Manner of Devotion

"Everybody likes to go their own way--to choose their own time and manner of devotion."

Jane Austen, Mansfield Park

Chapter 8 - Primate Concern

July was pleasantly quiet for Dr. Maddox. The Prince Regent was in Brighton, and for once, he was not. There were no emergencies to call him there, and Dr. Bertrand's letters indicated that their patient was still in his fine, fat form.

The summer was not particularly hot, but bad enough that most of decent society departed with the season to their summer homes and coastal resorts. Daniel and Caroline had the names of a couple of places but had no time to look at any of them, and were due to be in the area for Mr. Bennet's birthday in a few weeks. Nadezhda stayed with them, and on especially hot days they went up to her house just outside London, where at least the air was breathable.

"How come Aunt Maddox can shoot a gun and you can't?" Frederick asked his father, who was sitting in the lawn chair, watching Nadezhda pick off fowl with stunning accuracy.

"I never learned. I don't care much for the sport." He didn't want to add that he also couldn't see that far. "I mend things, not kill them. Most of the time, anyway."

"Then who's going to teach me?"

"Your Uncle Bingley, I suppose. Brian's a terrible shot." He looked over Frederick's shoulder and called out, "Daniel! Stay where I can see you!"

Danny Maddox waved his stick around and came back up the hill. "There are toads by the water. Can I keep one?"

"That wouldn't be very nice to the toad. I don't think it would care for London."

"It's really hot in London. Is that why your plants always die?"

He sighed. "I think so, son."

In the evenings it was cooler, and Town was strangely quiet. Frederick didn't want to be read to anymore, or that was what he said, but sometimes he would sneak in to Emily's room and listen to his father reading to her.

Upon his unofficial retirement, the servants fully expected the master to spend most of his day at a club, but even though he had membership to a few, he went out only to lectures and to see patients, mainly charity cases. He spent most of the time during the day in the laboratory, where the heat and foul air had not succeeded in killing every plant he was growing. The laboratory was of endless interest to his children, mainly because they weren't allowed inside except to look. When he heard the low knock on the door, he called out, "What is it?"

"Can I come in?"

"Not right now." He was mashing up a raw stem of poppy, and his mouth covered with a scarf to prevent accidentally blowing on it. "Later."

"Mama says it's important!"

"One moment and I'll be out."

"She said it's really important."

He spilled the contents into a jar and put the jar and the rest of the root in the bottom drawer, which he locked, and opened the door. "Now what is it –?"

Brian Maddox was holding Emily in his arms. "Your child for your opium."

"That's a tough one. Opium is very expensive these days."

"Papa!"

"I told you your father was capable of joking," Brian said, and set her down to embrace his brother. "Hello, Danny."

"Welcome back," he said. "I hope you brought Bingley."

"He's downstairs."

"I hope he's in one piece."

"One over-excited piece, yes."

He stepped into the hallway, locking the door behind him. "You look good. What kind of trouble have you been into?"

"I was mainly busy keeping my business partner out of it. Ask him about the tiger sometime."

"You know your wife is here?"

"I got an enthusiastic greeting. If you weren't cooped up in that study you'd have heard it."

Downstairs, the Maddox sitting room was in an uproar as servants carried in trunks and Caroline embraced her brother, who apparently had not gone native and was dressed like a decent Englishman.

"Mr. Mugen," Dr. Maddox bowed to his guest. "What a surprise. I never thought you'd be back on this side of the world again."

"I need to be in place –" he said something in Japanese to Nadezhda.

"He says he needs to be somewhere where he's not wanted for any crimes," she said. "And China was apparently not an option. Mugen, what did you do?"

"It's not so much that he committed a crime as that he's being hunted by a group of martial arts students because he defeated their master," Brian said. "And then spit in his face. Which he said he wouldn't do."

Mugen shrugged. "I lie. And give you plenty of warning to run."

"You knew Bingley couldn't run! I had to carry him halfway across –"

"Men! Please!" Bingley said. "I had to put up with this for two months –" He turned to Dr. Maddox and offered his hand. "Doctor."

"Mr. Bingley." Maddox took it. "You look –" Bingley was sunburned, had overgrown hair and the beginnings of a beard, but his eyes were bright. " – like you've been on a boat for a very long time, but otherwise well."

"You as well, minus the boat part. I understand my family is still in Hertfordshire and the Hursts are in their country house."

"Yes. Mr. Bennet is throwing a party in a week or so."

"Terrific. Well, if I could trouble you, I need your medical advice. And no, we didn't pick up any Indian diseases. It's about an animal."

"What? Did you buy one of those talking birds or something?"

"No," he said, "not a bird precisely."

By time Darcy was done with his final meeting with his steward and the accountant, the post had already come to the townhouse, which he viewed as a good sign. He despised staying alone in London when his family was away, but he had pressing business the night before and it carried over into the next day. He wanted to read his mail and be gone.

The brown envelope from Madrid immediately drew his attention. He rarely corresponded with the banker in charge of receiving Grégoire's yearly income except when actually making sure it went through, which it had in January. As his father before him, Darcy held the keys to the fund set up for Grégoire's welfare. He altered it only by basing it in London instead of France, and lowering the amount to something more manageable for Grégoire, who only gave it to charity anyway. The rest went back to the account to accrue further interest.

He motioned for the servant and had him call back his departing steward with some concern. "I need your advice on something. It seems my brother withdrew some hundred pounds from afar and that money did not make it to the allotted location."

His steward was familiar with the situation. "Who was responsible for the transfer and where was it going?"

"It seems a man was hired to take it to a charitable noblewoman in the area, who would then distribute it to some needy residents. This man has been under the banker's employee for many years and has always been trusted to see the job through."

"And the noblewoman?"

"I don't know." He handed the letter to his steward. "Will you have someone look into this immediately?"

"Yes, sir."

"And give me a minute to pen a letter to my brother, if you'll be sending mail to Spain."

"Of course, sir."

He never was quite ready to assume that Grégoire's mail always was read unopened, even if Grégoire insisted the seal was still intact when he received it. He wrote a quick letter about some family account business being unsettled, and would he please write back, or contact the banker? He had written Grégoire only a few weeks ago, and had little else to say, so he sent it off and told his manservant to prepare to leave for Hertfordshire. He was in fact opening the door when he faced a bowl hat. "Darcy-san."

"Mr. Mugen," he said. "What a surprise. Is this to say Mr. Bingley and Mr. Maddox have arrived?"

"Bingali-san, he go to country soon."

"And you're to be their servant again?" he said, not sure that it would rile Mugen, but sort of hoping that it would.

"Lazy gaijin, too slow," Mugen said, bowed, and ran off back down the road, his wooden shoes clacking all the way.

Darcy never trusted Mugen, but had no reason not to believe him now, and followed him to the Maddox townhouse, where there were many trunks in the hallway and a great commotion. The first person he encountered was not Bingley or Maddox, but a very disconcerted Mrs. Maddox, her bonnet off and her normally perfectly-tied hair askew. "Mrs. Maddox." He bowed politely, not commenting on anything.

She stopped only to curtsey. "Mr. Darcy. Excuse me." And then she ran right into the sitting room and shut the door behind her.

"What! He's not that bad, Caroline –"

Darcy could vaguely hear Bingley's voice from up the steps, but it was not Bingley who emerged first. It was a little animal, like a cat but not quite, covered in soap suds. It squeaked, and then without warning, climbed right up his clothing and sat down on his head.

Bingley did catch up, looking a little wet. "Hello Darcy."

"Bingley."

"Sorry about –"

"Bingley, what precisely is on my head?"

"It's a monkey."

Calmly, he said, "A monkey."

"Yes. He won't harm you."

Darcy paused, and then said in the same voice, "Though it has been a great honor to be your companion these many years, I feel that our friendship will come to an abrupt end if you do not get this animal off my head."

Bingley did not need to be told twice. "Monkey! Kinasi!" The monkey leapt from Darcy's head to Bingley's outstretched arm, where it climbed up onto his shoulder and squawked again or whatever kind of noise monkeys were supposed to make. "I am sorry about that. It seems he doesn't much care to be bathed."

Darcy was going to say something, but Mr. Maddox came barreling down the stairs, towel in hand. "Here you – oh, hello." He bowed. "Mr. Darcy. You have suds in your hair."

"I know," was all he said to that.

Bingley took the towel and wiped off his little monkey, which was not much bigger than his head and brown in color. "Dr. Maddox said we should bathe him. In case he had some bugs in his fur. Have you seen my sister?"

Darcy gestured to the closed double doors of the sitting room.

"You can come out now. Caroline?"

"I am not going near that thing!" she shouted from the other side of the door. "He screamed at me!"

"Well what did you expect him to do? You were screaming at him!"

"Monkey see, monkey do," Mr. Maddox said.

"She doesn't like animals – other than dogs, that is," Bingley said. "Louisa had a cat when we were children. It used to scratch its paws on her dresser."

"And on my leg!" Caroline said. The monkey shook itself out on Bingley's shoulder as Dr. Maddox appeared, followed by his children.

"A monkey is not a cat."

"Has she locked herself in there?" Dr. Maddox said.

"It's not her fault she yelled at it."

"You could have told her you were bringing a primate in the house, Mr. Bingley."

"I told you."

"What's a primate?" Emily Maddox asked.

"It's a monkey," her father patiently explained.

A truce was eventually reached; "Monkey" (as that was apparently its name as well) went back in his cage and into the wagon bound for Longbourn, and Caroline Maddox agreed to come out of her fortress.

Darcy still had to make his way to Hertfordshire and Bingley was eager to see his wife and children, so they bid their adieus, stopping for a moment outside before they would depart in their separate carriages.

"It is good to have you home," Darcy admitted. "You didn't do anything insanely idiotic while in the Orient besides buy a monkey in the somewhat misbegotten notion that your wife will accept such a thing in the house?"

"I have spent months practicing my pleading look," Bingley said. "And as for anything else you hear I may have done, please don't believe everything you hear from Brian or Mugen."

"I never do," was his reply.

It was Mr. Bennet who greeted Mr. Darcy as he stepped out of his carriage. His father-in-law was sitting on a chair in the sun. "Mr. Darcy."

"Mr. Bennet. I do apologize for being late."

"I doubt Lizzy will be no less eager to see you."

"Yes, well, I doubt I will be the main attraction today," Darcy said as Mr. Bingley got out of the carriage.

"Mr. Bennet."

"Mr. Bingley!" Mr. Bennet stood up a bit straighter. "So my wayward son has arrived."

"How are you, Mr. Bennet?"

He shook his hand as firmly as he could. "Busy frustrating Mr. Collins every day. Your wife is uhm ... well frankly I don't know where she is, but I assume at least one of the children will shriek loud enough to get her attention when they see you, which I'm sure will be soon enough – "

"Papa!"

" – and there we go," Mr. Bennet finished as Eliza Bingley came running out the front doors, her embroidery cloth and ribbons still in hand.

Bingley picked up his younger daughter, something he was barely still able to do. "You've gotten so tall! You look more like your mother every day." He kissed her cheeks. "Speaking of –"

The quiet did not last very long. Edmund was quick to follow, and then Charles, and finally Georgiana, until he was almost toppled over by all of his children. "I cannot carry you all! Edmund, there's no reason to be pulling on my coat, I don't –" He stopped when he saw his wife, emerging tentatively into the sunlight. "Mrs. Bingley."

She curtseyed. "Mr. Bingley." This formality did not last long, and he pulled her into his arms.

"Jane," he whispered, his eyes tearing. "My beautiful Jane."

"I missed you," she said. "Don't ever go away again."

"I will do my very best," was his reply.

Fortunately only the Darcy family was currently in residence, with everyone else in London or at Netherfield, so Mr. Bingley only had to endure so many reunions with everyone present before he excused himself to get something from his carriage, taking Jane with him.

"I have a surprise," he said. "Well, several, but this one I think will adequately distract the children for a little while."

"Now why ever would you – Oh my G-d." Jane covered her mouth as Bingley uncovered the cage. "Is that thing alive?"

"Of course he is. And he's very tame. Well, relatively, for a monkey." He opened the little door and put out his arm, and the monkey instantly went up to his shoulder. "And he's not dirty or diseased. We bathed him at the Maddox house. My sister would be glad to complain to you about it."

"Charles, you can't be serious."

He turned to the simian on his shoulder. "Monkey, what do you think? Am I being serious?" It squeaked in response. "Monkey, shake." The monkey held out its tiny arm. "He just wants to shake your hand."

Jane looked at her husband, then at the monkey, then at her husband again. He did seem to be serious. She held out her fingertips and let the monkey grab them. "He has such tiny hands."

"He likes you. Monkey, do you like Jane?" Bingley said. The monkey howled. "Well, you had better like her, because if you don't get on her good side, you don't get to stay with us."

"Charles –"

He held the monkey in his arms. "Look at him. The children will adore him."

"He's a wild animal."

"He's not that wild. Are you, Monkey?" he said. In response, the monkey squeaked and grabbed his nose. "Ow, ow, that's enough. I told you not to do that –"

Jane finally broke out into laughter, perhaps at the sight of a small monkey trying to capture her husband's nose. "We'll try it."

"A trial basis. I understand." He kissed her. "Thank you. Oh, and you might want to cover your ears."

It was good advice. The children collectively screamed in excitement upon seeing the animal perched on Bingley's shoulder, and it screamed right back at them. It took him a full minute to shush eight children.

"Is that a monkey?"

"What's it's name?"

"Can I pet it?"

"Can we keep it?"

"Does it have to live in a zoo?"

"Can I hold it?"

"Does it bite?"

"Children," he said calmly, with as much authority as Charles Bingley could muster, "this is Monkey. Yes, that is his name. Not very original, but you will remember it. He doesn't bite unless you hurt him, so like any pet or person, you must treat him with respect. That means no tossing him or tugging him or pulling on his tail. You can hold him one at a time. Georgiana?" He dealt with the crowd of boos. "She's the oldest."

"Not by much!" said Geoffrey.

Georgiana smiled triumphantly at him as she took the monkey into her arms. One by one, they all met Monkey, though Cassandra and Sarah were frightened of him, and Edmund was too proud to admit that he was, but passed him off rather quickly. The most excited person was perhaps the last person in line, Mr. Bennet. "Now here is something I never thought I would see," he said as the monkey climbed up onto the bald spot on his head and sat down.

"If he gets upset, just let him run up a tree or something and I'll come get him down," he told Elizabeth before disappearing with Jane. Darcy mysteriously did not offer to help with monkey wrangling and disappeared into the library as quickly as he could.

Jane and Charles found a spot suitably far away from the house, where in fact they could see Oakham Mount, where they used to walk during their engagement. The view had not changed, but they were not interested in the view.

"I missed you," he said between kisses. "I'm sorry I'm a little hairy – and burned. And freckled."

"You're perfect," she said.

They sat together on a large stump, looking out at the wild and content to just sit together with Bingley's arm around his wife's shoulder. "I would regale you with stories, but to be honest, I am completely and utterly exhausted." He chuckled. "What happened while I was gone?"

"Lady Kincaid had a son. His name is Robert."

"It went well?"

"I think so. Mr. Darcy seemed pleased at his sister's good health and Lizzy was ecstatic, of course. They stood as godparents."

"Was Grégoire there?"

"He did not come in time. He should be here in a month or two, maybe. It is not set." She looked up at him. "My mother had a stroke."

"I'm so sorry –"

"It was very minor. Papa said he didn't notice it for a few days."

"Is there anything they can do?"

"No, aside from not saying anything when she says something strange."

He put his other arm around her. "I'm sorry I wasn't here."

"It was only a few weeks ago –"

He kissed her on her forehead. "I'm still sorry."

"We always assumed she would outlive him. Do you suppose it's best if –"

He hushed her. "We don't know the future. All we know is your parents are both alive and relatively well. For now, that is enough."

...Next Chapter - A Long-Expected Party