The Ballad of Gregoire Darcy (14 page)

Mr. Townsend, who had not known Mr. Wickham senior, replied only, “Looks are not everything. Especially when his father has been described to me as dashing. And George is a sensible boy.”

“He is,” Darcy said, and Bingley's anxious look softened. “Very sensible. He is set on Oxford as soon as he can manage it.”

“Oxford?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Probably for the reason we think.” (Mr. Wickham's alma mater—like Darcy's—had been Cambridge.) “And probably because Oxford was his grandfather's university,” he said, referring to Mr. Bennet.

Done for the day, they set a time for the following week, a day before the party.

“Am I inviting the Maddoxes?” Mr. Townsend asked.

“Only if you want to be eating fowl for months,” Darcy said. “Her Highness is quite a hunter.”

The Collins family arrived in time for services on Sunday, and for Mrs. Collins to spend time with her parents and also with her sister, now married to another retired soldier (perhaps England's most popular occupation). Trailing them were their four daughters, who were no doubt loved with the same subtle frustration that Mr. Bennet had loved all his unmarried daughters. Nobody dared to say “The Bennet Curse” in earshot of either of them.

Indeed, the dynamics had changed much since Mr. Collins' visit to Longbourn more than twelve years prior. He still stood to inherit Longbourn, but whether he would have the finances to keep it up was an unanswered question. If he died without a son, the entail would die with him, and the property would be sold, presumably to Joseph Bennet (who could not inherit because of his illegitimacy). Mr. Collins' benefactor was none other than Mr. Darcy, master of Rosings, who set his pay. Fortunately, Mrs. Darcy and Charlotte Collins remained friends despite the change in fortunes, and Mr. Collins was in no great financial trouble.

Mr. Collins' desire to please his patron and patroness with a deluge of compliments had not changed. Fortunately, a plan was quickly developed to divert this; Mr. Bingley trained Monkey to jump at Mr. Collins whenever the vicar spoke to Mr. Darcy. Mr. Bingley, however, had yet to receive thanks from Mr. Darcy for his effort.

Final arrivals included the Earl of Fitzwilliam, his wife, and their three-year-old son, Henry.The Kincaids sent their regrets, but Lady Georgiana could not be expected to travel so far with a newborn. At last, the Maddoxes arrived, all four adults and all three children, with one lost Japanese thug in tow. True to Darcy's predictions, Prince and Princess Maddox were happy to join the hunting party, and Her Highness felled what seemed to be an entire flock of pigeons. Brian brought a gigantic painted bow and succeeded in hitting many trees and other relatively wide, inanimate objects. His wife was all encouragement.

Mr. Bennet was in high spirits as the adults sat down to a massive luncheon—not lacking in game meat—while the children played outside. In theory, they were under watch by an army of nurses as the adults toasted Mr. Bennet's good health.

Outside, one adult refused to sit down for a long dinner with a bunch of barbarians, and instead slept off his own meal (which had
been considerable) and drink (also considerable) against a tree while the smaller children tugged at his feet. “Mr. Mugin! Mr. Mugin!”

“Go 'way,” he said, lifting his leg and taking little Cassandra Darcy on a ride as she grabbed his ankle. “Little gaijin.”

“Why do you wear sandals?”

“Why do you have tattoos?”

“Can you see like normal people?”

“Can I get a tattoo?”

“Can I see your sword?”

“Do you have a wife?”

“Do Japanese people get married?”

“My dad says you're a convict. What does that mean?”

“How old are you?”

“Can you carry me on your back?”

He moaned and opened his eyes to the little children. “Ugh. Children loud.You know what children do in Japan?”

“No!” they collectively shouted.

“Children scrub floors! Like servants! You want be in Japan?”

The children screamed and ran away, or at least the youngest and most gullible did. Mugin went back to sleep.

The older children had gathered by the fence, which was as far as they were allowed to go without supervision. Anyone older than seven had an air of authority and tried to shoo away their younger cousins.

“So when Grandfather dies, Mr. Collins gets all of this?” Charlie Bingley the Younger asked, gesturing to Longbourn.

“Grandpapa's not going to die!” Anne Darcy cried, clutching her older brother. “Geoffrey, say it's not true!”

Geoffrey sighed and looked to Georgiana Bingley, who just shrugged. “Everybody dies, Anne. It would be weird if everybody didn't. There would be too many people.”

“She's right,” Geoffrey said to his sister.

“It's still not fair,” Charles said. “Someone should
decide
who gets Longbourn. It shouldn't go to Mr. Collins just because he's Mr. Collins.”

“That's the way it works,” said George, who was sitting on the fence. “You shouldn't talk.You get Kirkland.”

“Of course I get Kirkland. What do you mean?”

“You get Kirkland and Edmund doesn't, because you're older,” George huffed.

“What about Georgie? What if she wanted Kirkland?”

“She can't have it. She's a girl.” This earned him a cold stare from Georgiana. “It's just the way the law works.”

“You don't know everything, you know,” Geoffrey said, in an attempt to soothe Georgiana. “Just because you're older.”

“Fine. Look it up. Or ask your father.”

“Why can't we make a system where everyone takes what they want?” Charlie said.

“Because then we'd be barbarians,” George replied, but was ignored.

“Fine!” Geoffrey said. “I'm going to take Kirkland then, because my dad can beat up your dad.”

“He cannot!”

“Can too!”

“His arm doesn't even work!”

“His
hand
,” Geoffrey corrected him. “And your dad doesn't even fence.”

“He shoots.”

“Stop it!” Anne shouted. “Our dads would never fight. And Dr. Maddox wouldn't fight because he can't see, so if we all had to fight, Mr. Bradley would win. So he gets everything!”

“He has
one eye,
” Frederick Maddox said, referring to Mr. Bradley. “My dad has
two,
and they sort of work, so my dad wins.”

“At what? He doesn't fight and he doesn't shoot,” Geoffrey said.

“Shut up!” Frederick said, already angry. “He could trounce your dad! He's taller!”

“No, he couldn't!”

“Yes, he could!”

They were shouting now, and soon Frederick threw a punch.
Not a particularly good one (he was eight), but it didn't even connect before he fell on his back, and Geoffrey Darcy was knocked into the soft grass. Georgiana Bingley had gotten between them and instantaneously pushed them both down.

“
Stop fighting!
” she said. “Or I'll beat you all up! And then…I take everything!” She turned to the stunned George. “And don't even say it, because I'll throw you over that fence faster than you can finish your sentence!”

“She'll do it, too,” Geoffrey said from the ground.

There was a scared silence, and then finally, clapping.

“Good, good,” Mugin said, shambling into the crowd as the boys picked themselves up. He patted Georgie on the head. “Now, children, stop fighting. Is no reason. Your parents
all
weak. Huge weaklings. I beat them all, take everything.”

The long day of feasting, chatting, gossiping, and herding the children (and some of the more inebriated adults) to bed by the women ended with a fiery crescendo of fireworks, supplied by Charles Bingley and Brian Maddox. Mugin insisted that lighting the Chinese rockets would not be dangerous until one blew up in his face, and he ended up dipping his face in the pig trough to cool it. In the end, he had only ashes irritating his eyes to contend with, as it had been a small rocket, but the rest of the rockets were handled with much care. The children were allowed to stay up for the fireworks, including the final one, which vaguely made the shape of a dragon in its red and purple journey to the sky. Then the children were all put to bed, and the servants dismissed for their own party (as they did certainly deserve one), leaving those adults still awake and aware to quietly enjoy the evening of one long and memorable day.

“Thank you all for joining me,” Mr. Bennet said in a final toast. “I doubt I shall turn seventy again, but with any luck, I will hit another nice round number and still have enough wits to realize it.” With that he retired, his tightly held wife by his side.

“I am off to bed, too,” Elizabeth said and kissed her husband.

“I will be there soon enough,” he said, holding back his yawn until she was gone. He really was getting older. He looked around; Bingley was asleep in the armchair, with Monkey curled up on his head, having made a bed out of his hair. Dr. and Mrs. Maddox had retired after their children were put down. Nadezhda was doing embroidery while Brian stoked the fire.

“Mr. Maddox,” he said, approaching him.

“Mr. Darcy,” he said and bowed. “You have the good fortune of being limited in your intake of spirits, or you would be already asleep or else dreading tomorrow morning like the rest of us.”

“True,” he said. “I heard a rumor from Bingley that you are off to the Continent soon.”

“Yes, for business. Nady and I are going to France to make a deal with a vendor. And she has never seen Paris. Why do you ask?” Even at his least alert, Brian Maddox had a knack for knowing when something was on the wind.

“Is there any chance you could use your company's ship to visit Spain?”

“It could be arranged,” he said in a lowered voice. “Why?”

“There was some kind of error with the bank in Madrid that supplies my brother with his income. Apparently, the money never made it there. I'm not overly concerned about the money and I'm sure it will be sorted out or chalked up to a highway robbery, but I wrote Grégoire about it weeks ago and he hasn't written back.”

Brian nodded. “He lives on the coast, doesn't he?Very far north?”

“Yes.”

Brian was quiet for a moment, and then said to his wife, “Nady, would you like to go to Spain?”

CHAPTER 10