The Price of Family
A sequel to "A Bit of Advice" and "The Question of Consent"
By DJ Clawson
Author's Note: Many of you have been disturbed by or asked questions about Grégoire's flagellant tendencies. While it may seem foreign, or even to me (as my own religion forbids self-harm), the use of the Discipline (the whip) and other devices were common enough in ascetic orders of monasticism as a means of penance or of trying to identify with the wounds of Jesus. This practice has continued in some sects to the modern day. Modern Catholics known to have used these items include Padre Pio and Mother Theresa. You don't have to agree with it (Darcy clearly doesn't), but it exists as a form of religious expression to some people.
Learn more (if you want to) about this on Wikipedia. Remove the spaces to get the link.
en. wikipedia. org/ wiki/ Flagellant
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Chapter 21 – The Long Way Home
The three weeks spent on the ship were easily the most miserable ones of Darcy's entire life that did not involve some emotional disaster. In fact, despite the confrontation with Wickham, who he had decided would have to be told, hanging over his head, he was most looking forward to returning to England now that their business was concluded as favorably as it could have been, beyond even his own expectations. He had gained a brother and in some measure restored a sister-in-law to a position in which she could live her life. He missed Geoffrey and the Bingleys terribly, and there was of course the exhilarating matter of Lizzy being pregnant again. All of this put him in a good mood – until he stepped on that boat.
For now he had two sick people to deal with, not one. Grégoire had not overcome his seasickness and did not do so over the course of the trip. And Elizabeth was ill as well, and the rocking of the boat apparently made her maternal sufferings worse. They spent most of their time lying on the deck between rushes to the edge.
"How can you even – Grégoire, I know for a fact you haven't eaten anything in two days now! It isn't even possible! I don't know biologics and I know that!" Darcy protested helplessly, to which Elizabeth gave a very pale smile and Grégoire just collapsed from exhaustion, to be hoisted up again and helped back into his lounge chair by Darcy.
His only reprieve was when the ship ported briefly in France, and they had time to get off the boat and eat something our of fear of starvation, and were somewhat restored while on land. Then they got back on the boat and his misery resumed.
He barely had time to take aside his exhausted brother. "When we return to England – obviously, there will be some shock, but I wanted to ask if you wished to be called Grégoire Bellamont or Grégoire Darcy."
"Excuse my lack of knowledge of custom – "
"It is nothing. It is whatever you wish."
But Elizabeth, barely conscious herself but aware enough to listen in, knew it to be otherwise. What Darcy was offering was to acknowledge Grégoire as a Darcy, in direct opposite of convention for a bastard son. She doubted he would offer the same thing to Wickham.
Grégoire shook his head. "I am just a humble servant of the Lord. Please, brother, call me whatever suits you."
This was no help to Darcy, of course, and even Grégoire must have known that, but Elizabeth could not help but smile at Darcy's exasperation. She knew, in private, that his plans for his brother were comprehensive, to convince him to at least switch to a monastery in Ireland or somewhere closer to England, where he could be visited more regularly. And Darcy could be as convincing as Grégoire could be stubborn, but she figured she would glean what amusement she could from it.
Since they were moving faster than the mail, their arrival was unannounced and they received no reception at the docks. No one was expecting them home for at least a month, and they could only hope that Georgiana was at in Town to receive them when they showed up at the Darcy townhouse. But first there was the matter of getting Grégoire across the long, sloped plank between the dreaded ship and the dock.
"How is a man who lives on a mountain afraid of heights?" Darcy said as he practically carried him down the plank.
"Mountains are not generally directly over water," Elizabeth pointed out as she stepped onto the wood of the dock, and then the cobbled stones above English soil.
The Darcys were back.
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Though their desire to see Geoffrey was now immense, they could not go straight to Derbyshire. It was not practical or polite to Georgiana, who they found in the sitting room, at the piano. That she was surprised at their sudden arrival was an understatement. "Brother!" She ran to embrace him before the equally-shocked servants could get his coat off and his manservant could be called. "Sister!"
"Oh, please don't," Elizabeth said. "Or I will be ill. Please, I must sit."
Darcy, ill only from exhaustion, said politely as he could manage to the servants rushing to his side to great their master, "Please get some tea and food and have it brought into the parlor immediately. And call for a courier." After Georgiana released him, he helped the green-looking Elizabeth to a comfortable sofa. "Sit. We are home."
In her state, she merely gestured to Grégoire, and Darcy realized the massive duty he now had, beside getting his brother back to health. "Georgiana," he said softly, "Please allow me to introduce Brother Grégoire Bellamont of the Cistercians, our half-brother."
Grégoire bowed, not the polite bow of a gentleman, but the deep bow of an exceedingly humble man.
"But – that means father – "
"Yes, it does mean father," he said, knowing the sentence made no sense. "I was as surprised as you are, but he is, in fact, our father's son. He is but five months younger than you."
Georgiana looked hard at Grégoire, sizing up the young monk before her in his tattered robes and outright bizarre haircut, before running across the room to embrace him. Grégoire stiffened before accepting this, and hesitantly put his arms around Georgiana.
"I've always wanted a brother," she said. "I mean, my own age." She pulled away so he had to look into her face. "Did father really leave you so poor?"
"No, he was very kind to me," Grégoire said in that bizarre part French, part Derbyshire brogue, part cultured Englishman accent. Over their travels, he had picked up on the way the way Darcy and Elizabeth spoke, and now that they thought about it, the change was noticeable.
"In fact, Grégoire is one of the richer men in England," Darcy said. "Father was indeed very kind. This is merely his own religious persuasion, and he is as stubborn as the rest of our family about it. But as you get acquainted, I must send some couriers to let others know that we are here."
"Yes," she said as Darcy left, leaving the three of them, and Georgiana turned to Elizabeth. "You are home quite early."
"We decided rather abruptly to return by ship, which was faster than a land courier, so there was no way to send a message ahead."
"Is everything all right?"
"Oh yes," Elizabeth said as tea was served. "Just Darcy being his nervous self about getting home safely since we discovered I was with child."
"Oh! Elizabeth!" Georgiana briefly abandoned her newfound brother to hug her sister-in-law, despite her modest protests. "How wonderful! When is your confinement?"
"Oh, I'm barely a month along. I haven't even thought about it. I was honestly just thinking of returning home. But we must catch up. And Grégoire, eat something. You're on land now."
"Thank the Lord," Grégoire said, and crossed himself as the servants appeared with platters of cakes and tea. "His Holiness may be a fisher of men, but I am no seaman."
"I think we have proved that, yes," Elizabeth said, grinning to Georgiana. "He has no sea legs at all. Between him and my feminine ills, Darcy had his hands full the whole voyage making sure we didn't fall off the boat. But, tell me, how is Geoffrey? How much trouble has he gotten into?"
"I wouldn't say, a lot of trouble. That I've heard of," she said. "Or from what I've heard from Mr. Bingley, who is in town every other week to check on his sister. Or at least, he has not said anything terrible of him."
"Mrs. Maddox – she's must be nearing confinement now, am I correct? Oh, I've terribly lost track of time."
"She is a month into it. It would be at Kirkland, but – Doctor Maddox is required in Town and she will not leave him, or him, her. I dine there most nights. He won't talk about his royal patient, of course, but he has met the king! And he is insane!"
"The king, or Doctor Maddox?"
"Elizabeth!" Georgiana turned to her newfound sibling, who was taking his food in silence. "Brother, I must explain. Caroline Maddox is Mr. Bingley's older sister, who has recently married Doctor Maddox, who is now the royal physician to the Prince Regent. It is all terribly complicated when our three families get together. Kirkland, I hear, is a madhouse."
"And my sister?" Elizabeth asked.
She did not have to inquire which one to get an answer. "She is quite well, from what I hear, all things considered. And Mr. Bennet, from Mr. Bingley's description, is much relieved at the settlement. Everyone is. Brother has saved the day again! Oh, now I must specify which brother."
It was then that Darcy reappeared in the entrance. "I've posted to Kirkland. And to Pemberley, to open up the place. Darling, do you wish to dine with the Maddoxes tonight, or just rest here? We should see them before we go, and if everyone is recovered enough, I would very much like to strike for Kirkland tomorrow."
"Yes," she said. "Kirkland tomorrow, please. And I am well enough now. Grégoire?"
He broke his eating to say, "Now that I am on land, I should be fine."
"And Doctor Maddox is a doctor," Darcy said.
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A similarly exhausted Brian Maddox shambled his way to the Maddox townhouse, and was warmly greeted by his brother and very confined sister-in-law, who were not told a date and therefore a bit, though not overly, surprised to see him.
"I suppose I must treat my hosts to some gossip, as I'm sure Mrs. Maddox would enjoy it," he said.
"Absolutely," said Caroline.
"But you have to promise me not to tell the Darcys I told you and act all surprised when you hear it from them. For I know your promises are much better than mine and I can actually count on them."
"Oh, out with it, already," she said with a role of the eyes, leaning on her husband. Even the good doctor's interest looked a bit piqued.
"It seems Mr. Darcy has returned to England with a bastard brother he did not previously know of," he said. "Though, honestly, I'm having trouble calling a monk a bastard."
This was, indeed, the kind of gossip that made Caroline Maddox (nee Bingley) most excited, to the point where she almost fell over giggling, and the doctor had to hold her up. "You can't be serious."
"I most certainly am. I spent three weeks on a boat with the seasick bugger. Though he is most pious and – young. He's younger than Miss Darcy, I believe. Don't have the exact dates. He's very much like her, but looks like what I imagine to be a young Darcy."
"So, sweet and pious but stubborn as hell?"
"Precisely. They've tried to talk him out of the whole monastic business, but he won't budge."
"Oh, thank G-d," Caroline said between laughter. "I haven't heard an interesting thing in weeks. Louisa hardly knows anything, Miss Darcy is too polite to even listen to Town gossip, and my dear husband here, who made me this way, won't tell me a single thing about the Prince."
The doctor, feeling compelled to preserve his dignity, said, "He has brown hair."
"That I know! I saw him, dear."
"Driving your poor wife batty with your discretion, aren't you, Danny?" Brian smiled, to which his brother could only shrug.
Doctor Maddox immediately called on the Darcys, who were intending only to stay the night in Town despite their exhaustion and head out to Derbyshire after Darcy concluded some Town business the next day. He invited them to dinner, and what was apparently four Darcys sat at his table, including a young man who was most certainly a monk. Daniel hadn't seen a proper tonsure in years, even if this one was lacking some care from the journey and the hair on the top of his head was stubbornly trying to grow out again. That and their tales of Rome and France brought back a flood of pleasant memories, but they did not press too hard, for the Darcys were positively bushed, and Brother Grégoire, with his strange mixture of accents, would not speak while eating and look very intimidated by the amount of strange dishes. It was Brian, in fact, who was forced to tell the tale of how he came meet them in France, though he was uncharacteristically modest about it, and Elizabeth chipped in with the actual details of how he'd saved all of their lives. Despite the intense interest of their hosts, the guests were released early, to be off to well-deserved rest. It was only Darcy who took a moment to corner the doctor in a hallway, which came as no surprise to Maddox.
"Is Mrs. Darcy well?" he asked mildly.
"Yes, as much as can be expected. Though the boat was a miserable experience for someone ill in the morning, we were advised by a doctor in Rome that it would do her no harm. My concern is with my brother."
The doctor merely nodded silently, waiting for him to continue.
"At a later date – perhaps, when we are properly settled at Pemberley, I would like him to be checked."
"For what, precisely?"
"He is a monk from one of the strictest orders. He has spent years destroying his body." Darcy didn't seem to be eager to explain it, but Maddox was not an uneducated man, and nodded. "We are now just restoring him to a decent state of health. If you would look at him – "
"Gladly." He added, "And I do recommend, if I could, that you make some arrangements for him to not wear the same robe every day, as I imagine he does. It does lead to diseases of the skin. Or at least, an undershirt."
"He is most intractable about his habits."
"How odd," Maddox said in a tone that meant precisely the opposite. "Well, Mr. Darcy, I will do what I can, as soon as I can. Which may have to wait until after Caroline delivers, if it can."
"I believe it can. It has waited years, after all."
Maddox nodded again, and Darcy appeared relieved. That, for the moment, was enough.
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The Darcys did end up spending most of the morning in Town, as Elizabeth and Grégoire slept long, and Darcy had to make various banking arrangements so he was not carrying a massive check all around England. They would be finalized when Mr. Bennet returned to Longbourn, but at the moment, they stood, and the trust for Miss Bennet's child, if she delivered successfully, was set up.
He returned to the house with a coach ready. Georgiana would be joining them, eager to be in Pemberley again, and apparently eager to spend time with her newfound brother. But first, Kirkland, where everyone they currently held dear was lodged.
Because Darcy would not let the carriage go at full speed, the trip took a full two days, lodging in familiar inns (and terrible wines by their new standards).
At Kirkland, they were expected, thanks to letters sent ahead, and it was Geoffrey who saw them first, waiting not inside but some ways down along the road, and who came running out before anyone could, running straight into his mother so hard as to almost tackle her. "Mother!"
"Darling!" she said, kneeling to greet him at his size, because she wouldn't dare pick him up. "You've grown," she said as they embraced. "Oh, I missed you so much."
"It does seem so," said the smiling Darcy, who patted his son on the head. Geoffrey Darcy had gained, in the roughly four months they were gone, nearly an inch. He was nearing three years now, when his education would begin. They had missed so many precious months ... it pained him, but he would not show it. "Come here," he said, when he could finally tear him away from his mother, and Darcy managed to lift his son into his arms. "My, you are getting a bit heavy for this. Did you miss us?"
"I wrote! Uncle Bingley taught me my initials."
"Indeed he did," Darcy said. "We got your letter." He kissed him on the cheek. "Now, please greet your Aunt Georgiana and your Uncle Grégoire."
He set him down, but Geoffrey only looked up at his father in confusion. "I don't have an Uncle Gre-Gore-Ey."
"I did not know it either, until recently. But, you must greet him properly." He patted his son on the back, and Geoffrey did walk over to his waiting relatives and give a proper, adorable bow to his aunt and uncle.
"Our little gentleman," Elizabeth said with tears in her eyes.
"Finally," Darcy said, partially in jest.
Geoffrey did finally embrace his aunt, or at least her legs, before turning and staring up in wonder at his new uncle. "Why are you wearing a dress?"
Darcy went to say something, but Elizabeth silenced him with a look.
"It is a robe," Grégoire said, bunching up the sleeves.
"Why are you wearing a robe?"
"Because I am a monk."
"What's a monk? What happened to your head?"
"Nothing happened to my head."
"Then what happened to your hair?"
Grégoire had stopped at a confused barber in Town, and so had the proper areas of his head shaved again. "It is symbolic of the crown of the church."
"Oh." Geoffrey of course meant it without any comprehension, and then turned to his father and said. "Can I have my hair –"
"No," Darcy interrupted. "Absolutely not."
"But I want to wear a crown!"
"That's treason, son. Better not let the king hear you say that."
"But Uncle Bingley says that Uncle Maddox says that the king is batty," said Geoffrey, who turned back to his new uncle. "Are you batty?"
"I think he is," Darcy said, and Elizabeth laughed into his shoulder.
They walked the rest of the way to Kirkland, with the carriage going ahead of them, so there was a crowd embossed to greet them. The Darcys had arrived.
"Now, legitimately," said Bingley, "some of this is my own fault."
"You owe me five shillings," Elizabeth whispered to her husband at the site of a Mr. Bingley with his hands and face inked red.
...Next Chapter – The Sad Tale of Mrs. Reynolds