The Last of the Wine

by DJ Clawson

This is the last story in my series that began with "A Bit of Advice." At this point you should not be starting with this story, unless you really like a challenge. You should go to my profile page for links to the stories in order. Or go visit my forum for links, extra stories, and other goodies:

laughingman . web . aplus. net / phpbb/ index . php (delete the spaces)

NOTE: If you registered, and have not been approved, you have to email me at dj_clawson at yahoo dot com so that I know you're not a spammer and give me your username.

And now, our story...

Chapter 4 - Sir Daniel

"Have courage, young Frederick," Dr. Maddox said. "Great men have walked down these very corridors. I can't think of any as of late, but I'm sure that is only a function of my approaching senility."

Frederick Maddox looked up at his father as he held his arm and guided him through the halls outside the House of Lords. Officially Dr. Maddox had a servant specifically to help him around, but when he arrived in London so suddenly and said where he was going, Frederick insisted on accompanying him. His father was so rarely in Town now, living in Chesterton so he could still give and attend lectures at Cambridge. Daniel Maddox Jr. fluctuated between the two locations, often staying with his brother at his house instead of their father's townhouse if it was empty. Even though he was technically retired, their father had more of an actual occupation than either son. Frederick had no need of one and Danny took occasional translation jobs for the East Asian Society, but otherwise was incapacitated by his condition. Like his father, he took it in stride, and tutored his nephew Stewart.

"We have an appointment," Frederick told the doorman. "Sir Daniel Maddox to see Lord Elton."

"Of course." The man bowed. "Sir Daniel. Lord Elton will see you on the lawn. Sir, if you would come this way..."

Under the statue of Cromwell was a pleasant garden and a few benches. They were not seated long before being approached by a fairly fat man who could only be intending to address them. "Sir Daniel. No, please don't – "

But Dr. Maddox rose anyway, beating Frederick, and bowed. "Lord Elton. May I introduce my son Frederick?"

"Lord Elton."

He bowed. "Mr. Maddox." He turned to the doctor, who had previously only told Frederick that this was a former patient, as most men he knew were. "Doctor, if I may be so bold, you are the last person I expected to see strolling along this stretch of the Thames. To what do I owe the honor?"

"It's not much of an honor, I'm afraid," Dr. Maddox replied. "I am in need of your advice."

Lord Elton looked around, and seeing no one in earshot, continued, "You have it."

"My nephew, on my wife's side, is seeking a divorce."

Lord Elton frowned. "How long has he been married?"

"Three years."

"And his wife?"

"A confessed adulteress. She's compliant in the proceedings."

"That's a bit of luck, then. Not the sort of luck you would wish on yourself, but it makes things easier. Unfortunately, I cannot be of any direct help. I've never been much of a speaker, and if I present the bill I'll simply be laughed out of Westminster. Comes with being caught with a few ladies of suspicious characters in my career." He sighed. "If he wants the bill put forward by a more eloquent speaker, he will need someone younger and deeper in debt than myself, and then he will need someone else to second it, and at least a few more to shout in favor for good measure. I can draw up a list of names, and you can send them on to your nephew."

"I am deeply grateful, Lord Elton."

"I can hardly refuse a man I owe my very life," he said, and slapped Dr. Maddox on the arm. "Good to see you, Doctor."

"Lord Elton."

After he was gone, Frederick took his father's arm so they could begin the walk back to the carriage. "How did you save his life?"

"He is exaggerating. No one dies of a stubbed toe, no matter how painful it may seem at the time."

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

Lady Heather Maddox watched her husband leave his study, a more serious look on his face than usual. His father and his cousin Edmund were still inside. Frederick took Danielle from her and bounced his daughter in his lap. "My father is attempting to be supportive."

"If anyone could be, it's your father."

"Edmund has never taken advice well. He's stubborn."

"Most men are."

"I certainly am."

"You're humble enough to know your faults. Something Edmund is lacking."

Frederick tried to maintain a serious demeanor, but it was difficult with his daughter tugging on his side-whiskers. "Perhaps he'll learn a bit of humility when his good name is tied to a horse and dragged through the mud."

"To say nothing of what Lucy Bingley will experience." Before he could respond, she said, "Don't give me that look. She's at fault but Edmund's not blameless, and it will be easier for him to return to society than her."

"I suspect she has no intention of returning to society, with or without the child's father. She wants twenty thousand pounds."

"Twenty thousand pounds!" Heather lowered her voice. "Where did you hear that?"

"Where do you think? Charles. Now what else were you going to say in her defense?"

"Frederick. This is no time for gloating."

Danielle began to unravel Frederick's necktie, which he made no move to stop. "I am repeating what I heard. She wants twenty thousand or she'll fight the divorce, and her father has friends in Parliament." He finally let his grin show. "She's evil in a brilliant sort of way."

"Frederick!"

"Someone had to say it."

"No one had to say it."

"I did. Now will someone please take our daughter while I still have some beard left?"

Heather kissed him as she picked up Danielle and passed her to Nurse. Tea was just being served to them as the door opened again, and Edmund emerged, looking tense and uncomfortable. He bowed. "Mr. Maddox. Lady Heather. Please excuse me."

Frederick rose to see him out and help his father out of the study and into the drawing room, giving him the armchair.

"I really should return to my own house and not rely - "

"Please stay, Dr. Maddox," Heather said. "There's no reason to be at your house alone. And you're staying for dinner anyway."

"I am?"

"We will resort to taunting you with the presence of grandchildren if we have to," Frederick said. "Though I think Danielle's just gone up for a nap."

"I should dictate a letter to your mother."

"After dinner. The post's gone for the day anyway."

"Yes, yes, I suppose that's true." Dr. Maddox was usually in good form for his age, but he looked tired, and not just from his travels. "Is Edmund gone?"

"We were going to invite him, but he ran out the door."

"As long as he has somewhere to go – he's with Charles. And Eliza and Mr. Turner may return to Town today, or tomorrow at the latest. Tossed from his own house. I can't imagine it." Dr. Maddox straightened his glasses. "Oh yes. I can imagine it, though I was much younger and the circumstances were different. I was wronged by my brother and not a wife."

"But you forgave Uncle Brian," Frederick said.

"Not for many years. And I didn't trust him for an additional few, but he was my brother, and I always loved him, even when I wanted, and still occasionally want to wring his neck. You don't divorce family, however much you might want to." He added, "I have every confidence that Edmund will get through this, and be the better for it. Now, where are the grandchildren I was promised?"

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

Considerably brightening to the mood at the Bingley house, which was positively dour, was the arrival of Matthew Turner and Eliza Turner (nee Bingley). She was ecstatic to see her brothers, and ran into Charles' arms before he even had time to acknowledge her or her husband. "Mr. Turner."

"Mr. Bingley." Matthew Turner, noticing the slower approach of Edmund around the corner, bowed again. "Mr. Edmund."

"Edmund!" Eliza did not show any less enthusiasm for her younger brother, though he was more reluctant to welcome her embrace, and slower to release it.

"Eliza," he said, his eyes watery. "You didn't have to come."

"I am not of that opinion, so thank goodness it was not for you to decide."

After some brief conversation, the exhausted travelers were shown to their chambers, renovated versions of Eliza's old rooms. There would be time for the more painful conversations later.

"What did you think of my brother?" Eliza said as her husband removed his vest. She did not have to specify.

"He looked better than I thought he'd be."

"He is thinner."

"Perhaps." He added, "There is at least the fact that he has reconciled with Charles, which I understand to be a small miracle."

She brightened. "There is that." She'd never told her husband why her brothers were barely on speaking terms, and he knew her well enough not to ask.

There was time before dinner for her to corner Edmund in the study, where he was almost his old self in that he was doing what he loved, working feverishly over a pile of papers. He stood at her entrance. "Eliza." He was thinner – too thin – and frightened. His beard, however short and fashionable, made him look older than he was. "How are you?"

"Worried sick. And don't begin to complain that I ought to know better, because I will always worry about my baby brother."

He smiled a little, and sat with her on the other side of the desk. "To be honest, I am surprised Father has honored my request not to come."

"He could help you."

"Very little. I did write Uncle Maddox and he did come, just yesterday."

"That's wonderful. Did he have any news?"

"He has more political contacts than he cares to admit, unless forced. He has been a great help. As has Charles, who knows someone in the House of Lords."

"There can be no reconciliation?"

"I do not know if I wish to see less of her than she wishes the worst on me. No, Elizabeth. We are far beyond that."

She could not think, immediately, of what to say. "It's all so sudden."

"Yes."

"Will you answer my question if I ask?"

"You must ask it first."

"Edmund," she said, but he kept a straight face. "Did you decide not to tell us or was it really a surprise?"

"I knew something was wrong during the winter, but I didn't know the depth of it. And, in my typical fashion, I ignored what I did not understand, which is her main argument against my character as a loving husband. To the extent that it went behind my back, I was truly blindsided." He continued, "I was a fool. I was a fool to marry her so young, when I was not prepared for the effort of sustaining a happy relationship with my wife. I was a fool not to listen to her complaints about my distracted behavior because I was used to it from my family. And I was a fool not to see it coming."

"It does not mean you deserved it."

"You are being kind."

"How am I supposed to be? If you wanted a dressing-down for your foolishness, you would have invited Georgie." Now that made him smile. "I am proud of you for facing it, and I am happy to see you came home to do it." She waited for his answer to the unspoken question.

He did not fail her. "I was ... surprised at the extent of Charles' support."

"He is your brother. I would have been upset if he had done anything less."

"We have not a recent history of being kind to each other when unnecessary for public display." He squirmed in his seat. "Do you think it is true, that this scandal will hurt his own prospects, should he ever reform?"

"It will hurt your chances of not showing an improved character if you do not stop using the word 'reform' in reference to our brother." She paused, but Edmund did not dispute the charges. "He has told me on many occasions that he has every intention of marrying when he finds someone with whom he wishes to have a family. And it is Matthew's opinion that he is too rich to be hurt by a divorce in the family, especially not after a few months have passed."

"Then we must place our faith in the limited attention span of the Ton."

"I have put my faith in worse things."

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

Meanwhile, Matthew Turner had a mission of his own, and found Charles Bingley in the study. "Mr. Bingley."

"Mr. Turner. I trust you are well."

"Very well."

"My sister is with child, is she not?"

Matthew stumbled. "How did you know?"

Charles only shrugged.

There was no reason not to beam, even if it meant also blushing a little. "We did not mean to announce it so soon, not wanting to appear gloating in the face of Edmund's misfortunes. Please do not tell anyone."

"I will tell Eliza, but I suspect she already knows," Charles said. "I wish to congratulate her. And you, Mr. Turner." He poured two glasses for them to toast. "To the happy news. I have decided I cannot be an uncle enough times over."

"You can be more than an uncle, you know."

A solemn look passed over Charles' face. "Perhaps someday. One fit-inducing disaster at a time. I am not brave like Edmund."

Matthew thought it an odd time for Charles to compliment his brother, but decided not to mention it.

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

"What is it?" Charles said to Eliza's giggling after they were all seated at the dinner table. She sat next to her husband, across from Edmund, and tried to hide her mouth with her napkin, to no great success. "What have I done?"

"It's so strange seeing you in Papa's chair. Not to give any offense."

"Of course not," Edmund said, which earned a snicker from Mr. Turner.

"I guarantee you, it is nowhere near as bizarre a spectacle as seeing Geoffrey and Georgie sitting at the ends of the Pemberley table," Charles said with a huff.

"I can't imagine it. When did you see that?"

"Last year, when I visited Georgie during her confinement and Aunt and Uncle Darcy had gone to Scotland. Trust me, our sister could not seem less thrilled at the prospect."

"She's been married for eight years," Edmund said as soup was served. "She ought to be adjusted to the idea that she is to be mistress of Pemberley."

"We all ought to be something," Matthew said. "Taller, younger, happier, smarter, more responsible, less often drunk..."

"Better shaven," Charles added.

"I thought you liked it," Edmund grumbled.

"You look thirty."

"Well, I feel thirty."

"He's right," Eliza said. "It will look more dashing on you in a few years."

"I thought it was my decision to appear before Parliament the petulant, old husband?" Edmund replied, and it took them a moment to realize he was joking. "Yes, I am capable of levity as well as killing the mood as easily as Georgie kills ... well, everything in her way."

Matthew turned to Charles. "Whatever's in his glass, I want some."

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

Geoffrey entered the bedchamber to find Georgie pacing with Brian in her arms, trying to lull him into sleep as she held up a letter in her other hand. Upon seeing him, she closed it and passed it to him. "It's from Eliza."

"What does she say?"

"She is optimistic. Edmund is preparing himself for Parliament, but he seems to be weathering it well. She says he even made a joke."

"That doesn't sound like Edmund."

"He laughed when he was younger," she said, shifting a fussy Brian to her other shoulder. "Before he became so serious. No, darling, no more." She took his hand away from her gown. They were trying to wean him, and like William had been, he was not as invested in the concept as they were.

Geoffrey didn't try to take him. Brian did better in his mother's arms. He was less willful than Alison or William had been, but more emotionally attached. Geoffrey suspected the beginning of a quieter personality, for which he felt a twinge of guilt for being grateful.

"What is it? Why are you staring?"

Geoffrey returned to the immediate situation. "I'm sorry. I was just ... reminiscing." He took the letter, and skimmed it quickly. "She does sound very encouraging. Do you think we ought to visit?"

"That's not very polite to our guests."

He rolled his eyes. "I mean afterward."

"By then Edmund will likely be at Kirkland, hiding under a rock while the Ton makes mincemeat of him. Then we shall visit – or invite him here. He's never been."

"This is true."

"I don't know what it is about this part of the country, but it does wonders for people. Consider George as an example." The George Wickham who arrived a week before, pale and uneasy, was transformed into a happy husband again, and his wife's spirit lifted with his.

"Town is deadly for Darcys," he said. "And some Bingleys. You've always despised it."

"Not all of it. Just the parts that are socially acceptable for me to visit, and therefore completely uninteresting."

"Not everything has to involve violence to be interesting."

"No," she said, "but it helps."

...Next Chapter - Suitable Grounds