

“What is wrong?” Darcy did not hide his concern. “Who is ill?”

“No one. I have not in fact been to Chatton, but I did hear it and everyone is well.”

Darcy frowned, and bid him to be seated, but Bingley would not. He paced by the fireplace instead as Darcy observed, “You came here directly from Town?”

“Yes. Yes, I did.” He practically spit it out. “I need your advice.”

“On business I assume?”

“No. Yes. Sort of. Not the business you are thinking of.” As usual, Bingley was a sputtering mess, but the truth would be out soon enough. The important thing was Jane and Elizabeth were well and the children were well. Everything else was irrelevant. “You recall I was told of pressing affairs in Town. The letter made it seem as if they were related to the business.” Though he rarely spoke of it, the Bingley family was still very connected to the wool trade, as it was the source of their original fortune and had potential for future fortune, but Mr. Bingley Senior had raised his son a gentleman of leisure, so Bingley had little to do with his own business and relied on overseers and stewards to manage it almost entirely. “This was not entirely true.”

Darcy simply gave him the same impatient look that said, ‘Do go on, silly man who is wasting my time’ that he gave to practically everybody.

“As it turns out, my sister is engaged, and was seeking my consent for her marriage to a certain minor earl. His name is Lord James Kincaid, and they are very eager to be married, but I suppose they must have imagined that I would not leave Chatton for another month.”

“And they could not come to you.”

Bingley shrugged. “I suppose Caroline wanted me to meet him in the proper setting.”

            “So I am to understand that Miss Bingley is affianced to Scottish nobility, and you are here to ask me ... what, exactly? If you should give your consent?”

            “No, not precisely.” Bingley twirled around in frustration. “I dislike saying it.”

            “Saying what? I was not under the impression that you dislike anything in this world.”

            Bingley frowned, and leaned on the fireplace. “I do not favor this man.”

            To this, Darcy had to give pause. Considerable pause. “In our entire history, I cannot think of a single acquaintance that you did not like immensely, even when there was ample reason for the contrary. You have spoken highly even of women who have slighted you and servants who have cheated you. So I must come to the conclusion that this man is either secretly George Wickham, or he is the most disgusting, disagreeable man in Britain.”

            “Precisely. Only, he isn’t. He’s quite pleasant, and he seems ... well, Caroline is pleased with the arrangement.”

            “So he is wealthy.”

            “Not by heritage. His particular region is not very prosperous, somewhere in the lowlands. But he went to Australia and made a fortune there, and has just recently returned to settle down.”

            “The lowlands, you say?”

            “Yes. Not so terribly far from here, so it is not a question of my not wanting the distance between us ...” Because despite the general disposition of his siblings, Charles Bingley was a model brother and loved them dearly. “To be blunt about it, I don’t know what it is that bothers me about him. I can find no proper reason not to like this man, and eagerly consent to a marriage that would make Caroline happy.” He paused. “And yet, here I am.”

            “And I am still waiting for your answer to my question. On what subject do you need advice? Surely you cannot ask me to judge the man from afar? Or for that matter, to have any real say in the matter of whom Miss Bingley marries.”

            “I know, but ...,” he hesitated again. “I would wish a favor from you, Darcy.”

            “You know you don’t even have to ask.”

            “I would ask you to go to Town. Secretly, or to accompany, I care not. But – to put it correctly – you know something of discovering people’s ... connections.”

            “You suspect something of this man? Lord Kincaid?”

            “I cannot even say that. But there is something I cannot describe that has caused me to withhold my consent. Not that Caroline could not be in the process of marrying him at this moment, as she is only my sister and has her own will, but I do not believe she would do so. Or, she wouldn’t have called for me with Jane in confinement. Am I correct in my estimation?”

            “She is your sister, Bingley!” Darcy said. “I am merely her brother by marriage that she spent many years fawning over. I have no great insight on her present disposition towards this suitor. Normally I would say, let her be married at last and be even perhaps happy! But ...” He stood up and looked out the window, his hands pursed behind his back, his own posture of deep concentration. “Tell me – what is her inheritance?”

            “Twenty thousand pounds. But – he has made a fortune in Australia!”

            “If you really believed that, I do not think you would have traveled to Pemberley to chat about your sister’s romantic travails.”

            “You are so judgmental. You always see the worst in everyone.”

            “Which is precisely why you called on me.”

            Bingley could not deny it. “Then do me this favor, please.”

            “Do you wish me to meet him or merely investigate him?”

            “As you see fit. Though he does relish himself an accomplished fencer if that makes any difference.”

            Darcy did not acknowledge that it did. “You realize we will have to stop at Chatton and tell our wives of this scheme.”

            “I didn’t want to trouble Jane,” Bingley said. “But I suppose it would look suspicious if we both suddenly return to Town.”

            “Precisely.”

                        ****************************************

            Jane Bingley’s second confinement was considerably different from her first for a host of reasons. While reclined at home in Chatton, her “isolation” seemed anything but, with two toddlers, a host of nervous servants, and the prospect of her parents and sisters arriving in a few days. When Bingley was finally convinced to travel to London, because Jane felt he needed a breather more than she did, she was very content to be alone with Elizabeth, who often held Mistress Georgiana in her arms while they watched young Geoffrey attempt to climb onto the furniture of the sitting room.

            “He will not be still,” Elizabeth said. “I think we’ve quite given up on the matter.”

            “From your side, surely,” Jane observed, as they watched him try to stand again. He could get to his feet, but only with aid, and was not quite ready to walk. “He will be disappearing for long morning walks in no time. Oh, Lizzy, you will have to bundle him up so he doesn’t catch cold!”

            “Now you sound like mama.”

            “But you will do it all the same.”

            Elizabeth found she could not contradict her. As willing as she was to let Geoffrey explore the ground, she kept a very careful eye on his available territory, and many of the sharper edges of their furniture had been wrapped in blankets. She was smiling at this memory when she noticed Georgie was trying to escape her grasp and climb onto her mother’s sizable belly. Every time Elizabeth experienced any anxiety that she was herself not again expectant, she merely looked at the fact that Jane had ballooned to a whale and felt a small, very selfish pang of comfort. Had they both been this large before and she was merely imagining things, or was her sister even bigger this time around?

            The question was not asked. Instead, Jane’s lady-maid entered and interrupted them. “Master Bingley and Mr. Darcy.”

            Elizabeth made a quick dive for her son, lest he be stepped on by either gentleman as their husbands strode into the room.  As she took him into her arms she nearly crashed into her husband, who as usual strode so confidently into the room that he needed his athletic agility to prevent himself from colliding with whatever was in his path. He made a brief bow-ish nod to Jane as he took Geoffrey from Elizabeth’s arms. “Mrs. Bingley.”

            “Mr. Darcy. Charles! How was Town?” Jane said as her own husband quickly joined her by her side and gave her a sitting hug, certainly not requiring her to rise in his presence. “You settled your business I assume?”

            “Actually, no,” he said. “It seems I must return, if you would permit it.”

            “If I would permit it?”

            “I mean, considering – “

            “Charles,” she said patiently, “I am a month away. Are you planning to go to the Continent or something?”

            “No. No, of course not. The matter is ...,” he hesitated. “Darcy, do you want to explain it?”

            Darcy looked positively infuriated that all eyes were suddenly on him, which made him uncomfortable, even in the most comfortable of social situations. “Why should I explain it? She’s your sister!”

            “Explain what?” Elizabeth said.

            “She’s your sister too!”

            “Only by marriage!”

            “Are we talking about Miss Bingley?” Jane interrupted.

            “Bingley, this is your problem and you must explain it!”

            “You should not phrase it like that!”

            “Then tell me precisely how I am to phrase it!” Darcy said with as much stature as he could muster with a cooing infant tugging at his cravat.

            “Someone had better phrase whatever it is you mean to say correctly and soon,” Elizabeth said with her hands on her hips. “Mr. Darcy.”

            Darcy looked in terror at his wife, and then at Bingley, who finally spit it out. “It seems Caroline is to be affianced to a Scottish earl. She ... requested my return to Town to give my consent. She failed to mention that that was the pressing ‘matter of business’ in the letter.”

            Caroline Bingley did not, actually, need his consent, but no one felt compelled to mention that. Charles Bingley, Jr, was now the master of the Bingley family and estate upon his father’s death, and had further elevated his status by getting married and settling in a sizable manor in the country. Just being a man, despite a younger brother, gave him social status over his sisters, and that Miss Bingley had seen fit to ask for his opinion on the matter was a quiet nod to this.

            “...And?” Jane finally saw fit to ask.

            “And what?”

            “Did you give your consent?”

            Bingley frowned and looked at Darcy. “No. Not yet.”

            “And what grounds did you find him so objectionable?”

            “Yes,” Elizabeth said, backing her sister up. “If I may be so bold, if Miss Bingley has found nothing wanting in him as a potential husband, then I am having trouble imagining your objection.”

            “Does he have excessive warts or something?” Jane asked.

            “Is he a fortune hunter?

            “A gambler?”

            “Is he Mr. Wickham in disguise?”

            Bingley sighed and slumped into the couch by his wife’s side. “He is none of those things. He is the most eligible bachelor, in fact, and a man of some fortune as well as minor aristocracy. And my sister has given every indication of finding him as dashing and handsome as anyone who lives in Derbyshire and owns Pemberley.”

            “I heard that,” Darcy said.

            “So your objection was?” Jane pressed, now thoroughly confused as she balanced Georgie on her stomach.

            “...I have no idea.”

            This was met with considerable silence, broken first by the young Master Darcy suddenly and incoherently babbling, something that had increased considerably as of late. Real words were sure to follow.

            “Exactly,” Darcy said, as if his son made perfect sense. “Well, we must be off to Town. Good-bye, darling.”

            “We?”

            “Yes, uhm, I’ve uh, asked Darcy to come and ...,” Bingley played with his hands. “Well... perhaps Darcy should explain.”

            “As I have little idea as to why I am to accompany you and am going along because you asked so politely, please, Bingley, do explain. For everyone,” Darcy replied.

            Jane laughed. “Yes, I can safely say we are all thoroughly confused.”

            “Well, uhm.” Charles managed to buy himself some time by taking Georgie into his arms and balancing her on his knee. “I do hate to think ill of anyone, but there is something about this man – his name is James Kincaid – that, well, bothers me. But I can’t rightly put my finger on it. Perhaps I am just being overprotective of my last sister, but ... I have asked Darcy to help ... check his credentials. And judge his character.” He added, “Besides, he is uncommonly good at talking Bingleys out of marr –“

            “Bingley, I see we must prepare for our journey, before your foot is more firmly inserted into your mouth,” Darcy said, before anyone could even start to be mad at him. “Elizabeth, I will be only a few days – ” But when he turned to her, she was giving him eyes of fury anyway. “What? He said it!”

            “So you are just going to high-tail it to London, then,” Elizabeth said, taking Geoffrey from him. “Leaving the women and children behind.”

            “I assumed that you would not wish to leave Chatton at the present time. Did I assume incorrectly?”

            “Lizzy,” Jane said kindly, “do not assume that just because I am temporarily rendered an invalid-”

            “Darling, you are not an invalid,” Bingley said.

            “Did something happen to your eyesight in Town?” she said, and turned back to her sister. “I am serious, Lizzy. You are not bound my side. You know our family will be here within the week and between them and the servants I will hardly get enough rest as it is. You need not worry for me. You need only worry for Charles, who will find himself suffering a horrible accident if he ever renders me this way again.” She rolled her head over to him, but gave no indication if she meant it or not.

            “Perhaps we should give them a moment,” Darcy said quietly, and his wife agreed, and they took to the hallway and closed the door behind them. “Lizzy, to be serious, you may accompany me to Town if you wish, but it is hardly necessary and I would think you more inclined to remain with your sister.”

            After a moment, she answered, “You are correct in your assumptions. I am simply taken by surprise by the whole matter.”

            “I do not properly understand it either,” he readily admitted. “Perhaps he thinks I will see some flaw he does not. Perhaps he does not have confidence in his perceptions.”

            “So? Surely this ‘Lord Kincaid’ may have some flaw, but if Miss Bingley is willing enough to marry him, it must be of no consequence. I am inclined to let a woman trust her instincts.”

            “As am I. But Elizabeth – this is the first time I have ever heard Bingley object to anyone. Ever. Surely there is something here that he cannot express, or if not, then he shall see it out and they will be happily married. But I cannot so easily dismiss his fears without seeing to the matter myself, and he has asked – practically begged – me to do so. Should I not be obliging?”

            She patted his arm affectionately. “My darling husband, always the sentinel for all people good and just. Even, apparently, Miss Bingley.”

            He said with a smirk, “Yes, apparently. Obviously, this matter must be concluded quickly, if she is so intent to marry him, so I will be gone but a few days, perhaps a week. And I will write.”

            “And you will miss my mother’s visit, or part of it.”

            “That loss I will have to suffer,” he said, and kissed her, then his son on the cheek. “You are not to speak until I return, for I promised myself to hear your first words.”

            “Baa!” said Geoffrey, and flailed his arms at his father.

            “Someone is overdue for a nap,” Elizabeth said, and fortunately for timing, Bingley emerged from the parlor.

            “Should we be off, then?” he said, donning his hat. “I must try to be in Town by nightfall tomorrow.”

            “Nightfall? Tomorrow?”

            “I ... may have not told my sisters I was going all the way to Derbyshire,” he admitted, and bowed. “Mrs. Darcy. We will return with great haste, I assure you.”

            “I am assured,” she said, and received another good-bye kiss from her husband before they both disappeared out the front doors. She returned quickly to Jane, who was handing little Georgiana off to a Nurse. “It seems we are to be barefoot and pregnant wives indeed.”

            “I will not be barefoot,” Jane said. Her feet were on a foot stand, clothed in slippers. “My feet are cold enough as they are.” This sent them both into giggling, as Elizabeth rejoined her sister in her usual position beside her. “So was Mr. Darcy particularly revelatory about their trip?”

            “I think he is as flummoxed at we are. And Mr. Bingley is. No one can account for this conspiracy to save Miss Bingley from the horrible state of marriage. Though I do take comfort in the amusing irony.”

            “I will take any comfort that is offered me,” Jane said. “And when my husband returns, if I have grown any larger, I will take great comfort in wringing his neck.”

Chapter 2 – The Man from the North

            It was a long trip to Town, and Darcy was no fan of small talk and got right to the inquisition. Four days prior, Bingley had returned to his townhouse, apparently, to immediately be received not by his steward but by his sister, who explained that she had recently met the earl in question at the opera, during intermission, and he had offered to take her up to his private box. Though the Bingleys held their own regular box, that she would have been a fool not to accept did not have to be mentioned by either party, including the pair in the carriage on an uncomfortable ride in the late season weather. He had just returned from Australia and was still settling his new accounts, but he was most eager to see the opera performed in England again, apparently a regular during his time in Town. He was no great lover of his homeland, considering himself more an Englishman than a Scotsman (like many lowlanders), and had missed all things properly English in Australia. Miss Bingley then went on to give his academic credentials, which did surprise Darcy in the least, though he made no vocal note of it as Bingley went on. Lord Kincaid, the future earl of a small estate and lands near the border of England and Scotland, was well-versed in the modern languages, was quite good at cards, and even a match for Mr. Hurst at chess. (Darcy was surprised to learn that Mr. Hurst excelled at anything, but this he also kept to himself) His apartment, though considerable, was dreadfully empty, and so he often dined at the Bingley townhouse, at least in the few short weeks before he proposed. Caroline said she found him most pleasing, and would make an excellent husband, but she wanted her brother’s consent, of course.

            “I of course said it was his business to ask me for her hand, if that is to be the procedure,” Bingley explained. “And before he could do this, for this was just an hour after my arrival and he was not due again for some time, I inquired to Louisa and she spoke of nothing but praises for this Scottish gentleman. Even Mr. Hurst, who may rival you in xenophobia – “

            “I never said I disliked the Scots,” Darcy interrupted.

            “Darcy, I know you have traveled the Continent, admired the ruins of ancient Greece, and seen the Arch of Titus and St. Peter’s Cathedral. Tell me, have you, with a great estate in the north of England, ever been to Scotland?”

            “No,” Darcy said.

            The point made, Bingley wisely moved on, “Even Mr. Hurst could find no fault in him, and praised his accent, which he found ‘very English.’ Anyway, the earl in question quickly arrived for dinner, and we were introduced, and made some conversation. I asked about his trip to Australia, and he gave me a mild travelogue, and said if I was ever in want of a greater fortune, I should travel there myself. Then, after dinner, he came with me into my study and asked for her hand.”

            “How did he do it?”

            “... The usual way, I suppose. I’m sorry not to be of help here, but my only experience was my own, and the only thing I really remember about facing Mr. Bennet was I could barely hear him with the pounding in my ears. How I acted I cannot properly recall. Anyway, it was a perfectly pleasant but formal affair.”

            “And your response?”

            “You know my response. Do not tease me.”

            “I mean, what was the precise reason you gave for refusing your consent? If you gave a reason at all. You were not obligated to.”

            Bingley squirmed in his seat. “I said though I wished Caroline happy, I simply wanted to know him better, as she was my beloved sister. I may have blundered into some speech about that, I can’t recall the precise words, but I begged of him a week’s time to know him better, and he conceded, and said his love for her would not diminish in a week’s time.”

            “Noble indeed.”

            “Yes.”

            “Did you speak to Miss Bingley?” Darcy asked. “After Lord Kincaid’s proposal.”

            “Yes.” Bingley turned away uncomfortably and looked instead at the passing landscape. “Yes.”

            “Bingley, if I’m going to have to worm every last detail from you, then this will be a long trip.”

            Bingley sighed and gave in. “She inquired as to the reason for my refusal. I said I merely needed to know the man who was to be my brother better.”

            “Did she know you were stalling?”

            “Undoubtedly.”

            There was a pause.

            “I also asked – if she loved him.”

            “And her reply?”

            He did not attempt to imitate his sister’s haughty accent. Perhaps at that moment in time, she did not have one. “She asked if it made any difference.”

            Darcy settled back in the coach seat. “So she does not.”

            “I confess I have always found Caroline very hard to read ... when she wishes to be, at least. She knows it is an advantageous or at least equal match, and she has been ... well, since your marriage, I would venture to guess that she has probably felt some desperation.”

            It was probably true. Miss Bingley was nearing thirty, had a younger brother married, and had spent most of her time on a futile endeavor during her prime years, so her prospects were dwindling. But was Lord Kincaid not a good prospect? He was nobility and he was rich and by Bingley’s accounts, at least good-looking (Bingley was known for being overboard in his estimations of people’s good qualities and so Darcy decided he would judge this Kincaid for himself, but if Caroline Bingley was happy ... it would be hard to find fault in this man, truly).

            Darcy confessed the last bit of his musings out loud to Bingley, who merely shrugged as they approached London, and the road became more busy and the outside noisy. It was a great relief to finally arrive at Darcy’s townhouse. “So then, dinner?”

            “At seven, yes. I will tell them you are here on business, of course.” He added with more seriousness, “Thank you, Darcy.”

            Darcy had no comment. He merely exited the coach and opened his front door. No message had been sent forth to prepare for his arrival, so the doorman was quite surprised to see him. “Mr. Darcy!”

            He nodded, and apparently the outburst was enough to make it to wherever Georgiana was present, because she quickly burst into the hallway and ran to embrace her brother in the doorway. “Brother!” She kissed him on the cheek. “I was not expecting you.”

            “I was not expecting myself,” he said, and did not explain. “Everything is well. I will be in Town only a few days on some business with the Bingleys.”

            “With the Bingleys? Business?”

            He sighed. “It is not for me to understand or explain it. Suffice to say, we are invited to dinner at seven at Bingley’s townhouse, if you are inclined to join me, and we will meet Miss Bingley’s fiancé.”

            “Oh, Lord Kincaid!” she said with no surprise, just her usual general enthusiasm. She reminded him of Bingley in many ways, this being one of them, though she had not his natural gregarious with people she did not know intimately. As he could only think first of the trouble it had gotten Charles Bingley into over the years and the pains Darcy had taken to extricate his dear friend from it, he found this difference most pleasant. “I met him when I was walking in the park. He was with Caroline. A very pleasant man.”

            “And Miss Bingley?” He realized he had to clarify. She did not know of his real reason for being here and he did not yet want to enlighten her. “I mean to say, was she ... happy to be walking with him?”

            “Yes, quite. This is the first I’ve heard of an official engagement, but it does only seem natural, the way they walked together, that they would be now affianced.”

            “They are not,” he clarified. “Or, not officially. Bingley has not given his consent.”

            Georgiana frowned in confusion. “Why ever not?”

            “It is as great a mystery to me as it is to you,” he could say in all honestly. “Now if you do not mind, though it is a great pleasure to see you, I must ready myself for the evening. Elizabeth, of course, sends her regards.”

            “Oh, and Jane?”

            “Jane is well.” He had a sudden image of his sister swollen like his in-law and felt a tremor down his back. “Will you be joining us for dinner?”

            “Of course! And I will not bother you further now, but you must tell me all about Geoffrey and Georgie on the way to the Bingleys. Promise me, brother!”

            At this request, he was most ready and willing. “I promise.”

                        ****************************************

            Mr. Darcy was indeed a good brother and spent the carriage ride telling her all about Geoffrey and his various tendencies. “Once he learns to climb, we’re done for,” he commented, and Georgiana found this most amusing. She would join him at Chatton, for the birth, if it would not be imposing - she asked, and he answered that it would certainly not be.

            They arrived a bit on the early side, because he was Darcy and he could do that without any social impropriety. Bingley was eager to have him there, looking very much the eager guest in his own home, as he was there so rarely now. “I’m so glad you’ve come. And Miss Georgiana, of course, you look lovelier every day.”

            “Thank you, Mr. Bingley. I hope we are not too early.”

            “No, no, of course not! In fact, you will be here for the earl’s entrance, however grand it shall be, I can’t presume. Please, come in.”

            The Darcys were familiar enough with the Bingley townhouse, smaller than theirs but better-used, as it was the rather permanent home of Mr. and Mrs. Hurst as well as Miss Bingley, so even Darcy had to admit that it was kept up a bit more.

            As they entered the parlor, Bingley in his usual oblivious exuberance at greeting his guests nearly slammed into a man coming down the steps that Darcy did not recognize. He was not as well-dressed, but a long coat covered respectable attire. Shaggy ringlets of wild, black hair and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses covered most of his face, and he quite nimbly stepped out of the way, and bowed very seriously to Bingley as if it had been entirely his fault. “Mr. Bingley.”

            “Shall you be back tomorrow?”

            “I am afraid so,” he said, in a wavering, nervous sort of voice. Darcy noticed he carried a black bag with him. “Daily treatments will continue for some time,” he said in a more hushed tone to Mr. Bingley, though not hushed enough to escape Darcy’s ears.

            “Very well. Tomorrow, then,” Bingley said, all smiles as usual as his guest scurried out. He turned immediately to Darcy. “Doctor Maddox. He treats Mr. Hurst’s gout, which as of late I understand has become rather insufferable. I know shamefully little about it for a brother, but this one is apparently a good doctor with excellent credentials. Went to Cambridge.” He added in a quieter tone to Darcy. “He’s apparently the fourth doctor they’ve gone through and the only one they’ve liked, so I’m inclined to keep him on for as long as they like.”

            “I see,” Darcy said, and inquired no more on the matter as their coats were taken from them and they retired to the parlor, where Bingley was greeted with more fervor by his sister than Darcy could ever remember Caroline greeting him.

            “Charles! How is Jane? Is everything all right?”

            Darcy realized, of course, that a string of lies had been involved in Bingley’s escape to the north, no doubt involving something about Jane’s health. He did not interrupt, and as Georgiana at his side made no motion of being aware of anything conspiratorial, he did not impede her from doing anything at the moment.

            “Jane is fine. It was merely a fright over nothing,” Bingley explained. “I apologize for my sudden absence at such a crucial time in our family.”

            “Of course. Anything for my sister’s health,” Miss Bingley said, and turned to Darcy. “Mr. Darcy. Miss Darcy.”

            “Miss Bingley,” he said. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”

            “I hear you are here on some business. How detestable, to be dragged to and fro across the country for things that could perhaps be settled on paper. But at least we can offer you a pleasant meal and some entertainment.”

            “I have no doubt.”

            “And surely you have heard the news from Charles? I cannot imagine my brother containing anything.” Clearly, love – if that was the case – had done nothing to decrease her dry wit. “Or perhaps your sister enlightened you. She came upon us in the park.”

            “Yes, I’ve heard now two accounts, and am eager to meet the man in person who is so highly regarded by everyone he meets,” Darcy replied.

            “Oh, I think you will like him, even with your very discerning tastes, Darcy,” she said. “He is quite a fencer, I hear.”

            “Is he?” he said.

            Further conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Louisa Hurst, followed by her husband, who hobbled with a cane. “Do not be alarmed,” he said, shaking Darcy’s hand. “’Tis the best I’ve done in months. All thanks to that doctor. A miracle worker, I tell you.”

            “We were lucky to find him,” his wife added. “So, Mr. Darcy, what brings you so suddenly to Town?”

            Before he could answer, the door opened, and Mr. Bingley rushed to warmly invite the apparent lord into his house. “Lord Kincaid,” he bowed. “Welcome.”

            It was only when James Kincaid stepped fully in, having the servants remove his decorous coat, did the Darcys get a full view of the man. He was not particularly tall, but of good stature for a man, and pleasingly stout. He was dressed not in the ornamentals of his rank (or the pleated skirt of his ancestry) but in a waistcoat of exceedingly fashionable London, and his reddish-brown hair was combed down carefully. His face was full of smiles as he greeted his host, and then of course Miss Bingley, who curtseyed to him as propriety only allowed.

            “And please let me introduce Mr. Darcy,” Bingley said turning towards them a bit.

            “Yes, of course,” said Lord Kincaid, and bowed to both Darcys. His accent was undeniably Scottish, but hardly the thick burr of the highlands. Instead, it sounded more of a strange English drawl, like someone from very far north, or most of Darcy’s servants, though more respectably intoned. “Mr. Darcy, Miss Darcy, I understand you are both connected to Mr. Bingley by marriage.”

            “Yes, for almost two years,” Darcy answered.

            “Married two sisters, I believe. Forgive me, I am merely trying to recall what I was told. And Miss Georgiana, it is very nice to see you again.”

            “And you as well,” she said, curtseying. Darcy said nothing.

            “Well,” Bingley said, “seeing, as we’re all here, shall we begin the meal?”

            And a meal it was. The Bingleys were never stingy on food for their guests, and in his bachelorhood Darcy had shamefully found one excuse or another to stay with the Bingleys when he was feeling particularly peckish but not interested in having to figure out a complicated meal plan for himself at Pemberley. That he was quiet and observant at dinner was no surprise to anyone, as was his normal habit, or so he assumed that it came as no surprise and there was no clandestine reason for this surprise dinner party. Lord Kincaid directed most of attention to Mr. Bingley, who he was obviously most wont to impress (and for the most obvious reasons that they were hardly worth even thinking about), but there were passing glances across the table to Miss Bingley, and Darcy took great pains not to miss one of them.

            “I have heard you are quite accomplished in the areas of literature,” he said after a long period of silence. “Where did you study, if I might ask?”

            “Certainly. St. Andrews. I know it’s nothing to Cambridge or Oxford, but my family has a long history there, one that could not be avoided. And parts of the area, I will admit, are quite lovely.”

            “Yes, it can be quite a tourist attraction in the summer,” said Miss Bingley, and the fact that it was neither a witty or cynical comment made Darcy take note of it, but he continued his inquiries as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

            “And I hear you are an accomplished fencer.”

            “Well, nothing compared to the great fencing club of Cambridge, Mr. Darcy. Do not think your legacy there has escaped my ears.”

            “That was a great number of years ago,” Darcy said. “I would be wont to think that my skills, whatever they might have been, have not deteriorated somewhat with time. So you may wish to consider yourself less impressed.”

            “We shall have to settle it then. If you can find time, of course, if your busy schedule permits.”

            “I’m sure some time between appointments can be found.”

            The conversation quickly turned to other topics, as everyone was quickly to fawn over this earl, except for Bingley, who kept his usual exuberance to a minimum, and Darcy, who was too lost in his own thoughts. As the evening ended, the gentlemen retired to the study, where the time was set for Darcy’s ‘duel’ with Lord Kincaid, who insisted upon being called James. (Darcy insisted on being called ‘Darcy’ and rolled his eyes at Bingley’s stifled giggle) They shook on it, and the prospective suitor exited to say his goodbyes to his beloved.

            “So?” Bingley said when the door was barely shut.

            “What an agreeable man,” Darcy said. “Well educated, pleasing in appearance, a good conversationalist – and Miss Bingley seems pleased.”

            “But not in love.”

            He did not respond for a time. He saw the looks passing between them, and they were the proper looks between two people who looked at their respective situations and personalities and saw the force in uniting them, as most proper people did. Perhaps his experience was too colored by the passionate looks he had given Elizabeth when she had been unknowing, or the outward admiration Bingley expressed for Jane within hours of meeting her. Maybe he fancied now that all people should be so horribly in love that they make asses of themselves in company, ignoring everyone else, but he had to remind himself that that was not the way of the world, and this courtship had all of the appearances of being normal. “Well, I don’t know if you can expect that, Bingley,” he answered at last.

            “So?”

            “So?”

            “So?” Bingley, ever full of energy, spun the globe on his desk as if it was a toy. “What do you think of him?”

            “You value my opinion over your own sister’s?”

            “Well, obviously.”

            Darcy did not think it was particularly appropriate to crack a smile, so he held himself back from doing so, and said most seriously, “He is a most pleasing person. That said, I don’t think he is to be trusted with a walking stick, much less your sister.”

            “And you have a reason for your suspicions?”

            “No,” he turned, ready to leave the room for the night. “But I am going to find out.”

Chapter 3 – Mr. Bennet’s Grand Plan

            All things considered, the Bennet train that arrived at Chatton was rather small. It included only Mr. Bennet, Mrs. Bennet, and Kitty, whose theoretical engagement to a Brighton officer had been negated by his being assigned to France, at which point Mrs. Bennet proclaimed a frustration with this complicated business of marrying officers, who were always going to and fro, and perhaps it was better to marry a stable, civilian Englishman.

            “I have suspicions of my wife,” Mr. Bennet wrote to Elizabeth afterwards, “that with Mary gone to study on the Continent, she is feeling a bit lonely and is not in such a rush to marry off the only other person in the house capable of raising the ruckus to make Longbourn seem normal.” His own sentiments he did not include in the letter.

            Their arrival date had been continually put off by the bad weather as fall became winter, but they did eventually made it, carrying many letters from Mary meant for her sisters. Mailing from the Continent was particularly expensive and she had done it in large packages instead, all to Longbourn. Mrs. Bennet brought what seemed to be another trunk of baby clothes, most of these obviously meant for her two Derbyshire grandchildren.

            Any reservations Mrs. Bennet had for her eldest daughter moving so far away from home when Netherfield was a decent place were put out of her mind when she saw the newly-renovated Chatton. “Is it not lovely, Mr. Bennet?” she said as they came inside. He assumed the question was rhetorical and did not answer.

            Elizabeth greeted them in the hallway, and was rushed by Kitty, then properly hugged her father and mother. “Jane is in the sitting room.”

            “Oh dear! Why is she not in her chambers?” Mrs. Bennet said.

            “Mama, where she chooses to spend her time in her own house is surely her business!”

            “Besides,” said Mr. Bennet, “I have sat in many cushioned chairs in my lifetime and have found them all to do relatively the same job.”

            “Mr. Bingley should insist on it!” Mrs. Bennet said.

            “Mr. Bingley is in Town,” Elizabeth reminded her mother, trying to keep her voice polite. “Miss Bingley is to be engaged and has asked for his consent.”

            “And she could not come here? With my poor Jane in confinement! The nerve of that woman ... but Jane! I must see her at once!”

            Maybe it was age, or experience, or the fact that she was married now and in a different social position, but Elizabeth found her mother not quite so trying, and was more than willing to show her to the sitting room. Or maybe it was her mother, who did not seem so shrill, who was not actually so shrill now that the time of extreme desperation of the Bennet family was over?

            But there was enough to deal with. Jane was in her armchair, wrapped in a shawl (she had insisted on it, somewhat embarrassed of her girth), busying herself with some embroidery when her family entered. This situation had been carefully constructed by both sisters. Normally she would be on the couch and have Georgie by her side and Geoffrey would be crawling around, but the proper place for two toddlers was in their nursery, under the watchful eye of Nurse, and it was decided that for the sake of their mother’s nerves, some pretense of propriety must be preserved. Jane did not rise to greet them, again a planned event, because she and Elizabeth joked earlier that surely Mrs. Bennet would pass out if she did. “Mama!”

            “Oh, Jane!”

            They embraced what they could, and Jane put aside her needles to receive a kiss from an overexcited Kitty and then her father, who looked a bit horrified at his daughter’s size, but did his best to hide it as he seated himself in a proper chair some distance away so the women could chatter. “Please bring the children,” Jane told her lady-maid, who curtseyed and disappeared as if this was a completely normal occurrence.

            “I must know everything of Mary,” Jane insisted. “And of course, all the doings in Hertfordshire.”

            “And we must know of this business of Miss Bingley, if there is going to be another wedding!”

            “Perhaps not,” Elizabeth said too quietly for her mother to hear, but she was sitting close enough to her father for him to raise his eyebrows, and she returned this gesture with a very obvious ‘I will tell you later’ glance.

            “And where is Mr. Darcy?” Mr. Bennet said. “This is the first time I can recall in a long time he is not hovering about you. Miss Darcy must have some suitor that he is chasing down with a blade for him to be absent from your side.”

            “He is also in Town,” she said between giggles. “On business. But it will bore poor Mama to death, so perhaps we should speak of it later.”

            “I see,” he said simply, and was quickly distracted by the arrival of his grandchildren. Georgiana Bingley was handed to her grandmother at Jane’s insistence, and her new handler quickly made every attempt at combing back that Bingley hair that stood up like a flame, with no success. Geoffrey Darcy was brought to his grandfather, and Mr. Bennet was shyly beaming as he took the toddler into his arms.

            “Baa!” said Geoffrey, and being the lively child he was, it was not clear whether he was trying to escape the grasp or merely find a preferred position.

            “No, no, Grandpa. Can you say ‘Grandfather?’”

            Geoffrey mumbled incoherently.

            “’Grandfather.’” This seemed to bring Mr. Bennet no end of amusement. “Okay, how about her? Surely you recognize your mother. Can you say ‘Mother’?”

            “Don’t tease him,” Elizabeth said.

            But Geoffrey would not be quiet or still. He flailed at his mother, who offered her hand, and he grasped her pinky with his small hand and held it tightly. “Yeff!”

            Elizabeth covered her mouth in horror. “Oh no!”

            “Oh no?” Mr. Bennet said. “I do believe the child has said his name. Or tried.”

            “But Darcy is not here. Oh, papa, we cannot tell him his son said his first word while he was out preventing another marriage!”

            “Well, then we shall have to – What?”

            “Yeff!” Geoffrey repeated, apparently delighted at his mother’s look of shock. “Yeff. Bah. Yeff!”

            “Geoffrey,” Elizabeth said, half-serious. “You will cry and crawl all you like, but you will hold that in until your father gets home. Do you understand?”

            “I daresay he doesn’t,” Mr. Bennet said. “Now – perhaps we should take my grandson somewhere else before he further incriminates himself in front of witnesses, and you will tell me all about Darcy’s current marriage-related schemes.”

            They were actually able to make an easy escape into the parlor, what with the women fawning over the forcibly idle Jane and her daughter. Elizabeth called for tea as she took Geoffrey into her own arms, and faced her father’s inquiries. When the servants had left, she spilled all of the details, which was basically a summary of the entire visit of Bingley and Darcy, brief as it had been. “I’ve not heard from them since, but as it’s only been a day, there may not be news. Odd, is it not?”

            “Odd, indeed.” Mr. Bennet frowned his thinking frown. “Drawing from my own experience in talking people out of marriages – “

            “Papa – “

            “I still am inclined to say, with no informed perspective whatsoever on this matter, that surely if Miss Bingley has found someone suitable, then he must be suitable. But then again, if Charles Bingley has found some reason to disapprove – “

            “ – which he hasn’t – “

            “Yes. Stranger and stranger. I would say, either he has some brotherly instinct or he is simply unwilling to let her go. Though, the later does not seem likely, knowing what I do of his general disposition. Thinking of it, it was quite insightful of him to go to Mr. Darcy on the matter. To be frank, Elizabeth, if any man is good at finding fault in people, it is your husband.”

            “I am not insulted,” she said with a smile.

            “And you say this suitor – he is Scottish nobility?”

            “An earl. But with a new fortune, made in Australia. His own estate is apparently in disrepair.”

            “Well, I am also somewhat an expert in old estates being in disrepair,” Mr. Bennet said in all humor, “and I cannot fault him on that. It is a curious matter, though. So your husband headed off to Town – “

            “He was more than willing to take me,” she quickly defended, “but he was correct in his assumption that I would not leave Jane alone.”

            “But now that she is not alone – “

            “I cannot think of a reason to join him. I barely know Town; I do not know what help I would be,” she said honestly.

            Mr. Bennet took his tea and went into his thinking posture. There he was for some minutes, and Elizabeth was busied watching Geoffrey, whom she had set down on the floor and was making his way about the expensive carpet.

            Out of nowhere, Mr. Bennet announced, “I have never been to the north.”

            “Never?” This came as no surprise. Her father was not a great traveler, and spoke almost nothing of his trip to the Continent when he was a young man, except to say it included only the major parts of France. Despite his love of appearing at Pemberley, she was quite sure he did not enjoy the journey there one bit.

            “Yes, I suppose I should see it once before my death, and if your mother is correct, I will surely drop any day now. We must go at once then. At least to the lowlands.” He continued before Elizabeth could object, “It is not terribly far from here, I understand. A day or two to the border, perhaps less if we did not stop at the major sites to admire the grand beauty of the English countryside. Though of course your mother would have no interest, nor would Kitty, and they would be of great comfort to Jane in her time of need, or at least, keep her utterly distracted. She might not even notice we were gone.”

            “The two of us?”

            “Well, if we take my grandson, he might come home with not only his first words but a Scottish accent. And then the Master of Pemberley would be most displeased on both accounts,” he said.

            “Papa, be serious. We have no reason to go to whatever barony this earl controls, nor do we know its location, only that it is in the lowlands.”

            “You said he is Lord James Kincaid? Then surely, there can only be so many earls named Kincaid living in the lowlands, and if my geography is right, the lowlands are not very large at all. I’m sure the information we need would be quite easy to acquire.” He stood up. “Though, if you would prefer to stay back with the women – “

            “Now you are just making fun,” she said. “And what explanation should we give for this?”

            “Give whatever explanation you like; Mr. Bingley is so accommodating that we could take six carriages with us and he would not be the least perturbed, and if this is to be a thing to make Mr. Darcy fall so horribly out of love with you, I would be quite surprised.”

            “But Jane – “

            He took her hands. “Jane is quite far away and we will not be more than a few days’ journey at the worst. And I would place my remaining fortune on a bet that she will not put up any objection to you getting some fresh air. But I think, if we are to do this, then time is of the essence.”

            She could not imagine it. Actually, she could imagine it, but it still seemed like such a wild endeavor –

            “Mr. Bennet!” came Mrs. Bennet’s usual shrill.

            “Also of the essence is a way to explain this to your mother,” Mr. Bennet said. “You’d best think of something while I handle whatever crisis she has imagined now. You were always the quick thinker, Lizzy. I have no doubt you’ll have the whole plan by the time I return.”

            He was quite right in his estimation, and as soon as the carriage was ready and Geoffrey put down for his nap, Mr. Bennet and his second eldest daughter were on the muddy roads of Derbyshire, headed north.

                        ****************************************

            There were many reasons why Mr. Darcy liked to fence. It was one of the few athletic endeavors he truly enjoyed beyond walking, not because he was a lazy man, but because he had no great love of killing birds or other animals, archery seemed entirely medieval, and there were few other sports which a man of leisure could be expected to take part in and not be considered an uncouth ruffian. He also liked it because he was quite good at it, or so he fancied himself. Perhaps this love had blossomed the first time he bested George Wickham at eleven years old. It was a time when a year was a marked difference between boys, and Wickham had already had a growth spurt while Darcy was still “a boy” in appearance, and so he took great relish in his first successful duel against him. It was at that point that Wickham gave up the sport entirely, or at least, gave it up in Darcy’s presence.

            And then there was Cambridge, where it was a way to arguably be “social” without actually having to chat much. He considered talking during a match unprofessional, as did most of his peers, and by his second term he had invented multiple excuses to escape from the post-match drinking bouts. He kept his athletic figure (which at times was more of a flaw than a boon, especially when being at balls), and he even wrote home that he had made “friends” – which delighted his father to no end, he imagined.

            Though he was never captain, and probably would never reach that skill, he kept it up over the years, at fencing clubs and with his private trainer at Pemberley. During the period between his proposal at Rosings and his return to Hertfordshire, he had nearly worn the poor man out.

            His wife, of course, had her own explanation for all of this, one he did not care to think of. He made every attempt to change the subject when she brought it up, but she had the wit to make such comments in bed, where he was entirely at her conversational mercy and merely waited it out, usually with a pillow over his head.

            The final reason (if he counted Elizabeth’s) for his love of the sport was that it was, in his estimation, the best way for him to get the measure of a man. There was something about the intimacy of swordplay – an expression he did not use around his wife, lest it give her further ideas – that brought out the nature of a man. He knew he was exposing himself, in fact, as a man of great strength and determination, but also of honor. He never cheated, or not intentionally and to his knowledge, and he never resorted to the dirtier tricks of swordplay that were somehow within club rules. Even as a fighter he was Mr. Darcy, of Pemberley and Derbyshire, and showing anything more or less would be an assault on his general character. He did not know if other fencers shared his beliefs, but he did not doubt that a few philosophers among them did.

            There were numerous reasons why he had never fenced Bingley. The first, and most obvious, was that Bingley had only minimal instruction and there was no way Darcy could properly lower his skill level to make the match even fun without making it obvious. The second was that Bingley absolutely refused and looked terrified at the prospect, the one time it was brought up over a meal in Cambridge. The third, and most complex, was that he had no desire to fence Bingley, because he knew Bingley. Charles Bingley was a man whose character was generally obvious to everyone, and the last bit of it, the bit that was so inner to him that he was hardly aware of it, even though Darcy knew just by being his acquaintance. In other words, he could get the measure of the man, full and complete, from a few conversations. Bingley was kind, generous, outgoing, and good on every level. He was so determined to see the good in everyone and being so agreeable that he willingly suffered the social consequences of occasionally looking like a dunderhead, but Darcy was convinced that he was on some level aware of what he was doing.

Bingley was not stupid; in that unspoken estimation, Caroline Bingley and Mrs. Hurst were wrong, and it was one of the reasons that Darcy disliked them both so. He was actually quite intelligent. What little aspect of the Bingley family trade he did take part in, he was quite good at in terms of numbers, and in Darcy’s estimation, relied a little too much on his stewards and servants, but social propriety kept him from taking a real interest in the origins of his fortunes and he knew it. It was, in fact, in academics that Darcy had truly come to know him. Though Darcy was a senior and Bingley in his first year at Cambridge, they both were in the same Latin lectures, Darcy having put it off for as long as possible, and they became friends through being study partners, which was most advantageous to Darcy, for it seemed that Bingley was quite skilled in languages and by the end of the semester was practically his tutor.

            So, the one proposal for a match between them was quickly and eagerly denied by Bingley, and Darcy pressed no further.

            But Bingley was not the matter at hand. Instead it was this Lord Kincaid, Earl of ____shire, who was enough of a fencer to have a visitor’s pass at the exclusive London Fencing Club, to which Darcy paid membership dues whether he was there more than once a year or not just to keep his membership.

            The duel was to be in the early afternoon, after Darcy had finished his supposed business meeting. Of course he had nothing of the sort, with his steward at Pemberley, but he was reluctant to be seen strolling the streets of London when he was supposed to be here on most urgent matters, so he stayed inside his considerable townhouse. Unfortunately for him, Georgiana did not depart quickly enough and she immediately noticed his hanging about. She found him in the parlor, reading a book Elizabeth had recommended from his own library.

            “Brother – “

            As she went into her inquiries, he realized he could hide it no longer without a string of lies that he had no desire to burden his sister with. Clearly, if they were to be in the same house during this conspiracy, she was at least to know of it. “I must confess, I am not here on the type of business that would require a meeting with a steward.”

            “Oh.” She frowned. “Darcy, you’re keeping something from me.”

            “Am I that easy to read?”

            “To most people, you are enigma. But to me, yes, you are easy to read. And to my sister, you are an open book, I think.”

            He smiled at the memory of Elizabeth. “You have taken on some of her wit, I see.”

            “So you are saying I have no wits of my own?”

            “All right,” he said, and motioned to the servant for tea. “She is definitely a bad influence on you.” When the servant was gone, he motioned for his sister to join him and explained the whole matter to her, to the best of his abilities.

            “How strange,” Georgiana replied to all of this. “Everyone likes him. Except you and Mr. Bingley, it seems. But you have no reason for it.”

            “Call it a brotherly instinct.”

            “I can speak for your brotherly instincts,” she said, without having to elaborate further, and it was nice to see that even a passing, obscure reference to the Wickham incident did not only not bring her to tears but could be instigated by her. “So how do you think you will go about this investigation? Though, I do not know much on the matters of business.”

            “I do, but not business abroad, beyond our holdings in the East India Company. I confess to knowing next to nothing about Australia. Bingley knows more than me, and his guess is as good as mine.”

            She bit her lip, then said, “I should remind you, brother, that you now have relatives in trade.”

            The Gardiners! Of course! And they were right here in Town! “Georgiana, I am in your debt. Would you care to join me on a call to the Gardiners?”

            “I would love to.” She put a finger to her lips. “And yes, I know, not a word of this to anyone. You do not have to say it.”

            “Clearly your intelligence surpasses my own,” he said, and kissed her gratefully on the cheek before rising. “Now I must prepare for my actual business in Town. Thank you, Georgiana.”

            “Only promise me to keep me part of all of your exciting conspiracies, as this is the most exciting thing to happen to me in months.” She added with dramatic gravity. “I mean, terrible as it is.”

            He could not help but chuckle a bit. “Yes, terrible indeed.”

                        ****************************************

            Darcy arrived on time, but Lord Kincaid was already there. They shook before donning their protective gear. “I am still honored to fight the Master of Pemberley.”

            “Being Master of Pemberley has nothing to do with fencing,” Darcy said good-naturedly (something he had to put a good deal of effort into). “If it did, I would enjoy it a great deal more than I do.”

            They separated to warm up and faced each other in full armor, their face masks completely obscuring their expressions as the master watched on to make the calls. This lack of expression would be no trouble to Darcy, not as a fencer or a reader of other fencers. He was quite accustomed to the necessities of safety, and had learned long ago that reading a person’s body language during a fight was far more important than their facial expression, anyway. By his own estimation, stance was nearly everything, the selection of movements a close second. He was not here to win, however much he would prefer it, but to make out this man’s character, and he also knew all of the dangers of fighting an unknown fighter who knew more of his skills than he of his.

            The fight was silent. Kincaid took an aggressive stance, Darcy cautiously neutral, as he was with all unfamiliar fighters. He had stamina enough and would be as aggressive as he chose when the time was right, but at the moment his interests were not in defeat but in study. He parried and counterattacked where it was appropriate, which was easy enough. They were well-matched by his early estimation, which made for an interesting match, but only if he kept his side of it. Switching into an aggressive stance, he moved forward and awaited Kincaid’s response. It was of course defensive, the intelligent move of an experienced fighter for more than the logical reasons. He could remain aggressive himself, but he had not yet seen Darcy aggressive, and he did not know the ferocity with which he would be attacked. Darcy considered himself to be at the moment quite mild, in fact, his mind admittedly on other things.

            So successful was his advance, despite all of Kincaid’s parries that prevented a match point that had Kincaid nearly pushed out of bounds and the fencing master told him to take a step back. It was then that Kincaid’s strategy changed, suddenly aggressive, and it was only Darcy’s intuition and agility that caught it in time. Had Kincaid been drawing him out? He would have time to worry about that later. He did not have to see the hidden expression to know it. Undoubtedly, from the way the muscles in his collar and neck were tensed, Kincaid was seething that his initial attack had been parried, and he would stab until it succeeded.

            Well, that could be dispatched. Darcy had not been second on Cambridge’s fencing team for nothing. Having learned what he wanted, he parried the next strike, and countered to the breast, hiding the layers of cotton and leather with his tipped foil. With a real sword, it would have struck him near the shoulder and possibly killed him, but that was not that situation.

            “Match point!” announced the fencing master. “To Mr. Darcy.”

            They saluted each other, removed their masks, and shook on it with very tired arms. Kincaid’s face was a mask of congeniality – but it was a mask. “It seems you are not a good enough advocate of your abilities, Darcy.”

            “You are quite skilled yourself, Lord Kincaid,” he said evenly. “Excellent match.”

            “Indeed. Would you care to join me in the lounge afterwards?”

            Darcy leaned against the pillar and considered. There were reasons on both sides, and an excuse could easily be made for rejecting the offer to drink with this man. But this was not an opportunity to pass up, he decided. “I would be delighted. Half an hour, shall we say?”

            “Delighted.” Kincaid shook his hand again and disappeared to wherever he was going to change. Darcy, as a senior member, had his own changing room, and a bath ready for him. He barely paid attention to the servant helping him change out of his sweat-soaked clothes. He had much to think about.

                        ****************************************

            Fortunately it was mid-afternoon now and even in the fencer’s lounge Darcy had an excuse not to get drunk with his new fencing partner, as was the habit of many of the regulars. In fact, he was inclined to have no alcohol at all, but that could not be avoided. When he appeared properly recovered and dressed, Kincaid was there to greet him again. “Darcy.”

            “Lord Kincaid.”

            “You have bested me. I insist you call me James.”

            “Very well then,” Darcy said, but still didn’t. They took seats at a small table, and Darcy ordered what he knew to be the wateriest beer in their stocks.

            “I confess, I’m a whiskey man myself,” Kincaid said. “It’s my only nationalist indulgence. We will remain in confidence of this, of course.”

            “Of course,” Darcy said. “Though you will not find Mr. Bingley quite the Anglophile you may believe him to be.”

            “My concern is of course with Caroline, primarily. You must know her habits,” he said. “Not to be beat around the bush, but you were once her suitor.”

            “That would imply that I was pursuing her. But I had not your courage,” he answered.

            “You are being humble. There is no need, Darcy, if we are to be brothers, if Charles would come around. I cannot account for it.”

            “Nor I,” Darcy said, which was actually reasonably honest.

            “The point is, I am aware that it was considered a suitable match by ... her family. And Caroline herself.”

            “Oh, yes.” Fine, if Kincaid was going to be flippant, so would he. “And Bingley would marry my sister, and our families would be so ridiculously connected that no one would be sure who could marry whom after several generations. But life often turns out quite differently. And besides, had I not ... to ‘be blunt about it,’ not further engaged Miss Bingley in pursuit, then we would not be sitting here and you would have to find another beauty.”

            “Then I am a lucky man indeed.”

            Darcy took a long drink. “Indeed.” He was trying to imagine what this man’s scheme was, because there had to be one. What would he possibly see in Caroline Bingley? All he could think of in her defense was that she had a nice brother. Perhaps he was being a bit cruel, but what was warranting this rather thorough investigation of this man, anyway?

            “I will confess something to you, Darcy, if you would have it.”

            Darcy raised an eyebrow. “If you are so inclined.”

            “I know very well that my sudden appearance and pursuit of Caroline must all seem a bit hasty and alarming. Perhaps that is why her brother is so reluctant to grant his consent. I know I have not proven my worth yet, have no reputation, et cetera ... but three long years in Australia, in the desert searching for gold with the natives, can really put you in want for good company.” He stuttered, “I just don’t mean female company to be crude about it. Sophisticated female company. And you must admit, Caroline is a sophisticated woman.”

            “The very model of it,” Darcy found himself saying it. “I believe she knows ... four languages. Is that correct?”

            “Yes.”

            “She surpassed me in this endeavor. My French is barely tolerable and my Latin his disappeared entirely over the years. If those are her requirements for a husband, I have no idea what she saw in me.”

            “I am not such a scholar either,” Kincaid admitted, “but I do know French, which is all the rage in Scotland of course, practically a second language among the nobility. And some Italian. And I confess to having picked up quite a bit of the ‘Aboriginal’ language – lot of good it will do me here, though.”

            Darcy had to assume he meant the Australian native tongue. “Perhaps you could write a book of your observations of the culture and language.”

            “Perhaps. It would be a pursuit. I am so accustomed to being overworked that I haven’t the faintest idea of what to do with my time now. But I suppose Caroline will keep me busy for long enough,” he said with a sly smile that made Darcy’s stomach churn. Caroline was a beautiful woman, but she looked too much like her brother. He had always tried to ignore the occasional creeping thought that relations with her would be like jumping a female Bingley.

            “But I am too crude for a gentlemen’s club.” Kincaid slapped Darcy on the shoulder. “Too long in the wilds of the Outback.”

            “Well, if you want proper English society, you’ve found it,” Darcy said, raising his mug. “Cheers.”

            Their glasses clinked. “Cheers.”

                        ****************************************

            Darcy was changed and back at the Bingley’s on his usual early schedule for dinner. There was nothing complicated about his dinner dress, but he had spent some time in his room, pacing and pondering while the manservant gave him a queer look. James Kincaid did not appear to be an overly complicated man, and in fact gave every indication that he should be worth liking. Darcy could not account for his uneasiness at all, but he was fairly confident in his own instincts, and certainly if he shared them with the usually unobservant Bingley. Whether Kincaid was deeply in love with Miss Bingley was still a question on the table, but he certainly presented himself as someone who cared about her enough to marry her.

            He could only point a finger in one direction, vague as it was. As much as he wanted to know Kincaid, Kincaid wanted to know him. Fencing and drinking with him had told him that. He was as suspicious of Darcy’s sudden presence as Darcy was of him, and he wanted desperately to be liked by this mysterious relative who had even once been Miss Bingley’s ideal match (and might very well still be). Everything in his fencing moves said – I can match you. I can play this game.

            It unnerved him that it was a game at all.

            On his way to the Bingley townhouse he made a mental inventory of the things that still needed investigating. Kincaid’s finances, his plans for the future. What Bingley what thinking. What Miss Bingley was thinking. Was he actually going to have to talk to her? About this? Surely Bingley could handle that?

            Georgiana had another engagement and had not joined him. Only Mrs. Hurst was in the parlor, and he had no desire to make any discussion with her, so he went looking for Bingley instead – he was a regular enough fixture to make his own way about the place without anyone hassling him. He was about halfway up the stairs when he saw a flash of orange hair from the person on the second story landing, but it was not Charles Bingley. Partially to avoid her and partially because he found himself rather enjoying his sudden career in sleuthing, he ducked behind the stairwell as she descended.

            “Mr. Hurst is - ?”

            “Doing quite well, actually.”

            “So you – “

            “ – will be finished with the treatments soon. Not that I can cure him, but certainly get him out of this flare. And then I’ll be out of your way.”

            He could see the two of them, now at the bottom of the stairs, as she curtseyed. “Daniel.”

            “Caroline.”

            He walked off, and out the door in a nervous shuffle, leaving Miss Bingley to stand in place for some time before disappearing back up the stairs. It was only in relatively safety that Darcy emerged from his hiding space, only to find yet another Bingley coming down the stairs, this one the one he wanted. “May I speak with you?”

            “Darcy, you’re here! Of course.” They quickly retired to his study. “I see you survived your match with the earl. I hope you weren’t too harsh on him. In other words, I hope he’s still alive.”

            “Please!” Darcy said, shutting the door behind him. “The only man I’ve stabbed – that was completely by accident. The tip broke. And it was just a flesh wound.”

            “So you kept insisting,” Bingley said. “I do, however, seem to recall him calling you by a very particular nickname shortly before the match – “

            “Bingley.”

            “Fine.” Bingley took up his seat at the grand desk, leaning back into it. “My father used to sit at this desk and lecture me.”

            “On what?”

            “Oh, everything a man who is to inherit a fortune ought to know. Surely your father did the same?”

            “He did,” Darcy admitted, leaning on the fireplace. “It was very odd to take his place, even with the ample warning I had. The very first thing I did in his seat was pay off Wickham. Using his check.”

            “I’m sorry,” Bingley said. He was playing with the globe again, just an idle spin of it. “I often wonder if my father sat in here and worried about his daughters’ marriage prospects.”

            “I have no doubt. I worry about Georgiana incessantly.”

            “Not about her prospects – just if she’ll ever find one you’ll approve of. When she turns thirty, you may have to lower your standards.” He didn’t give Darcy time for his cheeky reply. “You have some news.”

            “First, a question. A rather simple one. Almost unrelated. How long has Dr. Maddox been in your employ?”

            “I suppose we could pretend he is in Mr. Hurst’s employ, but somehow I imagine his bill will turn up on my books when I inspect them more carefully. I don’t know – can’t be more than a month. Why do you ask?”

            “And he is here every day?”

            “Yes, he insists that Mr. Hurst have some soak and of course my brother insists that the poor doctor stand there the whole time. As if something would go wrong while soaking your foot in some salt water. But I suppose if you don’t want to be working in the cholera wards, you will put up with whatever your wealthy patients want.” Bingley frowned. “Are you looking for a doctor for your employ?”

            “Perhaps.” For some reason, he felt compelled to lie, or at least, disguise the truth of his concerns. There would be time for that. Kincaid was more pressing. “No matter. I am going to make some inquiries tomorrow into Lord Kincaid’s fortune.”

            “So you doubt it exists?”

            “I’m glad I’m not the first one who has thought of that!”

            “Of course not, but it would be rather impolite of me to request records. That would make his marriage to my sister look like some kind of business transaction.”

            “Unless both families are penniless, all marriages are on some level a business transaction. Money was exchanged, no matter how reluctant we were to receive it and how insignificant it was. Lord Kincaid, Earl of _____shire, is to receive a small fortune upon marrying Miss Bingley, and that should not be forgotten until the check is cashed.”

            “I doubt my sister could live very long on twenty thousand pounds,” Bingley said. “Which of course means that if he is a fortune hunter, he is the worst kind. But we have no proof of this. Why are we so eager to suspect?”

            Darcy shrugged with indignation. “You dragged me down here, Bingley! You tell me!”

            “Then we are both going on brotherly instincts, then.”

            “Until the truth is made plain, yes. There is also the matter that neither of them are particularly in love.”

            “Caroline seems quite suited with the match. And she never seemed to me the type of be ‘in love’ with any man. She would have readily become your mistress and yet she still made all kinds of snobby comments at your expense.”

            “This is true,” though, he added privately, quite incendiary of the usually tolerant Bingley. Maybe the dress of having to play the consenting father was wearing on him, especially with the enigma that was the in-confirmably rich Lord Kincaid. 

            “Well, I will go to the Gardiners tomorrow, and learn what I can of Australia, begin looking into his actual prospects,” Darcy assured him. “And then we will have our answer.”

            “Darcy, I don’t know what I would do without you.”

            “It was your instincts that brought me here. I am merely doing the legwork so you can remain above suspicion.” He mock-bowed to Bingley. “At your service.”

            “And I am grateful. So grateful.” Something had put Bingley in a sad mood, and if Darcy had to guess, it was worry, for Bingley did care a great deal for his sister and would not see her ill-married, no matter how well she sabotaged it with her own personality. But that was not something Darcy could intrude upon, anymore than Bingley could give him advice about dealing with Georgiana, so he bowed again more politely and left the room.

            Back in the hallway, he was greeted by the newly arrived Lord Kincaid, who was more formal with Miss Bingley by his side. They were a reasonable couple – not glowing as he remembered Bingley and Jane, but Bingley and Jane were the exception to the norm. He vaguely recalled being described as somewhat inscrutable and inexpressive at his own place at the altar, so he was not want to point fingers, and they were happy with each other. Why should he not, with no great sin uncovered, bless this couple? Even if they relied on her wealth, they could ride on Bingley’s coattails as easily as the Hursts did. He and Kincaid would be sparing partners and maybe get drunk together occasionally. Was it such a terrible concept? Caroline’s prospects were almost gone, and here was a suitable match, to minor aristocracy even if it was Scottish. Darcy did not even have to be involved, and instead he was to play the private barrister into this man’s affairs, apparently. So Caroline was not deep in the bonds of love – most couples weren’t, and he could not imagine her acting like a lovesick girl anyway.

            In fact, the only time he had ever heard any feelings in her voice that was not sarcasm or false modesty but genuine emotion was the half hour before, as Dr. Maddox took his leave.

Chapter 4 – North and South

            Darcy was up early, as usual, and his coffee was hot and ready for him. He was already dressed for his excursion when Georgiana, usually a later sleeper, appeared quite obviously in traveling winter clothes. “If you would permit me, I wish to accompany you.”

            “I have other business first – before the Gardiners. Banks and the like. I am to call on them for lunch, if you wish to meet up there.”

            “Brother,” she said, taking his arm in the way she did when she really wanted something. “Balls and shopping are only so exciting and you know it. If there is to be an exciting mystery to be solved, I demand to be part of it.”

            “It may not be so exciting. It may involve bank records and talking to stewards.”

            “All the same.” She twisted tighter around his arm and smiled at him. She must have known he could not resist that smile. Lizzy, it was her eyes. Georgiana, her smile.

            “Very well. We will be the constables,” he said.

            “Elizabeth will never forgive us for excluding her.”

            “I will write and tell her to join us if we discover anything truly exciting,” he said. “But I do doubt it.”

            It was a cold, clear day, and the London streets were of course disastrously muddy, but for their first mission, he had them park the carriage several blocks away before approaching the small offices on the corner. So small were they that the proprietor emerged to greet them even in the December cold. “What’d ya want?”

            “I am seeking to inquire about a property in this district,” Darcy said, tapping his cane into the mud with some authority. “I believe I have found a house most suitable to my needs, and I rarely see life in it, so I assume it is available. Would you be interested in showing it to me?”

            “Which one?”

            Darcy gestured. “The third, on the left.”

            “Oh, I’m sorry, good sir, but it is most recently taken by a gentleman from the North. A Scots.”

            “I see. And he intends to stay?” Residences were transitory at the beginning, before they became established, furnished, and passed down between generation and generation.

            “I don’ know sir, but he paid out the year. More, I can’t tell you. Wouldn’t be proper, intrudin’ on a gent’s business.”

            “Of course not,” Darcy said, and slipped a sovereign into the man’s palm. “I merely seek to understand the best way one should pay for such a townhouse.”

            “Cash,” said the renter. “He paid in cash. Or so I was told by the owner of the block, if you want t’talk to ‘em.”

            “No, thank you. I believe I will be making my further inquiries through the proper channels.” He tipped his hat. “Good day to you, sir.”

            The man had no hat to tip, but he bowed rather grandly to the obviously wealthy gentleman before him, and the Darcys made their way back to the carriage.

            “What does that mean?” Georgiana asked as soon as they were back in the safety of their carriage. “Do you think it a large sum?”

            “Possibly. It could mean any number of things. The Gardiners, I’m sure, will be able to shed some light on the subject.”

            Before their lunch appointment, they made three stops, all to different banks, inquiring to see if a certain Scottish earl had recently opened an account there. Banks were a bit more on the official side, and outright bribery and his own personal connections could only get Darcy far enough to tell that no, the earl had not opened accounts with these banks, but there were many banks in Town and he could have gone to any one of them.  With this tiny knowledge gained, a frustrated Darcy returned to his sister in the carriage and they made for Cheapside.

            He had sent a message ahead, so the Gardiners were expecting them, and their children delightfully rushed them at the door. Georgiana was more than obliging, kneeling to their level after her muddy coat was removed. Normally, the formidable Mr. Darcy would be more put off with young children climbing all over him, but the last year had endeared him more to the idea. “Mr. Gardiner. Mrs. Gardiner.”

            “So lovely to have you by,” their hostess said.

            “Odd circumstances, though,” Mr. Gardiner said in that smirking way of his. Darcy had explained a bit of it in his letter, only that he was looking into the credits of a suitor for someone in the family. Since they would have heard extensively from their sister had it been Mary or Kitty, and Georgiana was coming with him, it could really only be one person, and he guessed they had the ability to surmise that. “Shall we dine?”

            There was some talk of recent events, and they asked fervently how Jane was doing, and he replied that she was weathering things quite well, especially with Elizabeth by her side, and Geoffrey would be walking any day now.

            “Then you won’t know what to do with him,” said Mrs. Gardiner, clearly delightfully exasperated by her own children running too and fro.

            “I hardly know now.”

            Eventually Mrs. Gardiner bid the Nurse to retire her children, and they got down to business.

            “Australia, from what I’ve heard,” Mr. Gardiner explained, “is a risky venture. They say there is gold to be found there, but I’ve yet to see a man return with a fortune in it, or any at all. It’s mainly thieves, ruffians, and natives. Not a proper colony at all. But that of course says nothing of this earl’s success.”

            “What about the apartment?”

            “You say he paid in cash? For a year, on that street? It must have been a good sum.”

            Darcy nodded.

            “I don’t see,” Georgiana said, refusing to be removed from the affairs. “Is it not the most efficient means to pay for something? Any landlord would take cash, and if he was meaning to be expedient, it would be the best way.”

            “Yes, but that amount ... it would be unwieldy.”

            “But he had it – he made it in Australia!”

            “Georgiana,” Darcy said, “it is not as if he came on a ship with a bag of gold stuffed under his mattress. The only way to insure the safe return of the wealth would be a check of some sort written up in the capitol – “

            “ – Sydney, isn’t it?” said Mr. Gardiner.

            “And then the funds would be ready for him here. But surely, to pay for the apartment, he would pay by check, for convenience’s sake. One does not walk up and down the streets of Town with a bag of coins looking for a place such as that to live.”

            “Unless – unless he didn’t want the money to be traced,” Mr. Gardiner said, taking a sip of his tea. “Then he would want to pay in cash.”

            “You mean if the money was ill-gotten?”

            “Or non-existent,” his uncle explained for Georgiana’s sake. “Suppose, for a moment, he had no money, only a reputation for having money, if we must assume the worst. He could go to a bank, perhaps a less reputable one, and say that the funds were in transfer, and needed some spending money, and he could take out a considerable loan. But a landlord on a square such as that would not take an obvious loan, so he would go to another bank, cash the loan check, and then have all the money to present himself as a wealthy man – for a time.”

            “Until he found someone suitable to pay off his debts,” Darcy suggested.

            “Precisely. Of course, this is all just conjecture, but I could make considerable inquiries into the banks I do regular business with ... and the ones I do not. For the family’s sake, of course.”

            “If you would, we would be most grateful. I have not had much luck. And it may all be for nothing, of course, and Lord Kincaid may be a most eligible bachelor.”

            “Indeed, he may be. But you doubt it, don’t you, Darcy?”

            Darcy could not reply with anything but that he did.

                        ****************************************

            When they were back in the carriage, Darcy turned to his sister, “Georgiana – “

            “What is it you want me to do?”

            “You realize, you should not be involved in these – “

            “ – most improprietous matters?”

            He shook his head. “Definitely from Elizabeth.”

            “Why is she not here? Because of Jane?”

            “Perhaps she will join us, if the need arises. But until then, yes. So you will have to be my Elizabeth and have the very daunting task of distracting Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst for a while.”

            “Brother! It is not so very daunting,” she said confidently. “I have been doing it for years.”

            He never should have doubted her, but he was wont to say it. They were relatively silent until they reached the Bingley house. It was now early afternoon, almost time for high tea. Darcy was fairly sure Bingley was out on some business with his steward, but he was not his objective. They were greeted by the servants and then by the Bingley sisters, doing needlepoint in the drawing room, which Georgiana eagerly joined and Darcy bowed to them and disappeared up the steps.

            If his timing was correct, Mr. Hurst was in the middle of one of his infamous treatments. A knock on the door confirmed it. There was some muffled discussion, and then a loud Mr. Hurst calling, “Come in!”

            Darcy entered to Mr. Hurst at a chair, his left foot soaking in a tin filled with colored water. Beside him was Dr. Maddox, who bowed stiffly, and then continued fiddling with his various tinctures and equipment. “Doctor, if I may have a moment – “

            “Of course,” Dr. Maddox said, and scampered out. “Of course.”

            It was only when the door was closed and he was soundly gone that Mr. Darcy turned to Mr. Hurst, who for once did not look so soundly drunk or in pain. In fact, he looked quite comfortable and coherent. “Brilliant man. Done wonders for this blasted foot.”

            Darcy did not gaze at the exposed ankle in the water. “So I hear. Tell me, how long has Dr. Maddox been in your employ?”

            “Oh, I would say - just over a month now.”

            “And his credentials?”

            “Looking for a suitable doctor for Pemberley? You’ll have to steal him from me.”

            “Perhaps I shall,” Darcy said with a false but necessary smile. “How did you come to know him?”

            “Recommendation. I went through several city doctors. Their treatments were all rubbish, of course, so I applied to a friend of mine, one with tumors, and he gave me a private recommendation. Doctor Maddox, as you may have heard, was trained at Cambridge. Your alma mater, is it not?”

            “Precisely the one.”

            “He’s quite a scholar, you know. Speaks five languages. Caroline even gets to practice her Italian around him. She gets such little chance – perhaps what she sees in this Kincaid fellow.”

            “So Miss Bingley has had a chance to talk with your doctor?”

            “Well, he’s here so often, and of course I’m not about to let him run off to another patient while my foot is soaking in ... this,” he temporarily lifted his foot out of the shady water, and Darcy got to see the full extent of the poor man’s gout. Only years of training in maintaining composure in all circumstances prevented him from turning away in disgust. “So he talks to Caroline. Or, he used to.”

            “Used to?” He added quickly, “If I’m not intruding. It is just that I am not accustomed to hear of Miss Bingley making conversation with servants.”

            “I think they had a bit of a falling out around the time Kincaid showed up,” Mr. Hurst said. “You can probably guess why.”

            “You are mistaken. I have no idea.”

            “Come on, Darcy. You’re much smarter than I am, and you’ve been here but three days, and you’re already in my room, talking to me about Caroline and Doctor Maddox. When have we ever had a conversation such as this?”

            When had they ever had a conversation at all? Mr. Hurst was usually in a drunken stupor by the dinner bell. But Darcy kept his cool composure. “What are you implying?”

            “You know and I know that Doctor Maddox, despite being of rather distinguished birth, is no match for Caroline. His elder brother inherited everything and blew it on a venture in East India or something, leaving him nothing. And perhaps Caroline will not stand to live on Bingley’s pounds any longer, I don’t know. The woman’s a mystery to everyone.”

            “I had no idea of his circumstances.”

            “You wouldn’t. But I do. And Caroline does.” He took a sip of his tea, which had been resting on the bed stand. “So now I think we have a perfect understanding of the situation.”

            “I wouldn’t say perfect, but yes.” It was taking him a lot of energy to maintain his cool composure, so taken back by Mr. Hurst’s bizarre behavior. “I confess it seems I have not given you proper credit in the past, Mr. Hurst.”

            “We are very different; I am a fat old fool and you are a wealthy young man of stature. So we will continue these roles because it puts everyone at ease. I will be drunken and oblivious – which I admit, after a couple of shots, I might well be – and you will maintain your position as an impartial observer on this whole matter, which can hardly be why Mr. Bingley called you into Town so suddenly.”

            To this, Darcy could only say, “Quite right.” He bowed, and eagerly left the room.

            This was all more complicated than he thought.

                        ****************************************

            When Master Bingley did return home, it was with a glorious expression that could only mean he had just been designated Prince Regent or he had good news from Jane. “She says she is quite well, Darcy,” he said, not reading the long letter in its entirety. “Her mother and sister have arrived and are keeping her company while Elizabeth is in the North.”

             “What?” It was not said in anger, but in surprise. “She’s in the North?”

            “So it says, with Mr. Bennet. I’ve no idea why. I haven’t gotten that far. Why don’t – ” But before Bingley could finish, Darcy grabbed the letter out of his hands and began to scan it himself, even though a letter from wife to husband was the most private kind. This was Elizabeth they were talking about.

            She had gone north with Mr. Bennet – they were to visit the lowlands and see the Kincaid lands themselves. There were many assurances from Jane that she had tried to dissuade them, and that they would be returning shortly, but Darcy had to hold back his instincts to crumble the letter – which was not his property – in disgust. “It seems Lizzy will not be idle. She’s gone to the Kincaid estate in _____shire with our father-in-law.” He handed the letter back to Bingley.

            “Well,” Bingley said, “you can’t be all that surprised.”

            When Darcy was done imagining all of the horrible things that could happen to her on those terrible Scottish roads, he had to admit Bingley was correct. This was exactly something Elizabeth would do; he had to expect it, even be amused by it. “I could go after her.”

            “I would not stop you. However, by the time you catch up, she’ll probably be on her way back. We must post to Jane, to keep us updated. Or perhaps you will get a letter from Mrs. Darcy herself.” He was trying to be assuring. “Darcy, you cannot be angry at her for this.”

            “I am not angry,” he said. “I am just ...” He couldn’t bring himself to say, worried. “We should never have told them.”

            “Are you joking? When they found out they were left in the dark, we’d never hear the end of it. And I’m sure Elizabeth will handle herself. Besides, she is under her father’s care.”

            Yes, as if an aged Mr. Bennet as her knight protector was any comfort to Darcy. “Fine,” he grumbled, seeing as how nothing useful could be done. “You will excuse me. I must dispatch a courier or two.” Or three. Or ten thousand.”

            “Of course.” Bingley put a hand on his shoulder. “She will be fine, Darcy. I’m sure of it.” How he was able to go from the obliviously revealing idiot to the great comforter was truly impressive. Unfortunately, Darcy did not have time to be impressed. He had business of the most urgent kind that, for the first time in several days, did not involve Miss Bingley.

                        ****************************************

            Darcy was barely in the door of his own apartments when Georgiana greeted him baring a letter. “From Elizabeth.” It was still sealed. Without explanation, he frantically tore it open,

Dearest Husband,

By now Jane has probably spilled it to Mr. Bingley that we’ve gone North, and Mr. Bingley has unwittingly told the last person he should have told, which of course is you. Not meaning any deception on my part, but I will not have you riding all the way to Scotland from Town on my behalf when you have perfectly good business there. (Or perfectly bad business there – you have been rather lax about writing how things are progressing)

Papa and I are well and have located the estate of Lord Kincaid, Earl of ______shire, which is apparently currently occupied by his younger brother. It is not terribly far from the border and our appearance there will be brief. Papa insisted that if you are to be involved in clandestine affairs in Town, then it is only fair that I should have my own secret investigations elsewhere, if this is to be a true and equal partnership, and is it not a sin not to honor one’s parents?

Be assured that we have taken several men with us and we shall be perfectly fine, though I am sure you will hole yourself up in your home now so you can secretly fret about where no one can see you. I am sorry to miss it, because it is rather amusing.

I will write as soon as we have more news. Please do the same.

Know that I love you most dearly and do mean only to aid you in your investigations in the best avenue available. Geoffrey is well within the walls of Chatton and he has definitely not said his first word and it was definitely not a hilarious pronunciation of his name. Just so you know.

Your Loving and Always Very Obedient Wife,

Elizabeth

            “Well?” Georgiana said, somewhat impatiently. “What does it say?”

            It always amazed him that Elizabeth had the ability to annoy the daylights out of him and yet make him love her all the more because of it.

                        ****************************************

When Mr. Bennet and his daughter finally arrived at the castle of the Earl of Kincaid, the scheme had been cooked up, properly spiced, and was ready on a serving plate. It relied on Mr. Bennet getting past the doorman, but he could be exceptionally charming when he wished to be, and very soon they had an invitation to see the grounds and the home, and even meet its master, Lord William Kincaid: a charming young man with a thick lowlands accent, not quite the highlands burr of most of his servants, who were in kilts while he was in pants, but quite different in speech tones from their own. He was so overwhelmed by the idea that anyone would want to visit his estate (which was a drafty castle with the insides converted into something more modern and suitable for living) that he decided to provide the tour himself.

            Mr. Bennet was addressed as he had introduced himself to the servant, which was as Mr. Darcy’s steward. “We only regret that Mr. Darcy himself cannot be present, but he is quite busy with business in Tow – London. That and he trusts his wife’s opinions exquisitely.” Mr. Bennet bowed to his daughter, who had trouble keeping a straight face.

            “Of course. Though to be perfectly honest, I cannot recommend this area as the ideal place for the construction of a summer home, but I will not be too harsh on my ancestral lands,” said the earl.

            He went on for a bit, which was proper for a tour, and they saw most of the public rooms, which did not take very long, as the castle was no Pemberley, and was full of mainly old furniture and knick-knacks, and even some weaponry that did not look like it had been used in some time. Lord Kincaid took some delight in showing them a drinking horn, which he said his family was no longer in the practice of using. “And thank goodness.”

            “Why is that?”

            “In the wild Highlands, they have a custom – I think they got it from the Vikings. When a man is to become chief of the clan – which I, by the way, am not chief of mine – he must fill in a drinking horn with whiskey and consume it all in one chug. Whether he then passes out I think is irrelevant, but I would surely not be up to the task.” Now intimidated by his own artifact, Lord Kincaid put it down.

            They eventually made it to the room that served as a portrait gallery, where the Earls of Kincaid were pictured in the English style of portraiture. “And here is my father, the former earl, Lord James Kincaid. He gave his name to my older brother, of course.”

            “Who is to inherit, is that correct?” Elizabeth asked.

            “No. We may be lowlanders, but my father insisted on the old clan custom that the next ‘chief’ was chosen from his sons, instead of it diverting automatically to the eldest, to my brother’s great dismay and my delight. Of course, James – I mean, my brother James – could not have been all that surprised.”

            “Why ever not?” Mr. Bennet said.

            Lord Kincaid sighed and turned to another portrait. “This is my brother, James Kincaid.” The man pictured there, very handsome, did resemble him greatly. “He is in Australia now, or something.”

            “Or something?” Elizabeth said. “I’m sorry, but are you in search of your brother?”

            “I am not in search. I merely mean to say, he went to Australia and his correspondences have been more irregular than we have cared for.”

            Seeing the time was right, and that this Lord Kincaid was not inclined to gossip and would be eager to move on if Mr. Bennet did not say something to continue the topic, he announced, “I believe your brother is in Town.”

            “You mean London?” the earl said, spinning around to face them proper instead of turning to the next portrait. “What? How do you know this?”

            “There is some talk,” Elizabeth said quickly. “He is even affianced.”

            William Kincaid was obviously dumbfounded. “That is impossible, Mrs. Darcy.”

            “I believe it is true.”

            “No, it is certainly impossible. Of that, I am sure.”

            “But you just said – and I do not mean to intrude in on a family matter – that you did not even know his location.”

            “Yes, that is true, but I do know that even if he is returned to Britain, he cannot be affianced to any woman, English or otherwise. My brother is married.”

            In unison the Bennets shouted, “Married?”

Chapter 5 – The Earl of Kincaid

            If there was one thing Darcy detested – and he did, admittedly, detest a great many things – it was being caught unawares. He attributed it to being fuming over Elizabeth’s departure and his overwhelming concern for her safety (and his inability, apparently to do anything about it) that he was almost entirely distracted when he made his next visit to the Bingleys and was easily trapped in the billiards room, alone, with Caroline Bingley. “Miss Bingley,” he bowed quickly when he finally noticed her entrance.

            “Mr. Darcy,” she curtseyed. “I’m quite sorry, but I refuse to carry on this charade anymore. If I know anything about you, I doubt you can stand it as well.”

            “What charade?” he answered quite honestly, because he could think of a dozen that were simultaneously occurring.

            “Your presence here. Charles’ refusal to grant his consent, despite my repeated pleas. I can only assume there is some conspiracy here, and since I also know you detest disguise, you will not deny it to me now.”

            She did know him. And since she was in the perhaps unknowing position of victim in this whole situation, he felt compelled to be kind. “Very well. You are correct that my business in Town is directly related to surmising Lord Kincaid’s character, but that does not mean you must assume the worst in me, or your brother. As you are well aware, a proper suitor must present his credentials, and they must prove to be more than just smoke.”

            “Why does it upset you so that I may have found happiness, Darcy?”

            If it was anyone other than Miss Bingley, it would have been a rather low blow with its implications. It was, however, Miss Bingley. “Because I have yet to judge that you have found happiness. Not with Lord Kincaid, anyway. I will admit he is a pleasant fellow and a good fencer, and that you think he is suitable, but a marriage should preferably be something that is more than just suitable.”

            She scoffed at him. “When did you become such a romantic? Oh yes, when you fell in love with Eliza Bennet’s eyes.”

            “I will not deny it. Though she is my wife, Miss Bingley,” he said, not quite matching her tone but nearing it. This was the game they always played, even now when he didn’t feel compelled to play it. “If we are to be so honest, then let us be honest. Even though marriage between us was never truly in question no matter how much you may have desired it, I am now Bingley’s brother and you are my sister, so I have some affection for you, of the kind where I am concerned about your future happiness. Maybe I will not chase down suitors with a sword as everyone seems to be implying I will do with Georgiana, but that does not mean I am completely without opinion on the issue.”

            “But you would not have been, had Charles not come to you.”

            “It is irrelevant. I simply wouldn’t have known until someone had told me, as I live in Derbyshire and you in Town. And so Bingley came to tell me, and I knew, and decided of my own wit to observe the matter myself. After all, if you are so content on the match, this man is to be my brother and so I must have an interest in at least meeting him.” 

            “But you will deny that you have been looking at him with a most critical eye,” she said.

            “Miss Bingley, if you are so observant of my character, surely you know that I look at everyone with a most critical eye.” He added, “Even Doctor Maddox.”

            She apparently decided to give this no proper response no matter how many emotions registered on her face, so he decided to let it slide without further comment. She looked exhausted, as if this was as much a strain on her as it was on everyone else. He recalled many sleepless nights in his own courtship, both the unhappy and the happy bits. Why should it not be the same for her? Finally, in a soft, strange voice unlike anything he had previously heard from her, she said, “We would not have made a good couple.”

            “No,” he said, his own voice gentle. “We are too good for this sort of verbal sparring. But it does keep one’s wits about them. We are better as brother and sister.”

            “Then do me a brotherly favor,” she said, “and tell Bingley to grant his consent.”

            “If you ask him properly,” he said, “in a way that conveys that you are love with James Kincaid, he will surely grant it.”

            Again, she did not respond. She huffed instead, like an angered peacock puffing up her feathers, and stormed out. She nearly slammed into Bingley, finally making his appointment with Darcy. Smiling and oblivious, Bingley said, “What did I miss?”

            Darcy slapped himself on the forehead and groaned.

                        ****************************************

            “Yes, married,” said a now thoroughly confused Lord William Kincaid. “His wife lives in a house in the north. She is a Highlander, after all. But – I refuse to be a gossip about my family’s matters, if you are merely here to discuss the country.”

            “And as you probably have already surmised,” Mr. Bennet began, “we are not, though we did give our true names. Mrs. Darcy is my daughter, and I am not Mr. Darcy’s steward, though he does know we are here.”

            Elizabeth curtseyed deeply, “My lord, we apologize for the situation, but the matter is apparently graver than we thought. Your brother – if we are correct in assuming it is the same man, or you have other older brothers who went to Australia to seek a fortune – “

            “ – of which, I do not.”

            “ – is newly returned to London, and claims to have made a great fortune there, and is to be affianced to my sister by marriage, whose name I will not mention for her reputation. My husband and her brother were suspicious of the arrangement, and are now investigating his connections, but since my husband’s estate is so close to the border, I decided to make some investigations here myself as to who this man was.”

            “And I, being an old man with little chance for amusement and not willing to see my daughter off to the north unaccompanied, joined her,” Mr. Bennet said, bowing to the earl.

            The earl sputtered for a few moments before speaking as he took it in. “Well ... well, I don’t know what to say, except that you should cancel the engagement as quickly as possible. I doubt very highly of his supposed fortune. In his limited correspondences with Fiona and me, he not only refused to come home but continued to draw on Fiona’s inheritance, which is considerable. She even attempted to request a divorce, but he refused. Repeatedly.” He shrugged. “If he is so in love with your sister now I suppose ...”

            “We do not know if he is in love,” Elizabeth interrupted, “but the entire matter is extremely distasteful. I am sorry, but we know nothing of your brother’s character, and must judge him only on what you have told us, and if what you have told us is true, then he is intending to be a bigamist.”

            Lord Kincaid straightened, and said with authority, “I would not doubt it, if he thought he could get away with it – and with the complex differences between Scottish and English marriage laws, perhaps he could. But I do know my brother’s character, and I will stop myself and say only there is a reason our father chose me to inherit over James, and that you must do everything to stop this engagement to your sister.” He rubbed his chin in thought. “I suppose the best way to confront him is for me to go down there myself, but would that be too late?”

            “Frankly, I have no idea,” Elizabeth said. “But I would not bother you with the task, as my husband is a most loyal protector of even his extended family and would be happy to sort the matter out. Perhaps you have some proof that the marriage to Lady Kincaid still stands?”

            “Yes, in fact, I do,” he said. “After all, she’s been trying to obtain a divorce, so all of these documents were made ready and even copied. I have copies here myself that I would be more than happy to lone you. He has already put Fiona through so much trouble; I will not see it happen to another woman. It is outright dishonorable, and we Scots do not stand for dishonor to the family or the clan.” He called out to a servant, and gave the necessary instructions for the documents to be located. “I can give you Fiona’s address, but she is some distance north, and if you wish to speak with her, I feel you will just lose time. You may wish a correspondence, but that is at your discretion. Now, to put it quickly – is there anything I can do for you, Mrs. Darcy?”

            She had already considered it. “Can you perhaps loan me a horse?”

            “Lizzy!” Mr. Bennet interrupted, dropping all formal pretenses. “You cannot seriously be proposing – “

            “My own husband taught me to ride, and it will be quicker than even the post,” she said. “And I would not trust such important documents to a courier, especially over borders. I will not push myself excessively, Papa, but someone must get to Town with the documents.”

            “It should not be you.”

            “And it will not be you,” she said.

            “I would ride myself,” Lord Kincaid said, “but I do not know the way. I confess I have never been to England. But I could ride with you, for your safety.”

            “You put yourself out, my lord.”

            “This is my brother and my responsibility.”

            He reminded Elizabeth quite a bit of a Scottish Darcy. The very memory brought her warm thoughts when all she could think of was disaster. “No, I will not allow it. You may follow in a proper carriage if you wish and see that the matter is carried out, but I will go and I will go at the speed at which I choose.”

            “I can see there is no arguing with you, Mrs. Darcy.”

            “There never is,” said Mr. Bennet.

            “I will prepare the horse and the necessary supplies. Mr. Bennet, you will accompany me in the carriage?”

            “Only if you promise to drop him off along the way,” Elizabeth said. “At an estate called Chatton.” She turned to her immediately-questioning father. “Papa, you cannot go all the way to Town right now and Jane must be told by someone with the calmness to do it properly. Besides, you despise traveling.”

            Mr. Bennet shook his head. “I cannot – Well, I cannot convince you that your plan is madness and a danger to your health. All for the sake of Miss Bingley?”

            “She is my sister.”

            “At this moment I wish she was not. But I see there is no convincing you of otherwise. There never is.” Mr. Bennet shook his head. “Lord Kincaid, thank you for your hospitality and all of your aid.”

            “Most gladly given, however unhappy the circumstances. Sealbh math dhuit.” He added, “It means good luck, Mrs. Darcy. You will need it.”

                        ****************************************

            Before entering, Bingley steeled himself with a shot of whiskey. It was not his custom, but it was not enough to make him drunk (after all, he was not Darcy), and he needed the steeling. Not only was Caroline smarter, older, and taller than him, she was as an intimidating woman as there ever could be, and all past attempts to verbally spar with her had ended in disaster.

            Still, he had no other recourse. He knocked on her door. “Caroline?”

            “Come in,” she said, her voice entirely composed. When he entered, her posture made it very clear that though she was perfectly dressed and this was merely her dressing room, he was invading her personal space. “I suppose Darcy told you everything.”

            “Very little, in fact. The rest was left to my imagination,” he said. “If you feel slighted by him for his actions these past few days, you must excuse Darcy. He is only doing things on my behalf, because I requested his help in this matter.”

            “’In this matter,’” Caroline scoffed. “You can marry a country girl of no fortune, but when I find a suitable match, it becomes a matter that involves even the infamous Master of Pemberley.”

            “That is not the point – “

            “It is the point,” she said, stepping towards him. “You rely on him for every basic decision, Charles. It is pathetic.”

            No, he would not be cowed. He was Charles Bingley Junior, and the master of the Bingley fortunes. He was a member of the landed class, even if he was untitled. He was a man of stature and he had every right to do as his conscience required. “That is not the case at all. I did not like Lord Kincaid from the start, and so I did what any good businessman would do – what our father was so good at to the point of raising us to a high position such as our own – was to find an expert and delegate authority. Darcy is better at looking into the sordid pasts of people than I am and so I called on him. I practically had to drag him here, if you must know, but he did it as a favor to me and to you despite his own instincts.”

            “Because of what? What do you find so lacking in James?”

            That was of course, the question he could not answer properly, so he had to invent something. “He appears out of nowhere with no established property, no connections in Town and pays in cash for his apartment. If he made a fortune in Australia that is wonderful for him, but no one has seen a pence of it. I cannot help but, with your inheritance, to be suspicious. More importantly, I know very well you do not love him, and that is my greatest concern.”

            “You make many assumptions about my feelings, Charles.”

            He fumed. “I am not the idiot you plainly believe me to be. Your affection for him derives from his own charms and perhaps his fluency in Italian but has no solid foundation.”

            “This is what you believe?”

            “You have yet to deny it.”

            At least, Caroline seemed to recognize his determination. She took an innate step back. “What do you expect from me? Am I to continue to be the unmarried spinster, the laugh of all of Town?”

            “You are being dramatic.”

            “In a few years I will not be!” she said, her voice unintentionally betraying emotion, something it rarely did. “I am thirty-one. I live off your fortune. Lord Kincaid is likely to be my last serious prospect for a good match.”

            He considered before answering. “Caroline, surely you have noticed that both Darcy and I would argue with you for what constitutes a ‘good match.’”

            “And you are both men with fortunes. The situation is entirely different.”

            He sighed. “To see you happy, I would gladly pay for your marriage to the Town’s poorest pauper and buy him a great estate in Derbyshire.”

            To this, she had no proper response.

            It seemed Bingley’s responsibility, after some moment of awkward silence, to continue the conversation, “Caroline,” he said formally, his hands behind his back. “I can’t imagine – well, yes, I can imagine where it was drilled into you that you must marry a man of at least equal, preferably greater fortune to be a woman of any worth. You are a Bingley and must stand up to the name that father created. But he created that name out of smoke and hard work and clever business maneuvers. And now, our beloved father is gone and no longer makes the family policy on marriage. And since it falls to my shoulders, I will reiterate my stance – you may marry whomever you like, provided he is not a fortune hunter and you are truly in love with him, be he pauper, parish priest – or dare I say, doctor.”

            Miss Bingley had turned away, to the window. At this, she spun back around. “How dare you – “

            “I am not blind, even if my stay here has been of short duration. But on this matter I will remain silent. It is for you and him to decide. I will withhold my blessing on this Lord Kincaid until you fall in love with him, or he proves to be a fortune hunter – whichever comes first. And however long that may take, I shall gladly wait it out to see you happy in your marriage. And it cannot be more than a few days.”

            “That or it will have to be much longer. Am I mistaken or is Jane not in confinement?”

            This threw him off; it was her intention. “Yes, and I must be out within the week. But if Lord Kincaid is exactly who he says he is, he is most welcome to join us at Chatton for as long as he wishes. Until then, we shall wait.”

            “Because that is what you are good at,” she said. “Waiting.”

            He could take no more of this. It was either that or he had said everything he desired to say, and so the conversation was allowed to end. He signaled this by placing his hand on the door handle. “I hope you will consider what I said, because there is only one thing I will not stand for, and it is to see you unhappy in marriage.”

            She did not respond as he left.

                        ****************************************

            Darcy had one comfort in the days that passed and one intended comfort. The actual comfort was his sister, who with Elizabeth’s good influence had begun to emerge as the confident young woman he had always hoped she would be, and she almost delighted in their little trips to bankers and the Gardiners, trying to account for Kincaid’s mysterious wealth. Her light treatment of it put him at ease. This was also his first long trip to Town since her coming out, and he was glad to see that she was not being assaulted by suitors on a daily basis, though she did have her social calls, mainly among female friends. She was not the homebody he was, and it suited her greatly, he decided.

            The second thing was the correspondences from Jane Bingley, meant to comfort him. They of course had the opposite effect. Elizabeth and Mr. Bennet were somewhere in Scotland even though Jane was quick to assure him in writing him directly that they were expected home at any moment, this was the first time since their marriage that Elizabeth was out of his reach and he it made him moody and anxious. He was also taking measure to avoid the Bingley house after his confrontation with Miss Bingley, as he felt he had not the energy for it with all of the things he was busy doing on her behalf, and that gave him only more time to fret.

            Three days passed before a formal meeting with Mr. Gardiner settled at least one matter. The accounts – or what they could muster of them – spread out before them in his uncle’s study, they took in the measure of the matter. This time, Bingley was present.

            “So there we have it,” Mr. Gardiner said. “Not only do we have no proof of any fortune currently here or in transfer from Australia, but we have several loans made on unknown credit, which were then cashed at banks of less than terrific standing, which presumably he has used to pay for his apartment and all of his expenses. All I could find with all of my contacts and some very improper questioning on my part – “

            “Thank you, Mr. Gardiner,” Bingley bowed to him.

            “ – was that over the last few years he had money come from somewhere in Scotland, somewhere in the Highlands, where he must have some account, because it is not from his estate in the lowlands.”

            “So,” Darcy said, “no damning evidence, but a lack of the fortune he claims to have.”

            “It is very troubling,” said Bingley, staring at the materials. “If he could produce any evidence of his own fortune, I would happily disregard all of this information.”

            “And yet, he will not,” reminded Darcy.

            “But I cannot toss him out based on this. You know that,” Bingley said. When it came to money matters, they were all very calm men. “I could talk to Caroline – “

            “She will dismiss it,” Darcy said. “Or she may not, I don’t know. The thing to do is confront the earl.”

            “I cannot, in all good conscience, condemn a man who on paper has done nothing wrong!” Bingley said.

            “But you cannot give him what he wants, either,” said Mr. Gardiner.

            Bingley frowned and played with a handkerchief for some time. The only thing to break him from his deep concentration was when he tore it in half. Fortunately, the air was too serious and no one laughed. “There is one other thing – Elizabeth.”

            “Thank you for reminding me,” Darcy deadpanned.

            “I mean to say, she has gone to investigate his reputation in his home. Either she is returning now with news or – though I am wont to say it – something has happened to her. Which is also news that may help decide the matter.”

            “I am glad you view my wife’s safety in regards to Miss Bingley’s situation!”

            “Am I going to have to call someone to keep you from throttling each other?” Mr. Gardiner said in all seriousness. “Because you’re both stout young men and I don’t think I could do it.”

            “Darcy,” Bingley said calmly, and in the most soothing tone he could manage. “I did not mean to imply that. I was merely stating the fact. Any moment now a letter could arrive – “

            “I am sick of ‘any moment now’! It is all your wife writes to me!” Darcy shouted, bringing immediate silence to the room. He used an occasional stern voice, but Mr. Darcy never shouted. “I am sorry,” he said quickly. “I feel I must retire, and do – something.” He did not want to explain himself. He wanted to find somewhere else to fret about Elizabeth. He stormed out of the Gardiners with barely a cursory bow and apology.

            “Brother!” Georgiana, who had been playing with the Gardiner children, followed him in concern.

            He did not speak for the whole carriage ride to their townhouse, and she did not ask him to. He was too focused, too upset and too desperate not to show it. When he stepped out of the carriage at last, the cold December air did him good, and only then was he shaken from his trance and noticed the unfamiliar horse being handled by one of his servants. He practically kicked in the door to find Elizabeth having her extensive winter garments removed by the servants. “Elizabeth!”

            She turned to him, her face without color, and she promptly passed out on the floor.

Chapter 6 – Mrs. Darcy Rides Again

            Her face was freezing. Darcy called for everyone available to assist him in getting her to bed even though he carried her himself, right up the stairs without any aid. Georgiana fetched the warm water and brought a cloth to her forehead as quickly as she could.

            “Darcy,” Elizabeth whispered.

            “Elizabeth,” he said, his voice almost cracking as he stroked her cheek, “Are you hurt in any way?”

            “I am very sore,” she said, “but that will pass. I am ... sorry for the spectacle.”

            He gave her a supportive smile. “I would expect nothing less from you than some sort of memorable entrance. Next time, try not to let it involve your health.”

            She smiled, and kissed his hand as it passed. Her lips, at least were warm, even if they were still a bit blue.

            “I take it – you rode here? Some length of the way?”

            She nodded.

            “How long?”

            “All of it.”

            “From Scotland?”

            Again, a nod. “There are documents ... from Lord Kincaid. The brother of this man Miss Bingley wants to marry.” She coughed, and then straightened herself on the pillow. “He is married. I have a copy of the contract.”

            “What?” Georgiana, the first to respond, nearly dropped the bowl where she was standing.

            “Lizzy, this is true?” he said, taking her hand. “He is currently married to a woman in Scotland?”

            “And he refuses a divorce.”

            “Damning evidence indeed,” he said. “Our suspicions were correct, then. I confess, we achieved not half of what you did here in Town, and we even had Mr. Gardiner aiding us. But surely – could you not have sent a courier?”

            “Are you implying ... you would rather see a courier ... than your own wife?”

            “Lizzy,” he said. “You will send me to Bedlam yet.”

            “Always my intention.”

            Georgiana interrupted, “Should I send for someone? Mr. Bingley maybe?”

            But he could not think of Bingley at the moment. “In time. Unless Miss Bingley and Kincaid are somehow, by magic, at Gretna Green right now against his wishes, there is no rush. And if they were, then nothing can be done, anyway. Please, we should let Elizabeth rest, and then she can tell us the whole story, and then we can go to Bingley.”

            Georgiana apparently knew enough not to argue with him, and excused herself. A nurse was called in, and after a quick inspection, decided Elizabeth merely needed a rest. Darcy shooed her and the other servants away, closed the door, and laid down on the bed beside her, above the covers, barely kicking off his boots. It was now mid-day, but he was in no mood for lunch. In fact, he found he was exhausted himself, and now that his wife was beside him, drifted off and did not realize it until he woke some hours later to Elizabeth staring at him with some amusement.

            “I rush here from Scotland,” she said, her voice having regained much of its strength, “and the first thing you do is take a nap.”

            He smiled and kissed her. Her body heat had returned. “Worrying about one’s wife apparently can be quite exhausting.”

            “So can be preventing a marriage. You should have warned me, in your vast experience.”

            “Vast experience? It was one ... two times!” he laughed. “Now I suppose it will be three. Perhaps I should declare it my profession. But, my darling, whatever propelled you, who just recently learned to ride, to cross the country in December on a horse?”

            “I made a bet with Wickham. If he hasn’t appeared, I’ve won.”

            Darcy laughed into his pillow.

            “So, am I to wait here all day for you to tell me what you’ve been doing in Town while I’ve been accomplishing everything?”

            “I love you.”

            “That is not an answer, Darcy. Or at least, a full one.”

            Thus, very happily, he recalled all of the events since his arrival in Town, leaving out what he judged irrelevant or not important at the moment. Even though it had been a stress on him at times, in her comforting presence it gave him no angst to retell any of it. It all seemed now something of the distant past. “And if it would tire you further, I would very much like to hear about Scotland.”

            So she did, and he immediately excused his father-in-law for impersonating his steward. He even laughed at parts of it, at least until they began to seriously discuss the marriage of the would-be bigamist, Lord Kincaid. “Well, the marriage is off,” he said. “I suppose she will have to finally come to her senses about the doctor.”

            “What doctor?”

            “Oh, did I leave that part out? I suppose I was trying to be prudent. It seems Miss Bingley is not above the general tendency in our now-related families for infatuations with people below their stations.”

            “Below their – Darcy!” she hit him with a pillow. “Though I suppose it did turn out well in the end, and you had to settle for someone with much more class than you.”

            He was going to respond, but she grabbed his arm very suddenly. “I am in need of a bucket. Please.”

            He understood enough to get her a chamber pot, and turned away as she was ill. Perhaps they would need the doctor after all. But it did break the serenity in the air of their bedroom, and more pressing matters began to invade his mind again, even though his wife’s health was at the forefront. He called for a maid again, who collected the pot. “Elizabeth – “

            “It is nothing. Probably that awful tavern I stopped at last night. I should have known better, but I was starving.” She was sitting up now, and looking less pale. “Perhaps we should get to the business of letting poor Mr. Bingley down.”

            “Or let up,” he said.

                        ****************************************

            Bingley, when called and given the purpose in a note, made uncommonly good time to the Darcy residence. By then, Elizabeth had persuaded her husband to let her come downstairs into the sitting room, where much tea was forced upon her, and she had her satchel brought to her.

            “Mrs. Darcy,” Bingley said, obviously relieved to see her alive and well. “We were quite worried about you. Should I write Jane?”

            “My father went straight to Chatton, so she is informed, but the letter must not have reached you if she wrote one. Anyway, there are other things pressing.” She opened the sack and presented him with the documents, which he sat and inspected for some time without saying anything.

            “These will hold up in court?” he finally said.

            “It is not a matter of courts,” Darcy said. “Lord Kincaid must merely be exposed and he will doubtlessly be scurrying off in some direction. Though it will distress her greatly, you may take comfort that this will not break Miss Bingley’s heart.”

            “How it is to be done, though – “

            “In great privacy, for the family’s reputation. And especially your sister’s.” Darcy, as usual, already had a plan. “May I suggest you tell her, in private, if he does not see fit to confess it himself.”

            “And how will we convince him to do this and yet not expose his plot to all of Town?”

            “I will do it,” Darcy offered. “I have confronted him and bested him once on a battlefield; this should be simple enough, and I am far enough removed from you that it will complicate things less if there is a resulting scandal that must be covered up. I will take all the documents and go to his apartment at once. Now that we have proof, this can no longer stand.”

            Elizabeth decided to leave out that he had just lingered half a day with his wife like a newlywed. “And what am I to do?”

            They both looked at her.

            “I’m serious!”

            “Elizabeth, you have done more than both of us in less time,” Bingley said. “I can ask no more of you, other than to recover your health, and perhaps write to Jane that you are here and recovering.” He stood up. “I will return to my house and pretend nothing clandestine is going on. And if Lord Kincaid is there – which he should not be – I will send him home right away.”

            “And I always thought you incapable of deception,” Elizabeth said.

            Bingley was still trying to decide to take that as a compliment or not when they parted.

                        ****************************************

            Unfortunately, there were not servants to greet Darcy at the door to Lord Kincaid’s apartment, and he was forced to stand there in the cold until Lord Kincaid himself let him. “Oh, Darcy. Do come in.”

            Darcy entered. The place was as it had been described – grand, but severely lacking furniture and other embellishments. “I apologize for the state of my place, but I believe that can be excused, all things considered,” Kincaid said, as he shut the door behind Darcy and offered to take his coat. “I’ve simply been too busy to get even the most basic things done, as you can see. Not properly English at all. I should be more attentive. Would you like me to – ” but as he turned around to face Darcy after hanging his coat, he was faced with what Darcy was fairly sure was the very legal marriage contact between him and some Scottish woman named Fiona.

            “We can dispense with the pretenses now, I believe,” Darcy said. Not having to force himself into being agreeable with this man was extremely relieving; he felt as if the weight was off his shoulders already despite the utter severity of the situation. “If your banking records were not enough to condemn you, I believe this would do for any family, no matter how their standing or desperation to marry off their sister. And Bingley cares for his sister, a great deal.”

            “You can stop waving that in front of me; I know what it is,” Kincaid said, quickly regaining his composure. He was not at ease now, and did in fact make no pretenses, but was not a sniveling villain. He stood up straight, readying himself as a fencer would for a match. “After all, that is my signature. No, Mr. Darcy, I will not deny it.”

            “Even if you agreed to divorce Lady Kincaid tomorrow, which to my knowledge you have refused to do many times despite abandoning her, it would hardly make a good impression on your intended in-laws. Nor would the non-existent fortune you found in Australia. I do not know your true intentions, but I will surmise that it had something to do with Miss Bingley’s personal fortune. In fact, it would be best to assume that you would merely disappear sometime after you had funneled all of it away, as you did with Lady Kincaid, and not something worse.”

            “So you are going to assume the best,” Kincaid said. “How very nice of you, Darcy. You are indeed the knight in shining armor, forever rescuing the Bingleys from their ridiculous romantic entanglements, as they have not the wits to do it themselves.”

            “As you are a deserter, a liar, a thief, and would this day be a bigamist if Bingley had granted his consent, I can only expect that you would stoop so low as to insult anyone you cared to,” Darcy snapped back. “But I will not stand for it. You do not give Mr. Bingley enough credit. It was only his fine senses that brought me here in the first place, and Miss Bingley giving herself away as having no deep affection for you. Perhaps there was nothing in you to inspire great love.”

            “There is nothing in her to inspire great love,” Kincaid said. “You of all people know that. You spurned her for years, so at least on the issue, we see eye-to-eye.”

            “Just because I did wish to marry Miss Bingley does not mean we could ever see ‘eye-to-eye’ on her,” Darcy answered. “You are, once again, totally incorrect on your assumptions. She is a woman of great intelligence and dignity – everything you said to me at the club, when you were pretending to be entranced. In fact, I respect her a great deal more than almost all of the other women I had known previous to meeting my wife and Mrs. Bingley.”

            “Fancy words from a man who can afford to make them,” Kincaid seethed. “I’ll admit you’ve been a clever opponent, and would see that there was more to the match than pure, deep love – whatever that is, if it exists beyond medieval romances. But how you managed to get my own marriage contract, and before I broke Bingley down – that was most impressive.”

            “Credit my wife, as that is to where it is due,” Darcy said. “Even from afar she was suspicious.”

            “Why? Because Caroline is so dislikable that she could not imagine someone would marry her without direct sight on her fortune?”

            Aggressive stance again, because his opponent knew his weakness. Darcy had to again defend Miss Bingley, the woman who he had shrugged off even after she had spent years pursuing him, making every attempt to engage him on his level, to look like the perfect bride. An admirable attempt, but that he believed in her faults was obvious enough by their history. Fine, he could parry. “Because my wife trusts Mr. Bingley’s instincts, which are keener than people think. It had nothing to do with Miss Bingley at all. Had I come to Town and discovered her horribly in love with you, I would not have been so eager to find fault. She is my sister and I will hope to see her happy.” No, he could not do this forever. He needed to strike, be offensive. “And though this will distress her, she will know the truth of it. You will tell her.”

            Kincaid laughed. “You tell me I am a liar and a crook and now you expect me to be noble for no reason? Already I am beyond saving in the family’s eyes, so the matter as far I’m concerned is concluded. Why should I put myself out and expose myself to that woman again? You know she can be quite the vicious snake when not being fawning and pretentious.”

            “You will not walk away from this; let me make that clear. Your brother is on his way now, and he will deal with you in whatever matter you Scots do up there, I care not. But I could make it much worse than that if you do not apologize to Caroline and beg for her forgiveness, whether she grants it or not – which we both know she shall not, and you will be at the mercy of that vicious tongue of hers. I only wish it would be proper for me to be there when she does it.” He held up the satchel. “I have not only your marriage documents, but copies of notes from all of the banks you have borrowed money from, money I know you have no way of repaying unless your brother comes through for you, and from Elizabeth’s description of his attitude towards you, he will not be in a generous mood when he arrives, and you will quickly be in debtor’s prison. That is, unless you are allowed to make your escape.” His stance expressed his finality – the choice was before Kincaid.

            The earl merely shrugged. “I am not intimidated by you, Mr. Darcy. You are not Master of London and I assume you are here to avoid a scandal for your extended family. So I may have to face my brother, but I will not face that woman again. I see no reason to put myself in such a position. And do you really think it will make her feel better? That she will run to her four-eyed crush?” He laughed. “You know he proposed to her? That spineless servant had the audacity to propose to perhaps the vainest woman in West London?”

            This, Darcy did not know, but he could not reveal it, and made every attempt to hide it. He hoped he was successful. “The choice is before you. Debtor’s prison, or escaping to wherever you can manage before the real Lord Kincaid gets here. Please choose, as I am a very busy man and you are very boring.”

            “You are a bad liar; you are very intrigued by what I have to say. But I will not take up any more of your precious time, Mr. Darcy. My answer is no. I will not grovel to Caroline Bingley or any other Bingley or anyone related to the Bingley family, by marriage or otherwise. That includes you. I will only grant you the small favor of leaving town before the scandal hits. Perhaps that will lessen it. I care not either way.” He waved Darcy off as one would a servant. “So you’d better get out of this reputable house and give me my chance, before all those creditors and relatives of mine arrive.”

            “That is your final answer, then?”

            “Do I stutter? Is my accent incomprehensible to you?” As their conversation had turned negative, his Scottish accent, which he usually took great pains to disguise for good London society, had increasingly slipped out. “No, Darcy. I will have nothing more to do with any Bingley or you. Now as you are a proper English gentleman, certainly more than this Scottish rogue, you will do me the honor of leaving my house.” He gave him a very stiff, mocking bow.

            “You are making a serious mistake,” Darcy said with all of the severity he could muster, and then turned to the door.

            “No, it is you who are making the mistake.”

            Darcy’s hand had not reached the doorknob when he heard the gunshot. By then, it was too late.

Chapter 7 – The Shot Heard ‘Round Town

            As Darcy slumped sideways, leaning against the column as his body sunk to the floor, Kincaid had two matters immediately pressing. The first was a candlestick to his head. It was not enough to knock him unconscious entirely, but the shock and pain of it was distracting enough that it sent him sideways, where his body was met with a wooden chair. Caught between two very hard places, he trembled and then slumped forward, smashing face forward onto the marble floor.

            “Mrs. Darcy!”

            “Mr. Bingley!”

            For they were both very surprised to find the other there, each one holding an impromptu weapon, having emerged from opposite rooms.

            Elizabeth dropped the candlestick, horrified at her actions, “I just meant to hit him a little!”

            “So did I!”

            “I’ve been shot!” Darcy said.

            Bingley dropped the chair and joined Elizabeth as they abandoned the unconscious Kincaid and ran to Darcy, who was only sitting up because his body had fallen against the column and so was propped up. From the front he looked fine, if a little pale, but a quick inspection revealed that the pillar and the back of his waistcoat were both quickly soaking with blood.

            “Darcy? Are you okay?”

            Darcy gave Bingley a look as if he was a complete idiot.

            “Well, he’s conscious, at least,” Bingley said. “Where does it hurt?”

            Darcy didn’t respond at first, apparently more than a little stunned at this new prospect of being shot in the back. Finally he gaped and said in a tiny voice, “I’m a little cold, to be honest.”

            “He’s in shock,” Elizabeth said, and put her hands on his cheeks. “Stay with us. Please, darling.”

            Darcy did not respond. He was clearly struggling to keep his eyes open. “I’ll get help,” Bingley said.

            “Get the constable! And a decent surgeon! Darcy will not be cut up by some student!”

            Bingley could only nod as he disappeared out the door, barely stopping to close it behind him. Meanwhile, Elizabeth removed her coat and placed it over Darcy’s who was shivering and trying to say something. “Shhh. You don’t have to say anything.” She inspected him again, and saw no blood in the front, only pouring out his back. As far as she could tell from the tear in the fabric, he’d been shot in the upper chest, very close to the shoulder. “The bullet hasn’t gone straight through.” She didn’t know if that was good or bad. All of the blood was making her nauseous, but she swallowed it down. There was no time for that now. “Darcy?” His eyes were closing again, and she dared to shake him, just a little. “Fitzwilliam Darcy, for the record, if you die, I will never forgive you.”

            His face gave no indication that any of her words were registering, but he was making an attempt to keep himself awake. “Lizzy – “

            “Don’t tire yourself. Please, just stay with me.” She did not even notice the officers that Bingley had alerted entering. She did not hear their questions. “Darcy, please.”

            He smiled. “I – I love you.” And then his eyes rolled back into his head and there was no more visible struggle. Elizabeth hugged his chest and wept until an officer pulled her off to make away for a man who seemed to be some kind of doctor. Bingley was nowhere in sight.

            The man – the doctor, or chemist, or whatever – felt Darcy’s pulse and put his head to his chest. “He’s alive. He’s just unconscious, from the shock.”

            “I take it this is not his apartment,” said the officer, turning to Elizabeth.

            “No,” she said, trying to collect herself. Darcy was alive. “No, no. It’s that man’s – the man who shot my husband.” She pointed to Kincaid. The pistol had dropped from his hand on impact from her strike and was lying next to him. “I’m Mrs. Darcy. We have a house in the West End. Can he be moved?”

            “It’d be best to try to stop the bleeding first,” said the supposed physician. He called for an officer to help him get Darcy to a couch as another held Mrs. Darcy and kept her from running to her husband. “’sit okay if we cut off the garb? Some gents get angry – “

            “No, no, do whatever you have to do.” She was a little annoyed at the officer holding her back, but she had not the strength to resist him. Instead she watched helplessly as they cut away the sleeve of his waistcoat and shirt, exposing the wound, which the physician immediatly covered with the cloth from his undershirt and pressed down on.

            Time seemed to be moving in another realm; Elizabeth thought only moments had passed since she had seen her husband go down, and yet they were bandaging him and before she knew it, someone had taken away Kincaid in chains and Mr. Bingley appeared, soaked and half-covered in mud from the waist down. He was flanked by a curly-haired man with glasses and a large black bag. “This ... is ... Dr. Maddox,” Bingley said between heaving breaths. Had he actually ran the whole way to his estate? “... Very good ...”

            Dr. Maddox bowed to Mrs. Darcy and the officer and turned immediately to Mr. Darcy and the attending physician. “What are you doing?”

            “Trying to stop the bleeding.”

            “Is there an exit wound?”

            “No, sir.”

            “Then we have to get the bullet out as soon as possible. But that must be done in more sanitary conditions. Here – let me bandage him. Can someone prepare a stretcher? And we’ll need several blankets.”

            The officer holding Elizabeth went to handle these orders, and released, she ran to her husband, who was on his stomach and totally unresponsive to her voice. It was Bingley who took her in his arms, and she could feel his heart still pounding, probably from all the running. On any other day, the sight of Mr. Bingley running through slushy, muddy London on a cold December day would be an amusing one, but she found no comfort. “He’s going to be all right. This is the best doctor in Britain.”

            “He just – he couldn’t stay awake. He tried so hard.”

            “I would actually prefer him to remain unconscious for the trip to his apartment,” Maddox said, not facing her, consumed in his work as he taped up the bandages, winding them around Darcys’ arm. “It will make the trip easier. Someone, please tell me when things are ready.”

            “Is the bleeding stopped?”

            “It won’t be until I sew it up, and I can’t do that with a bullet in him,” Maddox explained in a calm, decisive, but compassionate voice. “I assume he would want this done in his home.”

            “Yes,” Elizabeth said.

            “Then can one of you send ahead orders to have water heated to boiling, then covered and put outside to cool so it will be ready when we get there?”

            “I’ll do it,” Bingley said, releasing his hold on Elizabeth, and ran out to find a messenger, or to run there himself.

            His patient temporarily stabilized, Dr. Maddox bowed to Elizabeth. “Mrs. Darcy, I assume.”

            “Yes.” She curtseyed to him, but the action was too much for her, and she toppled over. “This is very selfish of me, but I need to be ill.”

            “I understand.” Without question, he helped her to the kitchen, where she lost the afternoon tea in the sink. “Look, the stretcher is here. Everything is going to be fine, Mrs. Darcy.” He left here when she seemed steady again to attend to his more pressing patient, but sincere as he sounded, she had trouble believing his words.

                        ****************************************

            The short ride to the Darcy townhouse was the most torturous ride of Elizabeth’s life. Not only did the usual rocking of the carriage make her queasy, but the fact that it was following a wagon with her husband covered in blankets made it positively unbearable. Only Bingley’s presence and calming touch as he held her shaking hands kept her from losing it again.

            When they stepped out and the servants rushed to them, it finally occurred to her that she would have to deal with Georgiana Darcy, who must have been told by the messenger. “Darcy!” the girl cried, and was only kept away from the stretcher by Dr. Maddox, who insisted that they’d best get him inside as fast as possible, and it was easier without her in the way. They got him upstairs to an audience of horrified servants, and into his bedroom, where everything had been prepared and the maid was just getting together extra towels.

            The first order of business was apparently who was to go in the room. “Mrs. Darcy, I must insist – ” Dr. Maddox said in the doorway.

            “No use in that,” Bingley said. “If you weren’t the doctor and you were still standing in the way, she would sock you with a candlestick right now.”

            Elizabeth gave Maddox a look of extreme severity, one that made him back out of her way. She did turn back to Georgiana. “Why don’t you organize the water we’re going to need? Dr. Maddox wants it boiled and then cooled. And we’ll need lots of disposable towels.”

            “Darcy – “

            “I know.” She hugged her sister. “I know. But I think he would take great comfort in you not watching this.”

            “He’s not going to cut his arm off, is he?”

            “No. No?” she looked at Maddox for confirmation, and he shook his head. “No. Please, help your brother by helping in the kitchen.”

            Georgiana was not one to put up a fight, and so she disappeared. Maddox emptied the bedchamber of weeping maids and called only for a single servant “with a strong stomach.” He allowed Bingley and Mrs. Darcy to stay, and asked the door be closed as he opened his bag and began to unload a strange assortment of instruments onto the bed stand.

            Meanwhile, their patient was apparently coming around. Mr. Darcy mumbled incoherently and made some attempt to move, as if he was trying to get off a rough spot on the bed he could not identify. Elizabeth took his hand. “Darcy.”

            “Can we sit him up?” Maddox said as he washed his own hands. He took a bottle of green liquid and a spoon and pulled up the chair in front of Darcy. “Mr. Darcy, do you think you can swallow?”

            Darcy opened his eyes, but his answer was incomprehensible. Maddox filled the spoon. “Open his mouth, please.” The servant awkwardly opened Darcy’s mouth. “Now, Mr. Darcy, this is not going to taste very good, but trust me when I say it will make this far more bearable.” And then he carefully put the spoon in and emptied its contents. “Now, try to swallow.” Darcy managed to do as he was told. Everything else, he was fairly oblivious to. “Good, good.” Maddox put the jar and spoon aside and took a piece of leather from his bag. “You’re going to want to bite down on this.”

            Again, there was no real answer, but it wasn’t expected at this point. They got Darcy on his stomach, exposing the wound, and at Maddox’s insistence, Bingley kept Elizabeth turned away, but she would not relinquish her hold on Darcy’s hand. From the corner of her eyes she could see Maddox putting his glasses up in his bushy hair and peering close to the wound with his instruments, and it was up to her vivid imagination to invent what was taking place. It did not take much work.

            It took a long time, longer than she expected. How long did it take to find a bullet? It was black and metal and it didn’t belong there. Maybe it was buried in bone. Again her stomach turned and threatened, but she swallowed the bile and tightened her grip around Darcy’s cold and unresponsive hand. “You’re doing well, darling. Did I tell you Geoffrey said his first word? It was his name.”

            Time and time again Dr. Maddox called for more towels and the warm water. “Got it,” he said finally, holding up his pliers with a small bullet that had brought so much havoc into their lives. He put it on a saucer on the bed stand beside his other items. “Don’t dispose of it. Okay, Mr. Darcy. The hole is very small and the worst is over.” He asked the servant for his needles, and Elizabeth sobbed again as he went to sew him up. Only Bingley’s firm hand kept her from peeking at the actual procedure. “There. Just one more wash ... Mr. Darcy, you are a most excellent patient.”

            It was hard to judge Darcy’s reaction to any of this during the operation, because he was face down on the bed, his head turned away from Elizabeth, and he made very little sound. It was only when Dr. Maddox gave the clear for them to turn him back over was it clear he was at least partially conscious, but he said nothing when the bit was removed. Dr. Maddox washed his hands for what seemed like the tenth time, removed his bloodied smock, and replaced his glasses. “There should be at least four layers of cloth between him and the sheets, and they should be changed at least every six hours,” he said to the servant. “No exceptions.” Again he reached for the bottle and the spoon, which he washed in yet another dish of clean water. “Okay, Mr. Darcy. Open up.”

            This time he succeeded in opening his mouth on his own, to the great relief of everyone. He was responsive to commands. He swallowed the green stuff with a look of distaste. “I know, I know, it’s horrible,” Maddox said. “But you’re the better with it, trust me. All right, Mr. Darcy needs his rest, and if I would dare to say, Mrs. Darcy, you need some as well. And perhaps a change of clothes.”

            She had not realized how bloodied her own garments had become, as had Bingley’s. “Yes.” She wiped the tears from her eyes, kissed her husband on the cheek, and opened the door for the maid to request a change of clothes. “But first, an assessment?”

            “Outside, if you would.”

            He was so polite and yet full of authority, at least when he was being a doctor. The three of them stood in the hallway outside the master bedroom. Dr. Maddox pushed his glasses further up on his nose. “I believe he will be fine. It took a long time because the bullet was very close to a lot of nerves from his neck. If I had just yanked it out, I might have done some damage and he might have lost movement in his arm or his leg. Nerves are a very tricky thing. He has lost a lot of blood, but he’s young and healthy, so he should regain it with time. And I don’t know; he may wish to keep the bullet. Some men prefer it as a keepsake.”

            “I doubt it, but thank you,” Elizabeth said. “What was the drink you gave him?”

            “Not snake oil. It is an opium-based concoction, a recipe I got from a medical book in the Cambridge library. It will greatly decrease – well, let us say, his awareness of pain. The heart can only take so much, so I feel it is quite necessary.” He bowed slightly to Elizabeth. “I would prefer, if the lady would allow it, to remain in the house with my patient until he is more recovered –“

            “Of course. You may stay as long as you like, doctor,” she said.

            “I will break the news to Mr. Hurst,” Bingley said. “... And Caroline. It seems I have much news to break.”

            “Better she hears it from you than town gossip,” Maddox said. “Though I would suggest a change of clothes before you return home, Mr. Bingley.”

            “Yes, of course.” He put his hand on Maddox’s shoulder. “We are forever indebted to you, doctor.”

            “Mr. Darcy may not say the same when he first wakes again. He may be cursing me to every layer of hell.” He bowed and excused himself.

            “Elizabeth,” Bingley said with concern. “You do not look well. You should rest, and someone should be with Darcy, anyway.”

            “How did you know to follow him to Kincaid’s apartment?”

            “Probably the same way you did. Darcy is so proper that he forgets that other people might not be,” he said. “Though if we’re counting, I think you did more damage than I did.”

            “Only because I chose a metal weapon,” she said. “I must lend you some of Darcy’s clothing, for you cannot go home like that.”

            “Good, because he is a much better dresser than me,” Bingley said. “But don’t tell him I said that.”

            “If I had the strength to laugh, I would,” she said as Georgiana appeared on the steps.

            “Elizabeth must retire,” Bingley preempted her. “I will fill you in on everything, Miss Darcy. The short answer is that he is patched up and recovering.”

            The sigh of relief from Georgiana was audible. Elizabeth was grateful when he led Georgiana away, because she was barely standing on her own and was eager to rush back into the bedroom, where a maid was waiting. Darcy was well asleep, so there was no reason, but out of habit, at least while the maid was there, she changed behind the dressing screen into her nightclothes. Because of all of the towels soaking up blood, she did not get under the covers, but stayed above them, covering herself with an extra blanket. Only holding his hand and listening to his steady breathing allowed her to finally drift into sleep. Even in a state near death, he was her greatest ally.

Chapter 8 - Lizzy Bennet and Fitzers Darcy

            Elizabeth was not sure how much time was passing as she was lost in her own world beside her husband. In a way it was reminiscent of their honeymoon, minus all the fun, and Darcy was no conversationalist this time around. Whether he roused at all or not she honestly had no idea, because she spent her own time mostly asleep, aside from trips to her toilette and some meals that were served to her on a platter. Dr. Maddox seemed to be in and out, but she paid him no attention until he stopped her from returning to bed, “Mrs. Darcy.”

            “Doctor,” she said, still a little too dizzy to properly curtsey.

            “If you would permit me, I would like to inquire as to your health – “

            “I am fine,” she insisted. “Just overtired.”

            “Mrs. Darcy,” he said, more insistently, “How long have you been ill?”

            There was clearly no hiding it from him. “Counting the journey ... what day is it?”

            “Wednesday.”

            “So ... Wednesday? Really?”

            “Yes.”

            She did a calculation in her mind. “Then, about a week, but ...” but he didn’t interrupt her. He just let the revelation dawn. “Oh, no. I had no idea. I would not have ridden – ”

            “At this stage, when we cannot even be sure, I would severely doubt that there is any danger,” he said, “though I would not repeat the ride, if I were you.”

            “I will know more ... I am due in three days, I believe. Until then, not a word of this to anyone.”

            Dr. Maddox smiled. “I don’t think Mr. Darcy is in quite the condition to process the information if you did tell him.”

            Further conversation was interrupted by Bingley climbing up the stairs. He looked exhausted himself, and quite surprised to find Elizabeth up and about. “Elizabeth. Dr. Maddox.”

            “Mr. Bingley,” the doctor bowed and scurried off like a servant. Which, Elizabeth supposed, he technically was, despite whatever entanglements he had with the Bingley family.

            “What was that about?” Bingley asked as soon as he was gone.

            “I am not a gossip, Mr. Bingley!” she answered. “And besides, it was nothing that concerns you, for once, if you can stand not being the center of attention.”

            “I am quite accustomed to Darcy’s shadow as it is. All of the focus is positively draining,” he said. “It is good to see you well.”

            “It is good to be upright, I admit, but I will feel better when we can say the same about Darcy.” But they didn’t need to dally on that, for their concerns were wearing on them enough as it was about the man sleeping in the next room. “I’ve no news of the outside world. You must update me. I understand ... two days have passed?”

            “Yes. And Jane has posted that your father is safely back in Chatton. I decided to write him instead, and have him deliver her the news about ... well, everything. Especially Darcy.”

            Bingley always surprised her with his good sense. “Thank you.”

            “Anything for Jane. But besides that, our Lord Kincaid is in jail, and I hear his brother has arrived to see to the matter further, but so far, our family has not been implicated. Though, that is not what concerns me.”

            “And Miss Bingley?”

            “I don’t know.”

            She blinked. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

            He shrugged in that hapless way of his. “I mean, I went straight home and told her in privacy and with great care, and I have never seen her so emotionless.”

            “What did she say?”

            “Nothing. She dismissed me, but that was all,” he said. “I am not at ease with comforting my sister. Perhaps I should have done a better job – but I assumed – I don’t know.” He scratched his head, further mussing up his hair in the process. “Maybe she wanted to be alone. And I was so distracted – and she has Louisa.”

            “ – who I doubt has ever given her any good advice,” Elizabeth said. “Perhaps I will speak with Miss Bingley – when Darcy is recovered.”

            “Yes.” He looked a bit shook up at the discussion of his sister’s welfare. “Now that there is nothing pressing ...”

            “You know that is not true.”

            “What are you referring to – Oh. You mean - ”

            “Doctor Maddox, yes.”

            “So Darcy told you. But – it is just suspicions.”

            “And what Kincaid said to Darcy. About the proposal.”

            “We have no way of knowing if that is true.”

            “I will find out,” she said with determination. “When Darcy is awake.”

            “Yes, our first concern. May I see him?”

            She led him into the bedroom, where Darcy was in his usual position, propped up on many pillows. The bleeding had ceased, but there was still a considerable chance of infection, so the sheets were changed regularly. The difference now was that as Elizabeth approached him, his eyes fluttered open.

            “Darcy!” she cried, and rushed closer to him, as Bingley hovered over. “Can you hear me?”

            He turned his head slightly to the side, and said in a hoarse whisper of a voice, “I think I am leaning on a knife.”

            “You were shot. You had surgery.” She cupped his cheek. “You’re going to be all right. Bingley, get the doctor.” She didn’t take her eyes off her husband’s as she gave orders, watching the obvious pain and confusion in them. “You’re going to be all right.”

            “I love you,” he said.

            Bingley returned shortly with Dr. Maddox. “Mr. Darcy,” the doctor bowed. “I see you have regained your senses. Are you in any discomfort?”

            Darcy gave the doctor a look.

            “Of course, I’m silly for asking. Please, swallow.” He had the spoon and jar already prepared. “There we go. You’re going to feel a little light-headed in a bit. You may wish to go to sleep. It’s best not to fight it.”

            Darcy nodded and closed his eyes.

            “His color is returning,” Elizabeth said to Maddox. “Do you think so?”

            “If he escapes infection, he should be perfectly mended in time. And I have taken every precaution that I know against it. The rest is up to God.” He pushed his glasses up on his nose again. “If he is still in pain in half the hour, please call for me, and I will give him another dose, but that is it for now. And he may not be ... particularly lucid if you try to talk to him.”

            “Thank you, doctor, for saving my husband’s life.”

            He blushed at her curtsey, apparently only accustomed to being told what to do and then dismissed. “It’s only my job, Mrs. Darcy.” And he quickly disappeared.

            “A bit shy,” she said to Bingley. “How ever did he approach Miss Bingley?”

            “I hardly know the details. All I know is he knows a lot of languages.”

            Elizabeth took up her place sitting on the bed next to him as Darcy dozed, and Bingley sat in the corner chair, apparently unwilling to leave his side at the exact moment. After some time, while the servant brought his visitors some tea, Darcy mumbled something.

            “Darcy?” Elizabeth said, taking his hand.

            He opened his eyes, but did not look directly into hers, apparently unable to focus his properly. He looked instead at Bingley. “My God, you are ... quite red.”

            Perhaps he was referring to Bingley’s hair, which wasn’t a proper red, but more of an orange. Bingley stifled a chuckle. “Yes, I suppose. How do you feel?”

            “Did I ever tell you ... wait.” He paused, and there was a gap in his thinking. “Tell me ... something.”

            “All right.”

            “Eliza Bennet ... what do you think of her?”

            Bingley had a lot of trouble keeping a straight face; Elizabeth gave up entirely and was barely muffling her laughter, which was too much to Darcy’s side for him to see. “I think she’s quite a lovely woman and has a very beautiful sister.”

            “No ... I mean, yes ... of course ... But – she has not ... the eyes. You know ... the older one.”

            “Jane.”

            “Yes. Will she dance with me?”

            “Jane or Elizabeth?”

            “...Who?”

            “We were talking,” Bingley said patiently, “about our wives.”

            “Oh, yes.” And then, Darcy said nothing, as if the conversation was finished. In fact, he closed his eyes, as if he was going back to sleep, before saying, “Where’s the carriage?”

            “What carriage?”

            “The one that hit me.”

            Elizabeth said, “You were shot, Darcy.”

            He opened his hazy eyes and looked in her general direction. “Oh.” He paused, moving the conversation at his own speed, and added, “How? I’m ... very good.”

            “At shooting people in the back?” she said, with mock-horror.

            “At fencing. I could beat ‘im. Just parry and - ,” he made a sort of parry motion with his right hand, but he lacked the coordination to have it resemble anything like an actual parrying motion.”

            “This was a bullet, dear husband.”

            “I could – I could parry a bullet.” He waved his arm again in that bizarre motion. Finally, Elizabeth put out a hand to stop him.

            “Darling, please, don’t tire yourself.”

            He looked at her, and made great (and rather slow) attempts to focus his eyes as if he was trying to make sure she was the person he suspected her to be. “I love you, Lizzy Bennet.”

            “And I love you, Fitzers Darcy.”

            He nodded, and closed his eyes. Both his guests had to leave the room immediately because they could no longer contain their laughter. They shut the door and filled the hallway with it.

            “I can’t believe you got away with that!”

            “I’m not sure I got away with it,” she said. “Oh, but it was worth it. As horrible as it is to take advantage of a man without his senses, it was worth it.”

            “Most definitely.”

            They were not quite recovered from their escapades when Georgiana appeared up the stairwell. “What are you two laughing about?”

            “Nothing,” they said simultaneously. Bingley wiped the last of the tears from his eyes.

            “And I am to believe that?” Georgiana crossed her arms with a Darcy-like look of determination.

            “Your brother is ... indisposed,” Elizabeth said, a smile creeping back across her face. “Dr. Maddox gave him something for pain that has made him quite muddle-headed.”

            “Oh. Well, let me through, then. Should I not have my fair share?”

            “Georgiana – ” Bingley put up some protest, but she sideswiped him and went right to her brother’s side, her taking of his hand waking him from his light sleep.

            “Brother,” she said with a very serious voice.

            “Georgiana,” he smiled. “Sweet Georgiana.”

            “I am affianced. I have found the most disreputable bachelor in Town and I will marry him at Gretna Green on Sunday.”

            This was a very long sentence for Darcy to comprehend, if he was comprehending anything at all. “... All right ... then.”

            “So you give your consent?”

            “ ... Of course. But first I must ... castrate him ... before the ceremony.”

            Any pretense that laughter was going to held in by the two onlookers was now entirely abandoned. They all had to leave the room very quickly. As they left, they missed Darcy mumbling, “... kill ... you all...”

                        ****************************************

The next greatest challenge was getting Darcy sitting up. This was complicated by the fact that when he was finally lifted into the chair, dressed in underclothing and a robe, he refused Dr. Maddox's medicine, saying it "dulled his senses." He was obviously still in pain, leaning slightly to one side to take the pressure of his left elbow, but he would not hear the doctor's protests, dismissing them with a very weak gesture.

"It is no use," Elizabeth explained. "My husband is the most stubborn man in England."

"And my wife is the most stubborn woman in England," Darcy replied, but his voice was still ragged. "So we are ... a very well-matched ... pair."

Elizabeth kissed him on the head and Dr. Maddox took his leave as Bingley entered, and wife and brother-in-law began to update him on the events that had occurred since his trip to Kincaid's apartment, of which he apparently remembered very little. Even without the opium affecting his mind he had trouble coming to terms with being shot in the back.

"Despicable man," was all he said, and had no further comment on Kincaid and seemed to show little interest in how and where he was incarcerated. "What day is it?"

"The fifteenth."

It took him a long time to say anything. It was obvious he was fighting waves of pain. "My God Bingley ... what are you doing here?"

"What?"

"Jane! Your wife!"

"She is quite well and Chatton is not that far of a journey. She has also refused, by letter, to allow me to leave your side until you are more recovered."

Darcy grumbled but had no proper counter to this. "Can you send in the doctor? And ... I require ... some privacy."

"Of course."

Darcy said nothing as Elizabeth stroked his hair. It was not easy watching her debilitated husband and was relieved when Maddox reappeared with the bottle. "No," Darcy said, "I want to ask you something ... while my mind is clear."

"And then you will take it?"

"Agreed." Darcy closed his eyes, and they thought maybe he was drifting off again, as he had a habit to do, but he was instead apparently refocusing and gathering his energy so he could speak in a clearer, more confident voice when he asked, "Did you or did you not propose to Caroline Bingley?"

Of course, the doctor's terrified stance and mute response gave away all, or most, of his feelings, but fortunately for him it was Elizabeth who responded, "Darcy!"

"No, I will settle the matter. Now. Kincaid told me it was so. And he was not lying, was he?"

Maddox backed away, but he did answer. "No."

"I will assume her response was negative," Darcy continued. "I am a man with some experience ... in rejected proposals." His head rolled to one side; he couldn't properly hold it up anymore. "So ... my advice ... is to fret for a while and then try again."

"Thank you so much for your kindly advice," Maddox said, and furiously shoved not one but two spoonfuls of medicine in his mouth before leaving in a huff, nearly barging into Bingley on the way.

"What did you say to the poor doctor?" Bingley said, and it was at that point that Elizabeth could no longer hold her laughter and nearly collapsed onto the rim of the armchair. "What? That man saved your life!"

"I think he regrets it now," Darcy responded.

                        ****************************************

            After Darcy had drifted off again, or was at least babbling incoherently, Elizabeth left him to Bingley’s watch, and went about locating the doctor, who had hidden himself in the kitchen, where his various instruments were spread out over a clean towel and he was mixing up his various ointments and medicines. He jumped a little at her entrance, and bowed stiffly, but obviously realized he could do nothing to get rid of the Mistress of the house. “Mrs. Darcy.”

            “Doctor Maddox. I feel you have not been thanked sufficiently for saving my husband’s life.”

            “Yes, well ...” he trailed off, and went back to his powders. Where he had gotten powdered opium in Town, Elizabeth could imagine, but she didn’t want to imagine him traveling there.

            “I apologize for my husband’s very blunt behavior,” she said. “I would attribute it to his current state, but honestly, that’s the way he always acts.”

            Maddox did crack a smile, but still said nothing. To take the precise measurements, he pushed his glasses up into his hair and brought the measuring spoons up to his face, and she could see the obvious glimmer of intelligence in his eyes. And that he was nearsighted.

            “Mrs. Darcy, if you’re going to stand there, at least allow me to guess what you are thinking.”

            “You are welcome to do so.”

            “You are wondering what Caroline sees in me.”

            So, there was a problem of his own esteem of himself. “No, I was thinking precisely the opposite, to be honest.”

            “Maybe it is my own transparency,” he said, “but I do not fully understand why she is held with so little regard by so many of her relatives.”

            Maybe he was blind both literally and figuratively. Elizabeth was dumbfounded, so much so that it took her several moments to develop a proper response. “I do not mean to be ungenerous to my sister-in-law –“

            “But you do not care for her.”

            “It is not – ” She could not find a proper way to say it without being mean. “I cannot recall anything Miss Bingley has ever said to me that was not either outright dismissive or falsely friendly.”

            “And how should she treat a rival for Mr. Darcy’s affections?” he said, but his voice was so pleasant, so truly pure, that it was obvious he meant no offense, just idle curiosity. “What is the socially acceptable milieu for women in that situation? Forgive a distant observer, but in my limited experiences with women, it seems that at least some of them must result to the most cut-throat of tactics to even stay in the game.”

            She could not deny it – nor could she deny that the insinuation, however unintentional, made her angry, “And you think this is a positive quality?”

            “It is a necessary quality. More of a survival instinct. Caroline Bingley must marry and marry well. To do otherwise would hurt the entire family’s social standings. This seems to be true of most families of fortune.” He looked away from her and down at his mixing bowls. “My aforementioned endeavor’s outcome is then completely unsurprising.”

            “But you did it anyway.”

            “Yes.” He would not look at her, but his voice cracked a little when he spoke. “I could not do otherwise. So I made a fool of myself and apparently now also of Caroline, as it has gotten out and she is sure to be a laughingstock. The latter is my only regret.”

            Their gazes finally met, and the look on Maddox’s face was immediately recognizable. His spoke of the utter despair of a man who knew he would never get what he desired and had no hope of forgetting that. She knew it because she had seen that exact look on Darcy’s face as he stood next to Bingley at Longbourn.

            But this time, the answer was not so obvious.

Chapter 9 – Mr. Darcy’s Proposal

            When Elizabeth returned to the master bedroom, Bingley spun around and had an expression of a child with his hand in the cookie jar. “Mrs. Darcy.”

            She crossed her arms. “What were you doing?”

            “Nothing,” he said. “Nothing at all.”

            “Were you taking advantage of my husband’s condition again?”

            “No, absolutely not. I would never, ever ask him to will his half of Derbyshire to me, and he would never agree,” Bingley said. “Right, Darcy?”

            “Happy Christmas,” said Darcy, who had been moved back into bed and was propped up on the headboard, his eyes a shade of red. “Lizzy.”

            Elizabeth shook her head. “Mr. Bingley, as much fun as we’re having, I think there are matters we should talk of.”

            “Yes, yes,” he said, wiping the tears from his eyes. “In privacy?”

            “I think we’re in privacy now, unless he’s putting us on.”

            “Elizabeth, you weren’t here when he called me Charlie Bungley.”

            “Well-put,” she giggled. “Very well. There is the matter of your sister – “

            “Yes.” This did succeed, to some extent, in darkening his mood – at least until Darcy spoke again. “Did you speak to the doctor?”

            “Yes.”

            “And did he say anything interesting?”

            Now Elizabeth was completely serious. “He is completely in love with her.”

            While this did not seem great news to Bingley, it had an obvious effect on him, as he pondered it for a moment before answering, “I would certainly not object to the match, whatever his own financial status is.”

            “I do not believe it is the issue.”

            “No, of course not.” He rubbed his chin. “The matter is Caroline’s own feelings – which of course, have to be reciprocal.”

            “And you have no idea if they are?”

            “I have some idea. I mean, I can’t positively think of another person not of our social class that she’s given any attention to, or even learned the proper name of, much less had multiple, extended conversations with. And that she continues to hide her feelings and is yet completely dismissive of him at the slightest implication – which I imagine she would be if I implied something about her and any other man – is yet another. But that does not make the matter perfectly clear.”

            “These matters are rarely perfectly clear,” Elizabeth said. “Except of course for you and Jane, as you were practically falling over each other at first glance. Am I not right, Darcy?”

            “Who?” he said. “Bingley and Miss Bennet?”

            “Yes, darling. What did you think of them at the ball last night?” she managed to say with a straight face, with Bingley laughing in the background.

            “She’s ... too tall for him. He needs a woman ... very small.”

            It was some time before they both recovered again enough to be serious. “Someone should talk to Miss Bingley.”

            “What?” Bingley was horrified. “It is not going to be me. I have already tried.”

            “But she despises me,” Elizabeth said. “And if we get Darcy to do it, he might propose to her or something.”

            “I doubt very much it would hold up in court.”

            “That is not the point and you know it.” She turned to her husband. “Would you marry Miss Bingley?”

            “What?” he blinked. “No! No ... he’s a nice man, but no. I’m too tall for him.”

            “If he remembers any of this, he’ll kill us both,” Bingley said. “Surely you realize this.”

            “And surely you realize it will have been worth it all the same.”

                        ****************************************

            The ride back to his townhouse was sobering enough for Bingley, partially attributed to the cold weather and the letter received from his courier before leaving the Darcys. It was the usual reassurances from Jane of her good health and the importance of his giving his support to Darcy and Caroline, but they had planned (on account of her confinement) to all spend the fast-approaching Christmas in Chatton this year, and he honestly had no idea if it would come to be. Maddox had declared that Darcy would have to walk some length (or any length) on his own before the doctor would give his consent to being able to ride in a carriage, and it would not be Christmas without the Darcys. And, of course, there was the scandalous storm brewing in Town, and he was to be the manager of that. But rereading her letter only made him think of Jane, his beloved, suffering because of his own desire to produce an heir, and he could not be there for her without abandoning numerous obligations.

            In fact, by the time he reached his front door and was greeted by the servants, his mood was positively dour, almost Darcy-like. As far as he was concerned, he had failed Jane as a husband, Darcy as a friend, and his sister on almost every level. If only she were not being so reserved ... He remembered the young Caroline, and her tea parties, where he was once allowed to sit as the “visiting baby” even though he was four, but much younger than her or Louisa. They intentionally paid no attention to him, and played with their dolls instead, but he was happy to be at the tiny table. And now he was master of a grand table and it brought him no happiness.

            It was late afternoon and Caroline, Louisa, and Mr. Hurst were in the parlor. Mr. Hurst was not quite passed out but on his way to being so, but the real surprise that it was Louisa, quite obviously, talking to Caroline, not in idle conversation, but as one older woman giving advice to another. As if Louisa Hurst should be one to give marital advice! The idea positively infuriated him. Was there no one who cared for his sister properly?

            “Charles,” Miss Bingley said, breaking off their hushed conversation and rising to meet him. “I must inquire as to Mr. Darcy’s health.”

            “He is better every day, though it may be a few more days before he is able to travel at all, much less to Chatton.”

            “Are we to miss Christmas, then?”

            “I doubt we shall ‘miss Christmas,’ as it seems to happen every year despite anyone’s intentions,” he replied. “And I do think we shall be there in time. It is fortunate that it was planned for Chatton and not Pemberley this year.”

            “Do you not suppose,” began Mrs. Hurst, “that we should ride on ahead, and the Darcys should follow with the doctor?”

            “You may do as you please,” he said, deciding not to specify Caroline at this time. “I am going to stay with Darcy, as long as I can with Jane’s health.”

            “Charles,” Mrs. Hurst said, now rising. “I feel I must raise some objection to your actions over the past few days.”

            Bingley, in no mood for this but sensing its necessity, merely crossed his arms and waited for her continuation.

            “We have been sitting here, trying to avoid the scandal that surrounds our family, hoping and praying that Kincaid’s actions do not reach the ears of our social circles, and you, the master of this house, have spent more time at Darcy’s beck and call when he has his own staff of servants and a wife and a sister to attend to him!”

            “May I remind you, Louisa,” he replied, “that it is the Darcys who are responsible for properly exposing Lord Kincaid or Sir Kincaid or whatever title is appropriate to him. And it is the Darcys who have suffered most from this, in terms of physical weathering. We owe them a great debt. Moreover, he is my brother by marriage and I cannot abandon him now.”

            “So you would abandon your sister in favor of Mr. Darcy?”

            Bingley coolly replied, “I believe Caroline is capable of speaking for herself on this matter.”

            For indeed, Caroline had been silent. She had, to his knowledge, not spoken more than a few words since the whole matter had come out. Nor had she seen Doctor Maddox, who was housed at the Darcys, who were not accepting visitors. Bingley towered over her – or more accurately, looked up at her with a very towering expression – and she finally did respond, by turning her head and crying.

            “This is it!” Mrs. Hurst shouted. “This is the shame you have brought upon our family.”

            “Shame? It was not I who introduced her to Lord Kincaid!”

            “He is not the issue. You married below your standing and so did Darcy. Did you think this would do nothing to Caroline’s prospects? That she would have to smile and beg for a good match?”

            He balled his fists, his voice raised a level it never was in this house before. “I will hear no more of prospects and good matches! Caroline may marry anyone she chooses and I will support her – and him – provided that they bring each other happiness.”

            Mrs. Hurst was horrified, “Our mother – “

            “Our lovely mother, whom I love dearly to this day, is no longer the Mistress of this house, nor is my father the Master. That generation has passed and we are free to do as we see fit. I don’t know what nonsense was imparted to you by our mother before her passing, but I will say here and now, as the Master of this townhouse, the Bingley Fortune, and Chatton, that my word is rule and my rule is that siblings and children may marry according to their own desires. And if it means we are to be the laughingstock of London, I will say that we will just have to spend some time at Chatton until Town finds another family spectacle to obsess over.” He turned to Caroline and offered his arm. “Come, Caroline. I believe we have something to discuss.”

                        ****************************************

            He took her to the drawing room and shut the door behind him, with instructions that they were not to be disturbed. He knew it was her favorite room in the house, as he often found her there, reading or doing some embroidery, when the Hursts were out traveling the country. How many lonely hours ... He embraced her fully, and she did not reject it, weeping for some time into his shoulder while he patiently waited and said nothing. Which suitor was on her mind, which one would bring her to tears and not disgust, he was not fully sure, but he was willing to wager a guess. It was only after she had stopped sobbing and made many excuses – and attempts to escape the room, which his hold on her hand would not allow – did they finally sit on the sofa, brother and sister.

            “What I said out there was meant in all truthfulness,” he said. “Surely you know that by now. It is only that I cannot understand – ” He shook his head. “I can understand what you have been through, what you believe is expected of you, on some level, but what I do not know is the last piece of the puzzle – how this business with the doctor came about.”

            “Does it matter?”

            “Yes.” He did not elaborate as to why. “I dare say, it does.”

            Caroline looked about, fiddling with her hands a bit before speaking, “He was here for some time, you understand, for Mr. Hurst’s treatments. And at some point, I don’t remember, I was talking to Mr. Hurst, and I said something in French. And Mr. Hurst, being the ignorant oaf that he is, did not understand it, but it was Dr. Maddox, who was at that time I believe mixing the pot, who responded in perfect French. So I countered in Italian, and he in German, and I replied the same. Finally he bested me in Latin, of which I have no understanding. I ... cannot account for it. I must have been starved for conversation that was not with my sister ... ”

            He said quietly, “You do not need to account for it.”

            “ ... and I decided to test his knowledge of the arts, of which he was very knowledgeable. He went to Cambridge, back when his family was of some fortune, and studied literature extensively. Medicine he pursued only later. I have to say ... except in financial matters, he bests even Darcy in letters, though he said he does not have much time to read, and has trouble seeing the print when it is fine. And I asked about eyeglasses and ... I don’t know. I saw him every day, for an hour, while Mr. Hurst bathed, for the conversation. And he was always so kind to me, even when I dismissed him. Some of the servants, I know, have this look in their eyes and despise their positions, but he was most obliging. After we began our routine, he seemed almost happy to arrive.”

            “And this went without notice – I mean, to Louisa and Mr. Hurst.”

            “We were rather secretive about it. I suppose because of propriety. He was there to attend Mr. Hurst’s gout; our conversations were merely an afterwards. Or, they had to be. There was no way – ”

            When she could not finish, he did, “ – for it to be not. I understand. But he proposed to you all the same.”

            “Yes. I cannot say that it did not take me by complete surprise, but there was no question in my answer. Even without Kincaid in the picture, as this was a few days before. After that ... seeing him here became a pain I did not expect.” She was crying again – not sobbing, but quiet tears were escaping her eyes. “Charles, do not say something stupid here.”

            “Fine, I will say nothing I deem stupid. But clearly, we have a difference of opinion on the matter of what qualifies as ‘stupid.’ I will say, still, that I, Master Bingley of Chatton, would not look down on such a match, and in fact would welcome it, if it would bring you happiness. But I do not know if so many years of social conditioning can be undone so easily. Darcy struggled with it for almost a year.”

            “As did you.”

            “No,” he said. “I was, from the first moment, in love with Jane. I was merely persuaded otherwise for a time. But that is in the past, and I am in a very happy marriage, and I wish the same for you, no matter what imagined scandal it brings to us. In fact, I think it would be quite convenient to have a very good doctor in the family.”

            “Charles!”

            “I mean it, Caroline,” he said seriously. “Please, consider my words this time, so I do not have to keep repeating them or employ someone else to do so.”

            She looked away from him, giving him a dismissive sniffle. “Fine. That I will grant you: I will consider it.”

            His face lit up. She must have caught that. “Very well.” He kissed her hand, and let her finally go, disappearing upstairs in a wisp of jade gown.            

                        ****************************************

            The next step – literally – was to get Mr. Darcy on his feet. While he had enough servants to aid him in this endeavor, Bingley of course insisted on being on his right side as they brought him to his feet.

            “I am not an invalid!” he insisted, obviously frustrated at all of this protective attention, but despite his protests, he could barely keep to his feet, and only with two supports, and then he managed with one, making it all the way across the room. Doctor Maddox watched on with concentration.

            “Well?” said an exhausted Darcy when he was sitting back in his armchair.

            “When you can walk with a cane,” the doctor said, “I will consider a carriage.”

            Darcy had not the energy to argue further. He sighed and leaned into his wife, who sat beside him and rubbed his lower back as a servant entered. “Miss Bingley wishes to see you, Mr. Darcy.”

            “Very well,” he said. “Send her in.”

            Of course, Dr. Maddox immediately fled the room. That didn’t save him, of course, from encountering her in the hallway outside the door. “Miss Bingley.”

            “Doctor,” she said formally, attempting to hide any emotion, and thoroughly failing to do so. She entered, and nodded to her brother, who quickly left. “Mr. Darcy.”

            “Miss Bingley,” he said, and gave a look to Elizabeth, who took it as a sign that she might give them privacy. She kissed him on the head, curtseyed to Miss Bingley, and left the room, shutting the door behind her.

            “Mr. Darcy,” Miss Bingley began, “Words cannot express my appreciation for what you’ve done.”

            “Perhaps if I’d known the outcome, I would have been less inclined to do it,” he said, attempting to straighten himself. “Of course, I’m saying this now because of my condition, which I’m told will be temporary, because Lord Kincaid had the decency to shoot me in my weak side. In a few weeks, I will of course say that I would have done it all the same.”

            “For the Bingley family, which is of course your family now.”

            “For you, Caroline,” he said. “You deserve happiness as much as anyone. Even before my suspicions were confirmed, I knew that he could not give it to you.”

            “That is because you have a great deal of good sense.”

            “As does your brother, despite conventional wisdom,” Darcy said. “Both your brothers, in fact.”

             Caroline fiddled with her fingers. “Mr. Hurst gave no objection to Lord Kincaid.”

            “But we are no longer talking of Lord Kincaid, I believe. Or at least, I am not.”

            She smiled uncomfortably. “So there is to be yet another marriage conspiracy in our families?”

            “It seems we are incapable of being married without them.”

            Now she did really smile. “Thank you again, Darcy.”

            “Anytime, Miss Bingley.” He offered his hand, and she kissed it. “Though I would prefer it to be only as often as absolutely necessary.”

                        ****************************************

            The very next day, while Darcy was taking his enforced afternoon nap, Dr. Maddox found himself called very insistently to the Bingley townhouse. “Mr. Hurst is making a great complaint,” Bingley informed him, trying to keep a straight face while saying it as Elizabeth listened in on the other side of the door. “It’s probably nonsense, but you’d best see to it for all of our sakes, and Mr. Darcy is positively sick of all of this attention.”

            This even Dr. Maddox could not invent an excuse to escape. He made it to the Bingleys in the late afternoon, dallying for some bit (and unknowingly giving Bingley time to get there). His entrance was of course unannounced, but he did pass by Caroline and Mrs. Hurst in the parlor. Mrs. Hurst gave him a look that was positively dirty, but the expression of Miss Bingley made him weak in the knees, and it was some time before he was able to bring himself to climb to stairs.

            Mr. Hurst was waiting for him in his room, but said nothing as Doctor Maddox made his assessment and prepared his foot tub. The wound was not exceptional, but was suffering from some minor neglect. Once everything was prepared, Mr. Hurst dismissed him as usual, saying he could walk about the house if he wished, as long as he stayed within shouting distance.

            Actually, Dr. Maddox wished very much to stay in the room, but that was not what he was told, so he exited, and of course immediately encountered Caroline in the hall. “Miss Bingley,” he bowed, hoping to avoid her gaze.

            “Charles sent me up for – something,” she said. “Doctor.”

            But they did not rush off in either direction – they stood there. Neither, it seemed could bring themselves to leave. “And – and how are you, Daniel?” she said at last.

            “Very well,” he said, his voice saying otherwise. “Mr. Darcy is recovering.”

            “All thanks to your expertise, of course.”

            He blushed. “I did what any decent doctor would do, Caroline.”

            “There are very few decent doctors in England,” she said. “But – I must be off. On my – errand.” And she curtseyed and left for her room, which was next to Mr. Hurst’s.

            Maddox took off his glasses and wiped his forehead. There he dallied for some time before putting them back on and knocking on her door.

Chapter 10 – Christmas at Chatton Hall

            “Come in,” was Miss Bingley soft voice, not asking who it was. The look on her face when he entered was indescribable, so filled with conflicting emotions, but that didn’t make her any less beautiful. She said nothing at his entrance, or at his shutting the door behind him, which was most improper for two unmarried adults of opposite genders. And a great deal of affection.

            As his legs were so horribly wobbly, it was very easy to get to his knees. “Caroline – “

            “Don’t do this,” she said, already in tears. “Please.”

            “I know very well I can offer you next to nothing, besides my paltry income, and that it is very unrespectable to actually be earning an income and not having it,” he said. “I know that our social positions are incomparable, and that I cannot provide for the lifestyle to which you are not only accustomed to but are deserving of, and that we shall be forever reliant on your brother. In fact, all things considered, all I have to offer you is my total and unconditional love and admiration.” He was very surprised, in fact, that he managed to keep his own voice mainly intact as he said it. “If that is not sufficient, then I will trouble you no longer. Se è, Caroline Bingley, accetterete la mia mano nell'unione? (If it is, Caroline Bingley, will you accept my hand in marriage?)

            “Sì.,” she replied in the same language. “Dio dell'OH, sì.” (Oh God, yes.)

            There was barely a second before Charles Bingley burst in the room. “You had to do it in a language I don’t know! Now I will look like a fool if it wasn’t a yes. It was a yes, right?” He looked at both of their faces as Maddox stood up. “I dare say it was. Doctor, I believe you and I are to have a conversation?”

                        ****************************************

            Charles Bingley sat in his chair in eager anticipation. “I could get used to this. Too bad I have no remaining sisters. Though, the bit about Lord Kincaid was most unpleasant, but I have many years to learn more about checking into people’s finances before my Georgiana comes into society. But, as usual, I am babbling on and you have something very important to ask me.”

            Actually, Maddox was grateful for the reprieve for it gave him time to collect himself. “Mr. Bingley, I would like to request your sister’s hand in marriage.”

            “Granted.”

            He breathed a sigh of relief. “I feel with all good conscious I must remind you – “

            “ – of your financial state. Yes, well, Caroline’s been riding on the family fortune for years, as have the Hursts, so I see no reason why to not add another person to the list, provided you are not a gambler, which I imagine you are not. Though, I feel I must inquire as to what exactly is your income. For propriety’s sake.”

            “I – I have some savings. A few thousand pounds, what I’ve saved since receiving my license. And my yearly income, at best, is another five hundred, but that is entirely dependent on my patient list.”

            “And your patient list would improve dramatically, I imagine, if your own social standing increased,” Bingley speculated. “And there is the matter of you being a very talented doctor. So I cannot say that you are entirely without fortune and bring nothing to the table. Not that it is relevant at all to this conversation. If you make Caroline happy, then you are doing all that is required to be my brother-in-law.” He stood up, and approached the quivering doctor. “I suppose we should shake on it? Is that how it’s done? I would usually ask Darcy, but I could hardly bother him at this juncture.”

            So they shook on it. This was not enough for Bingley, who grabbed Maddox and embraced him. “Welcome to the family. I hope you will find it to your liking.”

            “I think I will,” Maddox finally managed to say.

                        ****************************************

            Now formally engaged, there was no problem with the immediate issue of keeping Caroline and Maddox properly apart except at social functions, because he was still living with the Darcys. The most pressing matter, now that this one was passed, was in fact getting his approval for their return to Chatton. Darcy insisted they go on ahead of him for Jane’s sake, and then lamented very loudly that he was disgusted that since his injury, no one seemed to be listening to a word he said.

            When he could sleep without the opium, and could finally walk with only the aid of a cane, Dr. Maddox finally gave his consent for the journey, provided they proceed appropriately slowly and he oversee the Darcy carriage’s progress entirely. At long last, the carriages baring the Bingleys, the Darcys, and one affianced doctor could start out from Town, heading north towards Chatton and a very expectant wife. “Just in time for Christmas,” Mr. Hurst gurgled, and Bingley had to admit that this year, the holiday had been very far from his mind.

            On the first rest stop, Doctor Maddox took the time to try to get Darcy to get up and move about with the rest of them, and finding that he could not, practically forced a dose down his throat. Only afterwards did Darcy thank him, which was his way of subtly admitting that he was in fact in some considerable pain. When the doctor was sure it had taken effect, they loaded back into their carriages and continued on the journey. Darcy leaned on Elizabeth’s shoulder, drifting in and out.

            “He’s pretending to be asleep,” she said to Maddox. “So he doesn’t accidentally say anything ridiculous.”

            Maddox said nothing, but he did notice Darcy smile after she said it.

            The trip proceeded more smoothly then, at least for Darcy and the two other occupants of the carriage. Dr. Maddox buried himself in a book, which amusingly he had to read with his glasses removed and the text pushed up right to his face. The title was in Latin, and when asked, he said it was a very boring medical text, and that he would gladly switch to something more amusing to be read aloud if he had anything with him.

            On the borders of Derbyshire, the carriage abruptly stopped when the one in front of it did. Eventually the carriage door opened, and Mr. Bingley practically tore open the carriage door. “Doctor, if you would, it seems we are needed in Chatton most urgently, and they have sent riders for us.”

            “Is it – “

            “Yes, Elizabeth,” he said. “Perhaps our estimations were incorrect. It not an exact science, after all. Or perhaps it is – I am not the expert on the subject. But Jane is – very expecting. Now.”

            “Then I must go with you,” she insisted.

            “I cannot possibly ask that you leave – “

            “’m fine,” Darcy mumbled. “Lizzy, ride with them.”

            Maddox coughed, and this apparently was enough of a reminder.

            “Bingley, can you give us a moment to confer?” Elizabeth said, as Maddox climbed out. “A very short moment, I assure you.”

            “Yes, of course.”

            With the door closed, she turned to her husband, “Darcy, I cannot ride.”

            “I told you,” he said, his voice slurred. “I will be fine.”

            “No, I mean – I cannot ride.” Since he wasn’t at his full senses, she whispered the full explanation.

            “Oh.” It took him even more time to process this news. “Well, then ...” he broke up in laughter. “I love you.”

            “As do I.”

            He put his hand on her belly. “What shall we name it?”

            “George.”

            Darcy only nodded and closed his eyes. Elizabeth held her laughter until they got him out of the cart, and started off with much greater haste for Chatton Hall.

                        ****************************************

            Even the expectant servants of Chatton were not prepared for the onslaught that was three overly worried people storming in the door, barely allowing time for their coats to be removed. The only person immediately in their range was Mr. Bennet, who Bingley shook, “How is she?”

            “I have no idea. Being a man, they won’t let me on the same floor as an expectant woman. But she has not delivered, that much I know, and the mid-wife and my wife are tending to her. But I see you have brought a doctor –“

            “Yes,” Bingley said as quickly as possible. “Mr. Bennet, this is Dr. Maddox, who is very accomplished and also Miss Bingley’s betrothed.”

            “Very good – what?”

            “It will be explained, father,” Elizabeth said, “when there is not something else pressing.”

            As the three new arrivals ran up the stairs, Mr. Bennet said, “I hope at least he’s not Scottish!”

                        ****************************************

            Jane Bingley was in her bedroom, surrounded by her mother, the midwife, the nurse, and several servants. Her face was showing the strain of a woman in the throws of labor, but she was not screaming or cursing. In fact, she still had a great deal of her senses about her. “Charles!”

            “Jane!” he said, practically tossing everyone in his way aside, including his mother-in-law, who would surely object to his intrusion in any other circumstances as he ran to her side and embraced her as he could, considering her position and girth. “Oh my lovely Jane, I am so sorry for the delay! I had no idea – “

            “It came about so quickly,” she said, “but – I am told I am hours away. You are here with plenty of time. Lizzy!”

            Elizabeth took up her place on the other side of her sister, a place she would not relinquish for some time, as she grasped her hand. “If I could have come any sooner – “

            “I know. Please, while I am between pains – how is Darcy?”

            “Enduring the other three Bingleys as we speak. Though perhaps Miss Bingley is not so terrible after all.” With that, she shot a look at Dr. Maddox, who was holding his bag and quietly waiting to be introduced. “But he is recovering well, thanks to the doctor here. Jane, this is Dr. Maddox, who is responsible for my husband’s good health, and is Miss Bingley’s fiancé.”

            “Mrs. Bingley,” the doctor bowed.

            “Oh. Hello, doctor – what?” Jane said. “I thought – “

            “It’s a very long story. One I would be happy to tell you,” Elizabeth said. “Whenever you are ready. But at the moment, would you consent to an inspection?”

            “Yes, yes, of course,” said the overwhelmed Jane, who turned to her husband as Dr. Maddox opened his bag and began removing various instruments. “You will confirm that?”

            “I gave my consent but yesterday. It seems love will not be stymied.”

            “To Caroline Bingley?”

            “Yes, dear.”

            Dr. Maddox had no comment, too absorbed in his examination. He took out a tube of glass, and pressed it against Jane’s stomach, and put his ear on the other end, which they all found very odd but did not question. “Sound,” he explained after a minute or so of listening. “It carries better through solids. Well, Mrs. Bingley, my assessment is that you are doing quite well, and are some time away from delivery. I know that is not much comfort to you – “

            “No,” she said as she grimaced, clearly riding another contraction. “But – it is good news.”

            “Uhm, Mrs. Bingley,” he said very formally. “You are aware that you are expecting twins, correct?”

            The blank stares of the crowd he was facing confirmed his suspicions that was not, in fact, the case.

            “Well, then I must be the bearer of the news.”

            “You are sure?” Jane demanded.

            “Quite. There are two heartbeats. And considering your girth ... yes, I would say twins.”

            “Oh.” She said it nonchalantly, and then turned to her husband. “Charles?”

            “Yes?”

            She then proceeded to strangle him by his cravat. Only the collective forces of Mrs. Bennet, the mid-wife, and the nurse could get him away from her in time for him not die of asphyxiation.         

                        ****************************************

            Only as the hour grew late and the screams grew louder, so much so that they made their way to the front hallway, did Elizabeth Darcy reappear, and only when she was informed that the other carriage had finally arrived. She embraced her husband, who hobbled in, and gave him the news as it was, that Jane was still in labor and Bingley was hiding in his study for his own safety. “How do you feel?”

            “Like I very much want to sit down,” he said, “on something that doesn’t bump up and down.”

            She helped him to Bingley’s massive study, where he took a seat in an armchair that was brought in by the servants instead of one of the traditional low-backed office chairs, and she whispered the most recent update to Bingley before disappearing back upstairs. Beside Darcy was Mr. Bennet, who had taken up the business of keeping Bingley from drinking himself into a stupor. Mr. Hurst joined them, and the male sanctuary was filled, as Dr. Maddox remained mainly with his patient. In the parlor outside Kitty Bennet was joined by Mrs. Hurst, Georgiana, and Miss Bingley, and finally had some entertainment.

            “All things considered, I think I should say you look much recovered and quite well,” Mr. Bennet said to Darcy. “But the fact of the matter is I have never seen you worse.”

            “You didn’t see him a week ago,” Bingley said. “Drink, Darcy?”

            To his great surprise, Darcy answered, “I would appreciate it, yes.” And he took a shot of whiskey and downed it like it was meant to be medicinal, which it probably was. “What is the news?”

            “I am having twins. You?”

            “Wife. Pregnant,” he said. “Triplets, surely.”

            “Oh, this again,” Mr. Bennet said with a roll of his eyes.

            “To be sure?” Bingley said.

            “She is fairly sure. And now we have a doctor in the family to confirm it.”

            “Quiet convenient,” Mr. Hurst said, already taking advantage of the free-flowing alcohol with a large glass of whiskey.

            “Yes, yes, we must all endeavor to come down with horrible diseases that only he may cure,” Mr. Bennet said.

            “I will pass on this endeavor,” Darcy said. “Having already fulfilled my obligation to make him worthwhile.”

            “So it is true, then,” Mr. Bennet said. “He is affianced to Miss Bingley. It seems I am terrible at predicting marriages. The only one I got right was Jane, and I did not verbally predict it. I let my wife do that.”

            “No one predicted this,” Bingley defended his father-in-law.

            “I did,” said Mr. Hurst.

            “Then you will be the best man, perhaps,” Bingley said. “For it seems I must give her away, so I am unavailable, and Darcy can barely stand up.”

            “I will remind you, Bingley, that Lord Kincaid did me the favor of shooting me in the left side, leaving my right arm quite available to run you through once I am recovered,” Darcy said.

            “How very nice of him,” Mr. Bennet observed.

                        ****************************************

            Jane’s labor continued into the night, which was by no means unexpected, and many residents and visitors retired. Darcy refused to do so, but he did fall right asleep in the armchair in Bingley’s study, and Elizabeth was satisfied with covering him with a blanket, as she was quite busy herself. The Hursts retired, and Kitty was very excited but as a maiden was not permitted to be part of the team surrounding Jane, so she also went to her room with an annoyed huff. Mr. Bennet gave up around the eleventh hour, complaining of his old, stiff body, and invaded the female sanctuary upstairs to give his eldest daughter a kiss on the forehead before turning in for bed. Mr. Bingley stayed awake only with the help of his servants, who he demanded rouse him regularly with updates, but otherwise he was passed out facedown on his desk.

            No one was watching Caroline Bingley, and Elizabeth first saw her again when she was going for more towels. Dr. Maddox was staying wide awake by ingesting what seemed to be gallons of tea, and Elizabeth turned a corner and saw him taking another pot from Caroline. Not wanting to invade their privacy, she stepped back behind the corner, but did peer over to see Caroline give him a kiss on the cheek before he went back to Jane’s room.

            Only Jane’s agony was keeping Elizabeth and her mother awake. She screamed, she cursed a number of curses that they could properly identify, and she damned her husband to the ends of the earth (fortunately he was not there to hear it). The mid-wife remained in the room, but Dr. Maddox gave the orders, especially now with the dangerous complication of two potential newborns. Between contractions, Jane was told the entire tale of the adventures in Town, including both conspiracies to get Miss Bingley out of one marriage and into another. As this was done in front of Dr. Maddox, he blushed and turned away, but did not flee with a patient in the room needing his expertise. Jane commenting in a rare moment of lucidity that she rather enjoyed the story, or would take the time to enjoy it upon retrospection when she was not otherwise engaged. 

            Eventually there was the inevitable, and Jane’s contractions would not cease, and even the most uninformed person in the room could tell it was her time.

            “Pray for sons, Jane dearest,” Mrs. Bennet said, holding her hand.

            “At this moment, I am very mad at God, so I would not care to,” she said. “Doctor Maddox, if you’re such a master doctor, do me the favor and hurry it up!”

            “That, sadly, is beyond my abilities,” he said quietly, and merely told her to push.

                        ****************************************

            Charles Bingley’s first response to being shook awake was to sit up and shout, “Yes, yes, I consent! By God, yes!” It was then that he came to his senses, and unfortunately realized that he not only had a pounding headache, but a doctor standing over him. “Wha? What is it?”

            “Happy Christmas, Mr. Bingley,” Maddox said.

            Charles squinted at the grandfather clock, and noticed the time. “Yes, I suppose it is Christmas eve. Or day. Is it day?”

            “I believe it is. Now.” Maddox looked at his watch. “It is precisely four-thirty-two in the morning.”

            “Oh.” Charles settled back. Things were coming to him slowly, “Um – “

            “You have a son, Mr. Bingley. And another daughter. Congratulations.”

            Bingley looked up at Maddox, who obviously hadn’t slept a wink and was staying up only by force of will at this point. “And Jane?”

            “I would hurry if you wish to catch her before she is sound asleep.”

            “Thank you. Thank you, doctor.” He grabbed Maddox’s arm and shook it so violently that he nearly tore the doctor’s arm off. “Thank you so very much – uhm, Daniel.”

            “My pleasure.”

            “And, uh, I guess someone should do something about Darcy,” Bingley said in passing as he pushed passed Maddox and raced up the stairs. Darcy was still asleep in the chair.

                        ****************************************

            The Bingley twins, as they would be referred to for some time, had the fortune to be different genders, because otherwise, they were identical in appearance. Both of them had a small tuft of blond hair like their mother, and both of them were squealing tiredly when Bingley entered the bedchamber, was seated beside his wife, and took one, then two infants into his arms.

            “Congratulations,” said an exhausted-looking Elizabeth, who then moved out of the way so he could see Jane, who was finally able to go back on her side. Her eyes were heavy and bloodshot, and her natural motherly glow somewhat lessened for the expected reasons, but she still managed to smile softly at him.

            “Shall we name them?” she said, her hoarse.

            “Now? We can think on the matter but ... I would very much prefer the boy to be named Charles.”

            “I do like the name Charles,” she said, and gestured, and Elizabeth passed the boy to Jane, or more accurately, laid him beside her on the bed.

            “Perhaps we can finally convince your father to let us name the girl Elizabeth,” he said, cradling his second daughter.

            “Perhaps,” Jane said, and seemed to be drifting into sleep.

He kissed her, and had the remaining servant take the children and put them in their cradle. He turned to Elizabeth. “Thank you. Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas.” She was clearly too tired to curtsey. She left without another word, and as she was gone, Charles collapsed on the bed next to his wife and fell asleep.

Chapter 11

            Dr. Daniel Maddox left the Bingleys’ chambers to find a servant waiting for him. “Your room, Doctor Maddox,” he said, gesturing in a general direction, and Maddox was too tired to do anything but follow. He was shown not to the servant’s quarters but to a proper guest room, where he unceremoniously dumped his medical bag on the nearest available surface. The servant in the wig who was dressed finer than he was did not leave, however, but seem to be expecting some command. Before the good doctor could think of anything, he was helped out of his clothing and into proper bedclothes. He slid between the fine sheets with only the vague recollection that that was how he used to be treated, so many years ago, as the remaining candle was snuffed out for him.

            When he woke it was daylight, but as it had been daylight when he went to sleep, that held no significance to him at all. He reached for his glasses and his watch, and found the time to be quite late in the afternoon.

            It dawned on him, after a considerable panic, that if he had been needed, someone surely would have roused him earlier. Instead he was alone in a rather large and fine room in complete peace, on a perfectly quiet Christmas afternoon. (He had to assume it was the same day) He found the adjoining chamber ready with a copper tub and warm water set aside, and quickly washed himself.

            His shuffling around in a daze must have made some noise, for the same servant appeared, bowed to him, and began to offer him a large selection of dress, as Christmas dinner would be happening soon and he was expected there when the bell rang. It only then occurred to him that his usual clothing, which was probably once quite suitable or could be made to look suitable with the right cravat many years ago, was probably ratty and no good for the Bingley dinner table. So, for reasons he could not understand fully, he found himself standing on a dressing stand being semi-lectured by a manservant. “We have a selection of clothing that is available. Master Bingley, as I’m sure you are aware, is very much in favor of bright colors, but I believe you are closer to Mr. Darcy in general measurements, though he is – if I can say – a bit dour in his choice of colors. And Mr. Hurst has some collection, but I don’t think it can be fitted time.”

            “Uhm ... something of Darcy’s would be fine,” he mumbled. “But not exactly the same.”

            “Very good, sir.”

            He knew how to tie his own cravat, but that option was not given to him, and the level of complication that was expected of him also prevented him from doing it himself. A little overwhelmed but not quite of the wits to say it, a more presentable Dr. Maddox finally emerged into the hallway, which was strangely quiet and empty for the middle of the afternoon. He conjectured that many important members of the household were either still sleeping or were inclined to lay rather low after a long trip and an exhausting birth.

            But he was not, it seemed, entirely alone. Around the corner and with amazing speed crawled a small child with dark brown hair. When he hit Maddox’s legs, he grabbed the trousers by the knees and attempted to stand up, giggling all the way. While the Chatton floors looked perfectly clean, he thought it best that an infant not be loose on them, and he picked up the boy, who squealed with delight. “Da!” Maddox judged him to be nearing his first birthday, by weight and development.

            “And who are you?” he said, but the most obvious answer was that it was the Darcys’ son. He knew very well that Charles and Jane had a daughter named Georgiana after Mr. Darcy’s sister, and that the Darcys were themselves parents, but he could not properly recall the name of the boy.

            “Da!” said the boy. “Yeff!” With his arms now free, he immediately went for the most interesting thing in reach, which was of course the doctor’s glasses.

            “No, no, I need those – ” he said as the world except for what was very close – in this case, young Master Darcy – became a blur. But they would not be so easily wrestled from the toddler’s hands. Like his father, he had a rather strong grip. “I am being very serious.”

            There was laughter in the distance, and he looked sideways, and saw only the vague outlines of a figure, but the voice was recognizable enough. He smiled, “Caroline.”

            “Let me help you,” she said, approaching him and pulling the item in question from the boy’s arms with a strong yank. “Geoffrey, no! Those are not yours!” And she handed them back to him – or at least, he felt her do it, and he replaced them on his face, this time holding the boy out at a considerable distance after doing so.

            It was then that a nurse-looking person appeared, running down the hallway in their direction. “Master Geoffrey! Oh thank God!” her accent was distinguishably local, or maybe lowlander. She quickly took the child tightly in her arms and curtseyed to both of them. “I’m so sorry. I swear, I never lets him out of my sight and yet he gets away!”

            “No harm done,” Dr. Maddox said with an assuring smile, and she scampered off, taking the squealing toddler with her.

            “He’s a sweet boy,” said Caroline, turning back to him. “But he refuses to stay still.”

            “Much like his father,” Maddox observed.

            “Are you insulting one of your patients?”

            “Hardly insulting,” he said nervously, which seemed to make her smile all the more.

            “You look quite dashing, Daniel.”

            “Oh, yes.” He squirmed in his cravat. “Thank you. It’s uhm, borrowed. For the feast. When is that, by the way?”

            “No one has any idea, as no one’s seen my brother all day,” she said. “When did my sister deliver?”

            “About four in the morning.”

            “You are quite a hardy man, Doctor Maddox.”

            He smiled. “I am when I want to be.”

                        ****************************************

            The request of the Darcys, both still in convalescence, to see their son was met with a stream of apologies by Nurse that he had been wandering around and was not fit to be presented to his parents, which Elizabeth had to stop in mid-sentence to get the word in that she had barely seen him the day before, and he would take his nap with his parents, thank you very much. And thus a hastily-scrubbed Geoffrey Darcy was brought to the bedroom, and Elizabeth took him from Nurse and put him between the two of them on the bed. “And how is my favorite little darling?”

            “He’s fine,” mumbled a half-asleep Darcy, and Elizabeth swatted him as her son attempted to climb over her.

            “You apparently have been naughty,” she said.

            “Yeff!” he said, putting his fingers in his mouth. Elizabeth looked over at her husband in horror.

            Darcy didn’t even open his eyes. “Doesn’t count. When he says the ‘G’ properly I will relent.”

            “Knowing the Darcy heritage, that may be years from now.”

            Darcy smiled and pulled his son over to him, picking him up and holding him over so they were face-to-face. “Say it. ‘Father.’”

            “Yeff!” Geoff squealed. “Da!”

            “I believe that is Scottish for “’Father,’” Elizabeth said.

            “I will not settle. Recent events have not endeared me to the North.” He said to his son, “’Dar-cee.’”

            “Dabby!”

            “Getting closer.” He put his son down, so he came to rest on his chest. This time, though, Geoffrey did not squirm his way off, but settled into his father’s night shirt. “I fear we have been very negligent parents.”

            “Yes, next time we must prevent a marriage, we will be sure to take him with us.”

            “I have decided to do all of my marriage preventing at home from now on. Georgiana’s suitors will simply have to come to Pemberley.”

            “And you will be smart enough not to turn your back on them.”

            “Are you attempting to make me cross?”

            “Am I succeeding?”

            He turned to her, and they looked into each other’s eyes for a moment, and then broke into laughter. This did not rouse their son, who was now already fast asleep on his father’s chest. Elizabeth leaned over and kissed him on the head, which did not wake him either. “Perhaps the next one will inherit your dourness. That at least will keep them calmer.”

            “I’ve been meaning to speak to you about that,” Darcy said. “We need to have triplets. Can you –“

            “Darcy!” she said. “If Geoffrey was not sleeping so conveniently, I would thrash you, injury or no! Besides, you know very well I have no control over it, and after last night, I am not particularly inclined to have any more children at all!”

            Elizabeth fell into a huff on her side of the bed. Seeing her discomfort but limited in movement, he reached over and stroked her stomach. “I love you.”

            “I do hope so.”

            “Please know that I would ravish you right now if not for – well, several factors.” He gestured in the appropriate direction.

            “I will be very invasive and annoying, as is my right as your wife, and ask you how you are actually feeling.”

            “Tired and sore, but not in a great deal of pain. I know you are very close to your sister, but may I assume we will escape to Pemberley as soon as the year is up?”

            “Why does it seem like it was ages since I was there?”

            He thought before answering, “Because when you were last year, almost every member of our very large family was in a decidedly different condition.” He blinked. “Was that part of my opius haze or did Miss Bingley accept the proposal of the doctor who patched me up?”

            “Unless something has changed in the past few hours, they are still affianced. And very much in love.”

            “Well, then,” he said, apparently lacking much else to say. “He’s a good man, but not exactly what I was expecting. And he must get used to all of this intolerable high society.”

            “I seem to recall you telling me he was raised in a family of fortune.”

            “Did I? Oh, yes,” Darcy said. “Still, if he is to have a serious income, he must get some kind of high commission. I suppose the best thing to do would be to shoot the king in the back.”

            “Might even get him knighted.”

            “Yes.” He smiled. “Treason it is then.” 

            “Anything for a brother-in-law.”

                        ****************************************

            The traditional Christmas meal was much delayed that year. It took so long to get the meal ready and to properly rouse everyone that Christmas itself was coming to a close when they finally sat down at the table, minus the recovering Jane. No less than eleven people (and one empty seat left respectfully for the new mother) took seats for ham and every delicacy that could be prepared as quickly as possible.

            Bingley proudly announced the naming of his two children, or what the naming would be for the baptism – Charles Bingley the Third and Elizabeth Bingley.

            “Yes, let’s just confuse our own family even further by naming everyone after everyone else still living,” Mr. Bennet grumbled good-naturedly. “At least Mr. Darcy has some sense.”

            “No, Papa, we’ve already agreed, and if we are to have another son, he shall be named Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth said, and gladly endured the glare from her husband and the stifled laughter from their host.

            “You may name him after me, if you wish, but please do wait until I’m dead,” Mr. Bennet continued, and patted his wife on the shoulder. “Any day now, dear.”

            “Mr. Bennet! You imply that I would wish it!”

            “Well, you spent so many years talking of it, I cannot help but make the assumption.” He looked across the table at the horrified doctor. “If you have not surmised it already, this family takes great pleasure at making fun of every other member, no matter how beloved.”

            “O voi che per la via d’Amor passate,” said Maddox.

            “Hmm,” replied Mr. Bennet. “- attendete e guardate?”

            “s’elli é dolore alcun, quanto ‘l mio, grave,[1]” added Miss Bingley.

            “Something about a hat. That’s all I got,” Bingley whispered in Darcy’s ear.

            “Mr. Bennet!” said his wife. “You know Italian?”

            “Of course. How else does one read Dante?”

            “Is everyone done showing off that they know more languages than us?” Darcy said.

            “It was not my intention, but it is a pleasing side effect,” Mr. Bennet said, and Darcy’s mood would have soured further if not for his wife’s obvious delight with her father. “Doctor, you may or may not be aware, but I have a daughter studying on the Continent. In a seminary in Paris.”

            “And what does she prefer to study?”

            “Incredibly dull religious texts. In Latin, I’m assuming.”

            “Oh,” said Maddox. “I am more in favor of incredibly gruesome medical texts. In French.” He turned to his betrothed. “Would you like me to – “

            “No,” Miss Bingley said. “Boccaccio will do fine, thank you.”

            “I see nothing wrong with the King’s English,” Darcy said.

            “Nu farey frum thilke palacey honourabley, wharey as thees marquis shopee hees marri’ajay,” recited Maddox.

            There was a brief silence before Darcy barked, “And what language was that?”

            “English. Chaucer, to be exact.”

            “Are you sure?” Bingley interjected.

            “Quite. It is how he would have pronounced it, at readings,” said the doctor.

            “Are you quite done emasculating my husband now?” Elizabeth snickered.

            “I think he is,” Darcy said with his usual extreme formality that came down like a death sentence.

                        ****************************************

            It was in the days between Christmas and the new Year 1806 that the place was properly done up for the remaining holiday, and a general festive atmosphere prevailed, punctuated by the combined wailing of young Charles and Eliza Bingley. Georgie and Geoffrey had to be moved from the nursery to another room to get any sleep at all. Jane spent the large part of the week in bed, finally emerging under practically everyone’s careful watch to join the ladies in the drawing room downstairs. “Lizzy, I feel as though we are both finished with our duties, having both produced heirs. Though I do love my children, I could not imagine having another quite yet.”

            “I could,” her sister said, and whispered the news to her, as it was not being made general known. “Though, it is a particularly daunting prospect.”

            “Pray it is not twins!”

            “I think Darcy will settle for nothing less than triplets,” she said as she bounced her niece on her lap, and Georgie grasped at the hem of her gown. “Fortunately he has no say in the matter.”

            “This may just be utter exhaustion,” Jane said, “and I do love my husband and children most dearly, but I cannot at the moment comprehend why we were so desperate to get married if this was to be the end result.”

            “We should let Miss Bingley have that piece of wisdom right now.”

            As they giggled, Jane bade Miss Bingley to join them from the other side of the room. Caroline Bingley had not undergone a complete transformation of character since her engagement, and had always toned down her particular air of hauteur since Jane became the Mistress of the Bingley family, but she was often found distracted, and busied herself less with biting remarks. In fact, they were not to judge, for they had seen quite little of her since her arrival, all of them being caught up in their own affairs. She bowed to the Mistress of Chatton, and when offered, took Georgie into her arms next to Elizabeth on the sofa. Other than a few scattered mumbles, Georgiana Bingley was less inclined than her cousin to try at speech, but Nurse assured them that girls were slower to present themselves than boys.

            “They are busy gathering wisdom and insults to hurl at them,” Elizabeth had said.

            Georgie did coo and play at the lace on the edge of Miss Bingley’s sleeve, which for once, her holder did not discourage. “I see you have fine taste in clothing,” she said. Georgie did not respond.

            “Heavens,” Jane said. “If she develops an obsession with ribbons, I will have no idea which side of the family to blame. Both my mother and my husband are bemused by pretty colors and shiny things.”

            “Clearly, there is no hope for her at all,” Elizabeth said with a smile.

            “You will have to hope for the best with the others,” Miss Bingley said, and they both laughed in response. Miss Bingley passed off the child and excused herself.

            “Good Lord, did we just have a civil conversation with Caroline Bingley?” Elizabeth immediately asked.

            “I think we did. What did he do to her?”

            “As they are not to be married for three months, I hope he has been a proper gentleman.”

            “Was it decided?”

            “First thaw. The roads will be impassable shortly and we wish to at least invite the Gardiners and the Fitzwilliams.”

            “A terribly long time to wait,” Jane said. “Or, I suppose not. I had to wait a year for Charles. You at least had yet to realize you were in love with Darcy for all but the last few months.”

            “And to think, this whole business with Miss Bingley was wrapped up in a few weeks. How fortunate.”

            “Except for your husband.”

            “Yes, of course. But he was a good sport through it all. Especially when Mr. Bingley and I were rather bluntly taking advantage of the loss of his senses.”

            “I imagine you had to,” Jane said. “Mr. Darcy does not stand the loss of his senses very often. Best to snatch the opportunity when you can.”

                        ****************************************

            Being an overworked Town doctor, Daniel Maddox had forgotten just how much work it was to be idly rich. So much preparations went into the new year’s festivities that even he, only a guest, felt overwhelmed and was more looking forward to them being over before they began. He did not envy Bingley’s position at all, with two infants, a toddler, and an entire household full of guests to oversea. Of course as a man of wealth he was not required, or even expected to take an active part in his children at their ages, but Charles Bingley was obviously not that kind of man, and was often disappearing into the nursery or carrying his daughter around as he went about his errands.

            The doctor’s own responsibilities were extremely minimal. Mr. Hurst seemed to be finally recovering from his condition, and Mr. Darcy had progressed to an inevitable point where he was both sick of doctoring and well enough to have the strength to refuse examination. That left him time to peruse the considerable library and figure out ways to avoid his soon-to-be relatives. Not that he didn’t care for them – in fact, he was quite pleased with them – but he was more accustomed to being the near-invisible doctor servant and not the mysterious man who had somehow won the heart of the proud woman that was “Miss Bingley.” He had no way to explain it in a way they would understand, nor did he want to explain it, or feel compelled to. What she said of him, he had no idea, because now that they were affianced he saw her under only under acceptable social situations. This was without question but frustrating nonetheless. They needed to conference, to prepare some sort of strategy, if he was going to endure this seemingly endless assault. But he would not approach her about it, not when he wanted to make a good impression on the family, and so conversation was restricted to across the table and chance happenings in the hallway.

            It was only when – finally – he made it to the library before dinner to return the newly-finished medical text that he found outdated and not worth the effort that he heard the door close and lock behind him. “Please don’t – ” but when he turned around, it was of course Caroline. One of the things she liked about him was that he was very clever, however awkward being alone in a room with her suddenly made him. “Hello.”

            “Tiring, isn’t it?”

            He looked away, but smiled. “Yes, very. But it is the proper way to do things, and I am a proper gentleman now. Or at the very least, I am dressed like one.”

            “You look very pleasing.”

            “Thank you,” he said, unconsciously straightening his waistcoat. “You look ... the way you normally look, which is perfect.”

            It was true that she was ready for the new year’s celebrations and her hair up properly, but that still did not entirely deflate the compliment. He suddenly didn’t know what to do with his hands, and it didn’t help at all that she took one of his hands, and he was suddenly terrified that it was too cold and clammy and shaky and she would toss him out – “You know the terrified look on your face is adorable,” she said.

            “Oh,” was all he could say. “Thank you.”

            “Considering you were, less than a week ago, staring at a woman’s – “

            “Entirely different. It was a medical procedure. And, uhm, quite different than – “

            “ – touching a woman you love?”

            “Yes. My experience has mainly been with ...,” he could not look at her, so he stared at her hands. It didn’t help. “Forgive me. My years of poverty have led me to forget a particular rule of conduct in this situation.”

            “I can assure you,” said Caroline, “we are breaking it.”

            “Not that rule,” he said. “I mean – am I supposed to lie and say I am an innocent?”

            “I think – we are not supposed to have this conversation at all.”

            “Right. Of course.” And he was relieved, because it was a reprieve – but not for long. Within moments, they were up against the book shelf, locked in an embrace that was breaking all of the rules, and whatever he claimed earlier to have forgotten came rushing back to him.

            When they finally broke it off she said, “If you claimed now you’d never touched a woman before, you’d be a very bad liar.”

            “I am a notoriously bad liar,” he said.

            “What was her name?”

            The question threw him off. He was fairly thrown-off anyway. He cocked his head. “Who?”

            “I am making the very noble assumption there was only one.”

            He swallowed and answered, “Lucetta.”

            “Very Italian.”

            “She was. I mean, she was Italian. Roman, actually.” He could not escape her look. “Oh God, must I tell you everything?”

            “You said you are a bad liar, so you might as well.”

            They did, for propriety’s sake, separate, lest someone pick the lock, he supposed. “I was studying medicine in the Academy in Paris, and I went to Rome for a lecture of a very noted physician. And, being there and having some budget, as my brother had yet to destroy the family fortune, I decided to take a convalescence there of a few weeks. This was ... uhm, eight, nine years ago. And some local girl was very, very kind to a young student who liked the local vintage far too much. The end result was that I did not see quite as much art as I wished to see before I had to return for classes. But I did learn a great deal of the language that is – not found in your average textbook. But, you know, it was a very long time ago. And nothing came of it that would ... be significant. And there, now you have my whole sordid history, which I do hope you will keep in confidence.”

            “I hardly run to my brother about anything, and know better than to open my mouth to Louisa. And there are men in this family with far more sordid pasts than you, Daniel, and I have kept my tongue in front of Elizabeth.”

            It took him a second to make all of the connections. “How would you even – Forget it. Am I forever to be compared to Darcy?”

            “Darling, in this family, everyone is compared to Darcy.”

            “I would say, ‘poor Darcy,’ but as he was foolish enough to pass you over, my sympathy is limited,” he said.

            It was, apparently, the right thing to say, because she kissed him again, and it occurred to him that he knew very little about Caroline Bingley. He knew her personality a bit, he knew she was intelligent and graceful and beautiful, but he didn’t know what she was as a woman, beyond what she presented to society, which he knew was a façade. He wanted to know what she felt like, what she tasted like –

-       all right, he knew that now.

“Caroline,” he said between breaths.

“I know,” she replied.

That was the nice thing. So many things did not need further explanation. They pulled apart again.

“Can I confess something to you?”

            He gave her a look that made it clear that it was not in question.

            “For all of my rather ... intense courting of various people – I find myself somewhat shocked at the end result.”

            “Which is?” he said, with a smirk.

            “That after thirty years, three months seems like an impossibly long time.”

            He could not bring himself to contradict her.