The Ballad of Gregoire Darcy (7 page)

“Oh, for heaven's sake, am I to be chastised by
everyone
in this house? Even
you?
”

“What did you do?” he repeated, his voice not at all stern, but nonetheless serious.

She sat down on the remaining space of the bed, next to his legs. “It's not my fault that the baby cries every time I pick him up!” she huffed.

“Did you hold him upside down again?”

“No, George.”

“Did you forget to support his head?”

“No! Of course not. He just cried. There's no reason. He always cries.”

“He's a newborn. What do you expect of him?”

“Are you taking Brandon's side?”

He put his book down on his chest. “I cannot take a side with or against an infant. 'Tis impossible.”

“Mama is so tired,” Isabel said, “and she's so cranky when she's tired. Why did she have another baby so soon after Julie?”

“I don't know. I don't think she had much to do with the decision.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I will explain it when you are old enough. Or Mother will. God, I hope it does not fall on my shoulders to do so.”

“
George!
” She tugged at his vest. “Tell me!”

He shook his head. “It is not for people our age. I merely read it in a book.”

“Then I'm going to read every book in your room until—”

“A
French
book.”

Isabella stuck her tongue out at him. “No fair.”

“I'm sure there is a time—probably before the wedding—when all good mothers sit down with their daughters and tell them all about how to have a baby.”

“And sons? Would Mr. Bradley tell you if you didn't already know because you read it in one of those picture books of ladies?”

“You don't know about those!” he said. “I paid you a sovereign never to mention them again!” “I know,” she said and giggled. “I just wanted to see you blush.”

George picked up his book again, mainly to hide his face.

“Fine, be like that. Will you lend me a shilling?”

He lowered the book again. “Why would I lend you a shilling?”

“Because there's a new ribbon colored with Indian dye, and I want to get it and look pretty for your birthday. I know you have the money because you got money for Christmas and you haven't spent a farthing of it. And I'm your little sister and you love me.”

He sighed, mainly in defeat. “Why do you need so many ribbons?”

“Why do you need so many books?”

They were surrounded by books. He had overloaded his bookcases and, in desperation, started piling them up in neat stacks on the floor. He could expound on the virtues of learning over the importance of looking pretty, but he knew it would get him nowhere. Instead, he reached over to his dresser, opened the top drawer, unlocked the small box inside it, and handed her a shilling.

She kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”

“The way you could really thank me would be to spend at least a few farthings of this on a gift.”

“What, a book?” she said. “I'll do my best.” She did always get him something he actually liked, and she would use her own spending money to do it. “I'm going out, if anyone asks.”

“Do you need me?”

“No, Lucy Gardiner is going to join me. I won't be
unescorted
.” Coin in hand, she got up and headed for the door.

“Be careful anyway.”

She rolled her eyes. “You worry too much.” She left, slamming the door again. One of these days, it was going to come right off its hinges, and Mr. Bradley would have to repair it.

There are worse things
, he thought, and returned to Dante.

CHAPTER 5

“NO.ABSOLUTELY NOT.”

Dr. Maddox sighed.The refusal was not unexpected. His formal letter of resignation was still in the Regent's hands, fluttering in the wind. Somehow, he had succeeded in getting his patient to walk in the park, but the Prince of Wales was so afflicted with gout and extra weight that he had made it only to a bench not far from the house. “Your Highness, you know that I will eventually need to retire on account of my—”

“You would be a better doctor blind than half the Royal Society of Medicine,” the Regent said.

“You are underestimating the intelligence of my colleagues, sir.”

The Prince put down the letter, squinting in the sunlight. “What's this all about, then?”

“I want to do more charity work. I want to maybe write a paper or two.” He frowned. “I want to spend more time with my family.”

This gave the Regent pause. “I suppose your current schedule doesn't much suit theirs.”

“No, sir, it does not.”

“That does not change the fact that I need your medical advice—not that I take much of it,” the Prince said and chuckled. Dr. Maddox said nothing to that. “But when something serious does happen—and you keep diligently warning me that it will—I will need you.” He handed the letter back to the doctor. “Nonetheless,
the subject of one of my father's constant lessons, when he was still capable of lecturing us, was the importance of family. And not listening to him—well, you see how that turned out for the House of Hanover.”

Again, Dr. Maddox had no comment. He looked down at his shoes.

“I will be here another month. Less, if I can help it; more, if Parliament can help it. You have that time to find a suitable replacement. But you will remain my chief physician and will be expected to respond—at a moment's notice, when possible, and as quickly as you can, when not possible—if something dire occurs.You will remain at the same salary, and will be expected to keep in regular touch with the attendant physician—correspondence at least once a week—so that you are apprised of my current condition.You are still forbidden to work in the cholera wards, or any public hospital in London. I won't have you dying on me just yet. Otherwise, you may do as you please.”

He bowed. “Thank you,Your Royal Highness.”Though he had expected at least some kind of new arrangement, he was still overwhelmed. This was the best he could have hoped for. “Thank you very much, sir.”

“I heard you were offered a position at Cambridge. Will you take it?”

“I—I don't know. It depends if my wife and children wish to live there.”

“Do you make any decisions for yourself, Dr. Maddox?”

He colored. “I made this one.”

The Regent laughed. He was generally a jovial person—when not horribly depressed. “If you do decide to take a position at Cambridge or Oxford, let me know immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Go forth, my good man, and do the world some good. I loosen your chains, though I have not broken them,” said the Prince, who
had a flair for the dramatic. “And if I find you in estrangement from your beloved family, which you hold above your sovereign, I will hang your words from the highest tree, I shall!”

“I will not disappoint you, sire,” Dr. Maddox said with a smile.

The first sound that greeted Dr. Maddox was not the sweet voice of his wife or the laughter of his children. It was the harsh, loud, metallic sound of a recorder note. After his coat and wig were removed, he immediately headed up to the nursery, where he found his three-year-old son sitting angelically on a blanket on the floor. “When I said I wished him to learn about music,” Maddox said to Nurse, “I did not wish him to be quite so enthusiastic.” He pulled the recorder out of his son's mouth, and prevented a tantrum by immediately picking him up. “Daniel, I love you very much, and although it is not lessened while you are playing that instrument, I suggest you take up a new one.”

“
Father
,” his son said, squirming in his arms, “I like it.”

“Because you enjoy music or because it is loud?”

His son looked up at him, but either did not understand the question or did not know the correct answer.

“I thought so,” Dr. Maddox said, kissing him on his head of curly red hair before setting him down. “You can have it back tomorrow, preferably when your mother and I are out.”

“Finally, the voice of reason,” Caroline said in the doorway. She told Nurse to put their son down for an afternoon nap, and they moved into her chamber. “How was your discussion with the Prince Regent?”

“I am still to be his well-paid chief physician,” he said, “but no longer his nursemaid. I have to hire a new one before he goes to Brighton, but otherwise…” His voice trailed off as his wife embraced him. “Not many wives would be so eager to have their husbands at home all day.”

“I was assuming you would be spending it at White's,” she said,
kissing him on the cheek. “Drinking and gambling and leaving us all well enough alone.”

“I am sorry to disappoint you,” he said. “He was reluctant to relinquish me.”

“I assume you were persuasive.”

“I said something about wanting to spend time with my children.”

“You know how to manipulate a Prince as well as anyone on the Privy Council.”

“Just
that
prince,” he clarified, and kissed her. He was not the dashing man of one and thirty that he had been when they were married—not that he had ever considered himself
dashing
—and he had come home from his trip to Austria with more than a few gray hairs. But Caroline still loved to run her hands through his bushy hair, and he still loved her creamy white skin.

“I invited the Darcys for dinner,” she said when she had a moment to breathe.

“Very well,” he said and nodded. “Of course, I'll have to rush off after dinner.”

“Then let's make the most of our time now,” Caroline responded.

Their door remained closed until it was time to dress for dinner.

The Darcys arrived on time as usual, bringing with them their two eldest. Geoffrey and Frederick got on well despite their age differences, while Emily and Anne were best friends the way only ten-year-old girls could be, which involved a lot of giggling and squealing. In other words, the children entertained each other as the adults sat down for dinner. They toasted the Darcys' newest nephew and Dr. Maddox's semi-retirement.

“No, he is still not permitted to talk about his patient,” Caroline said.

“I doubt that I know any more about His Royal Highness's physical state than half of the town,” Dr. Maddox replied.

“Are you to go to Brighton?”

“We are searching for somewhere else to summer,” Caroline said.

“Few people can boast of being bored with Brighton,” Elizabeth said.

“Some places in Wales are very fine in the summer,” Darcy added.