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.

Chapter 20 – The Non-Courtship

With great relief, Grégoire was released from Dr. Maddox's care to the Darcys, at least in their townhouse in London. He was greeted by the staff with more enthusiasm than anyone expected and seemed overwhelmed by the experience. Despite the circumstances, Darcy and Elizabeth delighted in having all of the Darcys under one roof, the first time since Georgiana's marriage. Mary Bennet continued her stay, as Joseph was often lonely at Longbourn and enjoyed the time with his cousins, even if the ones closer to his age were girls. Mr. and Mrs. Bradley finally paid a visit to Grégoire along with George and Isabella, which was mercifully short enough to keep Mary and Lydia from getting into too heated a conversation in the sitting room.

On the third day, Grégoire was well enough to join them at dinner, if only briefly. On the forth, it was not Dr. Maddox who called, but Dr. Bertrand. His attention was to his patient, and he did not seem to mind when Darcy explained that the ladies were out with Mrs. Bingley.

Dr. Bertrand sighed at the extensive scarring on Grégoire's back and the ones he had created on his forearms to save his back, but Grégoire heard it and just shook his head. "I know people with fewer scars and yet they are unable to do things like walk normally. I am quite blessed."

While Dr. Bertrand did not know how this man could bring himself to say such a thing and mean it, he brokered no opposition. "As soon as you are strong enough, you can return to Pemberley, if that is your desire."

"I admit I am eager to go home," he said. "Look who it is."

Joseph Bennet stood in the doorframe, half-hiding behind it as Dr. Bertrand helped Grégoire roll his tunic back down. "Uncle Grégoire, you said you would do my Latin homework."

"I said I would help you. But it is time for the office of None. You will have to wait a bit, Joseph."

"What is it?" Bertrand said. "What is the text, I mean?"

"He is supposed to translate some of Virgil's poetry, I believe."

"Very challenging. Is that true, Mr. Bennet?"

Joseph nodded.

"I can help him. Or try, at least," Bertrand said. "And you should rest, Mr. Grégoire."

"I know, I know. After prayer, I will rest, if you will lift this particular burden off my shoulders, though it is not normally a burden."

"I understand." Bertrand turned to Joseph. "Why don't we see if I remember anything from my exams?"

It turned out he did, and he sat on the sofa in the sitting room, helping Joseph translate a particularly difficult set of poems. He was impressed not only with the boy's comprehension, but his penmanship. "Who is your tutor, Mr. Bennet?"

"Mother and Grandfather. Grandmother didn't know Latin anyway and then she had a stroke."

"I am sorry to hear that."

"Grandfather likes it. He says she's nicer now. She kisses him a lot."

He blushed a little. "Mr. Bennet, I'm quite sure you shouldn't tell people your grandmother had a stroke. Or the other bit."

"Well, it's really obvious."

"That does not mean you should say it. But, that is for your mother to decide." He looked up. "Speaking of ..."

"Mummy!" Joseph jumped up and hugged his mother, who was still removing her bonnet as she entered with Mrs. Darcy and Mrs. Bingley. "Dr. Bertrand was helping me with my schoolwork!"

"Was he?" Mrs. Darcy said before Mary could respond. "Dr. Bertrand. I trust your patient is doing well?"

"He is."

"Mr. Darcy is very eager to return to Pemberley."

"I think it will be possible in the next week or two," he said. "Excuse Dr. Maddox's absence, he was on an errand –,"

"That's quite all right," Mrs. Bingley said.

"Will you join us for luncheon? It seems no one else will be home in time," Mrs. Darcy offered. Mary shot her a look. It wasn't cold, but did she really not want to be in his presence? Or was she afraid? He could diagnose patients better than people.

He decided to chance it. "I'd love to."

"Really, Mary. I've never seen someone so intent on chasing off a perfectly amiable gentleman," Elizabeth said when they returned to her sitting room.

Truly, Mary had done nothing to chase him off. She had not been rude over the meal, or ignored him, or not contributed. She had not, however, rushed to return his affections, which were not gushing themselves, but were enough to indicate a preference. In fact, she had announced she was leaving for Longbourn as soon as the Darcys returned to Pemberley and the Bingleys to Kirkland.

"I am not a romantic, Lizzy."

"I do not believe this is a situation that calls for a romantic gesture."

Mary looked down at her knitting. "It is all ridiculous. I will return to Longbourn, where I shall remain while Papa still lives, and he is tied to Town. Am I supposed to indicate that I am to remain here indefinitely when it is not true?"

"Hertfordshire is not so terribly far from Town if one is a good rider," Jane said. "Especially since they have redone the roads. There is no reason to call off a courtship because of thirty miles."

"It is not a courtship!"

"Very well," Elizabeth said. "Tell us what you find so displeasing about him and that shall be the end of the matter."

"He has no reason to court me."

"That is not exactly a stunning character fault. Nor is it logical."

Mary stared at her sister. "Must I state the obvious?"

"Mary," Jane said kindly, "he seems to like Joseph very much. Mr. Bradley was certainly not discouraged by the presence of not one but two children. And he does not have to provide for Joseph, with the trust. If he saw any reason to hesitate, he would have done so."

"He could be a fortune hunter."

"Then he is a poor one," Elizabeth said, "for no one has said a thing about money, and even if they had, Papa controls your inheritance and will refuse it to a rake."

Their younger sister looked down; apparently she could think of no more to say.

"Did you speak to Joseph?"

"I will if I need to, but not before. Speaking of, I must make sure he is not bothering Mr. Grégoire. Excuse me." And she abruptly left her sisters, taking her needles with her.

Elizabeth and Jane exchanged glances. "Why is she so cold to the idea?" Jane asked. "Perhaps she does not wish to be married at all. Some women don't."

"I am not convinced. She would have had no reason to continue a charade of pleasantry with a man she did not like." She sighed. "Perhaps her heart still belongs to someone else."

"Can one be meant for two people?"

"When one of those persons is gone and never to return, I would certainly hope so," Elizabeth said.

Grégoire's health improved steadily, even more so as he was able to eat more and more. He could walk on his own, and for the first time ventured outside the townhouse. The next day, Darcy took him to a bookshop, where with his own money, Grégoire purchased a number of books in Latin, Greek, English, French – whatever suited him that they were sure Pemberley did not have. He went to confession, but did not attend Anglican services.

As soon as they were given leave to return to Pemberley, they made ready to depart. Dr. Bertrand called a final time to advise them to go slowly. It happened that Mary was set to depart later that afternoon, and somehow, with all of the servants and children running about, she encountered him alone in the library. Or, it was carefully arranged behind both of their backs.

"May I call on you in Hertfordshire?" he said, not mincing words.

"Why?"

He blushed. "For all of the reasons a man normally calls on a woman, Miss Bennet. And I would like to see Master Joseph." When she did not answer, he lowered his voice. "Are you really so adverse to me?"

She clutched her locket. "No."

"Then may I ask you a question?"

She looked up at him nervously. "You may, Dr. Bertrand."

"Did Joseph's father give you that locket?"

Her response was a look of horror, but she did relinquish her tight clutch on the locket. "Yes."

"Are you still in love with him?"

"I don't know – I knew him only briefly." She added, "But he is Joseph's father."

"So he is alive, then, with no intentions to return to you."

She was caught in her own lie. She hadn't actually said Joseph's father was dead, but it was the official story. "No, he is not coming back." She continued, "His family meant him for the Church. He may well be a bishop by now for all I know." She looked up to find no horror or disgust on his face.

"You are not the only one to have done something that has tormented you with mixed feelings, you know," he said. "I was a surgeon at Waterloo."

"That is a very noble task."

"– for the French."

There was a silence.

"My parents were nobility. They came here to hide during the Revolution. My relatives stayed and were slaughtered. I was born and raised here, but in the final years of Napoleon's reign, they repatriated, and so did I, to finish my education. I served in the army because I needed the clinical experience."

"Does Dr. Maddox know?"

"He is the only one who does."

There was another silence.

"My parents will be somewhat disappointed if I tell them I am courting an English girl from the country," he said, "but as we are in England, they cannot be all that surprised."

She mumbled, "I have some money. Giov – Joseph's father provided him with a trust and me with living expenses. My father keeps hold of it to be my inheritance. If you want it, you will have to impress him."

"I do not want it," he said, "but I will try to impress him anyway."

Dr. Bertrand left and was not there to see Mary off, but judging from her expression, no great rift had occurred between them. She even admitted, after much inquisition by her sisters, that he had asked to call on her, but made them swear not to say a word. And with that, and all the good-byes, Mary and Joseph were gone.

The next day began early; the Maddoxes called – all of them, actually – as the doctor gave Darcy various powders to be mixed with water if Grégoire lost his health on the road.

The Kincaids would return with the Darcys to Pemberley. It was on the way and Georgiana was eager to spend more time with both her brothers, and William was eager to please. It took three full coaches to fit everyone and then other vehicles for the servants and nurses, but they were off. The passage took four days instead of three (it could be done in two, with luck and speed). Dr. Maddox's instincts were right, and the bumping of the carriage tired Grégoire easily, and made him ill by the side of the road, for which he was very embarrassed. Darcy shooed away the coachman and attended his brother personally. They spent three nights at the inns along the way, encountering one innkeeper's wife who knew Grégoire from his previous wanderings but did not recognize him; he had to be reintroduced.

Darcy sent a rider ahead to inform Mrs. Reynolds to make sure no one would make a big deal of Grégoire's return, even though they had all heard something of his poor health and return to England, and instead focus on the former mistress of Pemberley and her husband. He was also just Mr. Grégoire now or Mr. Bellamont if they were truly uncomfortable (he could not truly claim the Darcy name, with his mixed parentage). His old servant, Thomas, was there to greet him and help him out of the carriage. Even without his monastic appearance Grégoire was still recognizable. They got him inside without a fuss, and he rested until dinner while Viscount Robert Kincaid was admired by the maids who had once attended Georgiana, The rest of the servants welcomed their master and mistress, and the heirs to Pemberley that followed them, eager to be home and not uneager to show it.

The Darcys always found a wonderful solace in returning to their own apartments, bathing in their own tubs, and having the luxury and privacy that Pemberley afforded them. It was only then that the two of them could fully acknowledge (without words, which were unnecessary) that London had been an ordeal. They retreated in peace until Thomas came knocking at their door to tell them his charge had gone to the chapel and perhaps could use a visit. His subtlety was impressive.

Darcy took it upon himself, of course, to find Grégoire weeping on the stone before the altar that he had restored himself a decade ago, when he had first come to Pemberley. Why Grégoire would so readily subject himself to so many memories, Darcy had no idea, but thinking on it clearly, he imagined he would do the same. He knelt beside his brother, letting him lean on him as he sobbed into Darcy's waistcoat.

"I have been abandoned."

"You were turned from the Church, Grégoire. Not G-d. I believe the abbot made specific mention of that."

"Where is the L-rd to be found outside of the Church?"

Darcy paused, and said, "I do not believe Our L-rd and Savior had one. I do not think they had even had a Church." His history was not the best, as his Rector focused mainly on the sermons and not the events of the Good Book. "I believe he just wandered around and spoke to the people."

"Like Saint Patrick."

Darcy had no idea but he said, "Yes."

"I want to visit our family – and the saint, if I can bear to show my face to him."

Darcy just nodded, and escorted him to the graveyard. He had not been there himself in quite a while. Though he did love his parents and did his best to honor their memory, it was not one of his regular stops when traversing the grounds. They had gone long ago and he had made his peace with that. Grégoire had known his father only in the barest terms, and his mother was buried at Mon-Claire. The only graves of people he knew were ones he dug himself or oversaw the completion of. They passed by Wickham and nodded their heads.

"You would be proud of your children," Grégoire said to the headstone.

"Believe it or not, I actually agree," Darcy said, which served to lighten the mood. And it was true.

They came to Sebald's grave, relatively unadorned compared to some of the others and hidden away in a corner. Grégoire said something in Latin, and when Darcy requested a translation, he replied, "'Forgive this poor sinner.'"

Darcy made the cross of blessing over Grégoire, saying in a deeper voice, "I forgive you, my son."

"Darcy!"

"What? Who says saints are forbidden to have a sense of humor?" he said, not quite sure he wasn't doing something sacrilegious. Even if he was, it was worth it to see Grégoire smile. "Come. Dinner must almost be ready and there is a wonderful selection of French wines this year, and you may drink all that you like while your poor brother can have none."

"I forget – is Geoffrey old enough to join us?"

"Not yet, thank goodness, or we would have to temper our speech." He sighed. "That day will come soon enough."

"Temper what speech? You never say anything in company."

"I wouldn't say anything – "

"Almost nothing. Monosyllables."

They slowly walked back to Pemberley proper. "If my doctor permitted me to drink – I tell you, it would be a different story. I am quite a lush."

"So I have heard, from Mr. Bingley."

"Bingley! We should give him a strong drink and find out what he really did in India. I keep hearing a tiger mentioned and still know nothing about it."

"Why would Mr. Bingley have a story about a tiger?"

"Precisely."

They laughed their way back to the house.

...Next Chapter - The Letter from the Island