The Chrysanthemum and the Rose
by DJ Clawson
This is story 9 in the series that started with "A Bit of Advice." You might want to click on my author profile and start with the first one at this point. Otherwise, enjoy!
Chapter 9 - Proper Englishmen
The Maddoxes returned from Holland with the news that the journey could proceed. The ship would grant passage to three passengers, one of whom held considerable stock in Brian's company. They would present themselves at Dejima as cultural ambassadors, and if permission was granted, they would travel to Edo for six weeks to meet the shogun.
"He owes me a favor," said Brian, referring to the warlord of Japan. "But that's a story for another time. Perhaps a very long and slow boat ride."
Even if they were turned away, they could reside at the British colony of Batavia while Brian and Nadezhda stayed in Dejima, waiting for the courier sent out in search of Mugen to return. At worse, they would enjoy the island of Java, and perhaps visit Hong Kong, provided they weren't including "death at sea" as an option.
Lessons began immediately. "Ambassadors can't look like fools, though they often do," Brian said. They traveled to the Maddox house outside of Town, where the Japanese wing was complete, down to the last detail. In case they had to disguise themselves, they had to know how to act, and the rules were complex.
"Geoffrey," Nadezhda said from her pillow. "What did you forget to do?"
Geoffrey paused, and looked down. "Right. Uhm, where – "
"By the door, on the ground. Then come up to the raised platform."
He stepped back down, removed his sandals as neatly as possible, and stepped barefoot up onto the tatami mat. "Is this not bad for my feet?"
"Not if you wash them often enough," Brain said. "Now – who do you bow to first?"
"Master of the household, his wife, other guests, my wife."
"No!" Brian hit him with his closed fan. "Not to your wife. Not in another person's house, unless you're leaving her there."
"Uncle, I am beginning to suspect you just like hitting him," Georgiana said.
"I won't confirm or deny it," he said, and avoided their looks.
Georgie giggled when he entered the room that evening, after a long and complicated dinner sitting on his knees. He frowned. "Is it the fact that I'm wearing a bathrobe and slippers?"
"It's a bit more complicated than that."
"No, a proper bathrobe comes with its own belt." He undid his kimono and threw on a normal shirt for sleeping. Thank goodness they had normal guest chambers, with a real bed instead of a floor mat.
"If your father could see you now."
"Hell with my father. If Mr. Reynolds could see me now." He climbed into bed next to her, and she kissed him on the cheek.
"I am very grateful for this."
"I would hope so."
He turned on his side, away from her and everything about her that would be distracting. He reminded himself, as he usually did, that he loved Georgie and would do anything for her happiness, whatever was involved – or not involved. He sighed into his pillow and contented himself with the silence until he felt a tug on his shirt, and rolled over. "What?"
"You needn't be cross," she said, not releasing him. It made his skin tingle. "You're tense."
"I am. What of it?"
"I know it's hard for you." She rested her head on his shoulder, which made it that much more difficult for him. "I've made everything hard for you."
"That's not – "
" – true? I don't think you were hoping for a wife who would turn you out of her room. At least not this early in our marriage. You must grow bald and gouty before I do that."
"Georgie."
"You asked Brian about children behind my back, and you didn't think to follow up?" She had stunned him into silence. "Are you not interested in what Nadi-sama might have had to say?"
He was interested. And now he knew what she meant by "Nadi-sama" because of those classes. "And?"
"And ... do you want to put all of the weird teas I've been drinking for the past three days to the test? Because I'm not going to continue drinking them for the fun of it. They're gross."
"Are you serious?"
"Do you think me incapable of being so?"
He grinned. "Now I must remind you – there is a chance – "
"Which is why we should test it now, don't you think?" She frowned. "Why are you putting up such a fuss?"
"I'm not. I'm just surprised." He kissed her now-exposed shoulder. "Relieved." He kissed her neck. "Overwhelmed." It wasn't the right word, but he didn't care. He was having trouble thinking beyond how to remove her Japanese gown. With the ease that it slid off so gracefully, he regretted his earlier comments. There were certainly worthwhile advantages to their material culture.
For the first time in what seemed like a long while Geoffrey woke not worrying about his wife, or his daughter, or any familial concern. He was a guest and it was much later than he told his hosts he would be up, but that did not concern him in the least. He yawned and opened the curtain just to see the sun before climbing back into bed.
"You don't have to do this," Georgie said.
"I suppose I could return to Pemberley," he said, trailing kisses along her side, "And leave my upset wife to be smothered by her parents and relatives, seeing her only as I saw fit and spending the rest of the day at the ledgers. If that is your want."
She responded by pulling him down over her by wrapping her arms around his neck. "No, Mr. Darcy, that is not my want."
Surely, someone would watch Alison, his father would watch Pemberley, and Nadezhda would ... watch Brian. They had all the time in the world, as far as he was concerned. It was more than a physical release when they made love. There were no words to describe the satisfaction he felt, and all the tension that was gone. Only with perspective did he see how just the day before how nervous and sad he had been. If this was to be his reward for taking the family on a trip to the ends of the earth, he would willingly go a second time.
He had been dozing when she said, "Should we have risen by now?"
"It is likely."
"What time do you think they rise in Japan?"
"Oh, who knows? We might be on the ship longer than on the floating city or whatever it is."
"I hope you don't get seasick."
"I hope Alison doesn't get seasick."
"I hope you both don't," she said, "or it's over the side for you."
"Because I'm so disposable."
She giggled. He loved the way it felt when she laid against him and he could feel the vibrations from her every movement. Yes, for this, he would go to the ends of the earth – and back.
"Now that it has been established that I look ridiculous more than ever before," Geoffrey said as he stepped onto the padded floor of the practice room, wearing the pleated skirt and padded white kimono that mirrored Brian's, but for a sword, "are you going to teach me to fight?"
"One thing at a time." Brian removed his long sword, and set it on the stand, keeping only his short one. Nadezhda handed him a wooden sword, and Georgie gave one to her husband, along with a helmet.
It was metal and padded on the inside so much that he felt smothered. "You know how to intimidate someone."
Brian set one foot back and held up the wooden sword. "Geoffrey, I'm going to come at you very lightly, but very fast. I want you to try to block or get out of the way. However you do it is fine, without turning your back on me. Be prepared to be hit a few times." He tightened up. "Ready?"
"I don't think I ever will be, but go."
Brian raised the sword over his head and swung down, so as to hit Geoffrey on the top of his head. Geoffrey saw it and blocked it with his own sword, but without even moving his feet, Brian swerved and brought the pole down and shoved the tip right into Geoffrey's face grill. It was jarring, but not painful. Geoffrey staggered back, and raised his staff more protectively, barely blocking the next wide swing. He was only blocking about half the time, and though the hits did not hurt for more than a few seconds, the oncoming wooden blade was disorienting. He couldn't keep up with it, and when he tried, it made it worse.
He didn't see the last one at all.
"Uncle Brian!"
He was lying on the floor. He wasn't sure how he got there, and he could only tell it was the floor because it was against his back, as his idea of up and down was gone. Georgie appeared in an orange blur over him and removed his helmet. She wiped the hair out of his eyes. "Geoffrey?"
There were noises in the background, but he was too distracted, and his ears were still ringing from the stick striking his metal helmet. "I – that's enough. For today. I'm a bad ... Japaner."
"Uncle, I told you not to!"
"I didn't hit him that hard," Brian said, towering somewhere behind her, into infinity. "I'm sorry Geoffrey, but I had to know your limits."
He swallowed. "He didn't hit me that hard," he said to his wife, taking her hand into his. "But I would appreciate him not doing that again so soon."
They tried to sit him up, but he immediately protested for fear of making the spinning worse. Instead they brought a pillow to put under his head and water for him to sip. If he focused, he could hear Brian's dim, apologizing voice in the distance.
Geoffrey spent the next three days in bed, with the shades drawn, waiting for his head to settle. When he stayed motionless, he could be quite aware.
"You stayed up longer than I thought you would," Brian said, "but you won't last in a fight."
"I don't intend to fight."
Brian frowned and crossed his arms. "I would prefer it if you could dodge. We'll have to sneak a gun in. Not that anyone intends to leave your side."
"Or that I intend to get into trouble." He tugged Georgie's hand. "Why does everyone assume we're headed to battle?"
"Darcy won't let me hear the end of it if I don't at least attempt to convince him you'll be safe," Brian answered.
"Besides, one of us has to chase after Alison, and I'll be the capable fighter, and you the nursemaid," Georgie said.
"You're lucky I am incapacitated."
"Do you really object to the arrangement?"
He had to admit it. "No. Where is Alison? I'd like to see her."
Brian left, and the servants were informed. Eventually Nurse, who was out of his field of vision, said, "Mr. Darcy."
"Papa!"
He smiled. "Where is my favorite daughter?" With that, Alison was set down beside him, and for once, it seemed like she stood over him. She really did have her mother's hair, though it was longer. "There she is!"
"Papa figh!"
"What? Georgie?"
"It's supposed to be 'fight.' She's not quite gotten it yet."
"Our daughter's first real word is 'fight.'"
"Yes."
He let Alison climb on his stomach. "Why am I not surprised?"
When Geoffrey could sit up, the lessons continued in a considerably more subdued tone. For the moment he had only to tackle the language, which he found confounding enough when he was well and able to stand on his own. It was almost a relief to have a few hours off when Danny Maddox arrived. He was eager for another sparring partner.
"They won't let you do this at Cambridge, I suppose," Georgie said as she was handed the bokken.
"I'm to understand they don't even let you do it at all," he replied, and bowed to her.
Geoffrey sat far on the sidelines, Alison in his lap and Nadezhda at his side, as Brian was referee. "Can you see Mama fight? Point to Mama." Alison pointed in the general direction and laughed, but it was hard to get a pinpoint on Georgie, who was moving so quickly. She was much faster than Danny, and he was fast. "Is his father aware of his hobby?"
"Considering Frederick's hobbies, Danny's are viewed as mostly harmless," Princess Nadezhda said. "I suspect since they know he'll lose his vision soon, they're letting him do as he pleases. He's put off Cambridge. I heard he might travel to the Continent next year."
"It is quite fashionable to be abroad, it seems," Geoffrey said, and lowered his voice. "His father's sight lasted until ... well, I was in Cambridge."
"Danny had cataract surgery on his left eye about a year ago," she replied. "It was not a complete failure, but the eye is damaged and he can't see well out of it. So he has just the one."
"You can make it far with just one of something G-d gave you two of to start," he said.
"Danny's nervous. The surgery was difficult on him. He expects the worst."
"I wish his frustration was not being vented on my wife."
"I do not think he is being successful at that."
Daniel Maddox Junior dropped like a stone. The thrust into his chest gear had seemed light, but it wasn't, and Brian called the match. Danny sat up and Georgie helped him pull off his helmet, revealing a mess of orange curls as he was handed his glasses.
"This of course is different," Nadezhda said. "In a real fight, with blades and no armor, unless the opponents are evenly matched, the fight is over in one move, maybe two. Bushido strikes are meant to kill, not to poke gently like English fencers."
Geoffrey couldn't help but ask, "Have you ever seen a man go down in one hit?"
"Many times. Too many times."
The brutality of it was striking. They were hitting each other hard, not stopping until one of them fell, and to Geoffrey's great relief it was always Danny. He lasted a long time, but Georgie was better – or at least faster. English fencing was a touch sport – not this brutal-yet-elegant series of cuts meant to sever a limb, a torso, or a head. What kind of country were they going to? He hugged Alison a little tighter.
Their stay lasted until they had to return to the north, to pack their bags for Derbyshire and the Christmas season. Geoffrey was content despite the upcoming peril he would be putting his family in. Alison had learned a few new words (including some in Japanese), and Georgie looked more and more her old self. She had inescapable moments of sadness that could last a day or even two, but she knew they were irrational and he knew they would pass and together they would manage. Her courses also continued to return each month. Either her body was uneager to open again so easily or the tea was working, but they would not jinx it by questioning it. Georgie was so close to being herself again that Geoffrey did not think he could bear her being otherwise. Yes, he found much this holiday to be grateful for.
The day before they were set to leave Lancashire, it snowed. "Alison?" he asked, noticing her standing up on the settee in the hallway to see out the window. "What is it?"
"Mama!" she said, and he wiped the glass but saw only a dashing figure before the door opened with a gust of cold air.
"Oh G-d," Georgie said, kicking off her sandals. "Hot water!" she screamed at the doorman, who bowed and scurried off as she stepped in the cold water. "Oh, that hurts." A maid appeared, bearing water from the kitchen, and Georgie stepped from cold to hot. "Ow! Oh, I cannot catch a break."
"Maybe you should at least wear socks," he said. "I won't have you sick."
"You don't get sick if you do the cold water before the hot water," she said, wiping her face with her scarf. "Besides, it's invigorating."
"We should ask Dr. Maddox about that."
"I already have a response from one Maddox. Why do I need another?" She kissed him with her very cold lips and made for her quarters, Alison and Gawain trailing behind her.
"Because the one you chose is a madman," he answered, even though she was very much out of earshot.
The next day she was dressed properly, bundled up and ready to go. They had new dresses for Alison, who had outgrown her old ones with alarming speed. They paused in the entrance as the cart was being loaded. "Georgie, I don't think we should leave Gawain behind."
"Do you think he's up to it? The cold seems to bother him so."
"It's a short ride." He said in a lower voice, "It might be our last Christmas with him."
"Sir Gawain, as I recall, does not commonly attend church," she said. "Nonetheless, I agree." Gawain padded to her and buried his nose in her gown. He was thinner than he had been in previous years, and moved very slowly, especially in the cold. Geoffrey did not take him for long walks anymore. Gawain was fourteen, so it was not unexpected, but they hadn't spoken much of it. The hound was Geoffrey's childhood companion; it was only an unexpected honor that he lived long enough for their daughter to bond with him.
He petted Gawain on his head and neck. "So it's off to Pemberley, then. To make the pretense of being the normal, proper English family that we are."
"We are proper and English," Georgie said. "And a family. The rest is of little consequence, and anyone with an objection has long-since made their peace with it."
"I surely hope so," he said, picking up his daughter to carry her out to the carriage without getting her clothes wet from the snow. Georgie followed, and finally Gawain, and their carriage was complete.
"To Pemberley, sir?" the coachman asked.
"To Pemberley," he replied. "And Happy Christmas."
...Next Chapter - Christmas at Pemberley
