The Price of Family

A sequel to "A Bit of Advice" and "The Question of Consent"

By DJ Clawson

Author's Note: This is my last update before vacation at Pennsic. See you in two weeks.

Chapter 15 – Fire and Lies

"I'm not going to have to shave my head, am I?"

"I don't believe so," Daniel Maddox said as he found the spot at last, a suspicious lump between brown hairs that he approached with his tweezers. "It appears to merely be a tick of some kind, not lice."

"Good," said the Regent. "How did I get a tick? What is a tick?"

"By perhaps putting your head on an unsanitary mattress. And I believe it is a type of beetle," he replied, and motioned to the servant for the bottle of whiskey. "This may sting a bit. Hold your head still, please, Your Royal Highness."

The Prince Regent managed to do so, and Maddox poured a small amount of alcohol on the site, causing the embedded bug to pull back so he could pull it out. "Scissors."

"My hair!"

"Only a snip, Your Highness," he said as the servant took the bottle from him and handed him the scissors. Unfortunately, the tick was also wrapped in hair, which he snipped, and at last had the insect in his tweezers. "Jar, please." And the jar was handed to him, where he deposited it and sealed the jar.

The Prince looked around. "What are you going to do with it?"

"Try to determine the species. But you should be fine, Your Highness. Though, if I may recommend, you keep your head and any other hairy areas away from whatever conditions you previously subjected them to. These things can carry disease." He looked at the bottle as he replaced his glasses, and that was when he noticed a man in a white undergarment charge into the room, apparently enraptured by what he was holding.

"'And thus sayth the Lord,' burn it with fire!" said the wiry man with white hair, before walking across the room, back again, and then out the opposite door.

While Maddox was gathering his reaction to the spectacle, the Prince chuckled. "You probably should have bowed to your king."

"That – "

" – was my father, yes. But you did not recognize it, so I'll excuse it this time. And all other times that he's completely out of his head." The Regent gave him an encouraging slap on the back. "You can see why I am essentially the ruler now, eh?"

"I ... have no comment."

"Discreet as always. Well, everyone knows he's batty, anyway. He called me king, once," the Regent said, taking the whiskey from the table and taking a swig himself. "King of Prussia, to be precise."

To this, Maddox had a very hard time not responding.

When Doctor Maddox returned to his townhouse, his wife was there to greet him. "Charles is here. He's joining us for dinner."

"Is there some news?"

"No, but he had business. Or needed a break from the Bennets," she said as the servant removed his complicated and expensive wig, and he fluffed his hair back up. "How's the Prince?"

"You know I can't tell you that."

"I was just curious," she said, kissing him on the cheek as she escorted him to greet their guest. Charles Bingley was in the sitting room, reading a book that he did not recognize. They bowed to each other, and Maddox excused himself to properly change.

"Georgiana is joining us as well – am I correct in that?" he said at his dressing station.

"Yes. But Louisa and Mr. Hurst have another engagement, so it's just us." She laid back on the chaise, and he smiled unintentionally, because she was beginning to show. "So how is the Regent?"

"He is fine, and that is all I will say on the matter."

"So discreet."

"It is what he pays me for," he said, and excused himself to bathe. By the time he was washed up and dressed, it was nearly time for dinner, and Georgiana Darcy had arrived.

"I've gotten a letter from Elizabeth," she said, as they gathered, and Charles put his book away. "She even sent a little picture of Notre Dame. Doctor, have you seen it?"

"Many times," he said as the card with an etching of the grand cathedral was passed to him. He gave it to his wife. "A most impressive building."

"So she says. They are going south now, to catch a boat to Rome."

"I received a letter from Darcy a few days ago," Bingley said. "So they must be some ways south of Paris by now, as they were just then getting back on the road."

"They are going all the way by carriage? If only there was some better way and still as quickly," Maddox said.

"Oh, and they've hired a guide, too. A monk named Grégoire ... Bellamont," she said, having to check the name. At this, Bingley's ears seemed to perk up.

"I'm sorry, I missed that. What did you say the guide's name was?"

"Grégoire Bellamont. A local from the west. Speaks several languages. I don't know – she doesn't describe him further."

Bingley shrugged it off, and Maddox noticed the distinct shrug of someone with something else on his mind. But he would not press his guest. "Does she mention anything else?"

"Only that she has little time to write," Georgiana said, putting the letter away. "Mr. Bingley, what in the world are you reading?"

Because the book did have mysterious characters on its cover, alongside English ones. "It is a book on the various languages of the Indias. Did you know there are twenty-seven?"

"Charles, if you intend to learn them all, we must find you another hobby," Caroline said.

"Yes," Maddox said. "Where this Bingley family obsession with languages comes from, I have no idea. Most perplexing."

For that he got two looks – a stern one from Caroline for undercutting the chastising of her brother, and a thankful one from Charles. Fortunately, the dinner bell rang and the line of conversation did not have to be pursued.

Over dinner, Charles pronounced that everyone currently residing in his household was just fine, and that Georgie had finally said her first word. "Actually, it was a whole sentence."

"My goodness," said his sister.

"Yes. Apparently she was just saving up or something," he said. "My wife was right on the floor. I would have been if I hadn't been carrying Geoffrey at the time."

"Carrying or throttling?"

"Carrying, Caroline," he said. "The second came later, but that is another story entirely."

"From Eliza's side, no doubt."

"I will have to correct you, and say that with all due respect to Darcy, I've known him since his college days and heard enough stories to say that he may have contributed to a certain child's personality. Or told you enough stories. Far too many stories." He decided to change the subject entirely away from sibling banter. "So, how is our Regent? Or I suppose you can't tell us."

"I've never yet told you anything about a patient who wasn't a direct relative of yours or mine, and I don't intend to start now," Maddox said as the second soup course was served.

"Have you met the king?"

"As he is not a patient, there I can relent and say yes, I have met the king. Today, in fact. Only, we were not properly introduced, because I was an anonymous servant of his son and he was completely out of his mind when he came in the room."

"Now you have to finish the story," Caroline insisted in the way that only she could insist.

"It is not a very long story. He came into the room half-dressed, told me to kill it with fire – not explaining what he referred to – walked around a bit, and left."

"You saw His Majesty in his undergarments?" Georgiana whispered, as everyone was obviously suppressing their laughter.

"Apparently I did. I didn't actually recognize him at the time and I was not told who he was until he was gone."

"Darling," his wife said, "I must comment that you seem terrible at recognizing royals." This, she did not explain to their guests.

Bingley was staying the night, to leave for Derbyshire in the morning. It was not until Caroline retired and Georgiana went home that the gentlemen were left alone, and Maddox finally got to inquire as to Bingley's sudden appearance.

"Some business, some buying of books, some pleasure," he said. "Though my sister would not be overly fond of the idea that the Bingley family is still secretly involved in trade. She thinks I am an idle gentlemen. Then again, she did not marry an idle gentlemen, so maybe she has warmed to the idea."

"Perhaps," the doctor said with a smile as they shared a glass.

"So I suppose her confinement will have to be in Town. And I was going to invite you to Kirkland. Perhaps you will not mind a semi-frequent guest?"

"Of course not," Maddox said.

"She is getting along well? Jane has been wonderful, but I think the twins have worn her out. G-d help me if she gets pregnant again anytime soon."

"Caroline is doing fine," Maddox said with a smile, amused at Bingley's concern for his sister. "Her only complaint so far has been that she is going to need her gowns adjusted, because she will not go about the house in nightclothes like so many women. Or, that's how she puts it."

Bingley shook his head completely knowingly. "And how is the royal commission?"

"Not particularly taxing, I must admit. The Regent is actually in excellent health, and I am enjoying having London University open to me. There have been a few advances since I was last in school. And something tells me I am about to be a busy man."

"A proper gentlemen has little to do with infants," Bingley said. "Or any sort of real business. My, I am the most terrible proper gentlemen in the world."

"I, as well."

To that, they raised their glasses and clinked them together.

Bingley's other business, quickly dispensed, was advising Georgiana away from Kirkland for a while, as the Wickhams had responded and would be in shortly. To this she had little comment, and with that dispatched, Bingley made the long journey back up to Kirkland by horseback, with the books being sent up behind him. He arrived mid-day, but it was Kitty who greeted him as the servants removed his coat and hat. "Jane is retired."

"What? Is she all right?"

"The doctor says she's fine."

"Doctor?" He resisted the urge to throttle his sister-in-law for more information. "Where is this doctor?"

"It's the local one. We just called for him this morning, after she passed out – "

"She passed out?"

Kitty now seemed a bit intimidated by his alarm. "The doctor is upstairs, I believe."

He did not even take the time to bow. "Miss Bennet." And then he was up the stairs like a madman, using the railing to hurl himself around the corner and nearly clobbering into Dr. Michaels, a local Derbyshire man who came with Darcy's recommendation when they moved into the county. "How is she? What happened? Where's my wife?"

The aged doctor, apparently accustomed to the overly-concerned husband, said, "She is resting. She had a fainting spell and I was called."

"She's not – is she with child?"

"No, she is not."

Bingley heaved a sigh of relief. Yes, he did eventually want more children, but not now. "Then what is it?"

"I believe nursing two infants and taking charge of a household is a bit taxing on Mrs. Bingley. I have recommended the employ of a wet nurse, for her sake."

"Yes. Yes, of course, it shall be done. Thank you, doctor. Now if you'll excuse me – " And he didn't wait a moment longer. He ran right around him and stormed into his wife's bedchamber.

"Mr. Bingley!" Mrs. Bennet said, rising from the bedside. "You've – "

"Mrs. Bennet," he said with only a cursory bow, and sat down beside his wife, who looked little pale, but otherwise, fine, and took her hand. "Jane. I'm so sorry – "

"There is nothing to be sorry about. It is a fuss over nothing. Mama."

Mrs. Bennet apparently had things to say to Bingley, but for the moment she knew her place enough to leave husband and wife alone, closing the door behind her. Bingley kissed Jane on the cheek. "I had no idea. I left Town this morning – "

"It was nothing. I am just a bit tired, from all of this nursing, and I didn't eat enough this morning, and no, I am not pregnant."

"Is it so horrible that we are both happy for that?"

"Heavens no. It would be terrible timing." She stroked his cheek. "Charles."

"I am so sorry I wasn't here. I should have been here."

"Yes, and you should have had proper foresight to see that your wife would spontaneously and without proper cause collapse. I should have married a psychic, clearly."

So, she could still joke, and that eased the pain in his heart somewhat. "The doctor – I only spoke to him briefly, but he said we should have a wet nurse."

"As my mother has always insisted. But it was not a problem for Georgie."

"Because there was only one Georgie."

"Yes." She tightened her grip on his hand. "Charles, I am fine. Stop worrying."

"I will never stop worrying about you," he said. "You will always be my chief concern. And I will now take your mother's side – something I never expected to do – and insist upon a wet nurse."

"And I am actually going to agree with you. But tell me – is there any news from Town?"

He stripped off his waistcoat and laid down next to her, if only so he could be closer to her without her getting up. "Everyone is fine. My sister is doing well, and Doctor Maddox met the king."

"He did?"

"Not very formally. His Majesty merely ran into the room, said some nonsense, and then ran right out before the poor doctor could recognize him, much less properly bow, apparently."

Jane's laughter was such a wonderful sound.

"Oh, and there is something perhaps I shouldn't say, which means that I shall," he said. "Georgiana received a letter from Elizabeth, mainly reiterating what she wrote to us, but mentioning something – perhaps by accident – that was not in our letter."

"Oh?"

He nodded. "The name of their monkish guide. Grégoire Bellamont."

She put her hands over her mouth. "No!"

"I see we are on the same line of suspicious thought."

"They may have some explaining to do when they return to the country."

"Oh, yes. But until then, if Darcy is inclined to keep it to himself and Elizabeth is inclined to do the same, we should hardly interfere."

"Agreed."

Further conversation was interrupted by the doorbell. Bingley threw on his waistcoat and went out into the hall to greet his guests. The Wickhams had arrived.

Bingley supposed that in another world, he would be friends with George Wickham. Both men were excessively good at being hospitable and charming, and on the surface, they got along excessively well, as it turned out. (If their first meeting was stricken from the record) If Bingley could bring himself to forget all of the past injustices this man had been party to or been the villain in, he could very well have enjoyed his company. And, he was also busy looking at the Wickham children, a girl about four and a boy about two. They were named George Wickham (the third) and Isabella, and he tried to keep his staring at a minimum, because there was no one he was willing to explain to that he was looking for familial similarities. There were few to none. True, George and Darcy did not resemble each other, or the ruse (if there was a ruse at all and it was not Bingley's idle suspicions) would have been given up long ago. But Darcy, by portrait, favored his mother, and Wickham his. So Bingley said nothing as he greeted them – not that he would have if the two children had been outright Darcy clones.

There were many introductions to be made, because Mr. Bennet had met neither of these two grandchildren, and Geoffrey and Georgie had never meant their Aunt Lydia. When asked, Bingley merely said Jane was resting and would join them later, and the Bingley twins were brought in, and there was much comparing and speculation about height and intelligence by brightness of the eyes and all that. Mrs. Bennet was in heaven, being utterly surrounded by her grandchildren and finally getting to see her precious Lydia without going alone to Newcastle, and Mr. Bennet did seem to show some affection when holding his grandson George, even if he gave the father of that child a very cold glare every time he could.

And then there was the business of Mary. They had decided to not hide her pregnancy, as at this point it would have taken a bit of camouflage, and the squeal from Lydia nearly broke most of the men's eardrums, and the three of them found it advantageous to retire to the next room, where Mr. Bennet sat happily with one of his three grandsons in his lap.

"Welcome to Kirkland, Mr. Wickham," Bingley said. "It does get a bit ... crazy here. Sometimes." He was just glad Geoffrey and Georgie had returned, at least, to their normal skin tones and that he didn't have to explain that incident.

"I can imagine. Quite vividly, actually, with all of the people in the next room. Lovely house, though. So I hear the Darcys are on the Continent?"

"Traveling, yes." He did not elaborate. "They will be back in time for various – things. My sister is also approaching confinement."

"My apologies if I forget her name. Carol?"

"Caroline. Caroline Maddox, now. Her husband is a physician. They live in Town, near my other sister and her husband." In his arms, his own son began to whimper. "What is it? Do you want your mother? You're running her ragged, you know that?" He quickly passed his son off to Nurse.

"How old is he?"

"Seven months. And his sister, Eliza, if it all got too confusing."

"Of course. Named after Elizabeth. Isabella is named after my mother."

Well, that part Wickham had right. Probably.

It took a long time to get all the children put down or in their right places before the adults could sit down for dinner, with Bingley at the head of his massive conglomerate household. Jane joined them just in time, having regained her color, and he often found himself holding her hand under the table as Wickham did his best to delight them with military rumors. Not that hearing about disturbances in France was going to put anyone at ease with the Darcys there, but he probably missed that subtlety and no one was willing to point it out. The point was, Mrs. Bennet was delighted in having her daughter at her side "at a proper table" again (implying, however unintentionally, that the Wickham table was not so proper), and when his mother-in-law was happy, Bingley was inclined to feel some of it. And Mr. Bennet kept quiet, but was not as stand-offish as Bingley and Jane had expected him to be, taking a great delight in hearing tales of his grandchildren, irregardless of their parentage.

"And Isabel said the cutest thing the other day ..."

For Lydia, it seemed, had grown into her accepted role as mother, at least to a presentable extent. However much she whined about money and living conditions in her letters, she did none of it at the table.

The gentlemen retired to the library, and Wickham excused himself to smoke when Mr. Bennet mentioned a particular physical intolerance for the stuff, leaving the two of them alone to share a glass of port. "How was Town?"

"Fine. I would have come sooner if – "

" – you saw the future and knew Jane would take a spill. Despite my own fatherly instincts, I cannot hold it against you on the basis of pure logic," Mr. Bennet said. "Did you see Miss Darcy? Does she have any news?"

"Very little we do not have."

"Yes, yes, all of the letters seem to match up," Mr. Bennet said. "Sort of."

Bingley lowered his glass.

"What I mean to say, of course, is that I've noticed that the letters we're all getting are slightly different when lined up. As can be expected on some level, because Lizzy will only write calming letters to Mrs. Bennet and more pertinent material pertaining to Mary to me, and Mr. Darcy hardly says anything at all beyond their itinerary. Which, if you look at the map, has a lot of inconsistencies."

"You've – been studying this?"

"I am perhaps bored in my old age," Mr. Bennet said, knowing it was no excuse. "Or maybe I smell not quite a ruse, but something else going on. And judging from your reaction, you have your own suspicions as well."

Bingley frowned and leaned against the bookshelf. "I will not lie to you. I think Darcy has found some family business there he did not expect to find. But it has nothing to do with Miss Bennet's situation and I don't think there is any real 'ruse' here. In fact, if it is anything at all, I have a feeling it will all come out when they return."

"Perhaps," was all Mr. Bennet had to say to that.

... Next Chapter – Stumbling Block