If I Loved You Less
By DJ Clawson
Last time on our series, an emotional wounded Georgiana Bingley ran from a physically wounded Geoffrey Darcy by spending a year in a womens' school in France. There she learned trust herself, open up to other people, and that if you start killing people, it's going to just pile on itself.
Posting twice weekly. Sometimes more.
Chapter 11 – The Knight in Disgrace
Geoffrey rose late, which was not an overwhelming surprise. He did his best to quickly dress himself and sneak some coffee from the kitchen. He didn't immediately spot his hosts, and he knew Daniel Junior was at Eton and Emily in seminary in France, so that only left George Wickham, who found him easily enough.
"It looks swollen. Is it supposed to be?"
George untied the upper bandages, took a brief look, and retied them. "Yes, it can be a bit. Hurts like a bastard, does it not?"
"Didn't Uncle Maddox say something about your bedside manner?"
"He wants to talk to you in his study. And he says I shouldn't give you any pain medicine until you talk to him."
"Does that mean I'm in trouble?"
George gave him a wicked smile and walked off. Geoffrey huffed. There was no use putting it off, and he desperately wanted that pain medicine. He knocked on the study door. "Come." It was impressive that Doctor Maddox always rose to greet his guests, when certainly he could be excused from that convention in his condition. "Please, shut the door if you would." He walked around the desk and guided himself along the bookshelf. "Thank you, Mr. Darcy. Now, there should be a bookshelf about your level with a set of Chaucer's works in red binding. Do you see it?"
"Uh, yes, Uncle," Geoffrey said, looking to his left.
"Would you do me the favor of standing against it?"
"All right," he said, and the doctor paced around without his cane, before finding him. "Thank you. Now – " And suddenly he rather violently grabbed his collar and pushed him against the bookcase. "In my house."
"Uncle – "
"In my house! What am I going to say to my brother-in-law? My wife's brother?"
"Uncle, you're choking – "
"I am very aware of what I'm doing, thank you very much."
Geoffrey had looked at his uncle with pity, as he was crippled, and now he was starting to be reminded that Doctor Daniel Maddox was actually a fairly tall, robust man who was quite capable of picking up his nephew and throttling him, and those black glasses made it seem as if he was getting quite an intensive stare.
"You know what you must do," the doctor said.
"Sir?" Geoffrey rasped.
"You can't possibly be that stupid. Though, after last night, I am seriously questioning how much of your parents' intelligence you did inherit," the doctor said with full indignation. "Now, tell me, what is the proper procedure in this particular circumstance? I will give you a hint that involves Kirkland."
"Uncle, please, I can't – "
"Geoffrey Darcy! Of all the people!"
"I - ," for it was getting hard – or at least painful – for him to breathe. " – I must go and ask Uncle Bingley for his consent."
Doctor Maddox did release him with a long sigh. He reached out and found one of the desk chairs, and slumped into it as Geoffrey rubbed his neck. "I am sorry," Geoffrey said.
"I must admit – the outcome will probably be satisfying to all parties, but the way you went about it could not have been more foolish," his uncle said. "And your father will be furious if you do not finish at Cambridge, so that means a very long engagement. If Georgiana is capable of a long engagement. You had best pray that she is."
"I didn't - ," but he realized, there was no real use denying it. They had been alone, with the door closed, but there was only one reason why a woman went into the bedchambers of a man in the middle of the night and did not emerge for a length of time. Or maybe she had confessed it all to her aunt; he really had no idea. "I don't know. About the engagement."
"Of course. But we will know in the next few weeks. But the point is, you cannot wait that long. You must go to Bingley and tell him everything. Everything, Geoffrey."
Geoffrey swallowed. "She did consent. I did ask."
"Oh, how good of you."
"I love her." This part did not bring him any pain to say. "I do want her as my wife. I know – I'm not going to deny it. I was foolish. But I have no hesitation about my feelings."
"A young and foolish Darcy," the doctor sniggered. He seemed to be softening. "Now where have I heard that before? Oh, when I passed the time with your father in an Austrian prison by sharing all of our dirty secrets from college. I should tell you about your father's University days sometime – but not today, when you must ride to Derbyshire. Can you ride with one hand, Mr. Darcy?"
"Yes."
"Unfortunately, we can't give you a very strong dose or you'll be falling off your horse. I think your uncle the mystic would refer to it as a form of penance."
"I do apologize for my reprehensible behavior," Geoffrey said, bowing out of habit. "When my horse is ready, I will be gone. But – may I see Georgiana first?"
"I believe she is with her aunt, and I will leave that decision up to my wife. Something you'd best learn to do." However, he did smile. "Good luck, Master Geoffrey. You're going to need it."
He had no doubt of that.
He found Georgiana Bingley taking a mid-morning tea with her aunt Caroline. Geoffrey felt himself choking up as he was introduced. "Mr. Darcy."
They rose and curtseyed, and he very awkwardly said, "Lady Maddox. Miss Bingley." And upon seeing Georgiana, not emotionally stricken but rather fresh-faced, he immediately bowed again to cover his blush.
"Mr. Darcy," Mrs. Maddox said, "we've just been discussing you."
Oh, I'm quite sure about that. "Thank you for your hospitality, Lady Maddox, but I'm afraid I must take my leave for Kirkland as soon as possible. May I have a moment – "
He did not have to explain himself. He couldn't quite decipher the riddle of his aunt's smile as she strode off in an accomplished fashion. The doors remained open, but they were at least out of earshot. It prevented any physical touch that he found himself rather desperate for, but that would come in time – and he had done enough damage as it was. "Georgiana – I apologize for my behavior."
"Do you regret it?"
"I'm going to get hell and damnation from the family, but no," he said. "No, I do not. But do you wish to marry me?"
"You've already asked."
He felt his blush only deepen until his ears were burning. "I was a little – forceful – when I applied for your hand. I want to do it now, with all civility. I love you, Georgiana. I've always loved you, but it took the horrible Mr. Dartmouth to make me realize it. I want you to be my wife. I want you to be – mine."
Georgiana took his unbroken hand. Inappropriate, but no one was rushing in to stop her. "I have been waiting twenty years for you to say that."
"If I kiss you, I will probably get in more trouble than I already am."
"Then allow me," she said, and kissed his hand, as one would a superior. "Papa is a pushover. He may be angry at the circumstances, but he has a terribly romantic heart."
"When will I see you again?"
"There's no reason for me to remain in Town now, so ... perhaps in a few days, when you are bruised and bloodied after Uncle Darcy hears about this."
"Thank you so much for reminding me."
It took him a day and a half, several changes of horses, and one night spent in an inn where exhaustion overtook pain and let him sleep, before Geoffrey reached Kirkland. Unshaven, his hand bound and tied up, and covered in grime from the road, he must have been an alarming figure indeed. "Geoffrey!" Unfortunately, the first person who discovered him was his aunt. "My goodness! What happened to you?"
"I'm fine," even though it was plainly a lie. "A little tired, maybe."
"You're soaking wet! And there's no color in you at all! Geoffrey Darcy, you'll make yourself sick! And why are you not in Cambridge? Do your parents know where you are?"
"No," he said. "I – I need to talk to my uncle."
"What's wrong? What's happened?"
He sighed. Something significant had happened to her daughter, his interference and latter actions aside. But there was no way he could conceive of telling her the story without her worming all of it out of him. "I'm the only one hurt." Aside from Mr. Dartmouth. "I promise – it will all be explained. But I must speak with Uncle Bingley."
"Why don't you have a seat in his study while I fetch him? And you should have something to eat. You look awful." She kissed him on the cheek. "Should I send for your parents?"
"No! I mean, no, not yet. Thank you, Aunt Bingley." He bowed stiffly and escaped to his uncle's study, though he knew it would not be an escape for long. Like his father's study, it was filled with books. Unlike his father's study, the books were overflowing to the point of some being simply stacked against the wall or on the desk in piles that looked ready to topple over.
Geoffrey slumped into one of the chairs, and his exhaustion finally overcame him. Every part of his body seemed to hurt from the riding, and he had enough sense not to take a vial of Maddox's concoction before attempting to seek Georgiana's hand in marriage. He had no appetite for the food brought in for him, and was actually beginning to drift off when Mr. Bingley finally entered. "Geoffrey?"
He leapt to his feet despite the massive physical exertion it required of him. "Uncle Bingley." He bowed, trying very hard not to topple over.
"Mr. Darcy, what in the world has happened? Look at you – you're barely holding up. Should I call for a doctor?"
"No, I've just seen one. George Wickham patched me up."
"Yes, I've heard Doctor Maddox has taken him under his wing. Wait – what were you doing in Town? Did something happen in Cambridge?" his uncle's expression was appropriately confused. "Please, sit."
"I prefer to stand, sir," he said. That was proper, wasn't it? "I – I don't know how to begin this story."
"I often find chronologically is best," Bingley said, taking his seat.
Geoffrey exhaled, unconsciously leaning against the bookcase for support as he began with the letter he'd received about Mr. Dartmouth. "I cannot, at this point, explain my actions. I will later in the tale, I promise," he said, and then proceeded to narrate the terrible events of the evening in question, pausing after his fight with Dartmouth, to allow his uncle to absorb the terrible events.
Mr. Bingley was obviously distressed at the news of the near-violation of his eldest daughter. He ran his hands through his graying hair. "But – you saved her."
"Yes. I suppose."
"You – you suppose?"
He continued with his tale, not being completely descriptive about how exactly he had comforted her before they called Doctor Maddox. That would come later. He stopped at his retiring for the night, the first time.
There was a very uncomfortable silence as he watched his uncle rub his hands together and try to absorb all of this information. "I've been a terrible father."
"No – "
"Entirely inexcusable. I showed more concern with my sister's suitors than my own daughter's. We can now only hope that Mr. Dartmouth can be reasoned with."
"You're – intending to talk to him?"
"We certainly cannot press charges without it all coming out. In fact, I will be forced to bribe him to be assured of his silence if Georgiana is to have any hope of a reputation. But the chance of her having one at all is all thanks to you, Mr. Darcy. I am in your debt." He managed a weak smile.
Geoffrey shuddered. "You are not, sir."
"I don't understand your meaning."
"Uncle Bingley," he said, "I've come to Kirkland not only to deliver this news, but to ask for your consent. I wish to marry Georgiana."
"And – what?"
"I love her and she loves me. I asked her if she wanted to be my wife, and she consented." He hung his head. "I'm not quite finished with the story, if you would, sir."
Bingley, too stunned to do otherwise, nodded.
With as few descriptive words as possible, Geoffrey kept his promise to Doctor Maddox and explained how, mutually, they had come to realize their love for each other, and not as cousins. He tried to make it sound as though neither was in the wrong, or at the very least, that it was only he that was responsible for their joint actions, though he was not willing to go as far as to admit to forcing her. If anything, in truth, she had forced herself upon him, but he certainly wasn't going to say that.
The expression on his uncle's face was enough to give him the strong temptation to run, but he did not. First, he doubted he had the strength to. Second, it certainly would not be he best for his application for Georgiana's hand.
Finally, after much pacing about, his uncle said, "What am I supposed to tell Darcy?"
"It's my responsibility, sir."
"You take a lot on yourself," Bingley said. He lumbered about, as if lost in his own study. "It does ... explain your actions."
"What does, sir?"
"Riding from Cambridge on the mere mention of a suitor for Georgiana. Not that you lack your father's instincts for being the gentleman savior, but he usually did it with a bit more investigation first." He paced as he talked. "And – I can't say that you are ill-matched. Georgiana spoke her first words to you."
"She – she did?"
"I suppose you don't remember it. I can hardly blame you, as you were two, but we were quite concerned that she was not as articulate as you or other children her age. But it turned out she was perfectly capable, but chose to talk only to you, or so you once told your mother, and she related the story to me much later and with much amusement." He smiled idly at the memory, if only briefly. "In fact, despite the manner in which this came about, I can't think of a single reason to object to such a union. If you would, there's a bottle in the – "
Geoffrey instantly reached for the false case and pulled it aside to reveal a spare bottle of brandy and several tumblers.
"You constantly surprise me. I suppose I don't wish to hear the story behind how you became so acquainted with the infamous shelf. Just pour me a glass. And one for yourself, perhaps."
Geoffrey thought well of the idea. He was parched and sore and happily settled into the chair next to his uncle and handed him a glass.
"Cheers," Uncle Bingley said. "To the final union of our families."
"You – you consent?"
"Of course I consent. I'd be a fool not to, breaking Georgiana's heart after the trauma she's been through. Now don't waste that brandy, Mr. Darcy. It's very expensive and it looks like you need a stiff drink."
Geoffrey downed his drink in a way that would have made even Frederick Maddox impressed. When he looked up, his uncle was smiling. "So – you hurt your hand?"
"Two fingers broken. I should have punched with my knuckles, not my fingers. Or so George told me. And it's swollen and throbbing now."
"Did the doctor – or Mr. Wickham, I suppose – give you something for it?"
"I didn't want to take it before speaking to you. Muddle my senses," he confessed, producing the vial from the pocket of his waistcoat.
"Ah yes, the famous concoction; works better than laudanum, but far less tasty, or so I've been told. I've never tasted both. I had a few doses for a benign tumor Doctor Maddox took off my knee some years ago. A product of getting old – which I must be, if I'm now in the position to be marrying off my daughters." His gentle and pleasant attitude made Geoffrey think that perhaps he was a hopeless romantic after all. More at ease, he finally uncorked and swallowed the vial's contents, chasing it down with the last of his brandy.
"So Miss Bingley will finally become Mrs. Darcy," Bingley said, chuckling. "After all these years."
Geoffrey could not figure out what he meant, but he felt a sudden lethargy and decided not to inquire further. Uncle Bingley did ramble on some more, but not all of it was coherent, until Bingley shook him a bit and said, "Mr. Darcy – son – I think you'd best lie down for a while."
"I ha-have to go – three more miles – to ... you know," he waved his hands about as if he could make the shape of Pemberley.
"I doubt you could make the journey in your present state, and should approach your parents when you are better acquainted with your senses. Come, Mr. Darcy," he said, and pulled him up, because Geoffrey found he did not have the ability to stand quite well on his own, not with sudden movement at least. "You Darcys have always been such lushes."
Geoffrey could find no suitable argument to that.
...Next Chapter – Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley
