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Part 21

Posted on Tuesday, 2 December 2003

2nd April 1941 - Rosings, Kent

Only one thing is certain ... and that is that nothing is certain.

THREE DAYS!!!

Annette was of the firm opinion that one clearly annoyed Darcy, one witch-like de Bourgh Darcy and Lady Catherine should be taken under medical supervision when combined. Three days undiluted exposure undoubtedly constituted an overdose and reduced one to jumping at shadows and detecting ulterior meaning in even the most banal of comments.

Never had manuscripts transferred so quickly to a good draft ... and never had Eoan been so insistent about walking. In fact Annette had the gravest suspicions that the manuscripts and Eoan were collaborating to drive her utterly insane. Annette knew that Eoan was deliberately finding James every time he left her room, but she lacked sufficient evidence to convict the manuscript of typing quickly to ensure that Annette had no excuses for letting Eoan out without accompanying him herself ... in fact Eoan had taken to grabbing clothing to ensure that she did come with him. Once Annette had attempted to complain after Eoan had actually torn her skirt, but James Darcy had been abominably rude and merely stated that resisting was unwise in such circumstances.

"Button?" Annie-Bug was peeking enquiringly around the door.

"Come in." Annette pushed herself back from yet another chapter which had typed unbelievably fast. An angry yowl reminded Annette that Diemos had appropriated the space behind her on the chair and Annette straightened up again. "Would you kindly ask Mr. Darcy if he would come and retrieve his cat again?"

"No." Annie-Bug dropped onto the end of Annette's bed with a sigh. "But only because he's not here."

"Not here?" Annette frowned. "I thought he was refusing to leave until Ashie returned."

"I'm under orders to lock Ashie up if he returns while Jim's out ... he expects to be back by suppertime."

"Why is he so cross with Ashie?"

"No idea, but I'd actually class it as downright livid with Ashie. Never seen him so peeved in my life." Annie-Bug swung her feet before giving a sharp nod. "Which reminds me that Caroline just called."

"Miss Bingley just called?" Annette blinked, uncertain of what all this entailed.

"Well she was actually after Ashie, but hearing that he had made himself scarce she commended his wisdom, wished she'd acted with similar forethought and then requested me to request you to come up to London to collect a file or so."

"Travel to London to collect a file?" Annette blinked her confusion, it seemed a trifle extravagant.

"She said you'd understand if I mentioned MAGI file to you and she advised you to borrow Ashie's second car."

"Wonderful." Annette dropped her head into her hands and moaned.

"She asked if you'd try to make it for lunch since she's invited the harem, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner and 'a few other souls' to lunch."

"Alright." Annette stood up and sighed. "With bad luck I'll be back by suppertime as well ... is Mr. Fitzwilliam also out?"

"Stephen's downstairs and he's already promised to look after Eoan if you go." Annie-Bug slid off the bed. "I'll just put my mail together so you can hand it over to Caroline."

"You don't want to come?"

"No." Annie-Bug gave a small grimace. "Juliette goes into Hunsford and..." The small shrug explained it all.

"Have fun, I'll try and get a cake out of Ivy for you."

"Thank you." Annie-Bug gave a little skip before vanishing through the doorway. Annette shook her head before pulling open her wardrobe, she needed to change.

"I think that is all of them." Caroline Bingley had helped shove one last box into the back of the car before she spoke. They had been working for the better part of an hour and the car was now sitting exceedingly low on the read axle. "Tea before you leave?"

"Yes, please." Annette did not need to consider that offer for more than a second.

"Check that room once more and then lock the door again will you." Caroline was heading back up the stairs as she spoke. Annette headed back into the back sections of the Darcy Townhouse, vaguely aware that Daoud had materialised near the front door and was watching the car.

The room which the files had come from was hidden. Annette was pretty certain that the place couldn't even have been found unless the wall was torn down by someone who knew where the room was. The opening mechanism was two floors up from the room itself and complex to say the least, not the usual twist nob and tap panel variety as loved by cheap fiction. The room was down a small passage, the entrance not in either of the rooms which shared a wall with the room. The little room was packed solid with files and Annette hastily pulled draws open, casting cursory glances over the rainbow hues to be seen within. MAGI files were blue and it hadn't taken Caroline's warning to persuade Annette that she did not want to know what those other files contained. Only blue files were of interest or use, Annette already knew that pink files were purely mathematical in nature ... she had accidentally pulled one out while pulling out a MAGI file and dropped both when she realised what she'd done.

Annette carefully let herself out of the room, closing the panel carefully behind herself before racing upstairs to finish locking it off. Annette then skipped back down the stairs to where Caroline was frowning at a steeping teapot.

"Sorry about the tea." Caroline poured the tea as she spoke. "The three tea leaves in this brew have had it."

"Lady Catherine goes in for slave labour I think ... she clearly uses only one tea leaf for visitors." Annette sipped the weak brew.

"Visitors who aren't important ... if her nephew turned up for tea he'd get a wonderful cup of tea."

"Her nephew?" Annette creased her brows in confusion.

"Jermyn, Earl of Matlock. James would also normally get a good cup of tea, but he's currently not flavour of the month so no one cares if he doesn't like the tea." Caroline settled carefully on a nearby chair. "How is he by the way? Heard he was after Ashie."

"Well he's certainly not there because he enjoys it." Annette spoke with great feeling. "They all speak with great politeness and veiled insult."

"Not surprising." Caroline blinked. "Do you know why he wants Ashie?"

"Not the faintest whisper has been heard. We all know he wants Ashie's head for breakfast, but he won't say why."

"Must be charming to have him in the house."

"Oh, absolutely wonderful." Annette rolled her eyes, an action which drew a soft chuckle from Caroline.

"I can well believe it. Do tell me why he wants Ashie if you hear at all."

"I doubt I'll hear if Ashie continues failing to appear, but I'll pass the request on to Annie-Bug." Annette empty her tea fairly quickly, the conversation general and rather disinterested otherwise and Annette didn't feel any need to extend her visit to the metropolis, it was all too easy to see that the scandal was still unquenched. Annette just wanted to leave, though Rosings was minimally better.

Metal rent and tore in the collision, which was almost head-on and sickening in its violence. The impact tore down the passenger sides of the two cars before spinning them into the ditch. The corner was a bad one, narrow, right-angled and hedged like a sunken lane. One car, missing the left wing, door and front wheel rested in the ditch just out of the corner, facing the wrong direction. The second car rested in the ditch as if it had totally missed the corner and elected to drive in a straight line. The second car appeared only slightly damaged, the front concealed by the hedge and the only visible damage otherwise was badly bent and scraped paneling ... the front passenger door would never open without the help of a crowbar. The late afternoon sun reflected off newly exposed metallic surfaces as the vehicles settled into their positions. The sun also reflected dully on the dark leather and a spreading pool in the second car. The driver of the second car swore and dug a shirt hastily out of the bag which somehow hadn't fallen off the passenger seat in the collision. The man then rolled more than climbed out of his vehicle with the shirt in hand, he grabbed a water bottle from the oddments which had been scattered in the ditch by the crash before crossing to the first car.

Annette was vaguely aware that her door was missing, and the only reason that the collision hadn't been a head-on was because the other driver had somewhat fantastic control. Annette was also aware that the collision had occured because the driver had been coming around that corner on the wrong side of the road.

"You hear me?" The question, asked by a male voice which seemed vaguely familiar, was repeated a couple of times before he gave up on eliciting a response. Annette could hear the voice, but for the life of her she could not acknowledge it ... and she so wanted to acknowledge that voice. Any connection with the real world was welcome. Strong hands began a careful, thorough, but experienced exploration of Annette's head and neck. The hands then briefly checked Annette's lower legs before the voice came again. "Well you seem to be intact, certainly no bleeding beyond a nice little gash you've found ... my money is on your ignition key ... you might well have a black eye as well. You might lean back just a trifle, probably more comfortable. You hear me?" A brief pause. "Well you're not answering if you can. Nice blue sky today and there's a cloud overhead which looks remarkably like a horse. Bit of a silly muggins thing to do not sounding your horn as you came into the corner ... which reminds me I better get a bit of a warning off so no one dents us further." The man fell silent for a moment and then abruptly the horn began its raucous blare.

"Mugh." It was a vague gurgle Annette managed to make finally.

"Wonderful, wake up a bit more and we might be able to do something about getting out of this mess."

"Than..ss" Annette struggled to get her vocal chords in full operation.

"You're welcome, nothing worse than lying in a trashed car and wondering if you'll die. Now I'm going to go for a minute, I'll be just across the road at my own car."

"Eyes." Annette continued to try and force her eyes open.

"Gummed shut I'm afraid, give me a minute and you'll get your sight back." The car groaned slightly and Annette knew that the man had left.

"He ... he hit me." Annette got an arm moving and gingerly felt around her face, there was undoubtedly something crusty in her eyes and the bridge of her nose was very sensitive.

"Hold hard." Something cold touched her face, wiping carefully but firmly. "Okay, try opening up."

"Ow." Annette squinted up and blinked a couple of times before the view came into focus. Her view was mostly obscured by a bloody handkerchief, but the only other item of interest was the nearby hedge which straggled messily.

"Dandy. Now If you'll excuse me I'll go see whether my car can move."

"What about mine?"

"Needs a tow, and I'd prefer it if my car could tow you rather than letting you walk to the nearest garage after a tow truck." That remark more than any other got Annette moving. Pain rippled through her as she struggled to get out of her canted car, but soon she was standing next to her crumpled wing, sick but upright. On the other side of the corner the vague outline of the man was bent over the front wheel of his car and working with a small hammer on the crunched metal.

"Why were you on the wrong side of the road?" It had taken Annette some thought to walk across to the car, but she was improving by the second as the shock of the crash slowly eased out of her system.

"You didn't sound your horn. Keep that in mind, if you are on the inside of a blind corner, sound your horn a couple of metres before you enter the corner."

"You're meant to remain on the left-hand side of the road."

"Not on corners, now hold this." He handed her three lumps of jagged and crumpled metal and a spanner.

"Why?" Annette took the items automatically and eyed them with distaste.

"Because I'd rather not stick them on the road so I can forget them and give someone else a flat." He straightened up and Annette glared as she recognised him.

"What are you doing down here anyway?"

"Looking for Ashie ... and since you've wrecked Ashie's second car I feel fairly certain that he'll turn up shortly."

"I've wrecked?" Annette stared at James Darcy in disbelief as he edged around to the other side of his car. "You were on the wrong side of the road!"

"Oh shut up!" James hammered ferociously at something before swearing and leaning heavily against the wing. "We both need tows ... why, oh why didn't you dive for the ditch when you saw me?"

"Because cars aren't meant to travel on the right and you were!"

"That doesn't mean that you can't take evasive action. Get moving girl, we've got five miles to walk."

"You're expecting me to walk?" Annette glared at him again.

"Well I'll be damned if you get to sit here and wait, this mess is not all my fault."

"I was abiding by the road rules."

"Not all of them. Move it!"

"And if I say no?"

"Then you really do not want to hear what I'm going to say ... it'll be bad enough when TOG catches up with me." James threw the hammer into the back of his car in disgust before pulling himself up out of the ditch and straightening his trousers.

"You could at least wait for a moment." Annette snarled at his departing back before scurrying after him.

"Why? You seemed intent on remaining behind." James didn't even glance at Annette as he continued walking, his gait rolling like a drunken sailor's.

"What I might say and what I will actually do are two different things, and well you know it. I'm not so stupid as to remain alone in a wrecked car, however stupid you might otherwise believe me to be."

"I never said you were stupid, I merely noted that you might wish to remember that on blind corners you should sound your horn if you are on the inside edge. You might also do well to remember that regardless to where the other car is if you feel a collision is imminent you should take evasive action ... even if merely to brake so the impact is reduced ... certainly don't stomp on the accelerator."

"I was trying to brake."

"Well you shouldn't have even attempted to brake that hard, all that would have happened would have been a skid."

"Well why don't you just shut up about it. If you don't shut up, I won't shut up and we'll argue the whole five miles to this garage."

"Language ... and it wasn't me who started the fight."

"That doesn't mean you can't stop it."

"Why should I?"

"Because you're the pacifist who hates fighting."

"Shut up now." James came to an abrupt halt and grabbed Annette's arm. "You got that? If you don't shut up this minute I have no idea what I'll do, but it will very likely scare you out of your wits."

"Why should I have to shut up?" Annette glared as he started walking again. "Why can't you just ask nicely for me to be quiet?"

"I respond to people as they respond to me. Since you've seen who I was you have not even uttered a polite letter. Why should I have to be polite to you when you can rip me to shreds and blame me for something which is not my fault."

"Oh, give it up." Annette increased the speed of her walk. "You're all alike, arrogant, proud and too damn good for the rest of the country. Sure, I know I'm swearing, it's something I learnt from Ashie. Why can't you just leave us alone? We don't want you in our lives. We don't want you running our lives..."

"Running your life? Name one time when I've attempted to interfere with your existence."

"It's not my existence you interfered with. If I'm cross there it's because you didn't see fit to notify me that Rory was seeing Lila since you apparently had some petty wish for it to reach the newspapers." Annette swung to a halt in front of James. "You had my brother fired James Darcy. Not content with running him out of the RAF, you get him fired from his accounting job a few years later. Give it a rest, feuding went out years ago."

"Anything else you care to cast at me while your outlining the sheer core rottenness of my character." James stepped sideways and continued walking.

"Brian O'Niell." Annette whipped around and chased after James once more. "He's grown up with you, and you even used to call him your best friend. You have a strange idea of friendship treating Brian as you have."

"Any more?"

"Isn't that enough?" Annette stared in stunned amazement up at the passive face which met her eyes easily.

"Not if you've got more to throw at me."

"You're an arrogant, opinionated snob who cares for nothing and cares for no one. You could do so much to help this country win this war, and yet you do nothing. You're so bloody arrogant you won't ... you don't care about this war do you? You don't care whether we win or lose. You don't care for anyone but yourself."

"Quiet." James abruptly pulled Annette to the side of the road. "By the way, we're about halfway to the garage now."

"Why...?"

"Someone's coming and I really don't want you to be hit."

"Oh." Annette heard the car as James ended and gave a brief and embarrassed nod of thanks.

"It's Ashie." James gave a small groan. "Plug your ears because Ashie is coming up behind us."

"Why ... why plug my ... " Annette stopped because the silver Bentley had arrived, pulling up on locked wheels and a cloud of sprayed gravel.

"OF ALL PIN-WITTED, HALF-CRACKED, IDIOTIC ... WHERE ARE YOUR BLOODY BRAINS?" Ashie was clearly furious, he was yelling before he stopped and continued as he vaulted out of the car. "HAIR-BRAINED, NOD-COCKED, ASS-WITTED ... GOOD GOD BOY ARE YOU TRYING TO GET YOURSELF MURDERED?" It was finally clear who Ashie was yelling at and Annette began cautiously to edge away in hopes of avoiding Ashie's apparent fury. "No need to slink away girl even if you did cause the crash. PIN-WIT!" Ashie roared once more as he turned back to James. "What am I meant to do with you? Appoint a full time minder? Stick you in a straight jacket?"

"Start by stopping yelling and get us to the garage which is only two and a half miles ahead." James nodded briefly at the car, his quiet tone an even match for his passive and uninterested expression.

"That's two and a half miles closer than you should be to it ... HAM-WITTED BOY!"

"SHUT UP ASHIE!!!!" James abruptly snapped, his ears drawing back slightly as he yelled, his frame stiffening and his hands clenching. The ears were a trait Annette had noticed the previous year when James was really angry. The lapse in temper was brief and the passive mask back before he spoke again, his usual soft tones back in employment. "I have a splitting headache, a wrenched shoulder and no wish to remain on this road. Can we just deal with this mess first? You can take me to hell over it later. I just want it over."

"Any other problems?"

"None that can be dealt with yet. Let's just get the cars rescued and get out of here."

"Look Fish."

"Ashie." Something, some emotion Annette couldn't read flashed momentarily in the back of James' eyes

"All right. Get in Neddie." Ashie waited until James had pulled himself into the back of the car before vaulting in himself. Annette had only just sat down when Ashie had the car in gear and it leapt away with a savage snarl.

"Thanks." Ashie vaulted back into the Bentley and gunned the engine, the speed of the transaction caused Annette to suspect that this was not the first time Ashie had appealed for a tow at this garage. "Jim, you still with us?"

"Aye ... bit sleepy, but I am here."

"Neddie, talk to him." Ashie engaged the engine and headed towards Rosings.

"But..."

"If he loses consciousness we're in dire strife! Ask his opinions of clouds if you can't find any other neutral topic."

"I don't think we have a single neutral topic. He didn't even give me a choice between walking or not, he just told me to move it." Annette glanced briefly into the back before looking back at Ashie who was negotiating his way back onto the road. "Why should he lose consciousness?"

"That you ask that says you did not look into Jim's car." Ashie dragged the Bentley ferociously around a sharp corner. "Of course he gave you no option, I'd have killed him if I'd found you and heard that he was attempting to walk five miles." Ashie glanced briefly at Annette and shook his head before putting the Bentley into a lower gear. "Mackle, you still with me?"

"I've got a feeling I'm meant to get mad at you for calling me that." James voice was if anything even softer and more sleepy than before.

"Well I wanted to make sure you took the trouble to respond."

"Mackle?" Annette frowned.

"Oh I called him a Mackerel when he was about two or three and he agreed that he was Mackle, and so Mackle he is ... he hasn't forgiven me since he turned eight."

"Now I am certain I should be mad at you." James' response was only just audible over the engine and Annette glanced back sharply, alarmed to note that he'd turned a very unhealthy white since she'd last looked.

"Neddie, at your feet you'll find a radio. Whack the button and call help."

"Help." Annette obeyed Ashie's curt command automatically.

"Hullo, where are you Ashie?" The radio snapped statically back almost immediately.

"Steps?" Ashie snatched the mike and executed a rather sickening weave as he did so.

"Yes, where are you?" The voice really did not sound at all like Stephen Fitzwilliam in Annette's opinion, but she let the matter go.

"Coming in to Rosings ... I think he's bleeding so you better pull out the bandages."

"No ... doctor." The whisper from the back barely reached Annette, who was leaning back to keep out of Ashie's way, and after a moment she tapped Ashie.

"He said something about a doctor when you waffled about bandages."

"JAMES DARCY WERE YOU FIBBING??" Ashie locked the wheels as they skidded through a large gate and accelerated once more up a long gravel drive before skidding to a halt once more outside Rosings.

"Yes."

"STEPS!" The yell drew three people out of the house.

"What's up Ashie?" Stephen Fitzwilliam came jumping down the steps.

"Send for a doctor, Jim fibbed about nothing much being wrong." Ashie vaulted out of the car as he sent the curt order towards the butler who immediately withdrew. "Annie-Bug, get Button into a bed with a hot drink and stacks of sugar ... I think she's still in shock because she's behaving like an idiot. Stephen!" Ashie finally turned to the young Lieutenant who was shaking his head while helping James from the back of the car. Annette's mind neutrally noted that the back of James' shirt was the wrong colour. "I want you to get this lump upstairs."

"Aye, aye." Stephen was not a small man and was clearly not overly disturbed by the idea of carrying James, though James was physically taller.

"JIM!" Ashie glared as James attempted to walk for himself. "IF YOU DIE ON ME I'LL KILL YOU!"

"Come on Button, we'll only get in their way." Annie-Bug pulled at Annette's elbow, getting her out of the way just before Stephen came up the stairs ... James Darcy had lost consciousness and was now being unceremoniously bundled into the house.

"I think I've missed something." Annette passively followed where she was directed, settling into the immense bed without a word of complaint.

"I think Ashie's right." Annie-Bug's expression was creased. "I'll be back with a drink in a minute. Stay there." Annie-Bug skipped hastily out of the room and asked a nearby maid to pass the request for hot sweet tea to the kitchen. "How is he?" Annie-Bug peeped into the small back bedroom which was generally known as James' Room on her way back to Annette's room.

"Not good." Ashie came out looking irritated. "Oh, he'll live and he probably won't get sick this time ... bloody stubborn fool ... ANNETTE FOUCHIARD YOU ARE MEANT TO BE IN BED!"

"I want to know what is going on." Annette's voice was still shaky, but the determination was there.

"Blast." Ashie shook his head. "Not now, I'll talk to you later after this idiot promises to stop. bloody. bleeding ... Yes I am talking about you Mackle so pay good attention." Ashie glared back into the room for a moment. "Take her away Annie-Bug, take her away."

"Come on." Annie-Bug pulled Annette quickly back to the other bedrooms. "You need to drink your tea, sleep for a couple of hours and either have a blazing good fight with someone or a nice cry before you'll be back on your feet."

"Already had a blazing fight." Annette sank limply into the bed once more and blinked. "I don't know what came over me ... "

"I wouldn't worry, even if Jim does remember later he never holds a grudge." Annie-Bug tucked Annette's covers down firmly.

"Doesn't hold a grudge? But why did he get my brother kicked out of the RAF?"

"Jeroen wasn't kicked out of the RAF, that calls for a court-martial and a mountain of fuss. Jeroen left by his ... well, not exactly his own choice, but he did make the decision to leave. My Grandmother was going to have him court-martialed for behaviour unbecoming of an Officer in his Majesty's Service. James got wind of it though and chatted to a couple of people before digging Jeroen up and letting him know the lot." Annie-Bug paused. "Guess you might say it was Jim's fault ... at least Jeroen could get back in when he wanted too."

"That doesn't explain why James Darcy apparently had him fired back in '39."

"That's a different matter all together and Jeroen would not be happy if he knew you were cutting up stiff at Jim about that." Annie-Bug nodded firmly before skittering quickly across to take the tray from the maid. "Tea, piping hot and holding half the sugar pot. Drink up ducky, it's good for you even if it is vile." Annie-Bug grimaced after having sipped at her own cup. "I used to adore this stuff and Cookie can't remember that I took a dislike to it some years ago."

"Rather a lot of gilding..." Annette had been trying to focus on the ceiling for several moments.

"Far too much, but that's my grandmother for you. I infinitely prefer Pemberley I will admit."

"Nice." Annette blinked sleepily, vaguely aware that something important had just gone over her head, but too asleep to do anything about it.

"Sleep well." The bed moved slightly as Annie-Bug slid off it, but then consciousness fled.

" ... the time is ten o'clock in the evening and by that sickening groan you just made I conclude you have rejoined the conscious world." The cheery voice cut through the fogginess in Annette's mind and made her feel even worse.

"Annie-Bug." It had taken Annette several minutes to put a name to that cheery voice, and it was rather a sour sounding growl she made, though such was not her intention.

"Correct. Now do wake up and drink some of this soup. Cookie will get cross otherwise."

"I have a headache and want to go to sleep again." Annette still hadn't troubled to open her eyes.

"Not to be surprised at all ... you've also got a very black eye, a split lip and a fractured nose."

"I did not need to hear that."

"Well wake up properly and drink your soup then." There was something almost ruthless about Annie-Bug's cheerfulness and with a sigh Annette acknowledged that she was not going to get back to sleep, so she might as well open her eyes and drink the soup just to silence Annie-Bug.

"What time did you say it was?"

"Ten o'clock in the evening. You've been asleep for almost six hours and a nice old medic has given you the once over and said you may behave like a normal human being tomorrow morning ... provided you don't go sticking your nose into anything."

"Not now?" Annette took the soup bowl and frowned at Annie-Bug.

"Frankly I'll be surprised if you can even sit up by yourself."

"Ah." Annette had just discovered the truth of this remark. Her limbs seemed to be made of jelly and most unwilling to even attempt supporting her weight. The soup had slopped only once before Annie-Bug grabbed the bowl during Annette's efforts. "This is terribly handy ... how do I drink the soup?"

"You wait a moment while I get Stephen."

"Stephen?" Annette blinked in confusion.

"Fitzwilliam, cousin type relative of usual Fitzwilliam Darcy proportions."

"Ah." Annette's memory was starting to catch up with her. "Is he far off?"

"Probably either in his room or Jim's." Annie-Bug placed the bowl on a nearby table and skipped from the room.

Annie-Bug returned almost immediately with Stephen Fitzwilliam in tow. A few moments later Annette found herself in a reasonable approximation of an upright position on a pile of pillows with the soup in her hands once more. Annette found she was actually quite hungry now she had the bowl under her nose and she made short work of the contents.

"Has he woken yet?" Annie-Bug had stepped aside while Annette ate, her question to Stephen Fitzwilliam.

"I assume so, Ashie was yelling at him something ferocious and not even Ashie is so daft as to yell at someone carrying a skinful of sedatives."

"I sometimes wonder." Annie-Bug nodded decidedly before giving a small yawn. "Well you can reassure Ashie that Neddie is fine so he only has to worry about the car on that front."

"He'll be delighted." Stephen gave a brief nod. "I think Neddie wants to go back to sleep." Stephen nodded politely before retreating, while Annie-Bug took the extra pillows and helped Annette lie down again.

"Thank you." Annette struggled to keep her eyes open, but failed miserably. "Mr. Darcy isn't too badly hurt is he? Got a bad feeling about something."

"Mr. Darcy is fine though that daft medic seems to think otherwise. Bug, where are the spares?" The sudden response from James Darcy would have caused Annette to shriek had she not been so close to being asleep.

"Crutches are to be found in my wardrobe." Annie-Bug's voice was frowning rather darkly.

"Thank you kindly." A shuffling thump sounded before Annette spoke again.

"He sprained an ankle or something?"

"Sprained an ankle?" Annie-Bug's voice was bewildered. "Why might he have?"

"He wanted crutches and he seemed to be walking reasonably earlier ... can't be a broken leg. What has he done to it?"

"Nothing at all actually ... well apart from a nasty graze."

"Then why does he want crutches?" Annette frowned, her mind not really coping this irregularity.

"Well he can't wear the prosthetic, both because the medic ordered it and because it would be uncomfortable."

"Oh." Annette gave a profound nod and then fell asleep, clearly the matter was of no problem to Annie-Bug, therefore she need not worry herself about it all.

Part 22

Posted on Friday, 5 December 2003

3rd April 1941 - Rosings, Kent

Shock can be a wonderful thing ... it feeds reality to us in manageable, bite-sized portions.

Annette awoke to dazzling sunlight and the dubious pleasure of Eoan licking her face vigorously.

"Enough, I'm awake." Annette shoved Eoan aside and wiped her face on her sheets. The effect was much the same as if she had poured a cup of water on the bedding.

"A solid sleeper." It was Stephen's voice which responded and Annette glared at Eoan before switching her glare to where he stood in the doorway. "Breakfast ends in about twenty minutes so you'd better wake up fast."

"Thank you." Annette turned her attention back to Eoan and glared at him until he sheepishly scrambled off the bed. Stephen gave a chuckle before he closed the door and left Annette to get out of bed. Annette was halfway to the wardrobe before she realised that she was still in the clothes she had worn the previous day. Annette was also conscious of a nagging feeling that she was forgetting too much from yesterday. Annette wrinkled her nose before quickly stripping and using the sponge to clean up before grabbing new slacks and a jumper. There was nothing that could be done about the stitches over her eye, the black eye itself, or the rather curious bruise which spread from the bridge of her nose. It was then only a simple matter of ruthlessly tearing the knots out of her hair before she could scuff into her shoes and descend for breakfast.

The breakfast room was crowded and Annette automatically helped herself to porridge and tea before settling at the bottom of the table. Annette then cast a cursory glance about the table, thankful not for the first time that breakfast was the one time when she was totally ignored by everyone. Ashie was looking rather like a vampire again, he'd clearly not slept at all and hopefully would sleep during the afternoon. Annie-Bug was looking her usual fresh self as she consumed her toast with vigour. Juliette was perfectly made up and nibbling in a refined manner on toast as she conversed with James Darcy. Though conversed was the wrong word, Juliette was holding forth a monologue and occasionally got a grunt from James Darcy. James Darcy looked exceedingly similar to Ashie, pale faced and rather like a vampire, as he poked morosely at a bowl of porridge which he clearly wasn't eating. A pair of crutches perched prominently behind James' chair and Annette frowned as she bent back over her porridge. Annette couldn't shake the feeling that there was something special about their presence, but for the life of her she could not remember and it merely increased the nagging suspicion that she'd forgotten too much.

"Button!" It was Annie-Bug who predictably interfered with Annette's efforts to remember why the crutches were of any importance.

"Problem?" Annette glanced up to see Annie-Bug flicking toast at Juliette.

"Yes." Annie-Bug fired one final salvo of crumbs before turning to face Annette. "Jim wants to know if you could spare Eoan for the next few days ... perhaps the next week to fortnight?"

"Certainly." Annette glanced down at the immense dog before glancing across at James who was frowning at his porridge. "But he'll have to call since I cannot send him."

"Eoan!" It was a curt call and Eoan rose, his tail moving uncertainly as he reared up to place his feet on the table. "EOAN!" It was a clear reprimand and Eoan tucked his tail firmly down before scuttling around the table to sit between James and Juliette. "Thank you Miss Fouchiard." James nodded curtly, caught his crutches and then shoved his chair backwards firmly. Annette couldn't later say what had happened, but whatever it was, it was not intended for he swore at Juliette who had leapt up to give him a hand up. A moment later James was on his feet with the crutches under his arm and Annette only just managed to keep the shock out of her face as various memories crashed to the fore of her mind. James nodded curtly to the room before swinging quickly from the room with Eoan immediately on his heels.

"Oh dear." Annie-Bug looked more amused than concerned.

"It's not funny, Annie!" Juliette looked outraged.

"Certainly not." Annie-Bug's face tightened. "Not funny for him, but very funny for me ... been months since he's taken a tumble."

"Well you're being perfectly heartless."

"Of course I am, dear sister ... my job after all." Annie-Bug gave a wonderful smile before finishing the last of her toast and rising. "Thank you, Button, even though I know he'll never say thank you I promise that he is very grateful you just let Eoan go like that."

"No problem." Annette returned her attention to her porridge as the breakfast room began to empty, her mind was in turmoil and she knew that she was going to have to take a nice long walk in the garden. To realise that someone who you had assumed was a fully mobile and functional human being was actually quite disabled was not something easily assimilated. Particularly when various remarks made it quite clear the disability was not of a recent nature. Too also realise that the person you would hands-down claim as the person you most disliked in the world was also the person you considered a friend and had been writing letters to about very private matters for over a year was not easily assimilated. But assimilated these matters must be since Ashie had called him Mackle and that right trouser leg had undoubtedly hung limp and empty ... there was a major absence of right foot of any sort, though Annette could have sworn he had one yesterday. Annette finished her porridge, gulped the remains of her tea before utilising the side door to access the garden. The sun was beautiful and warm and even the war seemed rather impossible this morning.

Annette had wandered perhaps half the length of the gardens before she turned and abruptly sprinted for the house, her memories of the previous day catching up with her finally. Annette found Ashie in the library and clearly in conversation with James. Annette hesitated, watching the two men, but before she could retreat James looked directly at her and lifted an enquiring eyebrow, a move which caused Ashie to swing around in his seat.

"Something up Neddie?" Ashie's brows drew slightly together.

"I was wondering ... I left some files in the car yesterday afternoon..." Annette stopped and bit her lower lip, horribly conscious of the fact that she should have remembered those files the previous night ... better yet she should never have forgotten about them.

"MAGI files?" Ashie's brows relaxed. "Got them safely upstairs ... but thank you for mentioning them."

"Am I required for anything today?"

"Not at all, go discover America." Ashie waved dismissively then checked with a slight frown. "Better yet discover it for this whole week ... have a holiday."

"Thank you." Annette finally turned and retreated, somewhat aware that the conversation did not resume between the two men until after she had left the library ... if it resumed at all. Annette headed straight back into the garden, the sight of that empty trouser leg had thrown everything back into a chaotic whirl it hadn't even begun to settle out of.

"Button?" It was late evening when Annie-Bug finally came into the secluded little glade Annette had found for herself and her meditations.

"Ashie has changed his mind about my holiday?" Annette looked up.

"No ... but you missed lunch and you'll miss supper at this rate."

"Oh." Annette glanced down at her feet. "I'm not actually hungry."

"It's not Eoan is it?"

"No." Annette looked up quickly. "No, not at all." Annette hesitated. "How long has Mr. Darcy been missing that leg for?"

"August 1939. It was a freak accident and that's all really. He lost the leg, got very sick and had to retire from cricket."

"Why was he out of circulation for so long?"

"That's what cottoned us on to the fact that something queer was going on. Jim started loping off half a year before the press knew he was around. In other words, I have no idea. He could have made his bow to the press in February, but for his own obscure and unexplained reasons he didn't ... by-the-bye, I advise you to find reasons to be out of the house, my grandmother is not happy."

"Mr. Darcy's defection and not coming forward to receive advice on how to behave when missing a leg?"

"Something remarkably like that ... they're currently being stiffly civil, though grandmother is being very outspoken as soon as he has left the room."

"That drives my non-existent appetite further away. Do extend my appologies, but I think I'll just go to bed when I come in."

"Alright." Annie-Bug rose, gave Annette a quick hug before retreating back into the shadows. Annette leant back once more and stared at the dark sky overhead.

"Uff." The huffing wheeze woke Annette from what was a very close neighbour of sleep and she jerked away from the noise, straightening stiffly as she did so. The move, however, removed her weight from the tree she was leaning against and she slipped with an uncomfortable crash onto the ground.

"Great!" Annette scrambled to her feet and brushed herself off as her eyes searched the clearing. Eoan sat next to where she had been sitting, his expression one of satisfied amusement and his tongue hanging out. Annette promptly extended the range of her search and was startled to observe a dark shadow standing under another tree with another dog at his feet. "I didn't think Eoan tolerated anyone."

"He doesn't." The shadow finally came forward and Annette realised that it was Wing-Commander McKenna ... Mac. They had rarely spoken, but she had seen him more than once in Ashie's office. "However when ordered he will tolerate my company and obligingly take a run. Sorry if we startled you, but I didn't think sitting out here all night very wise."

"Thank you ... probably not. What time is it?"

"1 o'clock in the morning."

"Why are you taking dogs out at one in the morning?" Annette wrinkled her brows up.

"Just got back and I'd never be forgiven by Octo if she didn't get a run. Jim asked me to take Eoan at the same time ... I think there's some degree of concern at the house that you didn't come back."

"But ... " Annette stopped, realisation suddenly dawned that she'd been totally alone and Ashie undoubtedly did worry though his expression never gave that away. "I'd better appologise to them, I had forgotten."

"If you want to, but they're up for their own reasons as well."

"Their own reasons?" Annette looked up curiously.

"Don't look at me, I'm just a pilot." Mac gave a shrug.

"Mm." The grunt Annette gave in response to that was very doubtful. There might be a lot of things she didn't know, but one thing she did know was that 'just a pilot' would never have spent so much time in Ashie's office. "Thank you for the reminder of the time and I suppose I'll see you at breakfast."

"That you won't." Mac gave a sudden grin. "I've got an irate wife who'll probably never forgive me if I miss another breakfast. Give my greetings to Annie-Bug though."

"Certainly." Annette gave a brief nod and scratched Eoan's ears before running relatively quickly back to the house. A brief word with the shadowy Daoud gave her access to the house and after a briefly and appologetic word to Ashie she was back in her room, and more than a little happy to find her bed.

Part 23

Posted on Tuesday, 9 December 2003

7th April 1941 - Rosings, Kent

A question, even a simple one, can be a dangerous thing. - Ashie

"Someone is in a charming mood tonight." Annette made her observation to Annie-Bug as she went for another glass of water. On the other side of the room James Darcy once again terminated Juliette's efforts at conversation by walking to another part of the room. The game had been occurring for the entire evening, and it was not Juliette whom James was avoiding, though it wasn't half obvious that he'd avoid her as well if he could. "Have you heard what is going on?" Annette paused next to Annie-Bug on her way back to her seat.

"Not a peep." Annie-Bug was, when not speaking to Annette, conversing with a deaf Colonel and fending off a young Captain.

"Wonderful...will he grow up if I kick him?"

"I doubt it ... and do ask Steps to come and rescue me."

"Maybe I'll send James and he might actually then speak to Ashie as a compromise for this mess. I get Juliette off his back if he'll speak to Ashie ... think he'd deal?"

"No ... but why? I didn't think you liked him." Annie-Bug's brows rose slightly.

"I don't ... but Ashie is insufferable when he's worried about something and whatever this mess is about it has Ashie very worried." Annette gave a small smile before moving across to speak first to Ashie, who had indicated he wanted to speak to her, and then to Stephen, who was looking quite splendid in his dress uniform.

The party was a strange one, pacifists mixed with soldiers. The party had split quickly, segregating to the sides of the room and ignoring each other. Annette had noticed with amusement that Lady Catherine didn't care how the guests interacted, just as long as they were there and not breaking anything. The two groups were further segregated into various small factions, and in Annette's opinion the party was a miserable failure ... though Lady Catherine clearly had another opinion altogether as she held forth to Charlotte Collins at one end of the room.

"James!" Lady Catherine's call brought up nearly every head in the room.

"Yes, Aunt Catherine?"

"The Secretary is looking bored ... amuse her for a minute."

"Yes, Aunt Catherine." James nodded briefly before crossing to stand next to Annette's seat. "Dreadful weather isn't it?"

"Depends on who you are ... lovely weather for an Astronomer."

"Likewise for a bomber pilot. Enjoying the party?"

"Quite frankly I think it vile ... are you being this banal to irritate me or to irritate your great-aunt?"

"Call her my aunt, it makes her feel younger." James glanced around the room. "Are you irritated by this conversation?"

"No ... but that doesn't necessarily mean I'm not one of the people you intend to irritate."

"Oh, if I seek to irritate someone I invariably do." James glanced back down. "You were concerned yesterday because of news from home ... any news of your sister yet?"

"Yes." Annette eyed James suspiciously, but his return expression was politely bland and very uninformative. She'd ask him later how he had found out anything about the matter. "She apparently decided to get married without telling anyone."

"Indeed. Not good."

"It's perfectly good, she's married Squadron-Leader Brian O'Niell who at the present moment is full capable of supporting a wife."

"Widow's pension?"

"Father apparently did say something along those lines and Candy, who just got home tells me that the resulting scene put grand opera to shame and the shrieks of rage could be heard a good mile away. I believe Luce has moved into the small flat over the dress-shop now and is telling every second person she will not speak to father again until he has appologised for such a ... " Annette hesitated, uncertain of whether to continue.

"Archaic and outrageous assumption?" James finished the remark easily. "But then they are a generation prone to those concerns. Ashie comes to speak to you and I will remove myself with the pleasurable comfort of knowing that I have conversed with you quite politely for almost five minutes." James gave a brief nod and withdrew as Ashie came across.

"So, has he told you what I'm in the soup for yet?" Ashie handed Annette a cup of tea.

"No ... are you still ignorant of why he's annoyed?"

"Of course I am." Ashie glanced quickly around the room before abruptly glancing at his watch. "Should start ending soon ... thank goodness. James has been kind enough to tell me so far that he's still too furious about my interfering and obnoxious nature to deal with the matter rationally ... I was hoping he'd lowered himself to expressing soft outrage on one subject or another."

"Sorry, but no ... we were discussing the marriage of my sister ... and I need to find out how he knew there had been a problem."

"Oh, everyone knows there was a problem." Ashie glanced at Annette with a vaguely surprised expression. "Nothing is secret in a house with this many servants. As for the particulars of it concerning your sister's disappearance and subsequent return ... well he'd have to know since he was driving the car which took her."

"Playing chauffer ... how noble." Annette's expression tightened.

"Don't be daft, he spoke with your father, all was approved and so he took her ... it was your mother who caused the ruckus and then your father got a bit of a bee in his bonnet about the fact Brian was a military type."

"No doubt Mr. Darcy forgot to mention that when the arrangements were made." Annette rolled her eyes. "Why was Mr. Darcy involved? The last I heard he was swearing all manner of horrible vengeance if Brian even came near him."

"His instigation, not Brian's, therefore all is safe. Same principle has been used a couple of times with Annie-Bug and Jer ... " Ashie abruptly stopped, whitened and bit his lip. "Sorry, you'll have to excuse me for a moment ... need a word with Jim in Private." Ashie was gone almost before he finished and Annette frowned over what had been said in puzzlement. Something very odd was in the air.

Ashie's prediction had been correct, the party did start breaking up, and once one person had left, the others followed quickly. The person who started the break-up was actually Ashie when he had taken James outside, but the deaf Colonel had been very hot on their heels. Inside of ten minutes Annette was back up in her room being greeted by an ecstatic Eoan. James Darcy had returned Eaon two days earlier, though he had kindly put Eoan on guard of something so he would not interfere with the party this evening. Annette had no idea what was being guarded, but the duty obviously ended with her return because when she went to Annie-Bug's room, Eoan followed.

"Hullo, Button." Annie-Bug was ruthlessly scrubbing her pale face when Annette came into the room. "Eoan didn't trash your room?"

"No." Annette settled herself on Annie-Bug's bed. "You got a minute or two to spare?"

"I have hours if need be." Annie-Bug finished scrubbing her face and dried it with similar vigour before jumping onto the bed. "So, what is it?"

"Did you know anything about the ... trouble, I mentioned to you before I mentioned it?"

"Honestly ... yes." Annie-Bug pulled her dressing gown over her shoulders. "Servants talk and if you know how to listen they are an invaluable source of information. The Butler took your telegram, it was very long and very vague ... rarities in a state of war unless there is trouble for someone."

"After I told you, did you mention it to anyone?"

"No." Annie-Bug shook her head firmly. "Why should I mention it? It was private family business. Why do you ask?"

"Mr. Darcy knew about it."

"He knows about everything ... particularly in this building."

"Why?" Annette frowned.

"To be honest, I have no idea ... but I will admit that I have the nasty suspicion that my Uncle Darcy wired this joint years ago."

"Sorry?" Annette blinked.

"D.S.A. I'm afraid ... or the reason why is D.S.A ... .but I rather suspect my Uncle Darcy put listening devices all over this house over a decade ago."

"Why would he do that?"

"That is safely wrapped under D.S.A. and Ashie might know, but that's about it."

"Oh." Annette paused, uncertain whether to continue or not. "Why would my brother be unhappy if he knew I was cutting stiff with Mr. Darcy about his firing back in '39?"

"Because Jeroen was never fired." Annie-Bug hugged her knees. "He told people he had been fired and muttered a few remarks about vindictive Darcys and as a result everyone assumed that Jim had him fired ... not the case, Brian O'Niell swung it all."

"Why?"

"Because Ashie was a little preoccupied at the time and Jim was trying to die." Annie-Bug hugged her knees again before abruptly rolling off the bed and digging something from the depths of her bedside table. "You ever seen this?" It flashed in the candlelight as it flew across the bed, a golden chain, a golden ring formed by three woven threads and three small sapphires.

"No." Annette stared at the ring, she had a faint feeling that she had seen something like it, possibly many years ago ... but she had certainly never seen this ring.

"Be very glad if you never have one of your own." Annie-Bug took it back carefully and after the briefest hesitation she clasped the chain around her neck.

"What is it?" Annette couldn't help but stare at the ring as it glinted on Annie-Bug's shirt.

"It is something that my Uncle Darcy started when he became engaged to a woman my grandmother didn't like." Annie-Bug fiddled with the ring somewhat pensively. "Joseph continued it when he became engaged to a woman my grandmother didn't like." Annie-Bug glanced across at the window. "I did the same when I became engaged to a man my grandmother didn't like."

"You still have it."

"The engagement never ended ... my grandmother merely announced that it had and we felt no requirement to disabuse her ignorance."

"But..." Annette stopped and blinked, her mind carefully investigating the implications of this remark.

"Bug." Ashie's head was poking cautiously around the door.

"What's up?" Annie-Bug asked the question which had immediately jumped to Annette's lips, for Ashie was undeniably worried.

"Brian." Ashie came into the room and dropped onto a chair. "We've lost him ... or should I say that they lost him over the English Channel. He apparently fell off the bottom of the radar."

"No radio?"

"They were flying under radio silence. The rest of the flight apparently just landed and no one saw what happened ... he was at the back of the flight."

"But..." Annie-Bug hesitated before looking sharply at the door. James Darcy had arrived and was leaning gently against the doorframe, his right leg prominently absent again with crutches hooked around his elbows. "James?" It was a worried little question which got a curt nod in response.

"We'll just have to wait." As per usual James' expression was utterly closed, though Annette was firmly of the opinion that his expression was closed because he didn't want anybody near him.

James had barely even spoken when an ear-shattering roar slammed into the house. James Darcy had lunged for the light switch as Annie-Bug leapt from the bed, and the lights were out before Annie-Bug flung up the lower sill and looked out.

"Wimpy." The words were only just audible over the howl of the aircraft turning around again.

"Brian you think?" Ashie's sharp query was more clear as the aircraft's engine faded slightly and throttled back.

"I damn well hope so or I'll break your neck!"

"Join the queue, I'm intending to break my own neck if Brian hasn't shown his face before dawn."

"Creeps! The Ass is coming down in the Field!" The door crashed open and light filtered in from the hall. "Daoud! Get to the field with the papers! No one is to touch that Wimpy!" The door slammed shut again. "Give him five minutes to get here after he's actually put down and we might finally find out exactly how cow-handed and utterly idiotic you have been!"

Five minutes seemed like an eternity. But even eternity comes to pass and footsteps crashed heavily up the staircase and along the hall. The footsteps were not alone, and Annette was not surprised to see an entire Wellington crew come flying into the room.

"He's down!" Brian O'Niell looked sick as he crashed through the doorway.

"Where?" Ashie's brows were drawn tight together.

"Near Stavenger ... flack got him so he broke radio silence." The breathless and burly lump of humanity was in all probability the radio operator. "He's going to make for the safe house in Sweden ... where ever that may be ... he also said he's going to bury the box."

"What of the sausages*?" Ashie looked rather tense.

"He said something about sausages burning nicely when he fired the plane." Brian took over again. "They were expecting him ... they knew he was coming and they plastered him ... totally ignored us, they knew they wanted that little high-flyer and so let us past without a scratch."

"Of course they ignored you and of course they knew." James finally pushed off the wall and entered the scene. "You're absolutely positive that he said he was going to bury the box?"

"Dead positive." The radio operator was just managing to hold James' rather hard look. "My life on it, he repeated it six times throughout the message, said he hoped we were receiving and then said it twice more. 'I'll bury the box ... let the puppet-master know I'll bury the box.'"

"You're certain it was Gerkin? It came from him?"

"He had used the night's identity code at both ends of the message on both times he called. First on his way down to report the situation and his intentions, the second time he just said that he was safely down, he had the box and he was about to fire the bird. He also wished us a safe trip to Blighty. Again, my life on it. It was Gerkin who radioed."

"Thank you." James moved backwards to lean against the wall, his brows slightly knit, apparently oblivious to the fact that the entire room was staring at him. "Nothing to be done." James pushed off the wall again. "Brian, the lot of you can bed upstairs tonight ... I'll settle the Gorgon on the matter."

"Thank you ... but let Annie-Bug show them up." Brian had settled against the wall himself. "We need to have a chat."

"No we bloody well do not." James yanked the door open and let Annie-Bug and the crew depart before shutting it firmly. "There's nothing to talk about Brian, he's down and there's not a damn thing we can do about it."

"But..." Brian abruptly stopped and shrugged. "What was that box business about?"

"Equally none of your business. If you're half smart you'll forget about it and get your crew to forget about it." James Darcy's voice was harsh and hard and Brian visibly flinched under the lash of it.

"So just because there's some leak in your organisation you're just going to leave my brother to find his own way home?" Annette couldn't believe her ears.

"He's also Annie-Bug's fiancé ... but yes, that is precisely what I am going to do." James turned slowly, his eyes granite grey and his ears absolutely flat against his head. "There was one deliberate leak ... I was in fact the person who caused the leak. I told one of them of the flight, the time, the height and the cover it had. I even told them what the flight was for." James paused only momentarily before precisely biting off each word which followed. "I also told Jeroen that if he valued his life he would not go near Stavenger. I am not about to risk someone else's life because he was stupid enough to disobey his instructions. There is only one person who could help Jeroen and I am not about to send him to Norway ... let alone Sweden."

"Yves?" Annie-Bug had returned to hear the end and asked the question warily.

"Yes, Yves ... who happens to have the better part of a millions dollars up for grabs if he is caught anywhere in Europe. They have Thierry, got him last week. Yves may, or may not, be caught himself and I'm not about to risk adding to the odds against his survival by asking him to pick up an idiot ... that is always assuming that I could ask him ... which I can't. I suggest you pray either that your brother can look after himself in enemy territory ... or that Yves heard for himself and is going in himself without orders. Both of which are possible ... though rather remote chances."

"Jim..." Ashie had risen, a concerned frown on his face.

"Take a running jump to yourself Ashie! I told him not to go near Stavenger! I told him not to fly over Scandinavia! In fact his orders should have had him landing in bloody CAIRO! You think it's bad he lost a load of sausages ... well, take it from me that's not even the icing on this particular cake." James' expression was almost lethal and Annette took an involuntary step back even though the eyes were not even looking at her. "You said General Mallary would get me in trouble ... I observed that they needed proof before that risk arose and even said that I doubted the evidence would be found." James paused. "The evidence is not going to be found ... it's going to be handed to them on a silver plate with little bells dangling off it just incase they're being a bit inattentive. That box contains the MAGI Network Plan. It has every name, it has every password and it has every last tiny scrap of information about our communications they can possibly want. Even with Yves fully active we would lose ninety percent of our agents because the Gestapo will haul them in faster than we can contact them and change their contact arrangements. So if you don't mind, I'm going off to sulk in my bedroom and await my execution which, regardless of whether the box is found or not, will occur within the next couple of days." James turned one final time, yanked the door open, went through it and slammed it ferociously behind himself. The door didn't latch, jumping open immediately under the force of the initial close. The door slammed again, but this time there was no rebound and the door stayed shut.

"My sensitive nature detects that Jim is just a little unhappy with us." Brian eventually spoke, his dry tones finally disturbing the shocked atmosphere. "Ashie, expound in your usually masterly fashion and enlighten us as to what that temper-tantrum was about."

"It's really quite simple." Ashie had sunk into a chair in a rather limp and boneless manner which was peculiarly his own, his expression totally devoid of anything. "I put my foot in it by commandeering a flight James sent. I further messed things up by issuing some instructions ... something I'm well aware I should rarely to never do. Jeroen then iced the cake nicely by ignoring his initial instructions and following mine ... even though he knows perfectly well that if Jim issues instructions they are to be followed to the letter unless countermanded by him. You were a dummy Brian ... your entire squadron were a dummy. If I had not interfered you would never seen hide nor hair of Jeroen and you would have returned to England in a fair sweat of worry. If I had not interfered the Nazis would have been scanning the Norwegian skies for a little monoplane with no success. If I hadn't interferred Jeroen would now be landing in Cairo ... rather a long way from where the Nazis are looking for him, complete with that little box. If Jim made any error, it was to attempt to bring the MAGI Network Plan back to England in one piece." Ashie sighed and rubbed his face. "What a mess ... what a bloody mess!"

"So Mr. Darcy is just going to let the Nazis spin it their way?" Annette looked curiously from one face to the next. Something, obvious to everyone else, was not obvious to her and she wanted to know. A catastrophe of this magnitude rather indicated that frantic running around should be occuring ... instead everyone was just sitting and staring primarily at the ceiling.

"Of course not." It was Brian who gave the curt response. "His room is connected to London ... London is connected to Glendevie ... Glendevie can reach anyone in the MAGI Network within minutes ... well area leader personnel. I would be very surprised indeed if Jim is not bent over his transceiver at this very moment ordering emergency procedures. The network may be in that box, but I highly doubt the Nazis can crack it and act on it before forty-eight hours have passed. Jim'll catch the BBC foreign service and send out the red alert on the messages at seven tomorrow evening. He'll also get cracking and leave because dear Lady Catherine would never forgive him if his illegal activities caused Rosings to be bombed." Brian frowned suddenly. "Ashie? Have you any idea where he might go?"

"Not the foggiest ... unless he's got another fishing island or something he's refrained from notifying us about." Ashie wrinkled his brows. "No doubt he'll let us know at some point or other." The issue was apparently pretty immaterial and uninteresting to Ashie who hadn't bothered taking his eyes off the ceiling.

"Ashie." It was Annie-Bug who spoke next, her voice soft, barely rippling the still room and sounding uncannily like James even though her voice was the better part of an octave higher.

"Bug?" Ashie rolled his eyes around so he could look at her, before hastily smothering a capacious yawn.

"All of us have heard of the MAGI. We all have one idea or so about what the MAGI does from stray comments which have fallen at irregular intervals. We are also all aware that the MAGI are securely locked under D.S.A. and technically not for speaking of. Are you permitted to enlighten us with the whole story ... or do we have to ask James?"

"James wouldn't tell you." Ashie responded flatly, but he brought his head down so he was no longer looking out of the bottom corner of is eyes. "However he'll stop me within a minute if he doesn't want you to know about it."

"Meaning this house really is wired?" Annie-Bug looked fascinated.

"Certainly." Ashie looked almost arrogant. "Has been since 1921 even though Lady Catherine has had the experts in to clean the place three times. When the Major does something, he does it properly. Jim, if you've any problem with me telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth you'd better get down here within a minute." Ashie leant back and closed his eyes before opening his eyes half a moment later in response to a scratching at the door. Ashie opened it and eyed Diemos as he came into the room. "Diemos ... this gives me a sinking feeling." Ashie freed the crumpled scrap of paper from Diemos' collar before opening the door again so Diemos could depart. Ashie inspected the contents of the scrap, his eyes brows rose and with a small chuckle he pocketed the scrap and returned to his seat. "I have received the all clear to tell all ... though he makes it clear that there are some private aspects I am ignorant of and he has no intention of filling in the gaps ... so don't bother asking." Ashie leant back on his chair and sighed rather heavily, before yawning and closing his eyes.

"Ashie?" Brian was looking worried.

"Just thinking youngling." Ashie's eyes cracked open slightly. "Don't rush me or you'll get very confused."

"Also known as silence in the ranks or he won't tell at all." Brian subsided back and closed his own eyes.

"We three Kings of Orient are; Bearing gifts we've travelled afar. Field and fountain, moor and moun ... " Ashie abruptly terminated his soft rendition of the old Christmas carol and he opened his eyes. "Lot of talk has occured about those birdies. They've almost as many names as James Darcy. Kings, Magi, Wisemen ... you name it, they've probably been called it by someone." Ashie closed his eyes again. "Magi ... plural of Magus or Mage, a member of a hereditary priestly class among the Medes and Persians ... also connected with Magic and Magicians ... and generally anything which smacks of the supernatural. More recently it has been an English ... society for want of a better name. In 1917 a man calling himself the Magus sent a report to English Intelligence ... to this day they have no idea who he was. The only thing determined before the war ended and the reports ceased was that the Magus was actually a collective identity, two men were reporting ... two men who were clearly of classical education and curious humour. After the war ended the Magus stopped reporting, but it didn't take long for the right sort of people to realise that the Magus, or Magi given their plural condition, were still active. Active doing what? Well at that stage it was relief work, the Magi were getting food, medicine and clothing to the people who inhabit the backwoods of Germany. The Red Cross, in many ways an admirable institution, do not deal with the needs of these people for they do not know of these people, and these people are far too proud and independent to accept charity. After 1921 the Magi slipped out of sight, they still existed with their finger in many pies around Europe and the world, but they were inactive and silent ... a watchdog. The Magi increased from two to three in 1923 as the original two Magi realised that they could not deal with everything. In 1926 the Magi grew again, this time recruiting a couple of technical personnel to help the third Mage in his work. There were only ever three Magi, but the Magi had technical support in England and an extensive network of ears and eyes in Europe. The Magi have remained ostensibly undetected all this time for the simple reason that they do nothing unusual. The work they do as Magi is inseparable from their work as their public identity. The first Magi ... the man who had the code-name Magus, was known as Chris to most people. In his public life, which was absolutely blameless, he was the Earl of Clarrington and a bit of a dandy. When Chris wasn't being an Earl, he was usually being a forger and his connections to the criminal underside of London and Europe are of immense use even to this day. Chris is now only the Earl of Clarrington, though we do occasionally borrow him for expert advice, his eyesight is too poor for forging and being a Magi is not an old man's job ... Chris is now an old man."

"Chris started the Magi?" It was clearly news to Annie-Bug for her eyebrows were high and her expression rather startled.

"When Chris retired he needed to be replaced, and replaced he was ... however, first we will deal with the other two Magi. The second Mage was Major-General Sir David Fitzwilliam Darcy. He became the second Mage in April or May of 1918, after he crashed in Belgium and was believed dead ... two men without identities at the time they took Mage Identities. Sir David is best described as a human computer. At chess he is unbeatable ... even with our improved rules. He has made the suavest lawyers splutter and become incoherent as he undermined their cases before they even stated them. Sir David has travelled the world many times and he could find out anything, particularly if you attempted to conceal it. Sir David was the strategist and probably the only reason the Magi remained intact and operational during the inter-war years. The third Magi was myself, and my job was purely and simply to know anything and everything there was to know about Military hardware and experiments. With the RAF my job was effortless and exceedingly boring, but with the Navy and with international armies the job was not so easy. Sir David dealt with the Army for the simple reason that if he wasn't nosy his Army acquaintances would get very suspicious. The easiest way to keep an eye on a country and its military is to watch what it is buying and selling. Sir David and myself utilised our far from insignificant financial connections to keep a sharp eye on what countries traded in. By 1924 it was obvious that the financial eyes needed a lot more attention and Hope Williams was easily the best person to replace me as technical watchdog. I never was much of a watchdog anyway as I don't have the training as an engineer. Hope Williams worked at the Vickers Factory, an Aeronautical Engineer of brilliance, and the daughter of an Aeronautical Engineer of brilliance. Hope grew up on scientific blue-prints and gossip. Hope could take a look at blue-prints and understand everything about them and usually have several improvements planned before I had got halfway through figuring out what was happening. Hope also had the contacts in the scientific world ... and scientists are incurable gossips among themselves!

We didn't get Hope onside until 1926 ... and by then she'd married Mac and become Hope McKenna. With Hope and Mac working together the English Armed Forces couldn't twitch a toe without us knowing, and Europe was similarly watched. With Hope and Mac watching available technology I turned my attention totally to the stock markets of the world and international trade. My brother and many people have called me idiot ... but not even the Major could challenge me when it came to reading the stock market and predicting how trading would vary. With my family's connections as well as the Darcy, Fitzwilliam and Forsythe connections I could have made millions ... but my job wasn't to trade, my job was to watch and deduce activities from the results of those observations. Chris then took my deductions and compared them with his active notes and what Hope McKenna heard of. If the three showed any similarities they passed to Sir David who processed the lot and then basically became a fortune teller.

Until the 1930s there really wasn't that much to do, we were learning our jobs, improving our techniques and not really learning anything ... but we all knew that war was coming. We didn't know when, we didn't know where ... but we certainly weren't going to wait for it to begin before doing anything. This war would not take us by surprise ... even if it did catch the government on the back foot." Ashie sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. "In 1930 everything started going to hell and breakfast. Hitler was starting to leave his mark. Italy was starting to look obnoxious. Then Elizabeth Darcy died and that nearly upset the apple cart ... that was what let the Admiralty know that the Magi were still active ... and also let all of Europe know that the Magi were active. It was Sir David who was identified as a Mage, and with the legal scandals and the death of his wife it became unendurable and he left England. It took us a year or two to fully arrange ourselves around his migratory habits, but we succeeded and by 1933 we had again managed to fade ourselves into back files and idle gossip. By 1935 it became clear that Chris would not be able to continue as a Magi and a successor became essential to find. Chris' work was essential and it was not a job which a degree or training could teach you. The man who filled Chris' shoes had to have the instinct, the ability to read people, to understand people and most of all to travel invisibly among people." Ashie stopped and looked carefully around the room, in turn he caught eyes and held them, his own eyes grave and unreadable. "We found our man, found him almost before we needed to find him ... but he refused to take the job. The result was one of the most spectacular rows I have ever witnessed in my life ... and I have witnessed a lot."

"Jim was your elected replacement for Chris?" Brian looked stunned. "He was seventeen, Ashie!"

"James Darcy was the heir elect to the Puppet-Master, he was seventeen years old and still at school. We dumped into his hands the fate of the Magi and we didn't trouble to determine his mind on the subject before we did. In a way we were very fortunate that we survived at all. To some it might sound incredible, but in other ways it was simply destiny ... destiny and a man who was in many ways his mother's son." Ashie paused, sighed and restlessly crossed to the window. "Though depending on the wheres and whens he in fact looks like any one of his relatives. James Darcy is best described as a community, and whoever is most fitted for the current situation becomes James Darcy until the situation has passed. James is the ultimate actor, adaptable, observant and highly intelligent." Ashie turned away from the window and resumed his seat. "Major-General D.F. Darcy was a very unusual man. He married a very unusual woman ... Elizabeth Bennet in November 1917. There was only one child of this match, James McKenna Darcy, born September 1918 ... he was a month or two premature but there was never any doubt but that he would live. As might be expected from his parentage, Jim proved to be an unusual boy, and then an unusual man. Jim had not even finished his first year at Eton when his mother died. The funeral was a month before the school year ended and it spelt the end of a life which, until then, might almost have been classed as normal. James did his exams as any other student did, his marks were solid and he was due to join the cricket reserves the next year. That summer Sir David exiled himself from England and took his son with him ... they went to the Middle East. I dropped them off in Constantinople ... I picked them up on the shores of the Caspian Sea at Krasnovodsk just in time to fly Jim back to Eton for the mid-year exams. Again, Jim's results were solid ... though better than they had been the previous year. I flew them to Christiania in January ... they returned on the boat train from Calais just in time for Jim's end of year exams. That summer they were really quite quiet ... merely a walking tour around Europe. Brian will probably remember it, he was with them. I picked Brian up in Romania ... James and his father were going to Africa ... on foot."

"That narked me no end." Brian had a small smile on his face. "I wanted to go to Africa with them, but mum wouldn't have a bar of it. I went back to school."

"I picked Jim up from Sidi Ifni, once again it was only just in time for his mid-year exams. In January I dropped Jim off in Manchuria ... how the Major got from Africa to Manchuria in a month I never dared to ask. That year ... 1932, Jim missed his end of year exams because I wrecked the plane attempting to land in Singapore. An appologetic telegram was sent to Eton and the three of us boated and walked through Indonesia and Papua New Guinea to the Australian Mainland. I then flew Jim back to England yet again for mid-year exams ... he totally creamed them that year and the first subterranean murmurs began to rise, Eton wanted Darcy to actually spend some time at the school other than exam week. I took Jim back to Australia after the exams and they spent that half year nosing around South-east Asia and Northern Australia. Jim sat his end of year exams that year and again did quite nicely. The Major was back in Europe by then and they spent that summer with Brian nosing around Europe again ... I picked Brian up in the Pyrenees and a week later received a telegram from the Carpathians ... the Major had fallen sick. This was the first indication that the Magi might not make it to the war intact and it caused rather a scramble because only one person understood the Major's methods ... and he was at that point only fourteen years of age. We were quite relieved when the Major recovered. Jim missed the mid-year exams that year, I crashed in Finland for the pickup."

"Was that what happened!" Brian looked intrigued. "You never said before what the hold-up was."

"Never said it before because you'd automatically jump to the conclusion you have jumped to ... that I was cow-handed." Ashie cast Brian a look of dislike. "However, I'd like to see you land at night, on snow, with a dodgy altimetre."

"That is one I haven't had to do." Brian gave an appologetic grin.

"After the 'plane was fixed we headed for Africa and the Middle-East again, I dumped them and returned to England. Things were really starting to hop for us by that stage. The McKennas and I were up to our ears in information and Chris was fairly swamped with reports from his contacts in Europe. However I will admit that the sheer mountain of information the Major and Jim were sending back to England shamed the lot of us. Before the Major and Jim had just been touring at high-speed noting items of general interest, now they were delving into the land, fighting battles, transporting men and equipment, dealing with rationing issues ... utilising the information and technological information we sent them. The results were not good ... but England is fortunate as she lives on an island and to invade an island is much more difficult than to invade your neighbour."

"Particularly since Hitler didn't plaster the RAF." Brian nodded solid comprehension, and Annette was thankful to note that Annie-Bug looked as confused as she felt.

"Isn't it a disadvantage to be on an island?" Annie-Bug was frowning.

"No, because you can't just walk your men into the country. Boats are vulnerable and we still have the best navy even though the U-Boats are being annoying. The Nazis have to land here and then they have to remain supplied since there's absolutely no doubt but we'll scorch-earth if we retreat. They might manage it if they had air superiority ... but they don't. Who knows what the future holds, but I can assure you that it will be extremely messy for all if Germany actually does invade us because we'll bomb, shell and mine their supplies with ever cent we can lay finger on. It will be particularly messy because the Darcy Estate will swing fully and openly to support the war and defence of this land. General Darcy was, above all and everything else a financier, so I can assure you that the Darcy Estate is currently only minimally employed."

"I didn't think it was employed at all." Annette frowned, her mind turning over the vast amount of correspondence concerning Darcy Property she had had to wade through during the past year.

"The War Office currently utilise three blocks of flats, three country estates and eight warehouses which are free-held by the Darcy Estate ... they get them rent free and not because they comandeered them. Evacuees and Refugees shelter on Darcy Property all over the country, in Canada and in the United States of America. The Estate is as employed as it can be without detection. As long as James Darcy appears neutral and uninvolved he is merely kept under surveillance. Should James clearly indicate his leanings and become pro-active he will have signed his death warrant. Should England be invaded James Darcy will die. The proof he was talking about earlier was the proof that he was meddling in this war ... all the proof they want and now they can dispose of James Darcy ... accidentally."

"We seem to have strayed away from the Magi." It was Brian who finally spoke and his eyes were on the ceiling. "but remind me to add my two pence to this story later."

"Certainly." Ashie frowned momentarily. "James and his father spent all their time touring Europe, Scandinavia, the Balkans and Africa from that point until December of 1934. In early 1934 Eton put their foot down, if James Darcy wished to be credited with an Eton Education he must spend, at the very least, his final year within their hallowed walls. The final negotiations let things sit until Christmas 1934, but Jim had to attend for the second term and the whole of his final year. The truth of the pudding is that they needed a number 3, and even with his irregular and rare showings, they knew Jim was a born number three. So Jim went to Eton and the Major went to Canada and the United States, returning in March of Jim's graduation year. All this time a very large quantity of mail was travelling through us all as we got information not available to Governments and the League of Nations. 1936 was a bad and messy year, we needed a successor for Chris and James Darcy was having a row with his father. Jim had no desire to go to Oxford, he preferred travelling around with his father. The two of them were at logger-heads and arguing ferociously on any and every subject whenever they met ... which thankfully wasn't too often. The Major wasn't happy, Jim had got a reckless reputation during his last year at Eton and some downright dreadful marks, his entry to Oxford was not guaranteed. That summer was far from peaceful anywhere and when James heard he was heir elect to Chris he absolutely hit the roof, not that I really blame him for it, but it was very inconvenient for us. Next thing we heard Jim was off to Greenland with the Hackin-White expedition ... in fact he left without telling anyone, we got a letter from Copenhagen sent the day they sailed. Two years later Jim returned and without a word to anyone he took over Chris' work, he went to University and he resumed his cricket. Jim made himself felt in quick time, if anything he was even better than Chris at this job ... not really surprising though, all things considered, for he'd grown up surrounded by this sort of work. With Jim it became clear that the MAGI were going to enter the war. Originally we were merely going to hand over all of our findings ... we did hand a lot of it over, but Jim took us into the war, the eyes and ears of England, a war which could be fought by people who could not access the usual routes for whatever reason. Then Jim lost his leg and the Air Board approached Mac and I about a ... dummy project in the north of England. The RAF had their own plans if Germany invaded and they wanted some distractions to improve its chances of passing undetected. Jim gave the go-ahead for the introduction of the MAGI Flight and our job was quite simply to act in an accidentally suspicious manner. Lots of fun I promise you. Then Jim got back on his ... foot and became busy. Something happened just before his crash which I don't know about, something which changed James Darcy's intentions when it came to the war. The MAGI work proceeded as usual, but above and beyond that Jim was up to his neck in something strange. He was lying to us about something and we all knew it, but we didn't know what ... still don't know what. Jim was behaving suspiciously, vanishing for no apparent reason, being dramatic with an equal lack of reason. He was reinforcing the muttered rumours that he was a Nazi, and having carefully primed them, he blew the press out of the sky, sued them silly and then demanded the compensation be paid directly to the War Effort without explanation. This side line of idiocy is still unexplained, but he also began putting the MAGI to sleep. We were fast becoming redundant, our presence complicating things for the governments, our records holding enough information to bring the war crashing down into a state of utter annihilation. Tonight was the last flight of the MAGI, we needed the last of our files, a box which rested in a safe place. Jim was playing a lone hand again and I didn't realise this was the last, last flight and as a result there was the mess. But this side-line of Jim's is still active and we're not a little suspicious about it."

"My recent tangle with Jim is part of the side-line activity." Brian began speaking several moments after Ashie ended, his eyes closed and his voice flat. "Jim and I did have a fight about his politics and his future intentions. I chewed Jim out because he was being too neutral in my opinion. Jim responded that he didn't care what I felt since he wasn't going to live too much longer. That Jim was so defeatist, so accepting of his own premature demise was intolerable to me and I will admit that I ripped into him in fine style. In the end I had to concede that his politics didn't matter and his life expectancy was a trifle on the short side ... he had far too much evidence supporting his position and outlook to be overturned." Brian paused for a long moment, looking almost as if he had fallen asleep, but no one else dared say a word. "I have known for rather a long time that Jim has me as his heir to the Darcy Estates. With no marriage likely and the entailment ending with him Jim willed it over to me ... to do with as I saw fit. As the owner of Pemberley, I can hardly be the steward ... hence I will never be Steward of Pemberley because Wardley has many years left to him and if Jim is right, I will become owner long before Wardley is ready to retire." Brian hesitated again. "Jim notified me during the argument that my life was in danger because of my connection to him. The fight, the bitter talk about the stewardship of Pemberley, the apparent estrangement ... it was all true, but mentioned in a carefully engineered way so that the world concluded that Jim and I had had a dust-up, the result of which I was not to come near him and would not receive the position everyone had assumed I was being groomed for." Brian frowned and shook his head gently. "Jim and I had a dust-up because I was very reluctant to let him take on this death-threat alone. I don't understand this death-threat, but it isn't the list in Berlin, it's something else ... something darker." Brian hesitated, his eyes shooting nervously across to Annette before returning to the ceiling. "It has something to do with Lila Thompson and I think he was deliberately trying to estrange the world because of this ... problem. He used the English language and me much as he once used it for Jeroen. While never lying once he is deliberately misleading people. I don't understand it, but I think Jim is trying to survive this war, and he's trying to keep us alive at the same time. He seems to be deliberately confusing people about what he is up to. The only thing I really can't understand is how Lila fits, unless she's a Nazi Agent ... which Jim seems calmly confident she is not."

"Jim wouldn't lie about that." Annie-Bug looked certain on that. "But it does make rather a mystery of her. Juliette doesn't like her."

"Of course she doesn't ... Lila is competition." Brian responded flatly before pushing to his feet. "Thank you for the enlightenment Ashie and I shall see you at breakfast. Right now, I want some sleep ... I'm going to need it as Jim and I will probably have a whale of a fight over the breakfast table." Brian left the room, and somewhat automatically Ashie followed. Annette exchanged a confused and doubtful look with Annie-Bug before she left herself. It was too much information in a far too condensed a form. In less than a week her world had been turned upside-down and what had been certain no longer was. Annette doubted she'd understand her own mind about all this for several months yet ... unfortunately she had a sinking feeling that she didn't have several months to reach that understanding.

Part 24

Posted on Saturday, 13 December 2003

8th April 1941 - Kent, England

In the shadows of the night, only honesty can survive. - Khalid

Annette blinked, her mind disoriented and confused, fogged with sleep and torn between reality and dream. It felt like she had only just closed her eyes, and yet that could not possibly be the case since her head felt it was stuffed with cotton wool. Annette blinked again and squinted at the murky darkness which engulfed the room. Even Lady Catherine de Bourgh could not persuade the local Air Raid Warden that her house could not possibly be bombed and blackout curtains were not required. This private war had been ended by some enterprising youths who had made use of Rosings' numerous chimneys to supply all the windows with a generous coating of black paint, which no amount of scrubbing had removed ... and no light ever got through. Within seconds Annette realised what had woken her, for Eoan scratched at the door again with a mournful little whine.

Annette rolled clear of her bed, simultaneously snatching for her bathrobe and slippers as she did so. Eoan might be scratching now, but within moments he was undoubtedly going to bring his full weight into the situation and not a couple of howls as well. When Eoan wanted out, he wanted out, and no concern for anyone else would dissuade him. Annette had no intention of letting him rouse the house again and she squinted at her watch as she opened the door. Lady Catherine's idea of economy meant only a couple of candles per hallway as opposed to about twenty. It was one thirty in the morning!

It had been Annette's intention to slam the door shut after Eoan and return to bed. Eoan had other plans and predictably he won the battle of whose plans would have precedence. Eoan had simply grabbed the hem of Annette's bathrobe as he headed into the hallway, and perforce, Annette had to follow or risk having Eoan rouse the house. Annette had no intention of giving Eoan even the smallest excuse for even considering rousing the house, she was all too conscious of the indecency of her dress.

The hallways of Rosings, poorly lit and lined by portraits, were cold and soulless. The portraits were chilling in their reprimand and the floor was icy, even through slippers. Eoan had no hesitations though, and even if Annette had wished to develop terror of these icy halls, she didn't have time to even consider the thought as Eoan padded through the halls, pulling her ever faster. Annette could only hope the destination would not be too embarrassing.

Annette soon discovered that embarrassing did not even begin to describe the ultimate destination. Eoan's objective was the front hallway, and though he had the decency to stop at the first landing above the entrance he did not have the decency to release her dressing gown so she might beat a silent retreat. Any thought of surrendering her robe to Eoan's custody and fleeing in her nightgown was instantly squelched by the sight of James Darcy, seated on the lowest steps with his back against the wall. The crutches lay on the lowest step, within easy reach for when he chose to rise.

"You needn't worry, I'll be leaving any minute and Eoan will not descend unless I permit him."

"You mean the only reason he had the decency to stop was because you told him too?" Annette wasn't certain she liked the sound of that.

"Not at all, Eoan stopped because he has yet to be invited to approach. I did not call him and I have not lifted the ban from last autumn." James Darcy picked up his crutches as he spoke before grabbing the banister overhead.

"Am I allowed to ask where you're going at this ungodly hour?" Annette hesitated before carefully sitting down on the top step of the flight. Why she had even spoken again, let alone sat down, Annette had no idea.

"Pemberley." James paused and then released the banister and returned the crutches to their stair. "Derbyshire." James rolled his head on the paneling until he was looking up at her. "Coventry is too close for comfort and the bomb shelters at Pemberley will not withstand more than one near miss."

"There are many people there?"

"Fifty staff, ten refugees and thirty-five evacuees." James hesitated only briefly before responding. "The place could take more, but I've managed to hedge off the ministry ... I doubt they'll be any problem at all after the next bombing raid on Coventry."

"You expect Coventry to be bombed?"

"Oh, no question ... probably within the next week or two. Equally, I fully expect a bomb or two to be lobbed at Pemberley at the same time."

"Why?"

"I upset them." James responded calmly, though laughter seemed to lurk behind his words.

"What about the people?"

"Ground staff I'll simply scatter among the outlying farms, the refugees will go north and the evacuees to Wales if I can swing things as I want to."

"Why do you worry now?"

"Nothing to do with now, I've evacuated the place every time there's even the faintest whisper of a rumour that the north country is going to be visited. I really have to admit that I'm surprised Pemberley is still standing ... most restrained of Hitler ... think I'll commend him for patience."

"Is that why you wouldn't let Pemberley be used as an Aerodrome?" Annette studied him curiously, something had changed, this James Darcy was subtly different from the James Darcy she had interacted with during the past six-odd months.

"That and the fact that I simply did not want an aerodrome there."

"Personal reasons or MAGI reasons?"

"Both. That happens to be my home and I would prefer it didn't become a part of the war." James responded calmly. "I've already donated three properties, three houses, a large number of warehouses and all but two horses to the war effort and I feel that quite sufficient. I've even taken in somewhere in the order of seventy evacuees and about thirty refugees. Not easy to pass yourself off as neutral in that situation."

"Why pass yourself off as a neutral?" Annette frowned for this was one point which had never been explained.

"Because I'm not permitted to fight." James answered curtly. "Ashie knows the Admiralty called me up ... but he still doesn't know why and they will not tell him."

"Why not?"

"Because I told them that if they valued their lives and the five thousand pound annual donation I make to the war effort they would refrain from telling him." A faint and rueful smile flickered across his face. "Nice of me to so nicely reinforce your beliefs that I'm an arrogant snob."

"But what is an arrogant snob and what is living the life you have to the best advantage of all?" Annette felt slightly troubled as she inspected the face below. Intangible, subtle, but most certainly there. Something had changed in James Darcy since he had stormed from the room after Brian had delivered the news that Jeroen had been shot down.

"You think it might not be snobbery?" An eyebrow rose.

"Is it snobbery to use the options available to attain the necessary ends ... or is it common sense?" Annette had a feeling that she was undoubtedly going to wake up at any moment. She couldn't possibly be sitting on a staircase in her nightgown discussing the semantics of a philosophical issue at one-thirty in the morning.

"Depends on your definition of snobbery and of common sense. If snobbery merely means that the person has an annual income over and above a certain point ... rather like a baronet, then, undoubtedly, it is an act of snobbery."

"You presume to know where the snob limit lies."

"Or perhaps I have sufficient arrogance about my disgusting wealth to know that regardless of where you set that limit I will be above it." The eyes gleamed.

"No, I don't think you that rash." Annette considered the matter. "Probably you do know where the snob limit lies if I were to build one, but snobbishness is not a matter of income. My mother is a snob and we have no income at all."

"Therefore snobbishness is not related to financial situation and must therefore be related to attitude to have any relevance to the issue in hand."

"The point was purely financial therefore obviously snobbish arrogance was the wrong term to utilise."

"Could it not be that the arrogance is financial, the snobbishness is the attitude and therefore the term is correct though the general feel is not applicable to the situation in hand."

"No." Annette hesitated before responding, but spoke firmly when she finally did. "If the situation was one of arrogant snobbery you would do it purely because you could, whereas I think the action was taken because you didn't want Ashie to know and this was the easiest way of ensuring he didn't. Why don't you want him to know?"

"Because it's none of his business ... it would also mean that he knew I was a Comissioned Officer and I've no intention of letting him get hold of that."

"Navy?" Annette was a trifle startled, that James Darcy was even remotely connected to the Military had not even been murmured about that evening.

"Naval Reserve actually, but much the same thing, I still have to take orders at a time of war." James paused. "If Ashie knew I was a commissioned officer he'd be even more unhappy about my inactivity. If I die it will all come out ... but I currently have no intention of dying."

"Did you intend to lose your leg?"

"If you intend to apply that sort of arguement then obviously, I fully intended to lose my leg. Drove around with my head in the clouds deliberately so that accident would occur."

"Sounds like a daft thing to do."

"But then, I am sometimes exceedingly daft ... once set off a firework in my father's study ... not the smartest thing I ever did."

"What happened?"

"That is top secret and most injurious to my dignity." The gleaming laugh was back again.

"Would it have been daft if you'd got away with it?"

"There is the sticky point." It was a mock pensive expression. "It always had to be me, so I never got away with anything unless I made it delayed reaction ... and even then they usually knew it was me. Dreadful when you can't lie when asked a direct question."

"A delayed action firework?"

"No, it was a delayed action water-bomb to be precise. It fired a day and a half after I left ... unfortunately the firing aparatus did not disappear and Ashie found it. Another humiliating experience, I decided after that that the occupation of practical joker was not available and I would need to seek alternate means of entertainment at the expense of my peers."

"Quite the philosopher I see." Annette frowned slightly. "You water-bombed Ashie?"

"Do I look that daft? No, the water-bomb was my very last effort in that field and I fired it at Caroline ... I got her too."

"That I consider even dafter than bombing Ashie!"

"Not at all, Ashie outclasses everyone when it comes to creative revenge and he's had the better part of thirty years more practice than I've had." James tilted his head slightly. "You are in a grouchy mood."

"Grouchy?" Annette stared at him and then shook her head. "If anyone is a grouch it is you."

"Nuh-uh, me no grouch. Tu est un grouch!"

"I am not a grouch!" Annette glared down at James who was clearly highly entertained by something.

"Grouch! A deliberate grouch who takes great joy in disagreeing with me purely for the sake of disagreeing with me ... though currently you actually do disagree with me."

"How do you know that?" This distracted Annette.

"You're biting your middle fingernail."

"Not fair." Annette hastily pushed her hands into her bathrobe pockets and glowered at him afresh.

"What's unfair about it? You invariably know when I'm actually angry about something ... a trick not even Annie-Bug has ... though my mother did."

"Your father didn't?"

"Only a fool lost their temper near him ... grouch!"

"I wouldn't be a grouch if I was allowed to go to bed."

"What's stopping you?"

"Eoan ... or have you yet to notice that he's chewing on my bathrobe as per usual."

"Leave it behind."

"And walk around in my night-gown ... what a lovely suggestion!"

"Well you could always tell him to drop it ... and he might."

"Hmph!" Annette abruptly tugged her bathrobe free from Eoan and rose to her feet. Eoan hesitated before rising himself.

"Eoan." The word was soft, but response instantaneous and Eoan was practically eating James Darcy as he whined and licked the dark head. "Thank you for caring for him, Neddie." James looked up briefly from Eoan's attentions. "You don't mind I took him back?"

"I'll miss him ... but he's your dog. Keep safe, James Darcy."

"The same to you ... Grouch."

"I am not a grouch!" Annette turned and headed back up the stairs.

"I'm sorry we can't be friends." The soft words stopped Annette dead in her tracks and she turned back hesitantly to see James Darcy struggling to his feet with the help of Eoan and the banister.

"James!" Annette couldn't explain at all why she spoke, but for some reason she just knew she couldn't let him go as things rested. "I don't ... I..." Annette stopped, somehow she had descended all the stairs and was standing next to him. She was standing next to him and she still had no idea what to say, or even why she hadn't just continued up the stairs. She still disliked him, even if she had achieved two amicable discussions within twenty-four hours ... though thinking on the matter she didn't know if the last counted as amicable ... she was not a grouch!

James was staring down at her, expressions warring for precedence and his eyes swirling multiple colours. There had been a long moment of silence and Annette realised that he was just waiting. Rory had never waited about anything and Annette had no idea how to deal with the fact that he was just waiting, she looked around before glancing back up at him. Annette abruptly realised what the subtle difference had been, James had had green eyes, not his usual blue-grey eyes.

"Grouch, I don't want to rush you, but that's my car and I doubt you want to be seen." James tilted his head towards the main door where a car engine was coming up the drive.

"Thanks ... I don't know if I want to be friends ... I don't know you well enough ... I ... I don't dislike you, but I don't know if I like you." Annette stopped, the car outside had turned off its engine and she was making no sense at all, even to herself which did not bode well for what James might, or might not, understand from her words. "I mean I do like you ... but not all the time. Can you be friends with someone you don't always like?"

"I can't answer that, Grouch." James adjusted his crutches carefully. "Decide for yourself and then let me know. You'd better go now, that door is about to open."

"Thanks ... and keep safe." Annette bolted for the stairs, positive she was going insane and certain that she'd die of embarrassment if she ever saw James Darcy again in her life.

April 10th 1941 - England

History (from a personal point of view) always comes to a . - 1066 and all that, Sellar and Yeatman

The whispers began as any whisper begins, softly. The whispers also spread as any whisper spreads, quickly. The whispers raced through the darkness of the night and then through the heat of the day. These whispers were of the type which nothing can stop, nothing can quell. These whispers were the type which chilled the blood and weakened the bones, These whispers were whispers of news which the newspapers and radios did not mention.

Ears heard the whispers, ears which had connections. The ears slowly turned to their telephones and their radios and the whispers spread even faster. The whispers spread across the country and out of the country. The whispers were shouted between ships at port and who passed within sight of each other. The whispers changed languages and spread even further. An aeroplane was flown slightly off course by someone who had heard the whispers and part of the whispers were confirmed.

Pemberley, Home of the Darcys in one form or another and as old as feudal history, was destroyed. It wasn't a simple bombing. It wasn't a bomber who had lost his course while flying to Coventry. The bombs which had torn through the ancestral home of the Darcy Family were malicious and full of intent. Pemberley, which had stood through countless fires, revolutions, civil wars and battles, stood no longer. All that was left to mark the once imposing edifice was pitted, torn and burnt land, scattered masonry and a few unstable and blackened walls.

The Evening News reluctantly confirmed the second part of the whispers. James Darcy, sole remaining descendent of that proud family, was last seen a single hour before the bombing occured returning to Pemberley to lock the doors. Pemberley had been emptied the very day of the bombing, the last resident departing two hours before the bombing occured. An hour later the postman met Darcy on the road, they had exchanged some pleasant words and Darcy had acknowledged that he'd neglected to lock the doors of the now empty house. Darcy was returning to Pemberley, and he hadn't been seen since by anyone. Given Darcy's known habit of vanishing without a word to anyone for months on end the final will and testament is not going into probate for another four months.

That night, for the first time, a peculiar message was read out on the Foreign Service of the BBC among the seven o'clock messages.

"James Darcy, contact le Duxieme."

The message was read every night for four months, and then on August 10th the message ceased being read. After four months even le Duxieme had finally given up hope that the last Darcy had survived the ferocious bombing and the will went into probate.

April 13th 1941 - Cairo, Egypt

I love humanity ... it's people I can't stand - Dick Smith Catalogue

Annette Fouchiard would never have believed that it was possible to obtain both a passport and a visa within two days. Neither would she have believed that she could pack all her possessions into one trunk being sent home, some basic necessities of living into another bag for taking to Africa and terminate a life in London in those same two days. Belief, however, had to occur when one was facing the first day of work several thousand kilometers from London with the comfortable knowledge that everything had been dealt with before departure.

One other thing had been firmly hammered through in these same frantically paced days, and that was precisely how much power the Darcy name held in the press. Annette had known that the scandal about Lila, Rory and herself was only minimally active, if alive at all, but the news that James Darcy had vanished, possibly dead, had brought everything blazing back to life and this time the protective umbrella of Darcy Power was missing and the journalists had not the smallest hesitation to force themselves into her way by any and every means.

Annette had never been so thankful as the day Eoan had finally arrived, for his immense, black hackles made even the most determined journalist think twice about approaching.

"Miss Fouchiard?" Lord Eaton was fast proving to be everything Ashie had not been. Orthodox in the extreme.

"Lord Eaton." Annette accepted a pile of notes which would regulate her work for the day.

"Remind me I am going out to lunch with General Wavell and there's that American who needs to be entertained ... and he wants a professor to do the entertaining."

"Right." Annette blinked at the now closed office door before taking a deep breath and releasing it carefully. Lord Eaton had legible handwriting, utilised only one language when communicating, and was a very good speller ... however he also expected her to entertain his guests and Annette still had major doubts whether she'd be able to do this properly.

It was the ringing of the telephone which saved Annette from enjoying a full-blown panic attack and an idea dawned as she reached for the receiver. Annette scribbled her idea quickly as she answered the telephone.

"Lord Eaton's Office, Annette speaking."

"Is that you Neddie?" It was Adam Walls' desperate tones which came over the wire. "Thank God! Look there's a professor heading your way with the intent of complaining. Smooth him down will you? His precious mosques got insulted because this American wants to see the Sphinx, and I'll never get my day off if there's another complaint."

"Adam, how do I smooth him down?" Annette almost dropped the telephone.

"How should I know? Just do something!"

"How terribly helpful." Annette hung up the receiver with a frown before abruptly giggling. The situation was not funny, in fact the situation was very bad indeed, but for the life of her, Annette could not stop laughing.

"Excuse me?" It was a sour looking ADC who interrupted Annette's laugh, and with a choke and a small hiccup she pulled herself together and folded her hands neatly on the desk.

"May I help you?"

"I was informed I would find Lord Eaton's Secretary here."

"Correct. How may I help you?"

"Evans, Reuters, wishes to do an interview before this evening."

"Have you spoken to Lord Eaton or is this yet to be cleared?"

"He's cleared it ... wouldn't bother coming if it hadn't been." The latter was a muttered after thought and Annette was quite pleased to find that he hadn't actually irritated her.

"Then four o'clock if that would suit Mr. Evans." Annette briefly checked the stack of reminders on her desk.

"Thank you." The ADC retreated and Annette gave one final little giggle before attacking the notes for the day and the task of finding a professor for the visiting American ... which reminded her that some expert was due soon and required smoothing.

Walls' Professor arrived with a thunderous knock and a smell of unwashed humanity. Annette restricted herself to small breaths and cast one final glance at the little reminder note she had written while on the telephone earlier:

"May I help you, Professor?" Annette knew perfectly well that the man was not a professor, but she also knew that touchy academics liked being called professor. With a bit of luck she might be able to save Walls' holiday.

"I am not a professor and I wish to complain ... never have I been so insulted." The man's English was as flawless as his appearance was Egyptian.

"Oh, I am most sorry to hear that. Mr. Delin did not enjoy the Mosques?"

"Mr. Delin would not even look at the mosques. He screams he wants to see the Sphinx and nothing but the Sphinx! What is it with these philistines that they will not see the mosques. P-fui the Sphinx, that is boring, there is but one and badly weathering. Our mosques are an art form in themselves..." The Professor continued and at great length, by lunch time Annette had a headache and less than half her work done for the day. Annette excused herself briefly from the Professor's lecture on Egyptian Mosques so she could remind Lord Eaton of his appointment.

By four o'clock in the afternoon the Professor had finally starting to run out of information to impart without actually visiting the mosques themselves and he left in a cheerful mood promising to arrange a tour of the mosques for Annette. Annette fully intended to be far too busy for any sort of entertainment for a long time to come, but otherwise she had a vast quantity of information she had previously been unaware of, a headache of splitting proportions, and the happy knowledge that Walls would get his holiday. Annette also had almost a day's worth of work incomplete.

"Oh, just forget about it." Lord Eaton emerged at that moment in his coat and hat and had taken in Annette's problem in a single glance. "Doubt you'll have anything to do tomorrow except to begin on the files ... you probably have your own way for filing things so you'll have to rearrange them all. Also, extreme thanks for dealing with that professor."

"And so ends day 1." Annette carefully filed away everything on her desk before she left the office herself. The air was hot and fusty outside, every bit as bad as it had been in the office and Annette resigned herself to another sleepless night.

Chere Mackle,

Yet another letter I write, but will never send. Rather selfish of you dying like that, even if everyone was pretty much expecting you would die in the near future. I fail to understand the why, but Ashie was not at all surprised when the news came through from Nelli that you hadn't been seen by anyone. It was almost as if he has been expending to hear you were deceased for weeks, if not months. Ashie and Brian got busy on the radios as soon as the news arrived and we saw nothing of either of them for twelve hours. Annie-Bug says they were combing the MAGI Network for you, but they didn't find you. Ashie says it is possible that you have just gone underground and will re-emerge within the next four months, but I think he has no hope for he mentioned that all Darcy vehicles were accounted for, which means you've either gone on foot, or hired something and apparently if you hired something you've used a name which neither Ashie nor Brian are familiar with. Why did you have so many names? Why did you have so many and how did you keep them separated within your mind?

I will admit that at the present moment my mind continues to fail any test of comprehension when it comes to combining your name with 'deceased' and 'never to be seen again'. I assume this incomprehension is connected to this stubborn persistence in writing to you, even though I will never mail any of these letters and will likely burn most of them. It is not that my mind screams that death is impossible, it just fails to comprehend so I write you letters and note things during the day which will entertain you. Perhaps it is just an old habit dying hard. I cannot explain it to be honest, and I will admit that I don't want to explain it. You don't mind me writing like this do you?

I had lunch with Lucille before I came here and it was rather strange. Luce is only sixteen, but I think she might have actually surpassed me in growing up all of a sudden. In a way it's frightening, I used to be in control of my life, but in the space of a year I cannot even recognise it as my life. I might think I was insane, but at the same time I think I prefer this new life and that is even more frightening than the thought that I'm going crazy.

I've just realised that your way of writing a letter is contagious. I was certainly never taught to write a letter by following the meanderings of the mind, and yet that is precisely what I have been doing for quite a while now. I had a cold moment of comprehension moment ago, I never realised that I actually looked forward to your letters. I looked forward to them, but I'll now never receive another and that ... that frightens me Mackle.

I'm going to bed now. I was going to write about all the things that happened today because it really was quite funny, but I can't write about them now for I've finally begun to comprehend what death is. It's a rather final thing, too final. Why did you have to die James? The world's a beautiful place even at war and we could have been friends ... though I realise as I write this that we already were friends. But then what is a friend? You know me better than anyone in the world for I just wrote to you whereas I composed letters to everyone else. Even to Rory I composed them, and yet I never realised the difference. It hurts to see what is written in the press, that is my life which they are writing about. Yet at the same time it's also true. For Rory it is a lie, he has chosen a path and he believes that I was in love with you years ago ... yet I wasn't, I just enjoyed writing to a friend who was utterly anonymous. Lucille has some very peculiar views on Love and Friendship, I wish I could talk to you about them. Why did you have to die?

Continued In Next Section