The Price of Family

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

By DJ Clawson

Author's Notes

(1) Historical trivia – For those of you who didn't know, Mary's lover Giovanni Ferretti is best known to the world as Pope Pius IX, pope from 1846 to 1878 and known for establishing the dogma of the Immaculate Conception of the Virgin Mary. That last bit was just luck on my part; I chose him because his dates lined up with Mary's. He did, in his early years, resist joining the church by attempting to join the Noble Guard, but was rejected because of his epilepsy.

(2) Issues within this story – Despite the opening chapters and the Maddox subplot, the real focus of this stories was obviously Darcy, more so than it had been in previous stories. In past stories he's been more easy-going, but in this one he had to deal with things more familiar to Pride and Prejudice – his temper, his stubbornness, and his being totally unwillingness to deal with issues that threaten him emotionally. (In the novel, it was his love of Elizabeth) This story was about the price of family. For Mary, it was a literal price. For Darcy, it was an emotional toll. Elizabeth said in Pride and Prejudice of Wickham and Darcy that "One has got all the goodness, and the other all the appearance of it." (Chapter 40) I took that to a grander scale by expanding the spectrum. On one end you have Wickham, at the other Grégoire, and Darcy is somewhere in the middle, being not without his faults. Neither Darcy nor Wickham could really face the concept of being brothers; too much had passed between them. It had to end badly for them. Or, this is what I tried to convey. Tell me if I succeeded.

(3) Sequels – "A Bit of Advice" was just a little ditty I wanted to write about Bingley's sexual insecurities, and at the end I expressed no desire to just keep the story going until they grow old and die for the sake of it. I was wrong about my desires, because I came up with new stories to tell and characters to introduce, and I'd be lying if I said I don't have the sequel planned out and haven't written half of it. It's unnamed and not ready for posting, but it takes place 2-3 years in the future, so we get to see the children developing actual personalities (which we saw a little of with Georgiana and Geoffrey in this story). I don't know when it's going to be out, as I have a lot of real life projects to work on.

(4) Trivia – Georgiana's first words are an inside joke. I also didn't speak a world until I was three, when I turned to my mother in a doctor's office and said, "What's he going to do to me now?" She apparently fainted and the nurse had to get her up. Or so I've been told.

(5) Final notes - thank you all for your comments, which really kept me going through some hard times. Please tell me what you thought of this story, and what you'd like to see more (or less) of in the next one. I always listen very carefully to my readers and value their comments. If people are interested in missing scenes and short stories (as I did with the last one), let me know, because I wouldn't mind writing something in the interum while people are waiting.

Chapter 28 – Epilogue

Darcy's recovery took over a month. The Maddoxes officially returned to Town because of the doctor's various requirements there, and they were relieved to find Brian still there and the place not looted. But the doctor was up and down England several times to check on his patient, whose progression was slow. Darcy was no longer in the prime of youth, and had been injured previous to his surgery, so he was pained for a long time, so much so that Maddox began restricting the dosage of medicine.

"I will not turn your husband into a dope fiend," Maddox said to Elizabeth.

He was frustrated with the results of only one aspect of the proceedings, which is that Darcy's hand had lots some of is capabilities. Though it was hardly frozen or limp, its flexibility was limited, to the point where his normally perfect script was illegible.

"It does match Geoffrey's almost perfectly," Elizabeth said, smoothing out the hair of her flustered and grumpy husband.

Darcy made a further inquiry into his future health, beyond his new dietary restrictions and his struggles to learn to write with his left hand. "What happened to the organ you removed?"

"To be honest, Doctor Lucas wished it for study at the University, as we are always want for such things, but I refused." Maddox went through his various things, and retrieved a small, sealed jar. "I did not know if you wished to be buried whole or something."

"Yes. Thank you," Darcy stammered, not quite sure what to do with a jar of his own kidney in his hands. "A gruesome business you are in. But, I will say, thank G-d such a capable man as you is in it. And my brother-in-law."

Despite Maddox's insistence that they did not have to pay him for his services, he did receive a new set of the latest medical compendium from the University of Paris in the post several weeks later. Doctor Lucas received a chair in his name at Cambridge, for the advancement of medical research in the field of surgical transplantation.

But that was not the only gifts the Maddoxes received. For a while he wondered if the Regent would ever bring up the subject of Frederick Maddox, because his royal intelligence surely knew of it, but the Regent did not ask and Maddox did not offer up the information. He thought he had escaped the matter entirely until Frederick's first birthday, when a new boy's cradle arrived at the house with no return sender, but the fact that it was of expensive Continental construction with Dutch wood engravings and gilded edges made him suspicious, as he had already received his son's gifts from those who both knew the real birthday and were fantastically wealthy, and that list was very short.

On the other side of the family, the Bennet household was full of joy – and a lot of wailing. The Widow Wickham had two rowdy children and until she remarried – which would, knowing Lydia, be as soon as she could take off her black for mourning Mr. Wickham – they would remain at Longbourn, which had undergone some minor renovations. And then there was baby Joseph, whom everyone was much happier with when he was sleeping through the night and not waking the whole household, especially because Mary refused a wet nurse and took all responsibilities on herself. And so Longbourn was filled with children again. If anyone had any questions as to how she had appeared with a child, Mr. Bennet insisted that not only had she sworn of marriage for the moment, but that she had taken in an orphan child while in France and she was simply too attached to the child for him to separate them. Any amount of social digging could discern this was an outright lie, but it was also known that Mr. Bennet had come into a massive fortune, and however questionable its origins, one did not say speak too unkindly to a man with a brand new massive fortune and three unmarried daughters, even if one was wearing jet and one had a child. At least, not within listening distance.

Kitty was sent to Town to be more forwardly on the market. Mr. Bennet did not have to buy her an apartment, even though he was thoroughly capable of doing so, because Georgiana quickly invited her to come live in the massive Darcy townhouse that was barely in use beyond herself and her own staff. As Georgiana Darcy was only the most proper of ladies, she would not only be a terrific influence, but she would put Mr. Bennet's mind at ease. He imagined that if a gentlemen so much as tried to walk up the front steps without good cause, Mr. Darcy would magically appear in Town on a cloud of smoke and escort him back down the street with a pistol.

As Darcy recovered, many celebrations were in order. Georgie and Geoffrey turned three, and their birthdays were so close that the families were invited to Derbyshire for the whole business.

Aside from his own recovery, and his wife's increasing girth, Darcy had few things to worry about. In fact, the only thing he could think of at the moment was Grégoire, the monastic secluded from his monasticism. As much as he obviously enjoyed being with his newfound family, and as much as his humility prevented what would have made Darcy outright furious at the stares he got for his appearance, he was not settled in England. He probably, Darcy eventually came to realize (after many promptings from Elizabeth), never would be. And in Ireland, where they still clutched on to their Catholicism, the monasteries were dissolved. Despite his youth, he was a relic.

Doubling his pain was a letter from the Monastery of Mon-Claire. The abbot wrote in long and lengthy Latin, and whatever it said, Grégoire paled at it and disappeared. When he did not show up for lunch or dinner, they sent a party out, and found him lying on his father's grave, staring up at the sky.

Darcy called the men off, set the lantern down, and sat down beside him. He barely noticed that Wickham's tombstone had been finished and installed. "I would build you a monastery if I could."

"You cannot."

"What did it say?"

"I don't care to repeat it and slander my abbot." He sighed, clutching the cross from Rome. "Well, I suppose he isn't my father abbot anymore."

"So you were cast out."

"Yes."

"On what charges?"

"He made various assumptions about my activities and behavior on the road."

"Was he correct?"

"Partially. I did ride in a carriage when I could have walked." He laughed. "I suppose that is a bit ridiculous."

"A bit?"

"He also said – He wrote that he knew when I walked out the door that I would give myself in to the temptations of wealth and flesh."

"But, you have not."

Grégoire turned his head without sitting up. "Am I changed man since I walked out of the cloister?"

"I don't see you in a gambling den with a whore on each side, no. In fact, my barber has complained to me about your insistence on trimming your hair in such a fashion that he finds backwards and ridiculous."

"And what did you say to him?"

"That if he every complained again, I would dismiss him."

There was silence in the cold autumn night.

"When I am well enough," Darcy said. "I will take you back to France, or even go as far as Spain to find you a proper abbey."

"I cannot ask you to travel for me."

Darcy replied, "You have no idea how many people have told me not to do things for them. And I've never listened to them, because I am a ridiculously stubborn man, and somehow I always get thanked in the end. Or shot. Sometimes both."

The brothers shared a laugh, and Darcy escorted the little monk back to the house.

He eventually convinced Grégoire to winter in Pemberley, if only to see his new nephew or niece in the spring. On this, at least, Grégoire was convinced, and they arranged for a more abbey-like set-up for him in the private chapel, which was still medieval in character. Mrs. Reynolds even located the old altar furnishings behind a dusty wooden screen, unused since the Reformation, and Darcy dubbed the room beside the chapel "Pemberley Abbey."

The families did not see each other in full until Christmas, which conveniently was also the birthdays of the Bingley twins, finally leaving their year of infancy behind. The Bennets arrived with tiny Joseph Bennet, now not so tiny, but still very adorable. The Maddoxes were last, having said good-bye to Brian two months before.

"He's gone where?" Darcy said, apparently not having been informed in all the commotion of his situation.

"The hills of Romany. In Eastern Austria, I believe." The doctor did not look excessively happy about it.

"To be married a woman he's met twice."

"And is royalty," said Mr. Bennet, still highly amused. "The foreign princess."

"I would say that I've heard crazier things from Brian, but this may actually be the thing that would qualify him for Bedlam," Maddox said, unconsciously looking at his wife, who cradled their daughter, with concern. "I can't say I was happy about it, but I have no authority to stop him."

"Her name again?"

"G-d, it's impossible to pronounce. And he's only said it a few times. Actually, he's been rather quiet and shy about the woman herself."

"Hmmm," Caroline Maddox said, "When do men get quiet and shy about women?"

"I don't get quiet and shy about women," Bingley said.

"That's because you're a social twit," Darcy said. "The correct answer is apparently: when they're in love."

"Twit?"

"Yes, that was what I was looking for, Darcy," Mrs. Maddox said. "Don't you agree, Mrs. Darcy?"

"Did he really call me a twit?"

"Absolutely," Elizabeth said. "Especially when they're deeply, passionately in love but cannot bear to show it."

"I know it's his house, but still! Darcy!"

"What?" Darcy said, pretending to be broken from a reverie. "Bingley, I can only be assaulted on one front at once, and here I have two women, so will you please just take my side?"

"Against my sister and your wife? Do you think me mad?"

"Well, everyone needs to have a mad brother," Jane said. "Apparently."

"I've already got one. Sorry, Mrs. Bingley," Darcy said, and ignored the fact that Grégoire tossed an olive in his direction. "And so does Doctor Maddox. So really, the Bingley family is lacking in brothers who won't listen to reason unless you look around the other way and count Bingley himself."

"Hey! Look, I don't have to take this - "

"Does anyone know the hour?" Darcy looked at his pocket watch.

"Why do we assume our Lord was born precisely at midnight?" Maddox said. "And seeing as how the sun sets faster in the east, isn't it already midnight in his birthplace?"

"Don't mix logic and religion, doctor," Mr. Bennet said, "or you'll get something quite combustible."

"Cheers to that," said Grégoire, and raised his glass as he crossed himself.

The winter was cold but short, and it was an anxious time for the Darcys, but in a happy way. By her confinement, Elizabeth's chances of miscarriage were slim. In fact, she was perfectly healthy aside from the normal trials of being with child, so there was no reason to expect a bad turn.

On a chilly spring day, when the roads of Derbyshire were wet with melted snow, Elizabeth Darcy delivered a child after a day of cursing Darcy, everyone of relation, everyone who tried to aid her in the trials of labor, and mankind as a whole. Her vocabulary, Jane had to admit to her husband later, had improved in a very fascinating way in her many travels since her last labor, and Jane learned a good deal.

"Well, I'll clearly be spending any future labor of yours drunk again," Bingley said, patting her on the back.

The child was a healthy, beautiful baby girl with brown hair and what Darcy immediately noticed were "Elizabeth's fine eyes." He had the misfortune of being not allowed more than half a glass of wine a day, and so spent the long hours in his study pacing endlessly and occasionally cursing off the dogs as they followed him around. His usual calm demeanor only returned when presented with his child in front of an exhausted Elizabeth, who had the further suffering of her first child leaping on the bed to get a good first view of his new sister.

"What's her name?"

"They don't come with tags, darling," she said. "But I have decided that she should be named Anne, so that your father can have something to do with that lovely bracelet without giving it to Mrs. Fitzwilliam, which at this point would be downright odd."

It took Darcy a moment to recall it. "Yes, of course." He handed the baby back to Elizabeth's eager arms, weak as they were, and ran out of the room quickly, returning with a small gold bracelet, the one they had recovered from the drawer of Darcy secrets in the Normandy estate. "My darling Anne," he said. The child, barely awake, obviously did not have the wrists yet for it, but he let her grasp its hoop with her tiny fingers.

Anne Jane Darcy was christened in the little chapel in Pemberley, and despite his insistence on a lack of ordination, they insisted that Grégoire have the honor of doing it as soon as Elizabeth was well enough to attend. After a rushed portrait could be made so he could have one of each of them, Grégoire Bellamont left for the Continent, to trade in his grey robes for black ones and become a Benedictine novice. Brian Maddox had seen the abbey in Bavaria himself on the way through and sent his approval to all of Darcy's exact specifications. They would even let him travel to visit his family in England, as they were not French and not so isolationist. He was allowed to leave Derbyshire only with a promise to be write and to return to see his niece and nephew, and with a wooden staff he had carved from a tree branch, he quite literally walked out of Pemberley.

"Stubborn to the end," Elizabeth said as they watched him disappear down to the road.

"He'll hit the ocean eventually, I'm sure, and then he will have to ride," Darcy said. "But he'll probably walk across Europe, too. obstinate monk."

"Truly a Darcy."

"I think we have living proof, right here and now, that I am no monk," Darcy said, and kissed her as Anne gurgled in her arms. "You know, you were not required to name her after my mother," Darcy said, with no dispute in his voice.

"Oh, but I did. She did me the great favor of having you. And putting up with you during your worst years."

"If you think I was intolerable as a child, then you know nothing about University," he said. "But that is another story."

"Darcy! Are you hiding something from me?"

"It is not so much hiding as leaving out various things which do not bear repeating."

"When do I get to go to University?" Geoffrey asked, looking up at his father.

Darcy replied. "Never. Also, Anne's never going out. It's the abbey for both of you."

"Father!"

"I hope you like chores and prayer. Long, boring hours of prayer. And wearing a dress."

"Now you're joking with me!"

"I'm being perfectly serious. And not just the top of your head. Some orders shave their whole head. You'll be bald before you're fifteen if I convince them to take you that early."

"Darcy," Elizabeth whispered. "Stop torturing our son."

"Well, if he can do it to me at three in the morning, I should be able to occasionally do it to him," he said.

"Then I should have my rights to torture you as well."

"Lizzy, you have been doing it since the night we met," he said. "Now I'd best catch our son before he sets up a trap for us."

"Us? I was hardly involved beyond defending him. You are the mocking father here, Darcy. Now run along, and catch him before he gets himself all muddy, and I have to see to his cleaning myself. You know Nurse can't get him clean."

"Yes, Mrs. Darcy," he said with a stiff bow, and just as he was about to break off in pursuit of Geoffrey, he turned back against and kissed Elizabeth. His son had a good head start before he could begin the proper chase down the path, but Darcy decided it was worth it.

Finis.