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Part 25

Posted on Friday, 9 January 2004

April 17th 1941 - Deraux Castle, Cambridgeshire

The crossroad was marked in silver and I had to choose.

Daoud stood silently in the corner, his dark and expressionless eyes watching from a dark and expressionless face. The dark face was all that was to be seen for Daoud, no longer required to appear in public, had resumed his traditional robes and his face was the only part of him not covered by black cloth. He was, in all, a very shadowy figure. Ashie, in an exceptionally foul mood, had referred to him as the Grim Reaper who silently awaited his next victim to reap. No one had even attempted to speak to him since the news had reached Rosings of the death of James Darcy, and Daoud liked it that way.

"Daoud." Ashie spoke quietly, drawing Daoud's attention. Daoud hesitated, his attention caught but his eyes still on the small group across the room, but finally he rolled his eye around to look at Ashie without otherwise moving.

"My Lord?" Daoud's brows stirred slightly for he could read nothing from Ashie's expression.

"My Office, ten minutes." Ashie moved on and out of the room. Daoud watched the door close before he finally moved, and his movement was not towards the door.

"Miss Bingley, if you would give me a moment." Daoud hesitantly touched one shoulder, then stepped back. Caroline Bingley did not hesitate and she rose immediately with an appologetic nod to her table before crossing to the quiet corner Daoud had been in.

"A problem?"

"What is the matter with Lord James?" Daoud kept his expression flat, he was speaking to this woman to receive information, not give it.

"Something is wrong with him?" Caroline's eyebrows rose in polite surprise.

"There is something wrong with all of us, but I ask about Lord James and I ask you because you know him."

"Ask Lord James yourself." Caroline's expression flattened.

"I will if you insist, but all would prefer if you answered my enquiry...particularly Lord James...I make him uncomfortable."

"I hope you're not surprised." Caroline responded dryly while clearly marshalling her thoughts. "Lord James is simply feeling old and he doesn't like the feeling. He has seen three generations of one single family into the grave and he doesn't like the resulting emotions, it reminds him that he is mortal and passed his fiftieth birthday...no small miracle since he wasn't meant to survive his thirtieth birthday."

"Thank you, I will change before I see him." Daoud gave a small, formal bow and retreated. Caroline watched his departure for a long moment before she finally returned to her table. Daoud had spoken a truth when he had stated that something was wrong with all of them and Caroline knew it. Ever since James had died, the Magi had been dissolving away like ice in summer. Annette had been the first to go, bundled out of the country at lightning speed to save her from the press. Annie-Bug was travelling all over the country as a volunteer ambulance driver and canteen manager. Others still came, but there was no question but that the death of Jim had torn the heart out of the MAGI, as surely as his death had torn the heart out of Ashie. Caroline had been worried about Ashie when General Darcy had left England in 1939, but his grief then paled compared to what occasionally leaked past his carapace like defenses now.

Daoud carefully straightened his tie and brushed a bit of lint off one shoulder before he calmly knocked on the heavy oaken door which leads to Ashie's Office. The Office was a seriously protected room, the door armoured and bolted at all times, and likely protected by some other toys which Ashie occasionally stumbled upon.

"Thank you." Ashie opened the door himself and nodded Daoud towards one of the two chairs in the room as he calmly re-locked the door.

"Why here?" Daoud settled himself easily, cast a single glance around the room he had never even seen within, before turning his attention firmly to Ashie.

"Why not? We don't want any eavesdroppers." Ashie dropped into the chair behind the desk and grabbed a nearby envelope. "This arrived today for you...via Copenhagen if you don't mind."

"Ah." Daoud caught the thin envelope, ripped it open and inspected the single sheet within before looking back at Ashie. "Posted approximately two months ago. You know the contents?"

"I can guess the contents." Ashie swung his chair restlessly. "All I'd like to know is why he chose you and not Morris?"

"Morris has family." Daoud spoke quietly. "I have no one. It means no one to miss me if I die .. .but also no objective to live for unless commanded. Also, Morris will not pass unnoticed in Cairo and he is still needed here."

"Any other reason?"

"I fight Arabic style as well as what I was taught when I entered Jim's service. I am in fact still the Bedouin I was born for all I have spent over ten years among the English now. The Bedouin inhabit Cairo as they inhabit any city in the Middle East and North Africa, I will pass unremarked even by those who know me. I may appear Senussi as I may appear to be of any tribe or race if I so choose, but I am not a pig-stealer by birth and I will respond poorly if you ever accuse me of being so."

"You had the trust of James Darcy for whatever reason he never cared to inform us, that is sufficient for me. What if anything happens to her?"

"I have Jim's kindly permission to become horribly embarrassed and commit suicide...nothing will happen to her."

"Good, I hate to see good secretaries wasted ... even if she is essentially wasted on Eaton." Ashie rose to his feet. "Keep good watch, Daoud."

"Don't worry, I will. I won't believe him dead until I've seen the corpse...and even then I wouldn't put it past him to give me the full benefit of a true haunting if I muff it." Daoud gave his rare grin and rose to his feet as well. "May I also observe that he'll probably haunt you as well if you mope for the rest of this war. You may have ceased being MAGI, but you also ceased being an Army Officer during the first war, so I've no doubt you can find another nook for yourself." Daoud hesitated. "If you will send me the necessary papers as soon as possible, I think using the old route is best and I'd prefer I wasn't recognised."

"No problem, you'll have them the day after tomorrow." Ashie nodded briefly and unlocked the door so Daoud could depart, it was with a very pensive expression that he re-locked the door and pulled a pile of paper towards himself. He had a mountain of work to get through, and fortunately he was in the right mood to deal with it.

Daoud stared at the single page of paper which he had been slowly twisting between his fingers, it was now almost illegible, but the words were engraved into his memory:

Daoud, my friend, it is my hope that when you receive this letter we may discuss the contents over some good wine and a game of chess. However, my heart tells me that this hope is an empty hope with no possibility of fulfillment so I write this letter to you to ensure that no matter what happens my thoughtless actions do not harm another.

Neddie is in danger, possibly great danger. I know that Ashie will get her out of the country if anything happens to upset my power in the press. However, if she is outside of England we cannot protect her and I feel that there may be a need for her to be protected. If you can, come speak of this letter with me, but otherwise act as you see fit to maximise the benefit for all. I rely on you, Daoud, for she has the courage of my mother and I cannot bear the thought that she may suffer, or even die, because of my actions and my heritage.

We underestimated Lila and that was a big mistake, possibly a fatal mistake. I know of at least one person who will die as a result of the pending furor, but I do not want that person to be Neddie. Guard her well, Daoud, I leave it to your discretion whether you reveal your presence to her. Though I advise you to ensure she never finds out if you do not let her know, she is rather sensitive about what she considers as other people meddling with her life.

My thanks and honour for your faithful service these past ten years, please do not fail me now, my friend.

Ali

Daoud finally laid the page on his bed and stared at it meditatively for a long moment before abruptly rising and changing back into his traditional robes. The letter was not the letter of a master, this was the letter of one tribal member to another, and as such he could not consider it in a suit of clothes, he needed his robes on. As Daoud changed he remembered things he had considered long forgotten. Some of them he did not really wish to remember, but memory was memory and if Ali asked him to do anything it was almost foregone that he would risk his life to see it done. But was this something he should do?

May 4th 1941 - Mersey, England

The best way to start, is by taking the first step.

Annie-Bug kicked the small piece of rubble and it spun into the gutter. The action left a small scuff on her boot, another small scuff among many scuffs which had worn the boots from almost brand-new to practically exhausted. Annie-Bug located another small rock and booted it into the street, before frowning at her boot which had objected to this last act and begun separating from the sole...again. Annie-Bug could see her green sock through the resultant crack and she realised somewhat gloomily that she was just going to have to change to another pair of boots, she doubted anyone would be willing, or able, to repair the bashed and battered boots again.

Annie-Bug located another stone and booted it with almost vindictive pleasure. The boots had been given to her by Jeroen years ago, and mended by James rather a large number of times since. Another clump of rubble bounced off a wall and presented itself to be kicked a second time. It had been almost a month since it had all happened and even Ashie was starting to look grim if Jeroen's name came up. There was no way Jeroen could survive for a month in Europe without the MAGI network hearing at least something. Almost a month and she had lost both of them. Annie-Bug lashed out at another piece of rubble, then cursed as it proved over-large for kicking. Annie-Bug wriggled her toes experimentally before finding another lump to kick. They had promised! Both of them had promised! Both of them had failed within a week of each other!

Annie-Bug kicked again and again. With each kick rubble spun against wall, into gutter onto the street and occasionally against other lumps of rubble. She knew she was crying, but she didn't care. The anger that blossomed through her veins, tore at the world and its restrictions. Annie-Bug wanted someone to hurt. First the Germans who had torn her life open. Then the reporters who barely left her alone and had had her fired from five jobs. Then the volunteer co-ordinators who lacked the courage to tell reporters to go away, choosing instead to fire one of their much needed drivers. Most of all Annie-Bug wanted to hurt the fear which tore at her gut, the fear that there was absolutely nothing she could do. The fear that her life would be a life of sitting there, sitting there and letting everything be taken from her.

"I do not believe we were created to see how quickly we could annihilate ourselves." The memory was so clear, so real that Annie-Bug actually turned, expecting to see James lounging against the wall with his faint smile.

"Damn you." It was a whisper. "Damn you!" It had become an audible statement. "DAMN YOU!" Annie-Bug screamed it at the cold and unresponsive walls. She lashed out once more and sent a good-sized boulder rolling, the resultant pain was almost comforting. As white-hot pain wrapped around her foot Annie-Bug sank down to nurse it, her mind noting abstractly that the entire toe of her boot had pulled free and her toes were peeking from the torn green sock. Her toes, torn, bloodied and abused. Her toes which could carry her mile after mile without complaint. Her toes which undoubtedly would avenge their mistreatment by a nagging ache for the next unspecified period.

An ache. Annie-Bug rose cautiously to her feet and looked around the deserted street. All of Europe was aching. If Jim was right the entire world would ache before the madness ended. How much pain could the world take? How large would the ache become before the war ended and life began again? Was driving ambulances and getting fired all she could do?

Annie-Bug gave a small and mirthless laugh. There was no real magic to anything, no finger would descend from on high and show her where she should go next, when all was said and done there was only one person who could do anything with her life and that was herself. Annie-Bug laughed again and noted with an almost clinical coldness that she was on the verge of hysteria. The great Anneliese de Bourgh Darcy, who laughed at everything and hadn't a brain cell in her body, was verging on hysteria and panic fear. Annie-Bug had felt both before, a lesson rather ruthlessly inflicted upon her at the age of twelve and a lesson she would never forget. The coldness even noted why she was feeling these emotions. Annie-Bug wanted to scream, and yet she couldn't even make a noise. It was as if she were watching from behind a great pane of glass, unable to interact or feel any emotion. She knew she was verging on hysteria, but for the life of her she did not feel it.

Annie-Bug climbed carefully to her feet, wiped her face, rearranged the toe of her boot so it wasn't glaringly obvious that the thing was detached and then combed and re-pinned her hair. Satisfied that she was no longer looking like she was insane Annie-Bug turned and began walking towards the station which she had left over an hour before. Annie-Bug knew that she would have to wait at least two hours before she could get on a train which would head even remotely in the direction of London, but she had decided that it was time she learned how to live her own life. To live her own life meant she couldn't go in search of a relative who would pull her a couple of strings and get her a lift to London. To live her own life meant she would catch the train and she would deal with any and every difficulty which arose as a result of this action. Annie-Bug did not believe ... she could not believe, that all she was good for was driving volunteer ambulances and being fired. She would go to London and she would find her own way to make a living. If Annette Fouchiard could turn up in London and make a living, then so too could Anneliese de Bourgh Darcy ... though there was no way she was going to retain her own name for the job. Elizabeth, she would take the name synonymous of courage for so many people and perhaps she would gain courage as a result. Elizabeth. Annie-Bug shook her head before frowning at a bit of hair which had already escaped. Annie-Bug still needed a surname and she also needed a hair-cut.

Annie-Bug spent half an hour finding a barber who was willing to open up out of hours to give her a haircut. He fully understood why she wished to have it cut, though he did express the fact that it was a pity to cut such wonderful hair. Annie-Bug agreed with the man, but was adamant on the need for it to be cut. The barber made an extremely neat job of it, and Annie-Bug left with her hair curling around her ears and no weight enforcing good posture.

Annie-Bug treated herself to a cup of tea and a biscuit at a nearby canteen before reluctantly acknowledging that though she was willing to drop de Bourgh from her name, she was not at all willing to drop the Darcy. This meant that Elizabeth was not an option for a first name, though she might retain it as a second name.

Annie-Bug had been waiting at the station for an hour when she finally decided on her new first name. Stella. There was something about that name. Stella Elizabeth. It had a very comforting ring to it. Stella Elizabeth Darcy. It would be her new self, a self who had no knowledge of James Darcy and society events. Stella Darcy. A new self who had no knowledge of Jeroen Fouchiard, except as the brother of Annette. Stella...of the stars. Annie-Bug had spent too much of her life with James Darcy to have avoided his almost magical fascination with the stars. Visible or not, they are always there.

Annie-Bug shook her head and stared down at her hands. She had nothing, but she would make a life. She would still be Annie-Bug, for her past she could not escape. But she would forge herself a future in which the past did not hang like a black shadow. She had learnt to live to a strict budget. She had learnt to travel and make her own arrangements. These thing she had learnt from Annette.

The train arrived at long last with an angry huff of steam and a load of tired people. Annie-Bug fought her way through the crowd and found herself a small corner seat. Annie-Bug had learnt there was a world outside of what she had been brought up to, but now it was time to learn what a life was. To learn what a life was worth. To learn if her life was worth anything!

Author's Note: Queen Elizabeth refers in this instance to the wife of King George VI, the Queen Mother to most people, not the current Reigning Monarch Queen Elizabeth II. The Reigning Monarchs are separated by numbers, their consorts are just a name. - J

May 6th 1941 - London, England

A true friend is one who cries with you, laughs with you and will answer the call from you at two in the morning.

"Where is she?" Juliette had turned up over an hour ago and skillfully avoided even the most subtle attempts to change the subject.

"Why should I know?" A traditional parry was the response, discover what you can while revealing none of your own information. As skillfully as the subject changes had been avoided, so too were the questions and direct answers avoided. This was internal politics at a high degree of perfection.

Caroline had been watching the encounter, and been highly entertained. It was not often that Ashie was forced into a corner, and even rarer that he was cornered about something he knew nothing about. This was one of those exceptionally rare occasions, and he was holding his own quite respectably against a ruthless opponent, concealing his own ignorance while gently probing her knowledge. It was Caroline who knew the answer to the question, but she had no intention of answering, even if directly asked. Not that there was any danger of Juliette asking Caroline if she knew anything. Juliette, along with the vast majority of the population who might even consider the matter, considered Ashie infinitely closer to Annie-Bug's confidences. It had long puzzled Caroline why people considered Ashie and Annie-Bug close, the only possible connection lay with James Darcy for Ashie had not laid eyes on Annie-Bug until James' crash in '39. However Annie-Bug and Ashie were both well-versed in the social game and played it with infinite skill, aware of the importance of a united front in adversity. Ashie's skill came from long practice. Annie-Bug's skill came from Caroline knew not where, though she was willing to borrow the label 'female intuition' for the present moment. Juliette knew all the rules and used them, but there was no subtlety or genius to her utilisation and it was not to her advantage when faced with Ashie who frequently ignored the rules as Juliette knew them.

"I know she is not in Merseyside and I know she placed a telephone call to this house. She wasn't calling Mr. Darcy, so she has to have been calling you. Where is she?"

"There are quite a lot of people in this house, it is rather presumptuous to think she was calling me."

"Who else would dare answer the telephone."

"Nelli?"

"Even Annie-Bug is not so lost as to speak to a servant!" Juliette's disdain was palpable and Caroline's eyebrows rose slowly.

"Well, if you trouble to speak to Nelli yourself you would discover that I have not used the telephone in two weeks now." Ashie rose to his feet and gave a small nod. "But, if you will now excuse us we have to dress for dinner." Ashie left the room and Caroline kept half an eye on Juliette, who was chewing her lip.

"Is he really going out to dinner?" Juliette did not trouble to hide her dislike of speaking to Caroline.

"Why should I know?"

"Because you do. Where is he going?"

"Old Boys dinner at the Senior Club." Caroline concealed her smile, even Queen Elizabeth could not access the Senior Club. "If you'll excuse me." Caroline nodded curtly and left herself.

Juliette had left before Caroline had even reached Ashie who was leaning against the banister half-way up the second flight of stairs. Caroline had watched Juliette's departure from the stairs, and it was with a relieved sigh that she continued up the stairs. A relief which lasted only until she noted Ashie's pale face. Ashie had always been pale, but this pallor was deathly and not natural.

"James?" Caroline ran the steps which separated them and touched him on the arm.

"Sorry." It was barely more than a whisper and the eyes which turned towards Caroline were blank and empty.

"Like HELL!" Caroline grabbed Ashie's left arm and dragged it over her shoulders, she threw her own right arm around Ashie's waist and took a firm grip. "Left foot, lift it ... NOW!"

"Caro..." Ashie had buried his face in her shoulder.

"NOW!" Caroline ignored the tearing fear in her gut. Ashie had to get to a bed and he clearly wasn't going to make it himself.

The pause was agonising, but finally the left foot dragged awkwardly up onto the next step.

"Thank you." Caroline re-confirmed her grip before lifting Ashie up onto his left foot. Never a heavy man, Caroline had a fight to squelch the fear which rose in her when she realised how much weight Ashie had lost in the past month. "Right foot...lift it." Caroline stared at the feet. "No ... RIGHT FOOT!"

"Oh." There was a pause, but then the left foot moved again.

"OTHER FOOT." Caroline was focussed solely on the two feet, which would move now?

"Caroline?" It was Nelli who had arrived.

"Call a Doctor." Caroline bit her lip, re-confirmed her grip once more and then simply dragged Ashie up the stairs. It had been the left foot which had moved, and Ashie had not responded. Ashie might be conscious, but he was clearly not aware...this time it was a real race.

"Caroline." Annie-Bug gently touched one of the perfectly poised, and rigid shoulders. There was a brief moment before Caroline's eyes tracked across to Annie-Bug.

"Thank you for coming." The voice was low and wooden.

"I'm sorry I couldn't arrive sooner." Annie-Bug settled next to Caroline. "How's he doing?"

"He's not dead." Caroline responded just as flatly.

"Not dead as Jim was not dead?" Annie-Bug's brows rose slowly.

"Yes." Caroline had returned to staring blankly at the opposite wall.

"What are they doing?"

"Everything." Caroline looked back for half a second. "I've never seen so many drips in my life."

"It's Jim, isn't it?"

"Jim, Neddie ... your sister ... the world in general really. Provided he decides to wake-up and put that carcass of his back into motion he's got a very long convalescence ahead of him."

"We need to find Jim ... don't we." Annie-Bug's shoulder's slumped. "Is there anyone else?"

"Not that I've ever met." Caroline was staring at the far wall again. "Problem is I don't know if we should even try. Is it selfish to want him to live? For the most part he doesn't enjoy it, he has to watch every step he takes and except for one or two people his friends have all died and his health rather complicates any effort to meet anyone new."

"Idiot likes idiot ... what does Juliette have to do with anything?"

"She was looking for you. Cornered Ashie for an hour and tried to make him admit he knew where you were...I should have known there was trouble because he was playing by the rule-book at every turn."

"Caroline, can I give you a word from the Annie-Bug book of wisdom?"

"Shoot."

"Ashie is a fully grown and usually responsible adult. Ashie knows all about his health and he even knows what his limitations are. If Ashie crosses those limits it his fault, not yours. Yes, he prefers relying on you to stop him getting too sick...but in the end it is his responsibility and he knows it." Annie-Bug paused. "Jim once said that the only reason he lived was because he didn't like the idea of dying yet. Possibly it's just time for Ashie's life to end...but in that case no amount of watching on your part could save him. I will admit that I don't believe he is going to die ... I don't know why, but I am certain he'll start to improve before tonight is over."

"We need to change the subject." Caroline hadn't moved her eyes from the far wall.

"Change of subject...well a friend of Jeroen's on leave from Africa brought me a letter from Button. Apparently she is almost a walking menagerie these days, she has Diemos and Eoan, and has since acquired a mouse called Lo, two budgerigars Tom and Bob, a parrot Ferenc and a revolver called Lady Amabelle ... though the revolver is generally referred to as The Lady. Apparently she is accompanied by all of them at any time. Lord Eaton, is apparently boring, though his office is not. She seems to spend a lot of time pacifying irate Egyptian Professors and arranging tours for Americans who want professional tours with a professor ... but only want to view the Sphinx, which is apparently of no interest at all for Egyptian Professors. Apparently she and some fellow office person have faked themselves university credentials and take quite a few of these tours themselves. Button admits that though her degree sounds pompous and important and contains several doctorates in various subjects, the contents of her tours can be found in any guidebook. Apparently she also invents a few historical dates if the ... tour seems bored with the more traditional information." Annie-Bug paused. "I think I'm going to join the ATS. Charlie says they're absolutely screaming for drivers and such-like, and in the worst situation it probably wouldn't hurt me to learn a bit more about cooking and scrubbing floors. There's also rumours that they're going to expand where we can work into the defence batteries."

"Sounds rather like you're considering it again."

"Do you think Stella Darcy will have trouble getting in?"

"I suspect even Annie-Bug could get in now." Caroline gave a thin little smile and tweaked one of the nearby curls. "You can only try, and I say good luck."

"Thank you." Annie-Bug looked abruptly at her feet before looking back up. "Do you think either of them might have survived?"

"Miracles happen in times of war. Possibly both are alive...but I wouldn't presume to even hope that they are."

"It's like Button says, the mind just will not comprehend what the words mean. Whether the possibility is possible or not, the mind does not accept the permanence of that person never returning. The mind does not accept and yet we know that hundreds are dying every day. Do you think Japan will aggravate the United States?"

"We can only hope." Caroline gave a shrug. "We have halted Hitler, but we will remain in a stalemate occasionally tipped by technology until one country runs out of money, credit and personnel ... and I hope it's Germany. If The United States go to war in the Pacific, they will also go to war here for if the declare war on Japan they also declare war on Germany."

"We're going to win." There had been a period of silence before Annie-Bug spoke again. "We have to win because losing just isn't an option."

Part 26

Posted on Friday, 23 January 2004

May 10th 1941 - London, England

No matter how hard we try to make it change, the sun must always set before it can rise again.

The greyness had lasted an eternity, a foggy and disorienting eternity. Voices had come and gone in the grey fog, and sense told him they were voices and their words should make sense ... but sense did not always align with reality and the voices were words with no sense. Within the fog was a sense of self, but it was a sense aware that it was not within the conscious world, a sense which had no idea of where the conscious world was ... a sense which had not the slightest intention of doing anything except returning to that which it knew as the conscious world. At regular intervals the dull ache at the back if his sense lashed with renewed ferocity, darkening the fog. At regular intervals sense fought the fog and lightened it again. It had been a foggy eternity, but sense was rather inclined to think that the fog had actually lightened at least slightly.

"What the hell does it take to kill this idiot?" The words hung in the fog, almost crystalline and slowly producing the sensation of coherent thought. The sense decided that the remark was not particularly complimentary and felt a little ruffle of irritation which lightened the fog significantly more.

"You were warned ... and please mind your language, he can hear." Another patch of lucidity, but the question remained that the two patches might not be connected. Days might separate patches of lucidity without him knowing it. He studied the fog anew and discovered to his intense interest that there was a dark crack in it. He studied the crack, carefully tracing its path and vaguely aware that it reminded him of something he could not remember.

"Hullo-ullo, rather unsociable of him ... you can inform Miss Bingley that this idiot is conscious." Another patch of lucidity, the crack in the fog was replaced by a distinctly large nose.

"Eeks, I'm going to be late." Another patch, and this time he was certain there had been a period of fog splitting the lucidity and the two sentences to other times. The voice he knew, Annie-Bug, who was apparently late. Not that this was anything special to note, Annie-Bug was always late, even when she left early.

"You never know, but certainly with his Lordship he'll undoubtedly decide only at the very last second after all else has been given up on ... and we had better note that at two fifteen he showed the symptoms of consciousness ... again."

"That makes four patches of supposed consciousness and approximately double for the times we've undoubtedly failed to notice. There's also the possibility that even he doesn't know when he's conscious. One is almost inclined to agree with old Alistair when he observes that this one's too touch for the Devil to chew yet." The fog stole the end of the conversation and he relaxed back into it. He now knew this fog, not quite the same as the other fog which darkened, it was now a familiar fog. It was the fog that always found him when his kidneys packed it in ... and with this consideration the pain which still wracked him at regular intervals was understandable ... no need to worry about arthritis or gout yet.

Caroline Bingley was tired, she had no other excuse for why she was crying quietly to herself in the grey parlour of the Darcy Townhouse. Jermyn Alastair had stopped by only minutes ago to deliver the very welcome news that Ashie had managed to keep himself awake and conscious for a full half-hour, though he still showed no interest in movement or in speech. The fact that Ashie was still a seriously sick man was one of those items added to the news automatically, Ashie could be nothing else or he wouldn't be in bed.

"Bed." It was a soft command and Caroline discovered, when she looked up, that Annie-Bug had materialised in the room and her expression was rather stubborn.

"No right of appeal?" Caroline struggled to her feet with a sigh and blinked thoughtfully at Annie-Bug. Annie-Bug was not looking overly good herself.

"Certainly not." Annie-Bug gave a thinnish smile in response to the old joke. "Neddie sends all that is appropriate via telegraph and observes that she'll never speak to Ashie again if he snuffs it ... think she's a bit unhappy being halfway around the world from these stirring events."

"Stay for tea." Caroline investigated the pockets of the slacks she was wearing, but found nothing.

"Only if you go to bed for at least two hours." Blue eyes met grey eyes squarely and after a moment Caroline broke off the contest and looked around the room.

"I suppose I should ... wake me if there is any change at all." Caroline Bingley had finally made up her tired mind, and tired or not she could still move with plenty of decision.

"That should have been taken for granted." Annie-Bug trailed Caroline up the stairs and to the doorway of her room, then she gave a small nod and moved back to the stairs. "Though what I'll do with myself for two hours is another matter entirely." Annie-Bug paused on the second landing and stared glumly at the stairs. She could vaguely remember this house when Elizabeth Darcy had been alive and used it, now it felt like its nickname suggested, a mausoleum.

Annie-Bug returned to the grey parlour at a slow pace, her mind turning over the impossibilities of fate. The grey parlour was the only room in the house which had retained any life at all, and even with quite a large number of people lodging in the house they seemed to have no effect. With Elizabeth in the house a room which was not spotless was merely lived in, you felt certain that at any moment someone would come into the room. Now, if a room wasn't spotless, it was a mess, a despairing and deserted mess. Annie-Bug stopped at the doorway to the grey parlour and frowned again, there was a girl sitting on one of the foot stools, her head twisted all around as she attempted to look at everything at once.

"May I help you?" Annie-Bug finally entered the room and let her presence be known.

"I honestly couldn't say." There was a frank friendliness about the girl which was familiar. "I was in London for today and ... well she told me to call her Nelli so I probably should. Nelli brought me back here saying I could have tea before catching the train south. I'm Lucille F ... O'Niell." The grin was almost a grimace.

"Anneliese de Bourgh Darcy." Annie-Bug calmly shook the hand of the girl and took her seat while taking covert stock of the sixteen year-old girl who had married Brian O'Niell. There was undoubtedly a family resemblance between Annette and her younger sister, it made Annie-Bug very curious about the older sister Patrice who Jeroen had once described as all that was bad in Annette magnified and taken to a whole new level of perfection. Lucille O'Niell was slightly taller than her older sister, with slightly wilder hair and more prominent curves. What was a quiet streak of humour in Annette was broad mischief in her younger sister and there was none of the restraint of manner, if Lucille thought something funny she would laugh, if she got angry she would yell, there was no pretence or concealment about the girl. Annie-Bug could see why Brian liked the girl, particularly in the current atmosphere, but she couldn't help worrying that the marriage would be a disaster.

"You're not Miss de Bourgh Darcy are you?" The worry was apparent.

"I can be called that, but officially I am Miss Anneliese."

"Thank goodness." The relief was patent. "Brian told me to avoid her if at all possible because she's a perfect cat."

"She's also my twin sister." Annie-Bug inspected the girl again with the realisation that regardless of what the future held, Brian would never become staid and stodgy if this girl remained true to her current behaviour. Anyone with such little regard for what her tongue said was going to get into a lot of trouble.

"Oh ... not offended?"

"No ... but only because I quite agree with Brian. What brought you to London?"

"Going home." The expression was glum. "Was hoping of finding some work in London or nearer Brian ... but he's being sent to Africa in the next few months and I won't qualify for a visa unless I have a parent or guardian with me."

"Grim." Annie-Bug frowned slightly and considered her shoes for a moment before abruptly rising to her feet. "I need to speak to Nelli about a couple of things ... if you don't mind waiting."

"I'm getting very good at waiting." It was a joke and spoken with a chuckle, but Annie-Bug did not miss the sadness well hidden behind it. Lucille had to be good at waiting, her only brother had been in the RAF and her husband was in the RAF, the odds were impossibly bad for them surviving the war, and Jeroen had already fallen.

"I won't be a minute." Annie-Bug swept from the room, skipped hurriedly down the main stairs and scurried into the nether regions of the house where Nelli was undoubtedly frowning over something.

"No trouble I hope?" Nelli looked up from the immense ledger she was frowning over.

"Not with Ashie. I sent Caroline to bed and I doubt that Lucille ended up in the grey parlour without you knowing that she was here." Annie-Bug hesitated. "She said she was going back to ... her parents."

"No other choice." Nelli closed the ledger with a sigh and inspected a pile of ration vouchers. "No telling what will happen when that will gets read so it's not wise to invite her here and there's nowhere else she can go for Brian's being transferred to the Mediterranean."

"Any chance of getting Brian on the telephone?"

"No chance at all." Nelli looked up sharply. "And don't you even consider taking the girl in with you. I've seen that rat's nest you have the temerity to call a flat and there is no way Lucille will live with you. She's no idea about budgeting or order and in anyone less likeable I'd call it something very bad. She's a nice girl but she'll not do at all as a flat-mate for you." Nelli's grey eyes were steady. "Lucille's real Gypsy who's uniquely perfect for life trailing around on someone's heels building a new life every couple of months or years ... she'll find her own way and always land on her feet. Not a flat-mate for you, and certainly not while you're trying to get a job."

"Is it always this difficult?" Annie-Bug had dropped onto a nearby stool with a heavy sigh. "It's almost worse than a dress fitting."

"Couldn't say, to be honest." Nelli picked up a long list written in an impossibly small hand. "Though from what the girls say I'd say it is that difficult ... particularly if you can't accept work as a maid or cook. Betty said there's a new telephone exchange opening in Westminster which requires girls."

"Thanks." Annie-Bug paused. "Is there any tea?"

"I'll have it ready for you in a minute." Nelli turned and quickly stoked the fire before pushing the kettle back onto the heat. "Keep busy Miss Annie-Bug, that's the only advice I can give you."

"It just doesn't seem possible." Annie-Bug stared at her feet before looking up abruptly. "I don't think Ashie thinks it possible either." Annie-Bug paused again. "Do you think I'm stupid to hope that they've just lost themselves for a bit?"

"Hope is what makes human-kind what it is." Nelli pulled the whistling kettle off the heat and poured the contents into a teapot. "If you give up hope and that makes you give up life, then don't give up hope. We can only decide for ourselves what is sense and what's not. Plenty of people called me all manner of fool for accepting work from General Darcy, but I haven't regretted it in 20 years and I've a nice little cottage and garden to go to when I tired of being the Housekeeper. Who knows, if it's your father who inherits I'll probably be fired the next day."

"Pemberley isn't entailed?" Annie-Bug was startled to say the least, she knew for a fact that her entire family presumed that the Estate was entailed.

"No." Nelli responded calmly as she carefully laid two cups and a small saccharine dispenser on the tray with the teapot. "The entailment ended with James and there was no reason to renew it, so it lapsed. The entailment would protect the Estate from being broken up into useless pieces, but that is not a concern for James is the last of the Darcys. In a way it is almost poetic that Pemberley was destroyed that night ... now here's the tea and don't forget about the telephone exchange in Westminster ... don't go inviting Lucille to live with you either."

"I'll come back later this evening." Annie-Bug carefully carried the tray back to the grey parlour. Nelli's warning had been timely, for though Annie-Bug had frequently shaken her head at Annette's habit of collecting animals, honesty compelled her to admit that she was even worse with humans.

May 23rd 1941 - St. Jean de Luz, France

Salvation does not necessarily arrive wearing a white nightgown and bearing a golden harp. - Rev. Teddy

Geraint Thoms cursed in a manner as fluent as it was colourful and frantically tore his foot free of the rock it had wedged itself underneath. He had until dawn to reach the river and he wasn't going to make it though the target had been easy. It had been just on sunset when he'd begun to cross the rocks and it was now almost four in the morning and the sky was beginning to lighten. He still had a quarter of the rocks to cover before he'd reach cover and once the sun rose he could only pray the sentry would be late.

Geraint cursed again as his right leg simply collapsed underneath him and folded up. Geraint's right leg had been the bane of his adult existence. Infantile Paralysis at the age of twenty had seen him reside in bed for almost two years and even now the right leg was not reliable in the best of circumstances. He'd been careless and he knew it, he needn't have rushed like he had at the beginning, he should have saved his strength and feet for when a tired mind became careless. Now he was stranded in plain view of any sentry and totally unable to move with sunrise only about an hour away.

"M'sieur." It was a soft whisper, little more than a breath of air. Geraint, tense and nervous, jerked around and found himself staring at a small boy of perhaps eight years of age. The boy was sitting on a rock less than a metre away and next to him stood a hairy brown goat with sleepy eyes.

"Bonjour." Geraint could think of nothing else to say, he couldn't even beg for help for there was nothing this boy could do.

"M'sieur est anglais." The boy spoke to the goat as he looked around quickly. "Karl est en retard." The boy slid quickly backwards and vanished for a moment behind the rocks.

"Garcon?" Geraint looked around himself, aware that the sentry must be only minutes from arriving.

"I speak English." The boy came back into view now at Geraint's feet. "You return England?"

"Yes." Geraint carefully picked himself up and took the boy's hand, he might have been suspicious had he had any other option.

"I hide you today and tomorrow. Then I get felucca. You take message?"

"Where too?" Geraint eased himself cautiously onto his left leg and massaged his right into reluctant life.

"Le Duxieme. Le Jardiniere dans Fresnes."

"Who is le Duxieme?"

"Yves ... I saw him ... Bordeaux. He say speak le Duxieme. We all know le Duxieme is told everything. I cannot go because of the goats. Will you tell le Duxieme?" The boy looked worried. "You tell le Duxieme le Jardiniere dans Fresnes."

"I will certainly try." Geraint would have tried anything if it would get him out of France.

"I hide you." The boy pulled Geraint quickly into the cover of the rocks where he had appeared from. "Hide." As far as caves went it was tiny, but sufficient. Had the boy not vanished immediately Geraint would have asked what the boy would do himself. As it was there was no chance and Geraint merely got to listen to the boy clattering away over the stones talking to the goat, apparently called Andre, as he headed for the hills. Geraint hoped the boy had at least a couple more goats somewhere, for a single boy with a single goat in France couldn't possibly pass unnoticed.

May 24th 1941 - Portsmouth, England

There is only one thing worse that bureaucracy, and that it confused bureaucracy.

Candace Fouchiard was feeling more than a little lost as she pounded away automatically on the teletyper which was her job. This teletyper was not her usual teletyper, in fact what had been her usual teletyper was in Liverpool. Candy had been reposted back to Portsmouth and arrived a mere two hours earlier to the depressing information that Jemima Innocent was the only WREN expected. Candy had done her best to imitate a Jemima Innocent, but since she couldn't believe that someone had that name, her imitation was lacking and in the end she was grudgingly accepted as a Candace Fouchiard, unexpected but qualified teletyping Petty Officer, and since there was no spare bed she might as well start shift immediately while they tried to arrange a bed for her. Candy did not believe for an instant that a bed would await her return and had already booked herself a week at the nearest house which would take a lodger. If Candy had learnt anything since becoming a WREN it was how to fearlessly pound on a front door and ask whoever answered to speak to the Mistress. If the mistress answered one simply stated the case, otherwise one kicked one's heels and waited for the mistress to be produced and then simply stated the case.

"Candy!" The shriek had Candace twisting on her stool, though her fingers never stopped typing.

"Jill!" Candy jerked her head cheerily to her former Petty Officer who was now a Chief Petty Officer and obviously in charge of the next shift.

"Betsy got married!" Jill McMaron dropped onto the stool next to Candy and opened her teletyper as an operative station and grabbed a message. "He's a Lieutenant who leaves for Africa tomorrow. When did you arrive?"

"Two hours ago and they were disappointed I wasn't some Jemima Innocent."

"I think she's their excuse for why they're waiting there when they're expecting nobody. Where are you camping until they find you a bed in our empty barracks?"

"Just down the street with Miss Annice Laurence." Candy finished her last message with a flourish and closed her teletyper down. "What shift should I petition for since they'll undoubtedly downgrade me tomorrow."

"B shift if you want to work under me again. Sammy is in C shift and Dora has gone to boss the girls at Devonport."

"Lucky Dora ... I hope they were expecting her. Let's have lunch if we can, my sister got married and Annette got packed off to Africa and some newspaper magnate or something, she seems to spend all her time dancing with Officers and fudging to Americans that she's some wonder of an academic on the Sphinx. Scream of a letter, I'll talk to you later." Candy slid off her stool and scurried through the corridors until she found the fresh air of a lovely summer morning. A brief visit to the boarding house would undoubtedly verify that they had forgotten she had arrived, she would give the address of her temporary accommodation which they would immediately lose, and after a few hours sleep she'd visit them again and argue until she was assigned officially to a shift and given a schedule. Her next shift would catch the Petty Officer unawares and there'd be a fuss about which machine she should use and the shift after would probably be with another shift altogether, then, after a week of work and nagging she might actually be admitted into the Wrennery and get an official shift.

Candy's mood was even more gloomy by the time she reached the Wrennery, if such was possible, and it was almost irritably that she opened the negotiations and arguments she had known would await her when she received her travelling orders. Everything happened to pattern and with a soft curse she returned to the house of Miss Annice Laurence for two slices of bread and her coat. Candy was going for a walk, a walk which would take her away from her irritation. Being a WREN was wonderful, provided one remained in the one place, things got confused if too much moving occured.

May 26th 1941 - Gibraltar

Beware the careless word, it could be heard by a careless ear.

Geraint was cramped, exhausted and very, very wet when the Polish Skipper of the felucca pushed him up onto the quay. Geraint found just enough energy to thank the man and wish him luck before he collapsed in a heap on the rough planking and lost consciousness.

"Just what I like to see." The voice which welcomed Geraint back to the conscious world was oppressively cheerful, and Geraint sneezed over the pungent vapour which tore at his nose and eyes. "Nothing like dear old ammonium nitrates." The air cleared slightly and Geraint watched the doctor cap the small bottle with a baleful eye.

"Why?" Geraint wiped his eyes and waved the air away from his nose in hopes of escaping the odour.

"You weren't waking up and someone's hoping you've got news."

"Well ask him if he's le Duxieme. Only news I have is for some chump called le Duxieme and it concerns a gardener."

"Intriguing ... well go chat to the BBC."

"Why?"

"Message they've been running since young Darcy vanished, he's to contact le Duxieme. Possibly your Duxieme?"

"Haven't the faintest idea." Geraint rolled over and swung his feet off the bed.

"Nuh-uh! No you don't." The Doctor shoved Geraint back into bed. "You are staying in that bed for at least a week. Don't know what you were doing, but you've feet like you were doing a dance marathon on hot coals with the odd sabre to make life fun. I'll let your visitor in."

"What joy." Geraint sank back in his bed with a groan and stared at the depressingly large lumps which were his feet.

"Geraint Thoms you are the most annoying agent I've ever had to chase from Sweden to Gibralter." The man who entered the room was tubby, his expression a perpetual pout and his eyes totally merciless. He was not a man Geraint would ever choose to fight. "Which also begs the question of why you are now after le Duxieme?"

"Do you know who he is?"

"No." There was a thread of anger in the short response. "Whoever hides behind that name is the last of those blasted MAGI and the only person who might give us a lead on their courier."

"Courier?"

"Someone called Yves who can apparently get from Northern Finland to the Pyrenees without any apparent problem with transport. In fact he can do it in approximately a fortnight. The Hun knows that one as well to their painful cost."

"Yves was in Bordeaux last week, that I can tell you for Domique said the message for le Duxieme came from Yves. I doubt they'd have two people under the same name."

"Fat lot of use. Now, what's the news? I'm to send you back to England for a real debrief, but for now I'm picking your brains. Anything of interest?"

"Don't use the rocks at St Jean de Luz, you'll not make it before the sentry returns."

"Kill the sentry?"

"No, I was rescued by Domique and given shelter for a day or two."

"The Doc is being obnoxious and says you're laid up for a week. If I drop your message to le Duxieme can you go to Paris next week?"

"Don't see why not." Geraint gave a shrug and a yawn. "Oh, and the Gestapo have Alain. Did what I could to spring him which is why I was running around on the rocks but they shot him a week ago ... incriminated to the eyebrows, he had the list on him."

"Well, you can get another one when you go in."

"Thank you. The Doc says le Duxieme wants James Darcy to call him."

"Everyone knows that and it's caused a fair flurry in Westminster because Darcy was apparently a neutral and now it isn't half obvious that he was up to his eyebrows in the MAGI and a Naval Officer to boot. Apparently that flighty godfather of his is in a rampaging bad temper about it."

"Anything else interesting happened?"

"One of the de Bourgh Darcy twins has managed to slip the press and her family. We're getting our arses kicked in the desert and Hitler's still trying to get into England by bombing everything which passes an altitude of one metre. Greece has surrendered to the Nazis and Yugoslavia is a real mess of deposed rulers and ignored treaties and rest of it. Other than that there is trouble in Asia as usual and the Princess Royal was seen with her mother in the East End ... also Pemberley was utterly flattened by a lost bomber and James Darcy was apparently in residence at the time, hence the spill of secrets about him. Apparently his current girl got bundled into Africa or somewhere and apparently isn't to be found any more than the de Bourgh Darcy girl. Think that covers the more obvious news that might not have reached you."

"Sounds like we're as mad as ever." Geraint blinked for a thoughtful moment. "Send the usual telegram to Mam concerning the fact that I'm alive ... also tell her I'll be home for August ... and that had better not be a lie or I'll desert."

"I'll see what we can swing." There was a longish silence and then with the curtest of nods the man turned and left. Geraint lay back with a sigh and stared up at the ceiling as his mind pondered what was considered news to the papers. Geraint himself could see nothing of any importance in the fact that Miss de Bourgh Darcy had missed a dance or two, any more than the fact that a good cricketer had died in a bombing ... though if James Darcy was involved in the MAGI and an active Naval Officer that did change things a bit.

All thoughts aside he had a week before he'd be returned to France, and to say the least Geraint was more than happy to be returning, England at peace was pretty poisonous, but England at war was intolerable and the less he had to do with it the happier he was. The only other hope was that if he ever was given help by another agent, that that agent was slightly better at keeping alive than Alain was. Geraint did not like it when anyone was lost, let alone someone who was acting under his instructions at the time of capture.

Part 27

Posted on Friday, 30 January 2004

June 3rd 1941 - Uxbridge, England

Hope is a light which can illuminate the darkest of days.

Lieutenant Rory Halifax stared morosely at the piece of cake he was pushing slowly around his plate while mashing it into crumbs. Rory was not happy, in the passed couple of months he had passed from having the perfect life to having no life at all. In March Rory had had the perfect girl, the best job a Lieutenant could have and the happy confidence that life could only get better. Then in the space of a week he lost his girl and plunged up to his neck in trouble. April and May had brought trip after trip to the Air Board as the higher-ups debated his future. Finally they had decided his fate and delivered him to a period of probation and a one way ticket to India.

For two days now Rory had been kicking his heels and trying to make up his mind whether to accept the probation and the ticket, or to just quit and see if he could find a job as a civilian. Ten minutes ago Rory had decided that it was time he returned to civilian life. It wasn't half obvious that no one in the military appreciated his abilities, and Rory wasn't about to waste himself on a backwater job in some god-forsaken corner of the world as far from war as it was possible to get. But with his decision made Rory discovered that he didn't want to leave his seat. The determination to leave as soon as he finished his cake had resulted in him failing to take even a single bite of his cake. Now Rory simply stirred his cake up while morosely pondering how vile and unfair the world was. He couldn't even retire from the military!

"You're not considering a bunk by any chance are you?" The calm enquiry caused Rory to snarl to himself as he turned to greet the newcomer.

"Whatever, Gibbous." Rory paused. "Thought you were bound for Africa?"

"The higher-ups had a change of heart and have sentenced me to Tempsford instead."

"Tempsford?" Rory blinked, he'd never heard of that aerodrome and it had to be one for not even the higher-ups could be so stupid as to give Brian O'Niell a desk job.

"Mudhole somewhere north of us which flies city defence." Brian dropped into the seat opposite Rory and scratched his ear. "But back to my original enquiry, you're not considering a bunk are you?"

"What difference does it make if I do?" Rory was conscious of his cheeks heating under those calm grey eyes. For some reason Squadron-Leader Brian O'Niell was remarkably good at making him feel like a lout. Retirement had seemed right only a minute ago, now Rory was beginning to have serious doubts and feeling a touch embarrassed about the decision.

"Not much." Brian ordered some tea and a couple of biscuits. "Just that if you toss the sock you'll take Talbot with you."

"What has the Wing-Co got to do with my trip to India?" Rory's jaw had dropped slightly.

"Very nearly everything." Brian accepted his tea and biscuits from the waitress with a smile before focussing on Rory again. "If the Air Board had their way you would have been back in civvy street in April, as it was Talbot went to bat for you, put his entire career on the line and enlisted some aid in his fight to keep you with us."

"But..." Rory stopped uncertain of his position.

"Talbot won you the trip to Burma ... but I'm afraid you'll have to swallow a nasty pill if you want to know how you managed to retain rank, even if it is probationary."

"What was the charge?"

"Conduct unbecoming of a gentleman and an officer ... think it fair?"

"Yes." Rory had hesitated for a long moment before he responded, the charge was fair. That charge was not one lightly shrugged off with a stay in clink, O'Niell was correct, he should have been walking down civvy street months ago. In such cases the military legal system worked very fast indeed and was utterly ruthless. "He must have been a good batter Talbot got on side to keep my rank."

"Very good batter." Brian gave a small sad smile, his attention wandering for a long moment before he focussed back on Rory again. "I will admit that if I'd been in charge I'd have let you take a walk to civvy street and try to scratch yourself a life the hard way. However, Talbot seems to think that you won't mess up again and you're more than worth risking his career for. Burma is a mess and it's only going to get worse in the near future. You do not have the rank currently to do anything about it, but if you keep your head on your shoulders and work yourself into the ground there's an off-chance that the Air Board will actually take you off probation and allow promotion and then you can do something about it."

"Why are you here?" Rory studied the other carefully, he knew O'Niell's background and knew that the man was quite up to speed on political maneuvres.

"Because you're one of the best supply officers I've ever met ... and I've met a lot. You'll be a brilliant staff officer if you get your head out of your arse and stop trying to play politics. Quite frankly you are utterly wasted in civvy street and Burma is fairly howling for an officer like you could be. I know your potential, but that doesn't mean you're not going to let your crazy political ethics mess things up for you. In fact it wouldn't surprise me in the slightest if you told me you were sore as a bear over this mess and feeling very put upon and unvalued. You're being given the chance of a lifetime and I want to be certain you can see that before you throw it away."

"What would you say if I said I was going to Burma?"

"I'd say well done and warn you that you're in for a rough time."

"If I said I was retiring."

"I'd shrug, wish you luck and call it our loss."

"Why do you care?"

"Because I know what a mauling the press can give someone and I don't want you to succumb to the mings and let this mess ruin your life. Grow-up, realise you made a screaming ass of yourself and get on with your life. You've got off light so far, but you won't be rescued a second time if you screw up."

"Good luck with Tempsford." Rory pushed his cake halfway around his plate before glancing up briefly. "Could you also give Lucille my congratulations and best wishes? I'm leaving the day after tomorrow and that won't leave time for chasing her down to give them myself."

"Certainly ... and do keep in touch with Talbot, the boys will want to know how you go."

"Do you know how I can get in contact with Annette?"

"Send it to me, I'll get Luce to pass it on. To be honest I only know that she's somewhere in Africa being secretary to a big man and giving tours of the Sphinx with bogus university qualifications."

"She would." Rory's mouth twitched. "Never really understood her I must admit, but I wish her luck in whatever she decides to do."

"Bit of a change from your statements last year that a woman should not be too intelligent or opinionated."

"I grew up." Rory spoke dryly as he fought a grin. "I grew up while pushing a piece of cake around a plate."

"A very good way to grow up, saves you from getting pretentious about it." Brian pushed to his feet. "Must go though. Good luck to you Halifax, good luck and the best of wishes."

"Thanks." Rory hesitated as Brian started to leave. "Gibbous."

"Aye?" Brian glanced back from the door.

"Who was the batsman?" Rory braced himself as he asked the question.

"Well ... " Brian glanced briefly around the small coffee shop. "He and Neddie were at daggers drawn whenever they met, you chewed his ear off on all three occasions you spoke to him and he died just two days after he delivered unto the Air Board his considered opinion of what you were worth."

"Oh." Rory watched in silence as Brian departed before staring blindly at his cake. Brian had been correct, Talbot had got a very good batsman on side to save him. Brian had also been correct in saying that it would be a hard pill to swallow. Brian had also been right in saying that he'd made a mess of things, he must have if James Darcy could only wangle a probationary ranking at the lowest level. Now he could either go to Burma and prove that he was worth the faith these men obviously had in him, or he could retire and make their effort worth nothing.

Rory had been staring silently at his cake for half an hour before he abruptly took action, eating the crumbs of his cake before standing up and heading for the door. James Darcy was dead, Annette was in Africa, Lila had shown her true colours and Rory had been given a second chance. He wasn't about to blow this chance and he was going to write to Annette before he conveniently forgot that he did owe her an appology for the last few months. Growing up wasn't easy, but Rory was damned if he'd make a muff of this second chance.

June 1941 - Glendevie, Scotland

Appearances can be deceiving, my dear. - The Duchess

Wing-Commander Lord James Ashington-Frankston sighed heavily as he gingerly shifted a pile of folders aside. Getting perceptibly stronger every day, but still unable to walk unaided, life was frustrating to say the least.

"Miss de Bourgh Darcy has arrived, sir." Peter looked into the room for the briefest of moments. "Does she come here?"

"Please." Ashie cleared a chair for his visitor by the simple means of sweeping the files on it onto the floor. He was still poking among them when Peter held the door open for Juliette to enter the room.

"Still cleaning in your own inimitable way I see." Juliette seated herself carefully and tucked her skirt neatly out of the way before folding her hands in her lap. Nothing would ever unsettle Juliette de Bourgh Darcy, she was a well trained and well finished lady, trained to the teeth and orthodox.

"Of course." Ashie dropped into his own chair and stared at Juliette for a long and silent moment. Ashie was rather reluctantly re-ordering his thoughts to meet that new information which he had run across in the past week. Until this past week he had never laid eyes on James Darcy's private files, and now he had the run of them, he wished his ignorance had been permitted to continue. Ashie did not like it when his view of people was totally overset. His view of Juliette had been sent through the mill by those files and he was not certain whether he was going to adapt to the resultant changes.

"You speak Serbo-croat." Ashie finally blinked and settled back on his seat, his mind was far from settled but the future demanding action.

"Among other languages." Juliette responded calmly.

"I'll rephrase that then." Ashie studied the face again. "You spent two years at the University of Belgrade studying Balkan Dialects and in the words of your own overseeing professor you could pass as a native."

"That is very nice of him to say."

"How would you like to go and live in Yugoslavia for a while?"

"I will not spy."

"I'm not asking you to." Ashie gave a small smile. "In fact all I'm asking is whether you would consider going to Yugoslavia ... what you do after you arrive is entirely up to you."

"You always have ulterior motives." Juliette responded calmly. "What are you hoping I'll do?"

"I'm hoping you can reactivate Jim's contacts over there because the place is a mess with no information coming back. However no pressure and I won't do anything if nothing happens ... Just thought you might consider it."

"Jim has a file on me doesn't he." Juliette's expression tightened by the tiniest of infinitesimal amounts.

"Of course he does." Ashie picked up the buff folder and handed it across. "How did he get onto you?"

"That isn't revealed?" Juliette glanced briefly through the slender folder before returning it.

"No." Ashie restored the file to its pile.

"Then I do not think you need to know." Juliette paused and inspected her nails for a moment. "I require one hundred pounds and a free trip to Greece."

"How simple." Ashie frowned at Juliette for a long moment. "Can you fly?"

"No."

"That seriously complicates your free trip to Greece ... couldn't we send you to Turkey instead?"

"No." Juliette folded her hands together again.

"Can you leave next month?"

"Certainly ... provided I have spoken to Annie-Bug first."

"I can fly you into Yugoslavia if you like, but you'll have to speak to Caroline if you wish to find out about Annie-Bug."

"I suspect you'll have a lot more trouble persuading Caroline that you are fit to go travelling to Africa and back." Juliette rose and gave a faint smile in response to Ashie's grimace.

"That was low and I'll meet you at Deraux Castle in a month." Ashie nodded briefly as Juliette turned to leave and picked up a new folder. Ashie dropped the folder as soon as the door closed behind Juliette and picked up the file which held her details. As was the case with all of the private files, there was no accompanying photograph.

Juliette de Bourgh Darcy

Ashie frowned at the familiar neat fist while his mind tramped off down the echoing corridors of memory. Memory brought a darker frown to Ashie's face and he carefully laid aside Juliette's file as he began flicking quickly through the index box which sat on the desk. The contents of the index box brought a black scowl to Ashie's face and he pushed the draw shut before slowly picking up Juliette's file again.

"James McKenna Darcy, why does Juliette have a private file among your papers but no index card?" Ashie resumed his perusal of the file as he lifted the query to the dusty air.

Born in 1921 and raised in the house of her Grandmother.

Insofar as those two lines went Ashie knew the subject matter to be true. The schooling information which followed would undoubtedly be easily verified and it rang true anyway. Only a person of de Bourgh heritage would be withdrawn from a University degree to attend a finishing school and then enter London Society. In fact the only point which Ashie hesitated over was the fact that Juliette had gone to Belgrade University at the tender age of fourteen and had studied Balkan Dialects. Admittedly Belgrade probably was the best University for such studies, but Belgrade was not prestigious as in Oxford, Cambridge, the Sorbonne or Heidelburg. The sticking point was how Juliette had got approval from Lady Catharine and approval had to be there for Juliette was undoubtedly the apple of Lady Catherine's eye, and she wouldn't be if she had crossed the witch.

The file was brief, in fact apart for the essential details the only other item in the file was a brief note scribbled on the inside of the back cover of the file. James had noted at some stage that Juliette was to be encouraged to visit Yugoslavia if communication ever fell over. Ashie would have disregarded the note had anyone else written it. However, James had written it and in such matters Ashie had yet to find him in error.

There were just two mysteries the file did not explain in at least some detail. The first concerned her university education, and Ashie suspected that Annie-Bug could probably answer that question. The second concerned what had happened to bring Juliette sufficiently to James Darcy's attention that he gave her a file which he kept totally to himself and didn't register anywhere. Ashie was fairly certain that the second question would probably never be answered and with a sigh he resigned himself to the knowledge that Juliette's parting shot had been sound, he had no idea how he was going to get to Africa short of telling Caroline after he returned ... and that would undoubtedly earn him tongue-lashing such as only Caroline Bingley could deliver. Ashie didn't bother considering the problem, a solution would arise or he would make a bolt for it, but either way that was a month off and he needed some more sleep or the room was going to engage in more energetic gymnastics than gently swaying in front of his eyes.

June 25th 1941 - London, England

I'm your sister, it's my job to be unpredictable and irritating. - Sandy

Annie-Bug was feeling profoundly gloomy as she meandered down the street towards her small flat. It had been yet another day of pointless searching and to say the least she was feeling very dispirited with the situation and within a week she would have to leave her little flat unless she got at least some sort of job. The week had been a bad week, there had been only shaken heads in response to her enquiries and for some reason the loss of both James and Jeroen was biting particularly hard. Annie-Bug had reluctantly admitted that she was more worried about losing the flat than not getting a job, it was the first open piece of independence she had to show and it would hurt to surrender it. A job would be nice, but in a way she wasn't certain now whether she could so sever herself from her old life and memories.

Annie-Bug acquired her usual half loaf of bread from her landlady before she descended the steep little stairs to the little rooms which made up her apartment. The apartment was a comfortable mess and Annie-Bug barely even looked around as she dropped her bag and crossed to place her bread on the table.

"You realise if this was one of Jim's exercises you would be ostensibly dead and really covered in red paint." The calm voice caught Annie-Bug by surprise and she spun to stare at her twin with a blank expression and a whirling mind.

"Why would someone want to kill me?" Annie-Bug carefully took a seat and studied Juliette.

"Possibly because you're a Darcy." Juliette's tone was distant. "Not having much luck getting a job are you?"

"I'll find something." Annie-Bug set her teeth, determined not to lose her temper today.

"Try the services." Juliette glanced at her nails for a moment before looking up. "I'm leaving England next month and I will admit I would be happier if you were not dependent on grandmother."

"But ... " Annie-Bug stared at Juliette in flabbergasted silence.

"There's talk of ATS girls getting stationed at AA Batteries working predictors and such-like. I will not have anything to do with what you might choose, but I thought you might be interested." Juliette rose and carefully pulled her gloves back on before picking up her handbag and hat. "If you receive any letters from me in the future they will be signed by Stelle, otherwise they do not come from me and I advise you to ignore them."

"I often wondered whether you ever remembered that." Annie-Bug shifted uncomfortably.

"You are my sister and you were fortunate to earn grandmother's disapproval ... I do not forget even if I never speak of things." Juliette glanced around the room. "You seem comfortable and it is nice to see."

"Why are you leaving?" Annie-Bug stood up and began digging into a pile near her bed.

"I made a promise many years ago which I go to fulfill now." Juliette watched Annie-Bug without expression.

"But ... " Annie-Bug shook her head and dropped the subject as she unearthed the small notebook she was searching for. "I was going to give this to you years ago but I couldn't think of any possible use you might have for it." Annie-Bug hesitated before handing it over. "At worst it will merely remind you what an irritating and impractical creature I am."

"Thank you." Juliette took the notebook and after a hesitation tucked it into her handbag. "Stelle ... I need you to promise me something."

"But..." Annie-Bug hesitated uncertain of the importance of Juliette using that ancient nickname from when they could not pronounce their own names.

"I need you to promise that no matter what happens you will keep something with you." Juliette was hesitant in speaking.

"I'll try." Annie-Bug hesitated before she finally replied. "I can't promise."

"It's just a necklace, Stelle ... a necklace with three rings on it." Juliette hesitated before she quickly drew a thin chain out of the collar of her dress, released the catch and withdrew the rest of the chain on which were suspended three rings. Annie-Bug hesitated before accepting the necklace and she glanced at them only briefly before staring at Juliette in disbelief.

"But..."

"You needn't worry, he's dead." Juliette paused before looking carefully away from the rings. "I just don't wish to risk losing them should my journey be disrupted. Please, don't lose them or leave them anywhere."

"No." Annie-Bug hesitated only momentarily before she quickly clasped the chain around her own neck. "Keep safe, Stelle, too many of us have fallen already."

"I will." Juliette carefully pinned her hat on and gave a small nod. "Keep safe yourself and I will write as often as I can. Use the address of Jim's safehouse in Cairo if you want to write ... but I may not collect within the usual holding time."

"Thanks." Annie-Bug hesitated before abruptly flinging her arms around Juliette and hugging her tightly. "I'm going to miss flicking breadcrumbs at you when grandmother isn't looking."

"Keep safe, Stelle." It had been a long moment before Juliette responded and returned the hug. "I need to go though, I have some preparations to make." Juliette gently pulled free and after a brief pat on Annie-Bug's should she checked her attire, hair and hat before she crossed the room and let herself out of the apartment. Annie-Bug slowly sank onto her stool and with rather stunned fingers she pulled Juliette's necklace from under her collar and stared in disbelief at the rings suspended thereon. The rings were tasteful and just right for Juliette ... whoever had married her had excellent taste and knew her very well indeed.

July 2nd 1941 - Cairo, Egypt

In the end we make our own choices about what annoys us.

"You have a visitor." Lord Eaton was not looking happy when he came into the small room which served as Annette's office. Annette blinked at him in utter confusion for there was no one she could think of who might be even in a situation to visit, let alone some how notify Lord Eaton before they notified her.

"Oh." Annette blinked and glanced back at her file before blinking at Lord Eaton again.

"Can't you say anything else?" Lord Eaton's response was particularly waspish, a rarity since he usually couldn't be bothered responding to anything.

"No." Annette considered the matter briefly before she responded. "Not when I'm not expecting a visitor and have no idea who this supposed visitor is supposed to be."

"You don't know?"

"No." Annette met Lord Eaton's irritated gaze evenly.

"Then you can find out in ten minutes." Lord Eaton stalked back into his own Office and slammed the door. Annette stared at the shut door in confusion, Lord Eaton had never slammed a door that she could remember.

"How annoying." Annette focussed on her files and deliberately pushed curiosity from her mind.

"Well met, Neddie." The door crashed open in a way which Annette knew for a fact only Ashie could crash a door open.

"What are you doing here?" Annoyance kept Annette from feeling ill when she noted Ashie's appearance. Ashie had never had an excess of weight, but he was now almost skeletal in appearance. Though he had often looked like a vampire, Annette was willing to swear he was a zombie now.

"Visiting you." Ashie dropped onto a stubby little filing cabinet with a relieved sigh. "How would you like to visit England for a month or two?"

"Ashie, I'm working here."

"If I get you a holiday from work here and give you work there?"

"What do you need me for?" Annette blinked and then frowned.

"James Darcy left Glendevie as a fully operative MAGI HQ and if I don't get help I'll never get it cleaned up this side of the next millennium ... and you're the only help I've ever managed to tolerate. So, will you be nice enough to come home and help?"

"Considering I left under your orders you shouldn't be too surprised that I won't say no. How is everyone?"

"Don't ask me that because I just don't know." Ashie shook his head before thumping on the wall that Annette's office shared with Lord Eaton's. "HEY! TUCK!"

"What do you want?" Lord Eaton was looking irritated but Ashie was clearly undisturbed.

"I just stole Neddie back ... you can have her in a month or two unless you find a satisfactory replacement."

"Thank you." Eaton slammed back into his office.

"When can you be ready to fly?" Ashie turned back to Annette, completely undisturbed by Eaton's distemper.

"Five minutes after I've got back to my hotel." Annette was already folding away her work.

"Good." Ashie slid off his filing cabinet and pushed open the door just as Annette finished packing up her desk. "Lead on and we'll catch a taxi to your hotel and hold it to then take us on to the aerodrome." Ashie pulled the door shut behind them and followed Annette down the hall.

"Why didn't you just telegraph me?" Annette glanced curiously at Ashie who was looking around himself rather curiously.

"Tuck would never have released you but that I turned up and threatened not to leave unless he released you." Ashie gave a faint grin as he waved down a grubby little taxi. "No weapon is more dreaded by old Tuck than the thought of me in his precious office ... he still remembers the havoc I wreaked as a schoolboy in his study."

"Ah." Annette nodded her comprehension, though in truth she could not see Ashie as a havoc-causing schoolboy. Ashie might cause havoc on an unequaled scale, but it would be havoc with a reason or Annette had badly misread Ashie's character while working as his secretary. Schoolboy havoc, as far as Annette understood it, was almost always pointless and childish. "Just why is there so much work? Mr. Darcy never struck me as disorganised and he was expecting to die in the near future."

"Oh." Ashie sank back on the hard seat of the taxi and closed his eyes. "Insofar as the estate is concerned there is nothing to be done. The problem is Glendevie which, as Jim's private lair and not part of the estate, does not legally exist. The property is actually owned as a joint property between a rather large number of us. Jim was the only person who really used it since the rest of us have no use for it and it's too far from anywhere, but with Jim's death the property remains in our hands. Glendevie was originally owned by the Major, but he sold shares in it to Caroline, Kitty, Brian, Alastair, Tom and myself. When Sir David died the property remained in our hands, though Jim took his father's place in the group as well as his own place. When the will passes there will still be the six of us in control, but Jim had a lot of private junk which will not be covered by the will and needs to be sorted and shifted. Tom, who lives there and runs the connected deer forest and grouse moors will undoubtedly inherit Jim's part, but he will not want Jim's junk messing the place up."

"Ah." Annette watched the familiar streets whip past until the taxi skidded to a halt outside her dusty hotel of residence. "I'll be back in five." Annette slid out of the taxi and bolted up the stairs for her stuff, pausing for a couple of minutes on the way back down to pay her bill, return the key and leave half a dozen appologetically scribbled notes.

It was just inside her five minute time limit that Annette dumped her bag into the back of the taxi and returned to her seat. She nodded briefly to Daoud who seemed to have materialised during her absence and he was talking in Arabic with Ashie who was looking more than a little disgruntled. The conversation ended abruptly and Daoud gave a curt order to the driver before he settled back for the trip.

The trip to the aerodrome did not take long and less than an hour after even knowing Ashie was in Cairo, Annette was watching as Egypt and Africa fell away from under her view. The flight would bite deep into the desert before coming up on Gibralter from behind. From Gibralter it would then be a simple flight back to England with all eyes peeled for marauding Huns. Annette had given up immediately on trying to see anything and had curled up as soon as she lost sight of Cairo. Annette was returning to England and she wasn't certain how happy she was about it.

Part 28

Posted on Saturday, 7 February 2004

July 23rd 1941 - Llanfanwych, Wales

"That's a blessing in disguise? ... must be a curse or it's a rotten disguise!" - Leia

Annie-Bug stared across the immense expanse of slate flooring before staring back at the small sponge in her hand. There was no question at all but that this particular floor maliciously attracted all dirt within miles and crammed it as tightly as possible into any available opening.

"Get moving Darcy, that floor won't scrub itself and you got no maids to scrub it for you." Sergeant Atkins was horse-faced like Charlie, but the mind behind lacked the kindness of Charlie. Sergeant Atkins enjoyed jeering at the new girls, and she seemed to take particular pleasure in giving Annie-Bug the hardest and nastiest jobs to be found.

"Yes, Sergeant." Annie-Bug set her shoulders and began scrubbing at the floor.

"Watson! Same to you, that floor will be scrubbed before I returned or you'll be sorry." Sergeant Atkins stalked from the room and Annie-Bug promptly rocked back on her heels and grinned at the pale Watson.

"Don't worry, it's just this floor tomorrow and you'll never get it scrubbed before she gets back ... even if you did get it scrubbed you'd still be on it tomorrow. Name's Stella."

"Elsie ... Elsie Watson." The girl gave a faint replica of a grin, she could only just be old enough to have enlisted. "You've been here before?"

"This floor and I are old friends of precisely a fortnight standing." Annie-Bug patted the floor comfortingly. "Atkins doesn't like me so she feels the need to ensure I know how to scrub the largest slate floor in England ... Do you think Bert suites it?"

"Sorry?" Elsie returned to look scared again.

"The floor." Annie-Bug nodded as she began scrubbing at the nearest slate. "We're so well acquainted that it seems wrong to call it the Floor ... makes it sound like a criminal and I can't really think of any crime a floor could commit except manslaughter. Do you think Bert suits it?"

"Umm." Elsie looked lost now, but she had begun to scrub herself.

"Though come to think of it Bert is a rather criminal name ... Wilberforce?" Annie-Bug paused to consider the floor. "No, he is definitely not a Wilberforce." Annie-Bug gave a small shudder. "Cuthbert?"

"Are you really a Darcy? Related to the late General and his son who played cricket?" Elsie had stopped scrubbing her slate.

"Do I look like a Darcy?" Annie-Bug looked up abruptly, aware that there was no way she could talk her way out of this, she could just hope the girl wasn't one of these girls who had intently studied the family.

"Umm ... yes." Elsie seemed to brace herself before she spoke.

"My mother would be delighted." Annie-Bug bent over her scrubbing once more, it wasn't the first time she wished she had not taken her facial structure from the purest Darcy bloodline, though she was infinitely thankful she had inherited none of the identifiable Fitzwilliam features from her mother. "I'm afraid my connection to the Darcys of Pemberley is through a paternal grandmother who lived rather a long time ago and was very strong-minded. If I had their sort of money I can promise you that I would most certainly ensure that Atkins ate this sponge."

"So you really are related?" It was several minutes later when Elsie finally spoke again.

"Yes ... though I doubt any of the family would agree with me." Annie-Bug gave a cheerful grin. "Think I should state a claim to the Estate and Lands which will be up for grabs if they ever decide Mister James Darcy really was killed in the bombing?"

"Ugh!" Elsie gave a shiver. "I couldn't think of a worse way to die. His friends and relatives must feel awful about it."

"Must admit that I can't really say ... forgot to ask when I visited for tea last week. You dream of marrying him did you?"

"No!" Elsie's response was a shade too emphatic.

"Oicks, Atkins is coming, scrub another slate and look busy." Annie-Bug suited her actions with words, more than happy to focus on the slates. Annie-Bug had managed the last bit with a steady voice, but her throat was tightening and she needed to get control of herself again. She had got much better over the months, but she doubted she'd ever be easy making jokes like that ... it still hurt.

"Darcy!" Atkins looked furious.

"Sergeant?" Annie-Bug scrambled to her feet, she had never seen Atkins so furious in the entire fortnight she had known the woman.

"You have a visitor." Atkins would probably have drunk vitriol by the gallon with greater pleasure than she spoke these words. "He's got the paperwork to terminate your shift as of last month if he felt so inclined." Atkins paused.

"Should I find another private to finish the floor?" Annie-Bug glanced down at the floor.

"Darcy, why do you have a visitor with the power to give you a holiday?" Atkins ignored Annie-Bug's enquiry.

"I couldn't say." Annie-Bug spoke calmly.

"Perhaps I can help ... perhaps you lied when you claimed no close relationship to the Darcys of Pemberley." Atkins was going to explode or catch fire if she didn't cool down soon.

"The Darcy Family does not recognise me as a relative ... so unless you are informing me that Mr. James Darcy himself is standing there with paperwork for my holiday I can hardly see why you might come to that opinion." Annie-Bug rested on the comfortable, though dismal reflection that this was entirely true. The only Darcy still alive who could claim her as part of the family, her own father Conrad, had disowned her many years ago. "Perhaps I am just wanted to drive someone to Oxford ... it happened before after all." Annie-Bug met Atkins' eyes levelly, for Atkins could not possibly know that it was Lieutenant-General Sir Edward Fitzwilliam who had seconded her as a driver for the day just over a week ago. Edward Fitzwilliam was one of the few people who had remained friendly over the years. In fact Annie-Bug was very worried about who would have come all the way here to spring her a half-day holiday. She didn't need another chewing out about how she had betrayed and disgraced the family name ... she had never liked her de Bourgh relatives and she liked them even less as the years passed.

"He is here now." Atkins stepped aside with a sour expression and Annie-Bug stared in disbelief at the man who was moving somewhat cautiously through the hallways.

"Jeroen?" Annie-Bug shook her head and then stared at the figure again. It was Jeroen and he had come to a slightly embarrassed halt in the doorway. "Jeroen!" It was too much for Annie-Bug's control and she flung herself into his arms. "What are you doing here?" Annie-Bug had her face buried in his jacket front and for this she was more than willing to face scrubbing the floor for the rest of her life. Even the concern that someone might join the dots concerning the name Jeroen didn't detract from her happiness in the slightest. The future could look after itself, but for now no one smelled or felt quite like Jeroen and she had missed him badly, which he deserved to know.

"Landed last week and it's been impossible to find anyone." Jeroen shook his head and gave a small shrug before hugging Annie-Bug. "I got your details from George and had to rCain cain to even get in here. What has happened while I was out?"

"Everything!" Annie-Bug would have happily remained where she was, but with a half-day holiday she wasn't about to waste it. "Come, I'll tell you over tea." Annie-Bug pulled free, grimaced appologetically at Elsie before dragging Jeroen back down the hall.

"Everything?" Jeroen followed Annie-Bug as she led the way through countless hallways. "All I've managed to discover is that Ashie is incommunicado and apparently recovering and that Button is in Africa."

"She isn't actually." Annie-Bug grabbed her hat and coat from her room. "Ashie hijacked her back a couple of weeks ago and they're lurking at Glendevie doing some hush-hush stuff. Ashie got the tongue-lashing of his life from Caroline for that stunt, which she found out about while he was still out of the country, and I think that is part of why he's made himself scarce."

"Surprised he managed to get away in the first place since he's actually marked as sick. Caroline was not keeping a very close eye on him?"

"She was ... but she didn't expect him to make a bolt in the middle of the night by way of the window ... he could barely walk at the time."

"Enterprising of him. Would have thought Caroline wouldn't let him out of her sight now."

"Caroline is his fiancée, not an all powerful goddess who can reorder the working of his mind." Annie-Bug gave a snort. "Caroline just yelled at him and then stormed out and now they'll have a contest to see who can ignore the other for longest ... it'll probably be another month or two yet unless something really earth-shattering occurs to force communication."

"I had assumed Caroline was exempt from that..." Jeroen hesitated.

"Most certainly not." Annie-Bug gave a grin. "Ashie is really quite irrational on the matter and Jim and Uncle Darcy were the only people I've ever known to make him back down and retract on the subject."

"Why was Button in Africa at all?" Jeroen decided it was time to change the subject.

"Well she had to go somewhere and Ashie had a friend who needed a secretary." Annie-Bug hooked her arm through Jeroen's arm as the reached the road. "It was Rory ... well Lila really, but the press show it as Rory and Button. Brian says that Rory's gone to Burma and improved out of sight already ... but that's the RAF for you, Brian would not say he was still a lout since he remained in the service. You might have seen the beginning of the fuss, but it was a messy scandal for Lila persuaded Rory that Button had been in love with Jim for months. The press really love writing about Jim's possible love life since it's only ever supposition and he can't sue them for printing it. Rory was idiot enough to tell the press what he thought of Button and Jim and that created just the scandal Lila wanted. Button really would have had her goose cooked if Jim hadn't got her out of London and frightened the press into leaving her alone. Anyway, Button then had to get out of England because ... well ... you crashed out and we all got a bit ruffled, particularly since neither Ashie nor Brian could find a whisper of you afterwards ... we thought you'd been caught and shot and that was bad and there just wasn't the time to ensure that the press left Button alone."

"Grim." Jeroen nodded briefly. "Then what? Surely you didn't move that fast. Jim said he'd..."

"Well, Jim was killed..." Annie-Bug looked up briefly. "With Jim and Pemberley gone in the same batch of bombs there..."

"Killed at Pemberley?" Jeroen looked startled as he broke in on Annie-Bug. "But..."

"Well he was last heard of returning to Pemberley on the ninth and it was bombed an hour later." Annie-Bug interrupted in her own turn. "We've heard absolutely nothing since and he's not been seen either. Ashie's checked, and all the vehicles are accounted for and he's not hired anything ... even Jim can't walk more than about ten kilometres a day with that stump of his so he'd still be recognised for at least two days after departure but no one saw him and Brian and Ashie were quite exhaustive in their search."

"Mmm." Jeroen frowned as he carefully considered his next words. "Jim lifted me off the Swedish Border on the thirteenth with instructions on how to get back to England. It was rather circuitous, but Jim wanted the direct trip for himself since he was expecting trouble. Jim said he'd tell you and Button by the fifteenth, at the latest, that all was well with me."

"But..." Annie-Bug looked up sharply. "He's been silent for three months now."

"I know." Jeroen put his arm around Annie-Bug's shoulders. "Don't worry, he'll probably turn up in the next day or two cursing the weather, or pneumonia, or something similarly pointless."

"Pneumonia is not pointless for anyone ... not even Jim." Annie-Bug gave a small shiver.

"True." Jeroen looked around and then up at the sky. "Why Stella Darcy?"

"Anneliese de Bourgh Darcy couldn't get a job of any description, so I changed my name just enough that my Darcy features are explained, but I'm not connected with the 'real' family."

"Ingenious ... do they believe it?"

"They seem to accept it ... though Atkins can be pretty poisonous at times. Do you think he's alright?" Annie-Bug looked up at Jeroen.

"No." It was a long minute before Jeroen finally responded. "Jim said he would tell you ... and it's something pretty serious that would prevent him from telling. The last time he broke his word he was in Hospital and unconscious. I've never heard of him breaking it before that ... and in some respects he's pretty free with promising things."

"You think he might have got sick again?" Annie-Bug looked hopeful, but her expression sank when Jeroen responded with a brief shake of his head.

"If he's sick someone would know, for Jim would go to a safe house as soon as he felt it start ... you've heard nothing. The network have heard nothing ... and the Nazis, like you, presume him dead in Pemberley."

"But..." Annie-Bug stopped. "We need to tell Ashie."

"That I am aware of ... but I'll be damned if I face both him and Annette alone when they have no warning that I'm not dead."

"But..." Annie-Bug stopped and studied the road. "I'll go file for some leave ... at worst you'll have to delay visiting them for a week or two. They're currently up at Glendevie and sorting through Jim's stuff."

"Button is helping Ashie sort through James Darcy's private junk?" Jeroen's eyebrows were lost in his hairline as he stared in disbelief at Annie-Bug. "But..."

"Button's approved, initially because Jim said she was sound ... and then she simply proved it to Ashie himself that she could work as hard as he could and cope with even the most hair-raising irregularities his mind could conjure up. She's a saint in some respects Jeroen, for nothing overset her, worried her, unnerved her or discomposed her ... she's almost as good as Juliette, probably better if she'd had the training we've both had."

"No thank you." Jeroen's tone was dry as he turned them around to return to Annie-Bug's barracks. "I do not think that Button requires that sort of training."

"True." Annie-Bug gave a little skip before hooking her fingers through Jeroen's. "Do you think the Nazis might have caught him as someone else and not realise they have him?"

"He's James Darcy, Annie-Bug." Jeroen sighed. "I don't want to cast a damper on things, and I certainly do not wish to try and presume things upon him ... but considering how wildly alert everyone's been for even the slightest intimation that Jim is not playing on the level as a neutral, I seriously doubt that he can be caught in Europe and not identified for who he is. All things apart, he is unquestionably a Darcy ... and there just aren't many of those in the world."

"So either he's dead ... or we never really knew him." Annie-Bug had stopped walking.

"Do you really think the latter is possible?" Jeroen's eyes were steady as they asked the question.

"No." Annie-Bug shook her head before giving a small sniff. "If it was I would prefer him dead." Annie-Bug gave another small sniff before she buried her face in Jeroen's shoulder.

Jeroen kept still for a few moments Annie-Bug cried into his shoulder. Annie-Bug did not cry often, it was not an encouraged act among de Bourgh Darcys, and as a result she never cried for long when she actually did. Jeroen listened to the inelegant gulps which indicated that Annie-Bug's training was fast getting instinct back under control and in its proper place.

"Sorry." Annie-Bug's voice was thick as she dried her face on her cuffs and blew her nose vigorously into her handkerchief. "I'll get leave ... I suggest we collect Caroline before going to Glendevie, for I've a sneaking suspicion that it's not an easy place to find."

"Caroline can find it?" Jeroen's brows rose slightly.

"Caroline part owns it ... besides which I know for a fact that Ashie is going to need Caroline when you dump the cold pudding in his lap that Jim was not wiped out by the bombing, but by something else, as yet unknown. Ashie will undoubtedly deny it and be filthily rude when we arrive ... but that's Ashie for you, he'll probably appologise to Caroline after he's settled down."

"We can't take someone else?"

"The only other person who might manage to prevent Ashie from tearing off to Europe to find out precisely what happened to Jim is probably his mother ... and regardless of your wishes there is no way I am travelling even in the near vicinity of the Dowager Countess of Deraux."

"Brian says she's not very nice." Jeroen glanced at Annie-Bug thoughtfully.

"She makes my grandmother look like a petty bungler in the field of politics and manipulation." Annie-Bug's tone was curt. "Ashie hasn't spoken to her in about thirty years and I don't blame him. There are some people in this world who are the very essence of why Button was so down on the aristocracy. Uncle Darcy said that if Lady Amabel had been in charge of the German Forces in the Great War there wouldn't be a single soul still breathing in Germany when she signed the Armistice papers ... or perhaps I should say when her ghost signed the armistice papers. She's utterly ruthless and quite determined to have her way, Jeroen. Lady Amabel's way is the right way and the only way and you will follow that way. She hides it very nicely behind a faded and demure visage, but I swear she'd make the devil himself quake in his shoes. I thought Juliette was going to follow in her footsteps ... but now..." Annie-Bug stopped and frowned.

"What is the difference between you two?" Jeroen lifted an enquiring brow. "Jim said you were different sides of a single whole and yet most people would say that two less identical people could not exist."

"When we were young there was only one difference ... that difference was the fact that Juliette could keep a secret and I couldn't even if my life depended on it ... and certainly not if I was told it was a secret. Grandma had no time for someone who was so stupid they couldn't keep a secret, so I was sent off to the relatives and Juliette was brought up by grandma. In some regards I was fortunate, for I was taken in by my Uncle Darcy first, but then my Aunt Elizabeth died and he went overseas and I was just too young ... and he wouldn't have taken me anyway. Then the Lieutenant took over my care and upbringing and he was kind enough to ensure that Juliette and I attended the same schools at the same time. The real split came at fourteen when Ju went to Belgrade, when we met at the Finishing School in Paris I almost didn't know her but for the fact it was like looking in a mirror. It was funny, grandma spared no expense to ensure I was kept out of her life and yet..." Annie-Bug stopped.

"Darcy!" It was Atkins' stentorian roar which caused Jeroen and Annie-Bug to look up from their discussion.

"Sergeant?" Annie-Bug stepped to one side as Atkins drew level, Jeroen had released Annie-Bug's hand and retreated from the playing field.

"You're on charge."

"Yes, Sergeant ... for what?"

"Unbecoming conduct."

"Oh." Annie-Bug blinked and Jeroen recognised the blankness of her expression for the danger sign it was. "How?"

"Fraternizing with an Officer of another service."

"Oh, but..." Annie-Bug stopped again because Atkins clearly was not listening.

"You'll not wriggle out of it this time, I have photographic evidence."

"But..." Annie-Bug's eyes widened abruptly and Jeroen didn't blame her for photographic evidence could prove to be a major danger ... particularly if it got into circulation. Annie-Bug did look quite different with short hair, but not that different that she would pass unrecognised even to old friends.

"Wriggle out of it?" Jeroen easily caught up to Annie-Bug as Atkins began leading her back to barracks.

"A lieutenant made an advance I didn't appreciate. Atkins was willing to swear I encouraged him, but they were kind enough to take my word over Atkins' of what happened and I only received a reprimand for allowing myself into a situation he might take such action in."

"What about this?"

"Won't hold glue, there's nothing in the regulations reprimanding my hugging a fiancée whom I have not seen in several months. They might reprimand me for getting an emergency half day for such a frivolous reason, but it can't possibly be worse ... even if they do recognise me."

"Anything reduce it to no penalty? Surely a reprimand will prevent you getting leave."

"It will." Annie-Bug rubbed her head. "Can't bring Jim up or it would blow the entire works. Even the fact that I believed you dead probably won't carry the day ... in fact I doubt anything short of a special licence would." Annie-Bug shook her head irritably, then gaped for Jeroen had come to an abrupt halt in walking. "You don't?" Annie-Bug shook her head in disbelief this time. "What about Jim? He put his foot down for a reason you know."

"He also lifted it for a reason." Jeroen pulled the creased and dirty sheet from his pocket and handed it over.

"Oh." Annie-Bug stared in disbelief at the signature on the back of the licence. "But..."

"Hadn't actually intended to bring it up in this manner but you spoke a bit too pat for me ... he gave it to me just as we split and said he didn't care what we did with it."

"But ... " Annie-Bug stopped again and hastily pushed the page back to Jeroen. "You keep it for now."

"Certainly ... I'll even forget I have it if you want."

"Umm." Annie-Bug stopped because the private on duty was attempting to stop Jeroen from following into the Barracks.

"Men are not permitted past this point." The girl was inspecting Jeroen very closely indeed.

"Maisie..." Annie-Bug stopped as Maisie held up a hand.

"Atkins' orders, the scoundrel is not allowed in."

"Then we'll simply wait out here." Jeroen closed his mouth and stepped away from the gate, keeping Annie-Bug behind him. "You can give that to Sergeant Atkins with my compliments."

"You an officer of some type?" Maisie studied Jeroen curiously.

"Acting Squadron-Leader." Jeroen's voice was dry.

"Ouch, she can't argue with you." Maisie stepped aside and lifted a telephone which had abruptly shrilled. "Sorry Sergeant, but he's saying how as Private Darcy is going nowhere without him ... you'll have to admit him, or bring Charlie out." Maisie listened for a moment before hanging up. "Sergeant Atkins is not happy."

"Charlie?" Jeroen looked curiously at Maisie.

"New Disc. Off." Maisie gave a shrug. "We're all under orders to call her Charlie unless a General, Admiral or Air-Marshall comes to call."

"Nice if she's the Charlie I know ... though she was only a Sergeant when I last saw her." Jeroen shrugged his shoulders and leant against the wall.

"What the devil are you doing canoodling with anyone, Bug?" Charlie's familiar horse-face and evil scowl appeared in the gateway.

"I wasn't canoodling." Annie-Bug glared straight back at Charlie.

"Atkins thinks you were."

"Atkins is blind." Annie-Bug straightened her jacket.

"Looked like he was wearing an Air Force uniform."

"He was, Charlie my love ... do we really have to be wasting what little time off I have?" Jeroen finally spoke up.

"Oh ... I thought you were deceased at last." Charlie shook her head. "What is it with men who can't stay decently dead? Suds is apparently being accommodated somewhere in Germany at Hitler's expense. Thought we'd got rid of him for one blissful week."

"Sorry, I'll try harder next time." Jeroen gave a small grin. "Now, can we get back to our half day or can it be instantly expanded to a weekend?"

"With those papers you could probably upgrade her rank and get her posted to any place you damn well chose ... where did you get them from?"

"A mutual acquaintance who's gone missing." Jeroen twisted his head and cracked his neck. "Annie-Bug is urgently required in Scotland to help me break some horrible news to the much respect employer of Neddie ... also to let Neddie know that I'm still breathing."

"I'll give you a week ... and if I fail to file the request and permission just wave those papers and she'll merely be reprimanded." Charlie gave a grin, a wave and retreated back behind the gate. "And tell Neddie I want to see her before she goes anywhere else in the world. Not at all polite for her to ignore me in such a manner."

"She ignored everyone." Jeroen gave a nod and then frowned. "Is it safe to let Bug in to gather some odds and ends?"

"I'll breathe down her neck while she does it and let Atkins believe that I'm bundling her off to penal servitude." Charlie gave a wave before making it look very much like she was frog-marching Annie-Bug back to the barracks.

"You're not from these parts." Maisie studied Jeroen with a pair of bright eyes.

"Squadron's in the north somewhere." Jeroen gave a shrug.

"Stella seems to like you."

"Bug was engaged to me the last time I spoke to her ... haven't yet verified whether I still am or not though."

"Why call her bug?"

"Why not?" Jeroen lifted his eyebrows and gave a soft chuckle as Maisie closed the gate with a huff.

"Well, I like her so you be nice if you're going to be engaged to her."

"You terrify me ... but I'll keep it in mind." Jeroen chuckled again before stepping back as Annie-Bug arrived with a small backpack.

"Bye Maisie ... I'm off to the jug."

"Bye Bug." Maisie clanged the gate shut.

"You did have to tell them that." Annie-Bug grumped as she resettled her bag.

"I seek only to please you." Jeroen squinted his eyes up and then grinned. "Come on Bug, we've got to get cracking."

Continued In Next Section