The Price of Family

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

By DJ Clawson

Note - For those of you who like to know where you are in the story, this story has about 29 chapters, so there clearly must be some other thing to be resolved.

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Chapter 19 – Brian Maddox Rides Again

"Shave it."

"What? I could never – "

"It is my recommendation, Your Highness."

But His Highness did not look pleased at the process. "So it is lice, then."

"Yes."

"Anything else?"

"Wash it first with whiskey or vodka, scrubbing thoroughly, then with soap and water. That should do the trick."

Doctor Maddox's patient groaned. "You can tell? From that far?"

"I'm not coming any closer, Your Majesty. With all due respect."

"Christ. I'll look so odd."

"I do not believe anyone will notice it. Except perhaps your wife."

"Are you kidding me? I haven't even seen Caroline in years, much less slept with her." He caught the look on Maddox's face before he could recover. "Oh, that's right. Your wife is also named Caroline. Well, I promise not to sleep with her, either."

"...T-Thank you, Your Highness." Maddox quickly returned to his tools, and began slowly replacing them, as they would obviously not be needed. A lower servant than him would do this dirty work if the Prince didn't do it himself. Either way, the imagery made him shudder. "But – uhm, while we are on the topic of names, I was wondering if you would remember a mutual friend of ours, Miss Lilly Garrison?" He swallowed and latched his bag, knowing he would have to face the Regent for this.

"Harrison ... I know a few – Oh. You mean, Lilly. I never got her last name."

"Neither did I, admittedly, until she showed up at my house."

"She did? The nerve of that ... that whore! I mean, even for a whore, that's pretty preposterous, showing up at a client's house – "

"I was never a client," he corrected. "I was merely the doctor on call. And even if I had that inclination, I would never subject my body to such unsanitary conditions. I might get lice."

"Well put. But then why is she bothering you?" The Regent slapped himself in his bushy head. It would have been an amusing image if Maddox was not terrified by the conversation and was busy with that emotion instead. "Of course. Did she hit you up for money?"

"No."

"Then she wants it from me. I haven't responded to her letters, or the letters someone wrote for her, so she went out of her way – I will not have my own physician so unjustly treated. Tell me at least your wife wasn't at home!"

"It is not important," he said. He needed some of that whiskey he had mentioned now, to steel himself. Shame it wasn't around. "The point is, I feel obligated to mention that she is heavy with child."

"Feel obligated? What do you owe her?"

"Nothing. But she is a woman in need, despite her profession."

"Ah, I see." The Regent, despite being on the path to moral and physical self-destruction, was a rather clever man. "And she went to you because you are so noble and also had access to me, knowing perhaps you would even put your own life at risk, speaking treason to the Prince Regent by making implications against the State, since I am the State, that my marriage to Caroline of Brunswick is not sacrosanct. Which would make you a great fool, putting your head on the chopping block for some whore."

Maddox mumbled, "Yes, I am quite a fool in this respect."

"Then ...," The Regent sighed. "What do you want?"

"It is not what I want. It is what Miss Garrison – Lilly – wants."

"Compensation. Of course. Well, let me tell you something, because I know you are a discreet man. If I gave compensation to every whore or lady carrying a royal bastard, the State coffers would be empty."

"Then just this one, perhaps."

The Regent laughed. "You insist upon it? Have you forgotten your place, doctor?"

"You will refuse, and we will never speak of this again, and you will either fire me or have me killed. But yes, I will insist upon it, because there is one thing I have not forgotten, and it is that a gentleman is always in the service of a lady."

"That woman is no lady. Do you remember at all that she stabbed me? Even when I continued to see her after she was obviously pregnant?"

"I am aware. But that does not change her biological composition. She is, and shall die, a lady."

The Regent laughed. The folly of youth, perhaps, but they were basically the same age. In many ways, Prince George reminded him of his brother, and not always in the good way, but he passed no judgments. Not knowing what to say, he pursed his hands behind his back to hide the fact that his stable surgeon's hands were shaking.

"You are very ... I don't know, knightly. Like those old legends about going through a terrible battle for a woman's honor. Even if the woman doesn't deserve it." He chuckled. "Fine, I will send her something, but we shall never speak of this again, and if Lilly ever approaches you again, tell her she is doing so against orders of the State, and that if she bothers you longer, there will be no 'Miss Garrison.' Am I understood?"

"Perfectly," said the doctor, not quite believing what he was hearing. He bowed, deeper than he usually did. "Thank you, Your Most Gracious Highness."

"Your ridiculous sense of honor is going to get you in trouble one of these days, doctor," he said, slapping him on the arm. "But not today. You are quite a lucky man in that respect."

Indeed, he was. He had the whole way back to fathom the length to which the Prince's mercy extended. Maybe Caroline was right, and he just liked him – the proper formality of a skilled physician mixed with actual concern, but never an improper comment, until today. And he had survived, career and spinal column intact.

He arrived home just in time for supper, and was to deliver the news to Caroline immediately when he was stopped by a maid, who handed him a note. "We found this in the box, after the post had already been delivered."

He tore open the seal of Maddox and read it.

Dear Brother,

I have some excessively hasty business carrying a letter to Mr. Bennet in the North. If you wish to catch me, you'd better head to Derbyshire immediately. Sorry for the rush. B. Maddox

"Daniel? What's the matter?"

"Brian," he said. "He was – apparently in Town today, long enough to drop off this." He passed it to his wife, who read it quickly. "I told you he was a courier these days. Apparently the Darcys have employed him."

"Then you must go, at once!"

"But I could not – "

"Don't be ridiculous. I have nearly two months. Now go to Kirkland and see that beloved brother of yours. And try not to let him talk you into giving him too much money."

He kissed her on the cheek. "Agreed." He grabbed his sack again, and instructed his footman to have a horse saddled and ready. "Oh, and the Prince said yes."

"Yes?"

"To Miss Garrison's request. Though we are never to speak of it again, and she is never to speak to me again. Those were his conditions, which I found very agreeable."

"Oh, Daniel!" she hugged him as best she could at her stage. "Congratulations."

"You were – rooting for me?"

"I am your wife. I will root for success in all of your endeavors, no matter how stupidly noble. Now go, and see that rogue of a brother of yours."

"I'll tell him you said that."

"You wouldn't dare."

About that, she was definitely right.

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The company of Kirkland was sitting down to dinner when the bell for the front door rang. As they had not heard from the Darcys since they left France, Bingley ran past his servants and answered the door himself. He was not expecting, however, a thoroughly soaked and muddied Brian Maddox. "...Hello?"

"Mr. Bingley," Brian bowed to his brother-in-law. "Sorry for the intrusion, but I have a letter for Mr. Bennet." He wiped his hands on his jacket, reached into his rucksack, and retrieved a formal, sealed envelope. "Express from Italy."

"Mr. Maddox, please do come in at once." For it was pouring, and the man was obviously exhausted. "We'll see to your horse. Do you mind if I give it to Mr. Bennet myself so you can rest a bit before joining us for dinner?"

"Would be lovely, Mr. Bingley," said Brian, and handed over the letter as the servants rushed to help him out of his overcoat and escort him somewhere were he could be properly changed and cleaned.

But Bingley wasn't concerned with that. He instead rushed back to the dining hall. "Mr. Bennet." He handed him the letter, with Darcy's seal on it.

Mr. Bennet excused himself to Mr. Bingley's study, shutting the door behind him. Dinner halted entirely as the whole of the adult residents and guests of Kirkland stood outside the door, including a very pregnant and confided Mary Bennet, listening to the silence within. Even though only a few minutes, it was an unbearably long time before he reappeared, a grave look on his face. "Mary."

She joined him inside, and the door was shut again. Jane hugged her husband, who whispered encouraging things in her ear.

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"Now, enough of that," Mr. Bennet said as he made his daughter sit in the chair beside him. His mood was entirely different when the door was closed. He was almost – content. "The letter is, obviously, from Mr. Darcy. I will read it to you, and then you may see it for yourself if you wish, as you are, of course, his chief concern."

Dear Mr. Bennet,

First, I must report that Elizabeth and I are well and safely in Rome. We are eager to hear that everything is well in England, when Mr. Maddox returns with your reply.

To the matter at hand, we have located Mr. Ferretti, who is currently residing in Rome. He has continued his insistence that he cannot move to England to marry Miss Bennet without abandoning his own family, to which he has heavy obligations, and she cannot be asked to abandon hers. Lacking other option, he has offered a settlement of a number of ducats which a banker has calculated to be in the area of 150,000 pounds, to go to you for the express purpose of providing for Miss Bennet. He has also asked that upon my return to England, I supervise the arrangement of a trust fund starting at 40,000 pounds, which will be come accessible to the child at his age of majority, or if it is a girl, will be her inheritance upon marriage or reaching the age of five and thirty, in accordance with British law. Mr. Ferretti would do so only on the insistence that you see that the money does in fact go to Miss Bennet's welfare, and I assured him that it would.

If you find these arrangements suitable, please reply with haste and send our courier back, as we are both eager to return to England and cannot do so without a reply. If you want to raise argument or refusal, it is your choice to do so, but as a son-in-law, I highly advise against it.

Please give our love to Geoffrey and thank Mr. and Mrs. Bingley for caring for him in our absence, which hopefully is nearing its end.

"Signed, Mr. Darcy," he finished, closing the letter and handing it to a shocked Mary, who was holding a protective hand over her sizable stomach. "Well ..." and he trailed off, because he could not contain his joyous laughter, which started as chuckle and became louder as he embraced her. "It seems we are saved by Mr. Darcy once again."

"So you will accept?"

"As he said, I would be a fool not to. And while I do consider myself at times foolish, in this case, I can see the obvious quite well enough."

"And it is not a terrible thing to accept money for a sin?"

"The sin has already been done, and I think any man will overlook it, even with a toddler at your feet, when you are richer than Mr. Bingley. And with no entails, no obligations because you are under Longbourn's roof, no one to support ... I cannot even fathom it. Though, as the custodian and official owner of this great wealth, you will perhaps allow me one discretion."

"Anything, Papa."

"I would like to take aside ten thousand or so for Kitty and set it as her inheritance. And perhaps, repair that fallen piece of the roof in the barn at Longbourn for a few pounds." He kissed her on the cheek. "Despite everything, I must say, you've done well for yourself, Mary. Now, we must not keep them waiting or I'll never hear the end of it from your mother."

She laughed. His daughter laughed, and it could only make Mr. Bennet happier, as they emerged into the waiting crowd. "An arrangement has been made for Mary and the child, and I will agree to it, in letter, when Mr. Maddox is fit to travel again."

"Thank G-d! Oh, thank G-d! Mary!" Mrs. Bennet did not hide her enthusiasm. "We are all saved!"

"If I may inquire – " said Bingley.

" – if I tell you the amount, you may divorce my lovely Jane to marry my lovely Mary, no matter how noble you are," Mr. Bennet replied, back to his usual humor, something they had not seen in three terrible months.

"Never," Bingley smiled, knowing he would hear the real amount soon enough, and hugged his wife.

Their previous dinner, while not particularly gloomy, was returned to, this time in celebration. Mr. Maddox, now dressed in borrowed clothing and still looking exhausted by at least clean, shuffled in with his odd step and joined them.

"The letter was not dated," Mr. Bennet said. "How long did it take you to get here?"

"Two weeks and two days," Brian said. "And many, many different horses."

"Then we shan't keep you up," Bingley said. "You may retire whenever you are full, Mr. Maddox. We are very much in your debt."

"I can't even think of debts. All I can think of is ... the back heads of horses," he said, and dove into his food.

He did retire, though, immediately following the meal. The ladies took to their own place, and there was must squealing and discussion, probably because Mary told Mrs. Bennet the amount. Bingley heard it to, privately, from Mr. Bennet in his study after a glass of port. In front of him was a writing desk, where Mr. Bennet intended to begin crafting his reply.

"My G-d," Bingley said. It was more than his entire inheritance. (1)

"Yes, despite the circumstances, my daughter has done better for herself in a certain way than any of the others. I imagine there'll be knights and lords lining up to marry her now, after we decide how to make it known."

"Or the Regent himself."

"He is married, I believe."

"I think they are estranged."

"Doctor Maddox told you that?"

Bingley shrugged. "Doctor Maddox is fastidious in his confidentiality about his patients. I had merely heard it in Town." He took a sip. "You may realize that, if Mary does not marry soon, or at all if she so chooses, and she delivers a boy, he will have the name Bennet, and the estate will pass to him."

"I was so – overwhelmed, I hadn't even thought of it," Mr. Bennet admitted. "You're right. Goodness, five daughters and I still might have a sort of son. Not that I don't treasure my sons-in-law, mind you."

Bingley happily raised his glass to that.

"That is, of course, dependent on the gender. But my granddaughter will certainly have enough of an inheritance that any man would overlook her history. Or may not even know it. He may have 'died in a war' or something by then." He leaned on his hand, his thinking posture. "It may be best to cover up some of this, as indecorous as that might be, for Kitty's sake."

"Mary was married abroad and her husband died on one of Napoleon's ridiculous campaigns," Bingley suggested. "Meanwhile, your long investment in a company in Australia finally paid off in great sum, leaving a greater dowry for Kitty. Or something to that effect."

"Precisely, Mr. Bingley." They clinked glasses. "I am indebted to you, of course, almost as much as Mr. Darcy, for putting up with us all of these months, and for the next two."

"It has had its pleasures. And with her sister in Confinement, Jane would of course be with her anyway, so it is most convenient for me."

"Except that your sister is confined in Town."

"True. They have a target assumption of a date, so I may take leave of Kirkland for that week. But Jane is fine now, thank G-d, and now with this weight off our shoulders ... Well, when the Darcys return, I will feel even better."

"Yes," Mr. Bennet said. "They have been gone so very long. That at least can finally end, depending on how speedily they decide to return."

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A doctor was able to confirm it.

"If Mr. Maddox does not return shortly," Darcy said, "I may get to strangle someone after all, because it will be him."

Elizabeth could only laugh. She did not feel his concerns, so barely did she feel with child, and because she was so happy to be so. He was happy as well, but consumed with the very pressing matter of how to return to England quickly enough and yet safely enough for her health. Riding was out.

"I will not have a French baby," he said.

"But darling, I thought you were French. Mr. deh'Aaarcy," she giggled, trying her best to imitate Grégoire's accent.

"I'm as French as Bingley is Irish," he said. "Which, by his accounts, is not at all."

Grégoire was unexpectedly overjoyed at the news. Not that he should not be happy for his sister-in-law, but Darcy did not know until that moment that Elizabeth had told the monk about her miscarriage. Or maybe he liked the idea of being an uncle. He did not, however, have any ideas of the best way to return to England, being un-traveled himself until the day he met them.

"There is the other matter," Darcy said out on the veranda, in the cool breeze of late afternoon, when Elizabeth was absorbed in some English book she had found in a shop in Rome. "Of you returning to England."

"I cannot abandon my order, Darcy."

"I know you will not abandon your vocation, but perhaps Mon-Claire could do without you ... for a while. You had not taken your final vows."

"This is true."

"And ... I have been considering ... there must be monasteries in Ireland. Different from your own experiences, but the same basic ridiculous principles of celibacy and obsessive amounts of prayer."

Grégoire, well-used to Darcy's taunts at this point, was unaffected by them. "It still would not be England."

"No, but it would be closer. And I would wish you closer ... and safer ... than Mon-Claire."

"Mon-Claire survived the Revolution. It is safe."

"You know what I mean."

Grégoire frowned. "I cannot abandon them."

"Then write them a letter, that you are taking a leave of absence to visit your father's grave. There cannot be some biblical injunction about that. And have them direct their response to Pemberley, as we will, G-d willing, be there by the time they get the letter and respond."

"...And I would like to see my nephew," Grégoire admitted. "And perhaps the newer one, eventually. And my sister."

"Ireland would be much closer. It would be different, but it would be closer. And Elizabeth's never seen Ireland. Nor have I, in fact. And when she can eventually travel again ..."

"Do you think she will like me?"

"Who?"

"Georgiana. I mean – presence, it won't upset her – "

"The idea of our father being – not who he said he was, that onus is on him, Grégoire. And Georgiana is the sweetest, most loving creature in the world, and is your age. So I imagine you will get along just fine. In fact, I believe she has always wanted a brother – one closer to her age."

He did not say, at least out loud, that he had always wanted one, too.

... Next Chapter - The Last Journey

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(1) According to Pride and Prejudice, Bingley's inheritance was 100,000 pounds. Darcy's inheritance was more complicated by being caught up in Pemberley and Derbyshire and was not stated.