Manner of Devotion

by DJ Clawson

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

Jane Austen, Mansfield Park

Author's Note: My policy: Update twice a week or when a chapter reaches 5-10 comments, whichever comes first. Thanks to Sidney for help with French in this chapter.

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Chapter 18 – Mary's Season

As Grégoire's health continued to recover, the Darcys and the Bingleys retreated to their respective houses; visiting every day (Georgiana and her son were a regular fixture at the Maddox house). Dr. Maddox read the abbot's letter to Grégoire no less than four times in total before his patient was well enough to begin reading himself. Bingley gave him everything he had, including a few books from the library, and Grégoire read them all, but very slowly. Most of his stay was still consumed with visitors and prayer, as his body continued to adhere to the monastic cycle that began at half past three in the morning and ended at eight at night. His pain medicine was continually reduced, though Dr. Maddox was relieved that Grégoire was no longer ashamed to ask for it when he needed it to sleep.

When he was able to sit up in a chair for a short while, they had a minor quandary of what to do about his dress. Grégoire's robes had been torched, as they were bloodied and infested with disease, and he had no right to wear them anyway. He found the English method of dress scandalously immodest because of its tightness (and had no shame in saying it, to Darcy's consternation and Elizabeth's secret delight at the expression on her husband's face). Brian Maddox, who was no stranger to dressing in a bizarre fashion, provided him with a suitable option. Nadezhda happily knitted him a long brown tunic, and he eventually consented to at least a cloth obi belt (leather was too ostentatious), and he wore an undershirt that was soft on his scarred skin. He agreed to grow his sides but not all the way down and far too wide, so that in the end he looked more like an itinerant worker than a man of enormous wealth and education. But that seemed to satisfy him and no one was willing to do anything otherwise. He still had his cross and his rosary so his affiliation was obvious enough, but his tonsure was gone, lost to a thicket of brown hair only slightly curlier than Darcy's.

Nearly two weeks since his arrival in England, he had some surprise guests. Mary and Joseph Bennet traveled from Longbourn, sending their regards from Mr. and Mrs. Bennet (who no longer traveled) and Mr. and Mrs. Townsend. They happened to arrive on the day when his stitches were being pulled, and had to wait some time to see him, but Mary passed it with Elizabeth and Mrs. Maddox as Joseph played with Frederick. It could not be said so easily that Mary Bennet had livened up, but she no longer had the same tendency to go on moralistic rants, as they bored her most important audience, her son. Instead she'd been forced to tell more interesting tales as part of his education, and so expanded her own reading tastes to find them. She did not read gothic novels, but she read Shakespeare as often as Hannah Moore, and there was always the comings and goings of Hertfordshire to chat about.

Meanwhile, Dr. Bertrand had been called in to help make absolutely sure nothing went wrong, as the work was rather extensive, to the point where they gave Grégoire a dose of medicine. He bled a little, but said nothing, and was already drifting off as they dressed the wounds. "An excellent patient as always, Grégoire," Dr. Maddox said. "He is quite a tough man," he said to Bertrand as they exited the room, letting him rest.

"Indeed," Dr. Bertrand said, and if he had anything else to add, it was interrupted by the appearance of an eight-year-old boy with black hair and slightly olive skin.

"Can I see Mr. Grégoire now?"

"No, Mr. Bennet. Sadly, you will have to wait a bit longer, as he is resting. And where are your manners?" Dr. Maddox said, and bowed to him, and the little Bennet returned the bow. "Mr. Bennet, allow me to present my colleague, Dr. Andrew Bertrand. Andrew, this is Joseph Bennet.

"Is he nice?" Joseph asked in Italian.

"I like to think I am," Bertrand replied, to Joseph's horror.

Dr. Maddox did not hide his smile. "Do not presume there are none so learned in the language arts as you, young Master Bennet."

"Dites-lui que je suis désolé," (Tell him I'm sorry) Joseph said shyly in French to Dr. Maddox.

"Vous pouvez le dire vous meme," (You can say it yourself) Dr. Bertrand replied. Joseph looked almost like he was about to run away, but Bertrand only smiled. "I have a French name, you know. And all of the civilized world must speak it, apparently."

"Do you know Latin?"

"I had to learn it for my exams at University," he replied amiably.

"It's hard."

Dr. Bertrand kneeled down to his level. "I did not know four languages when I was your age, Mr. Bennet. If I had tried, I would have found it very hard."

"Joseph!" came a cry as Mary Bennet hurried into the room, curtseying to both of them. "Dr. Maddox, I apologize – "

He waved it off. "It is all right. This is Dr. Bertrand, who is assisting me with Grégoire. And the Prince."

She curtseyed again as she pulled her son to her. "I am sorry if my son interrupted your conversation. It is a pleasure to meet you."

He bowed. "You as well, Mrs. Bennet."

"Miss Bennet," she corrected with a shy smile, and excused herself, dragging Joseph with her.

"Goodbye!" he waved as he had to follow his mother down the hall.

Dr. Bertrand waved back. "Father's Spanish?"

"Italian," Dr. Maddox said, then slapped his forehead. "Oh, I forgot. I was supposed to say he was an Englishman who died in the war."

Bertrand nodded. "Of course."

"You understand."

"I never heard otherwise. All kinds of things happened in the war. All sorts of confusion."

"Yes," Dr. Maddox said. "You wanted that recipe. If you will wait a moment, I need to retrieve it."

"Of course."

Dr. Maddox left Bertrand and climbed the flight of stairs, only to find his wife hiding in a doorway at the top. "Invite him to dinner!"

"What?"

"I said, invite him to dinner! Are you deaf?"

"No. All right, I'll invite him to dinner. But I already know he can't do it tonight. Regent's schedule and all that."

She frowned. "Well, what about tomorrow?"

"I don't know his whole social schedule."

"Well, ask him!"

"...All right," he said, not seeing a reason to put up an argument with his wife. As he reached for his laboratory keys, he said, "May I ask why?"

"Because Miss Bennet is only staying in Town for a week."

"So?"

She shook her head. "Your sex is so dense in the head I wonder sometimes if there's any brain up there at all or you're all moving on instincts." Before he could reply, she hurried down the stairs and rejoined her female guests.

Dr. Maddox shrugged to himself, unlocked the laboratory door, quickly wrote down the recipe, and relocked it before returning to the main level. "Here you go. Oh, and are you available for dinner tomorrow night? Mrs. Maddox insists on inviting you."

No right-minded bachelor turned up a good meal. "Thank you. Usual time I assume."

"Yes."

They said their goodbyes, and Dr. Maddox turned curiously to the sitting room, where he could hear the Bennet sisters and his wife talking, but not make out the words. Never one to intrude on a female conversation, he made his way to the parlor next to Grégoire's room and found the door already opened, and Joseph Bennet sitting in the chair beside Grégoire's bed.

"Huh," was all he said, as the plan slowly came to him. He shook his head. "Women."

Dr. Bertrand did return for dinner the following evening, to find Darcy in the parlor. "Dr. Bertrand."

"Mr. Darcy."

"I really am in your debt for what you've done for my brother."

"He is a fighter, Mr. Darcy, despite his former profession."

That did not elicit a smile from Mr. Darcy, but as Bertrand had quickly learned, Darcy almost never smiled. The best he had ever seen was a little half-grin. "We have quite a party tonight. My wife and her sister are here, as well as the other Maddoxes of course. Speaking of which – "

They were joined from behind by Brian Maddox, who was wearing black robes and only his short sword, and the Oriental, Mr. Mugen. "Dr. Bertrand. Darcy."

They exchanged greetings as the door to Grégoire's room opened and a young man emerged, maybe ten and four by his height. From inside, there were sounds of talking in very broken Latin, between a child (presumably, Joseph Bennet) and Grégoire.

"Dr. Bertrand, if you have not already met him, allow me to introduce my nephew, Mr. Wickham," Darcy said proudly, and Mr. Wickham bowed and left with only a mumbled, shy greeting.

"He is your nephew by your wife?" Dr. Bertrand, trying to draw the logical conclusion.

"Yes," Mr. Darcy said. "And in other ways, but there are many former Bennets. My wife has four sisters, one of whom is married to Charles Bingley, whose sister is Mrs. Maddox."

"So we are all connected," Brian said. "Distantly."

"Four sisters? What about brothers?"

"None. Just five daughters of Mr. Bennet, who lives in Hertfordshire."

Dr. Bertrand knew enough about English property law to see the problem there. "They are close in age?"

"One after another. And at one point were all eager to be married."

"If you want the real story, you'll have to ask Mr. Bingley, who unfortunately isn't here tonight. Darcy won't tell it because apparently it involves a rejected proposal."

Darcy replied only with a cold stare and then went on to ignore Brian's comment by looking out the window as Dr. Maddox joined them. "Dinner is served. Or is about to be. Honestly I have no idea how this house runs."

Andrew Bertrand liked dining with the Maddoxes. Dr. Maddox, when he was not shy or overly formal as a doctor to a patient, was a cheerful man, obviously very happy with his station in life. His wife was a bit haughty, and had no hesitation at teasing her husband, but never in a malicious way as couples so often did. How they had ever come together, Bertrand had no idea. Mr. Maddox, despite his appearance, was an overly gregarious Englishman, far more talkative than his brother and with far more to tell that did not involve some kind of medical procedure. His wife, Princess Nadezhda, was quiet at first, and then quite open when not among strangers and had no hesitation expressing her opinion through her accent. She seemed to endlessly exchange glances with her very loving husband, and so the foursome made for good company.

Tonight they were joined by Mr. and Mrs. Darcy. Mrs. Darcy was lively and witty, and her husband was silent but by no means cruel. He was just suffering the obvious strain of having a brother at death's door, for who he obviously cared immensely. The addition to the table was Miss Bennet, who did resemble her sister in some ways, but was not the same at all.

It did not take him very long to figure it out. However, he looked up to Daniel Maddox, and trusted him not to throw him into the fire. Besides, if Andrew had stayed at home, his parents would have willingly done so. He had sat at many dinners with many friends of his parents and their young daughters.

But, as he quickly discovered, Miss Bennet was not fawning over him nor disgusted with any parental figure dragging her along. Her manners were mild, but she was not silent, and not afraid to speak up on any matter religious. He judged she bordered on Evangelical – certainly no Methodist – or had been at some point in her life from her quotations, but was not as obnoxious about it as older women he knew. From what he gathered from snippets of conversation, she had studied in a French seminary at some point (and if he had to guess, it would have been about nine years ago). Usually women either engaged themselves in social concerns or surface religion, but she seemed to have a real scholarship, even on traditional Catholic texts. Andrew Bertrand, a lapsed Catholic by circumstance, was impressed.

He judged the dinner went well. If anyone was pushing Mary on, it was subtle, or she was reluctant to comply. She could, however, be engaged. Unfortunately it ended with dessert, as the usual after dinner entertainments did not interest the suffering Darcys, and he already knew that Princess Nadezhda never sang or played in mixed company (she was very modest), and Mugen usually left to do whatever it was he did at night after saying several things in Japanese that Brian refused to translate to anyone. Dr. Bertrand had to leave anyway, to attend His Highness at Carlton, so the party was dissolved without the usual port and gossip, and he left to go to work, hoping there would be no major medical disasters tonight. He already knew his mind would be elsewhere.

For Mary Bennet, who was housing with the Darcys, her mind was not on its usual track as well. She held her tongue until she saw Joseph to bed before unleashing her fury on her sister, whom she found reading in the library.

"Do not ever subject me to that again!"

"What?" Elizabeth said innocently. "Was the company so objectionable? I thought you liked the Maddoxes."

"You know very well what I mean," Mary said, sitting down in a huff.

"If he was really so unappealing, then yes, you have no reason to see him again except by happenstance. However, you did not seem so inclined during the meal."

"I was being polite!"

"There were many guests at the table, all near or distant relatives, with whom you could make conversation or none at all if you really wished. Darcy didn't say a word. Nonetheless I saw otherwise."

Mary just fumed.

"Please, if you do object to Dr. Bertrand, I would be most interested in what you have to say. I would wish any distraction these days."

"I – I have no objections, but you know that is not the point."

"If you have no objections, then there is no point."

"I'm a mother," she said, "with a child."

"If that caused him any disquiet, he showed none. In fact, from Caroline's account, he seems to like Joseph."

"And how long do you think the story about his father will hold up?"

Elizabeth smirked. "Considering the doctor's intelligence, I doubt it was believed in the first place. After all, if you had married an Englishman before the war and were carrying his child, why did you not take his name? So you studied in France and came home with a child. His origins are French. Until he brokers an objection, it is not fair to assume he opposes choices that were made years ago."

Mary said nothing, but her face was not the emotionless page that it normally was.

"Mary, I may sound like Mama for a moment, but our father will not live forever, and Joseph needs a father. He might even like one. Have you ever asked him about it?"

"He knows his father is never coming to England."

"Have you ever asked him if he would like one who is around?"

She turned coldly to Elizabeth. "He is a child."

"That does not mean he is without opinions, fleeting as they may be sometimes," she said. "Ask him, Mary. If not because of Dr. Bertrand, just because you should know what his thoughts are. You can at least do that quite harmlessly."

Mary stood, effectively announcing her exit. "Perhaps you are right – about speaking to Joseph. I will sleep on it. But please – tell me next time."

"I would have, but you would have objected, and we would not be having this conversation," Elizabeth said with a smile. "Good night, Mary."

"Good night, Lizzy."

Her anger largely abated and somewhat turned to confusion, Mary went to her room and laid down, but it was a long time before she found sleep.

Elizabeth Darcy had only one thing preventing her from finding sleep, and it was her need to talk to her husband, whether he liked it or not. He could use the distraction, and much to her suspicion, he was lying awake in bed. She crawled into his ready embrace, nestled again him. "I spoke to Mary."

"I've no doubt. I am a bit surprised that I could not hear the conversation from here."

She turned over, so she could face him. "She would listen to reason about speaking to Joseph."

"And Dr. Bertrand?"

"You ask this of me? You know I am a terrible judge of other people's affections."

She giggled and kissed him. "She did not deny being interested. And he seemed to be in the same party. They found mutual conversation, which for Mary is impressive." She sighed. "She still carries the shame of France around with her. Nothing I can say can change that."

"She is happy with Joseph."

"She loves her son as I love all my children. But that is different from the way I love you," she said. "Does she not deserve that?"

Darcy considered before answering. "I have learned as of late that prolonged and unnecessary penance can do more harm than good."

"Indeed. And it would be most prodigious for there to be yet another doctor in the family."

Next Chapter...His Royal Highness