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. Please note that I don't update on Friday nights or Saturday because of religious observance.

Warning: Accents ahead.

Chapter 36 – The Dress

"Now just because you are not my actual grandchild does not mean I find you any less adorable," Mr. Bennet said to Robert Kincaid, sitting on his lap. The toddler could now sit up and even balance himself on someone's knee fairly well, and was beginning to shout things that resembled words more than just random cries. At the moment, though, he focused on putting his hand in his mouth. "Especially when you do that," Mr. Bennet added.

The master of Longbourn had taken up what seemed like permanent residence in an armchair in Pemberley's library. He expressed great relief in that since coming to Derbyshire, he had yet to receive another vie for an offer of marriage.

He was there for Elizabeth when Geoffrey left for Eton. Though she kept a straight face and encouraging smile on until her son was physically in the carriage, it lasted not much longer than that. Darcy comforted her, but they did not share the same level of sorrow. Her son was leaving her for the first time; he saw his son blossoming into a young man. The fact that Darcy had been to Eton himself lessened it for him, he readily admitted. It was part of his heritage; it was what boys did.

It was Mr. Bennet, however, who was able to say the right thing to his daughter. "There is a great difference when sons first leave the house and daughters first leave. The sons usually are gone for a short duration and then return. The daughters disappear permanently." With a knowing smile, he was able to soothe his daughter's heart better than anyone else.

The day after the Kincaids' arrival, the earl was invited to shoot with Darcy and Bingley, as was their custom, especially in the fall.

"If we are to be invited for dinner," Bingley said, "it is on the condition that I will not be subjected to Irish jokes the entire evening."

"What are you, daft? You can't make jokes with an actual Gael in the room," Kincaid said. "Besides yourself, of course."

"She has lighter hair than you," Darcy said to Bingley, who had not actually met Mrs. MacKenna yet. "Nearly blond."

"What about Grégoire?"

"You know very well what he looks like, Bingley."

Bingley gave him a look. "How is he?"

"How would you expect? Besotted," Darcy said. "And no, I have no intentions of interfering in the match despite all reason."

"Not all reason," Kincaid said. "She is a sweet woman and she is devoted to him, and he has no need of a dowry."

Darcy said nothing, firing at a stray duck flying south, and missing.

"She is, Darcy," Kincaid said, the only one who could speak with any authority on the subject present. "It is not just gratitude. She could easily have lived a life of comfort with the money he left her with."

Bingley, who had been privately told the particulars of the courtship (if one could call it that) of Grégoire and Mrs. MacKenna, could add something. "Great marriages have been built on less than gratitude. In fact, I am surprised you haven't thrown a grand ball in celebration of the fact that he is marrying at all."

This did manage to soften Darcy's composure, which was more guarded than usual, and had been since his brother returned from Ireland. "They are to be married by Christmas."

"A prudent time," Bingley said, they having been married the same time of year. "In Ireland, I assume?"

"Yes."

"Do you wish us to take the children while you are gone? I am assuming you are not taking them." The Darcy daughters where still all under twelve, and unsuitable for adult ceremonies, unless they happened to be held at home. "I think Jane could use the distraction."

"So I am to assume Miss Bingley took Geoffrey's departure as expected."

Bingley smiled sheepishly. "Between her cousin and Mugen-san, she's lost her two best friends."

"Since she's scared away all her governesses, you might consider sending her to a school in London," Darcy said.

"It was discussed." Bingley's tone had a definite finality to it. Meaning, she had put her foot down against it. "Stop smiling, both of you."

"I didn't say a word," Kincaid said, though he was smiling. Darcy was smirking, which for him was quite a lot.

Dinner arrangements were more complex on the Bingley end, because they were bringing their children along to see their grandfather and meet Grégoire's betrothed. Though they had tutors, the four Bingley children were currently sans governess, and had only Nurse, who the other children no longer bowed to. Only Edmund Bingley was still young enough to not put up a fight – not that Charles or Eliza Bingley had any reason to fight.

The problem was, of course, Georgiana. She refused to get dressed for the evening and was perfectly capable of scrambling out of anyone's hold (not that her father wanted to try). She was four and ten, and her foul mood had begun when Mugen abruptly left England, and deepened when Geoffrey left for school. Jane and Bingley faced the daunting prospect of doing something beyond both of their characters – yelling at their child. It was still on the horizon, but it was there. Darcy, they were sure, could simply give any of his children a stare and they would obey, no matter what their age – but he was Darcy, and they were Charles and Jane.

They were stuck in a debate about how to approach the situation after all arguments through the door had failed when Charles the Third, now one and ten, knocked on his sister's door and was granted entrance. They decided not to listen in and face the consequences if they were discovered.

Young Charles, the eldest of the two Bingley twins, resembled his father in almost every way except his hair, which was blond. He also hadn't had his growth spurt yet, much to his annoyance.

"Hello," he said, announcing his presence. After unlocking the door, Georgie had returned to her bed and put her bare feet up on the dresser, her face buried in a book.

"Did they send you in?"

"No."

She said nothing.

"Listen," he said, mustering what courage he could. His sister was still taller than him, her voice was less squeaky, and she was an intimating person in general, "you're not the only one who's lonely. I didn't want him to leave, either."

Georgiana put down her book.

"He is my best friend – and the only boy around here. What am I supposed to do, play with Edmund?"

"You could try," she said.

"You could spend time with your sister," he countered. Georgie and Eliza Bingley were not known for their close relationship. "You could do ... sisterly things."

Georgiana's entire response was a look. It served its purpose perfectly.

"I know you're upset," he said, "but Mother and Father are now really upset because you're upset, and you really shouldn't make them upset." He frowned. "Did that sound stupid?"

"Yes," she said, but smiled. "Are they really upset?"

"What do you think? You won't even put on a pretty dress."

"I hate that dress."

"Mother says we shouldn't use the word hate."

"Mothers say those sorts of things."

To this he had no response. She had stumped him. He frowned; she always managed to do that, because she was older. "I do not understand why you won't – "

She sat up. "I will enlighten you. I have to put on a very pretty and very expensive dress – which I hate – to meet Uncle Grégoire and Mrs. MacKenna. Uncle Grégoire dresses like he made his own clothes and all he had was brown wool because he doesn't care about money or looking fancy. Mrs. MacKenna was so poor when she met him that she was starving to death. Do you think it makes either of them comfortable to see all of their relatives dressed up in fancy clothes?"

"– I didn't know that," he said, "about her. Should I know that?"

"I heard Papa talking about it. There's other stuff too, but it was complicated." She shook her head. "The point is this: I do not understand why I have to get dressed up and feel uncomfortable to make other people feel uncomfortable. Does that make sense?"

The only response he could manage was, "Did you tell Mother that?"

"She wouldn't understand."

"Now you're being mean. You're not smarter than her!"

She did halt her speech. "What I meant to say was, she – I don't know. Adults act differently. They just do things because it's the thing to do without thinking about it."

"Or they do it because it's the right thing to do."

Georgiana looked away. "Are they really upset?"

"Our parents? Yes."

She sighed. "All right. Get out. I have to change."

"Should I send – "

"I can do it myself."

All of the Bingley children were present at Pemberley that night, including Georgiana, who was complimented for her very pretty dress, and she curtseyed and thanked her aunt. When asked how he had gotten his sister out of her room, Charles admitted that he had no idea.

After all of the introductions were made and the Bingley children sent to eat with their cousins, the gathering of now four couples and Mr. Bennet sat down to eat. Mrs. MacKenna was silently judged to be incredibly shy, which was not entirely unexpected, and generally stayed quiet until the subject of the wedding was brought up. While it was to be in Ireland, they wanted some celebration in England so people that Grégoire was eager to attend could do so. They were, however, faced with the peculiar problem that all of the obvious hosts were in mourning for Mrs. Bennet, and could not hold a reception, and the Kincaid castle in Scotland was too far to travel.

"There's the Maddoxes," Bingley suggested. "They are only a few miles from Town and never had a chance to host anything."

"Is the house large enough?"

"Have you seen the renovations?"

"Did they ever finish that wing? The Oriental one?" Mr. Bennet asked.

"Always under construction."

"You're not thinking of doing something to Kirkland are you, Mr. Bingley?" Elizabeth asked.

"No," Jane answered before Bingley could, then supplied him with a soothing look that silenced his opposition.

"If we turn England into the Orient, perhaps everyone will be less inclined to go there," Darcy said, "and come back with all sorts of ... things."

"Monkey is not a thing!"

"Anything you can toss is a thing," Darcy said, and took a sip of his wine.

"Who's tossing Monkey?" Elizabeth said, with an accusing look at her husband.

"Thinking of tossing it," Darcy corrected.

"Who in de world is Munkay?" Lord Kincaid finally asked. He was seated next to Caitlin, who was similarly clueless.

"His name is very self-descriptive," Jane said. "He's our pet."

"Somehow he was left off the invitation list for tonight," Elizabeth said. "Because someone banned him from Pemberley."

"Someone doesn't appreciate having to chase him around the house while he was covered in mud before he woke half the house – "

"– If you hadn't upset him – "

"There is nothing upsetting about telling an animal to leave. My dogs would do it on command – "

"You tossed him out the window!"

"He was in my hands. He leapt out the window. And then back in. Just to annoy me. Do you have any idea how long it took the maids – "

"Fortunately," Elizabeth said, interrupting the argument between her husband and brother-in-law, "it will not be your decision as to whether Monkey is invited to the celebrations, as they will be held elsewhere – "

Grégoire cleared his throat. "Speaking of – Would you all mind terribly if I asked Her Highness and Mr. Maddox if we could use their property before we begin to plan an event there?"

Mr. Bennet laughed. "That does seem the polite thing to do, no?"

"Her Highness?" Caitlin finally said, her first words in three courses. "Yer all royalty?"

"Mr. Maddox is married to a minor Austrian Princess," Darcy quickly explained to his guest and future sister-in-law.

"She is much less intimidating than you think," Georgiana Kincaid half-whispered to her. "Oh! Except for all the swords."

Caitlin nodded politely and kept silent for the rest of the meal.

"I can't do dis."

"You can."

The place Grégoire and Caitlin found to be the best location to be un-chaperoned was the chapel. Even if someone came upon them, nothing could be suspected of them, especially given Grégoire's level of religious devotion and respect for sanctified places. There they could sit in the pews and he could put his hands over her trembling ones. "They're just people," he said. "Their clothing is different and their speech is different and sometimes even I get confused by all of the titles and orders of names, but they all look the same on the inside."

"Do yeh tink dey loike me?"

"If they have any sense in them at all, they think you're a sweet, polite woman who will make me a wonderful bride," he said, kissing her. "And if they don't ... well, we are all foolish sinners, and of that sin I will absolve them."

"Of bein' idiots?"

"Assuming so, yes," he said with a smile. "You don't have to impress them. You are not marrying them."

"But if – "

He kissed her to silence her. "No 'if's.' They are good people and you are a wonderful woman and you make me happy. For that alone, they already love you." He squeezed her hand. "They have seen me poor, filthy, half-starved, beaten, and even wounded by my own hand. And yet my brother, who seems to the world the most pretentious, arrogant English gentleman there could ever be short of the Prince Regent himself, loved me as a brother from the moment we met. He gave me advice but he never stopped me from doing otherwise – even when he should have."

She bit her lip. "'as 'e said somethin' 'bout me?"

"He does not find conversation easy," he replied. "It is in his nature. Nonetheless, if he truly disapproved, he would have said something months ago. And even if he did, I could reply that he has been bothering me to leave the church and get married since the day we met in Mon-Claire. So there is no high ground for Darcy on this subject." He added, "Nor do I truly care."

"Den why don't we run of' an' marry?"

"Because," he sighed, letting her lean into him and wrapping his arms around her, "when I wrote to him of our situation and asked him to come to Dublin and put his own life and reputation in danger for a woman he did not even know, he did not hesitate or ask a single question. He made our union possible and if he wants to be a part of it, who am I to stop him?"

She rested in his arms from a tiring day. "I wish I'd had a family ta love so much."

He kissed her hair and said, "You're about to have one."

Next Chapter ... The Princess