Beginning, Previous Section, Section XXXII, Next Section
Darcy leant restlessly against the bonnet as he waited for even one familiar face to appear, admittedly he was five minutes early, but that didn't stop him from worrying.
"Sir." The voice spoke from his elbow and turning Darcy observed a youngish private who had clearly not seen much action yet, his uniform had that curiously unworn look which hung around uniforms for about a month after arrival in France.
"What can I do for you?" Darcy was relieved his warm was draped across his shoulders else he would almost guarantee the Private would not be so politely friendly.
"Is your name Darcy, sir?"
"Yes."
"Awfully sorry Sir. Private George Frent at your service. Sister Baker doesn't actually seem to know your rank and Sister Bennet hasn't said anything except that we're running late so you must excuse my not knowing your rank."
"Your motor near here?"
"Just round the corner, sir."
"You been down to Fontainebleau?"
"No sir." George shook his head.
"Then we can get lost together." Darcy pulled the battered map from behind the wheel and spread it out on the bonnet. "If we believe this map, and I think it is safe to, we should go practically straight there by taking this road."
"Well let's try that then, Sir, and at worst we can tour the countryside for the day."
"No thanks." Darcy folded the map up again. "I have a General to collect at three and I do not think he will be polite if I'm late."
"I could imagine not, sir." George gulped nervously. "That mean we take Sister Bennet when we return Sir?"
"Preferably, I think the General would not approve if I turned up with any passengers at all."
"Yes, Sir."
"Oh there you are George!" Philadelphia came charging up. "Morning Sir, Lizzie will be here in a minute. George, are Harry, Bob, Charles and Fred here yet?"
"Sitting in the motor. If you'll excuse me Sir?" George ducked his head, semi-saluted and then dragged Philadelphia away around the corner.
"No problem." Darcy gave a nod as they left and cast another glance up the drive, it was only now striking the half hour.
"Awfully sorry we're late." Elizabeth at that moment came charging around the turn with Sarah and three other sisters trailing behind her. "Sarah, Frankie, Jane and Clare, this is General Darcy." Elizabeth came to a breathless halt. "Mr. Darcy, Sisters Sarah Johns, Francesca Hollow, Jane Marks and Clare Stevens."
"How d'ye do." Darcy gave a brief nod.
"There you are Lizzie, I thought I heard your voice." Philadelphia came flying up. "Do introduce the boys for you said his rank doesn't work anymore."
"Delph!" Elizabeth gave an exasperated sigh and rubbed her face. "Sir, permit me to introduce Privates George Frent, Harold Phillips, Robert Smith, Charles Adams, and Frederick Ross." Elizabeth paused while Darcy gave a brief nod to the privates, and took a deep breath she was feeling somewhat nervous about the other introduction for this could ruin the entire trip. "Privates, permit me to introduce Major-General Darcy to you."
"Major-General!" George's eyes nearly fell out of his head. "Good morning Sir. Delph! How could you forget to say he was high ranking."
"Is he?" Philadelphia blinked in surprise between the men.
"You can't get much higher. I do apologise for being so forward earlier sir, it was not intent....." George was interrupted mid apology.
"Private, shut up!"
"Yes sir." George clamped his mouth shut, but it was clear to all that the other Motor would hear plenty on this subject.
"I did not come here to hear apologies, neither did I come here to be the General......for the next four hours. Now, can we please get moving.....Private Frent, the fault is not Sister Baker's for she has not even seen me in over six months and then I had a different rank, if the fault lies anywhere it lies with me because I chose to wear my overcoat, with the intent of warding off this utterly embarrassing situation as long as possible. Now please, our luncheon awaits and I'm known for my bad temper when I get hungry."
"Yes sir." The Privates fled to their motor with the other sisters close behind.
"I'm awfully sorry, I had actually forgotten that Delph was so scatter-brained. I honestly thought that they actually knew."
"Not your fault." Darcy slid into his seat and swung the motor smoothly out into the traffic, the other motor fell in directly behind them as they passed and soon the two motors where racing along the quieter roads towards Fontainebleau. The inn where they stopped for luncheon was a quaint stonebrick building, but Darcy stopped them only just long enough to gather a basket of food and a couple of flasks before continuing a short distance down the road, where he carefully drew off from the road and parked the motor. Elizabeth had been staring in utter silence since before they had reached the inn, and it was with a faint smile that Darcy got out of the motor and started unloading the luncheon.
"Is it real?" The question came a minute or so later and turning Darcy observed that Elizabeth had finally left the motor.
"It would certainly appear to be so." Darcy straightened up and abruptly gave an imperative hand wave, a move which brought the occupants of the other motor slowly across. "May as well get this lunch eaten as fast as possible, there is nothing those privates want more than to get away."
"Does that surprise you?" Elizabeth looked curiously up at him.
"Not in the slightest." Darcy settled down and acquired a sandwich and a mug of tea, the privates were hanging back. "Will you sit down and eat, I am not a one man variety show and if you don't sit I'll leave." Darcy growled in annoyance and the privates practically fell over each other in their hurry to be seated and eating. The air was silent and constrained and Darcy, having worked his way through an impressive number of sandwiches and three cups of tea abruptly stood up. "Sister Bennet, seeings as you are finished, would you object to taking a walk with me?"
"Not at all." Elizabeth stood up and they moved off, leaving the behind them a small group which almost immediately started talking.
"If I know anything of privates we can return in five minutes and there won't be a single one of them in sight." Darcy swung his stick at the grass before angling off and leading the way into the forest. "And don't you even consider feeling guilty and apologising for such a constrained lunch."
"How did you know?" Elizabeth asked the question after a brief pause.
"Bennie." The response was brief. "Your brother tried to take the blame for everything, automatic response, a problem arises and Bennie starts to apologise. Frequently it is nice to just let things go like that, but I'm afraid it's a situation that I find to be totally unacceptable it is unfair to all if someone takes the blame for everything, especially when most of it they couldn't have done a thing about."
"Such as?"
"Such as because my boots were wet and I'd banged my head against the roof again I was in a decidedly bad temper, and as a result nothing was right with parade. Nothing Bennie could have done about it, but he was apologising as fast as he could get his mouth open."
"But...." Elizabeth stopped.
"Quite accurate, he was a Lieutenant and certainly should not have been behaving like a private with a guilty conscience. Now do you mind if I change the subject?"
"Not at all." Elizabeth was in truth relieved that they could drop the subject and it was with light small talk that they occasionally conversed as they swung a wide loop through the forest. Fifteen minutes after they had left the lunch spot Elizabeth found that they had returned to it, and as Darcy had predicted it was completely empty.
"Tea?" Darcy had first checked that there was some in the flask before he made the offer.
"Please." Elizabeth handed across both mugs to him while she settled comfortably on the blanket.
"Comfortable?" Darcy returned her full mug to her.
"M-hmm." Elizabeth gave a nod and a comfortable silence fell which was only occasionally broken by the birds or the wind.
"Oh damn!" Darcy sprang to his feet as he swore softly under his breath, he grabbed his hat as he left and was sprinting for the road, at the same time he was buttoning up his jacket again. Elizabeth stared after him in perplexed silence for a moment, and then she abruptly saw what was up, for a third motor was parked with the other two and a uniformed figure was walking curiously around the military one. Elizabeth hastily repinned on her cap, which she had removed prior to eating and hastily retied her apron before she hurried over to stand behind Darcy's rigid figure.
"....you have any idea who I am?" The question was irrascibly asked.
"Yes Sir." Darcy's back was rigid and he had not even twitched from his salute. Elizabeth took one nervous look at the man and then took a firm grip on Darcy's free hand. The man was a burly and square individual, and his rugged face was not improved by the livid scar which twisted down his forehead before vanishing under an eye patch, the scar then emerged from the bottom of the patch and twisted away to the man's ear. Elizabeth could not say why but the face seemed vaguely familiar.
"Do you know the rules regarding the use of military equipment?"
"Yes Sir." Darcy's hand had tightened comfortingly on Elizabeth's.
"Do you know what happens when you break those rules?"
"Yes Sir."
"Now perhaps you can explain what a military car is doing here?"
"I have been sent to collect General Mayhew from L'hopital de Francais, currently near Fontainebleau."
"You realise that this is four miles off the direct route?"
"Yes sir."
"Who owns the other motor?"
"Some acquaintances." Darcy had stiffened even further.
"At ease....acquaintances?" There was definite question in the voice.
"Your pardon Sir." Elizabeth realised that she had to interrupt now or things could get messy. "They are actually my friends, I had heard that General Darcy was down this way and I asked him to join us for luncheon."
"Indeed?" The only visible eyebrow rose slowly, but Elizabeth knew much better than to respond and she tactfully withdrew and took cover behind Darcy's immense form. "And who might you be?"
"Sir, permit me to introduce Sister Bennet to you." Darcy sidestepped so the General could nod to Elizabeth. "Sister, this is General Mayhew."
"How do you do Sir." Elizabeth gave a brief curtsey and promptly retreated to stand behind Darcy again.
"Fiancée?" The General shot Darcy a sharp look.
"Uhh, yes Sir." Darcy's hand tightened almost painfully in warning, but it was a warning Elizabeth had no need of, she had no intention of opening her mouth again.
"Congratulations....but please remember that military vehicles are not to be used for courting. I'll see you both later." General Mayhew gave a brief nod, while Darcy stiffened into another salute, and retreated to his motor which then drove off.
"Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn! Da-amn!!" As soon as the motor had vanished around a corner Darcy dropped his salute and swearing in a hard and vicious voice he went storming back towards the luncheon things. Elizabeth, stunned by the viciousness of his departure took a few moments before she managed to gain the courage to chase after him.
"Mr. Darcy."
"Not right now Elizabeth, I'm too bloody furious to be rational." Darcy was repacking plates with a speed and force which nearly cracked them, and Elizabeth suspected that more than one would be chipped.
"Why?" Elizabeth caught Darcy's hand as it reached for another plate. "You can't help it that the General passed, it just happened."
"But I could have helped some of the things I said and that is what I'm so furious about. It was totally unnecessary, untrue, uncalled for and utterly irrelevant to say you were my fiancée. In fact all it's done is create a bloody embarrassing situation for everyone, and not the least for you." Darcy abruptly shook his hand free and reached for another plate.
"David!" It ripped out of Elizabeth before she could stop it, and she promptly bit her lip, both in nervousness and in terror, how on earth would he respond. Darcy responded by freezing, not a muscle twitched, it was as if he had suddenly turned to ice, and Elizabeth was even more scared than ever. Silence enveloped everything, even the birds fell silent, and Elizabeth realised that she was going to have to break the silence. "Is the idea that repulsive to you?" Elizabeth hated the way her voice sounded, it trembled and seemed to quaver in a most ridiculous way. Darcy seemed to take a deep and slow breath, and then he carefully placed the plate he was holding into the basket, but he still hadn't turned to face her.
"What did you say?" There was a wary uncertainty in his tone.
"I....I asked if the idea was so repulsive to you."
"What idea?" The wariness, if anything, had become more pronounced.
"Well.....about...." Elizabeth was feeling terribly embarrassed, and in fact there was nothing she wanted to do more than run away and hide. "Being engaged to me." It had come as a rush in a small whisper, and Elizabeth promptly turned away. In truth she did not want to hear the answer, as if it would be the answer she hoped for after she had been so rude to him. He had been a good friend and for that she could indeed be thankful.
"....not in the slightest." It was somewhat abruptly that Elizabeth realised that Darcy was speaking. He was using a cool and decidedly businesslike voice, and Elizabeth realised that she was not the only one who was dreadfully embarrassed. "In fact the only objection I have at all is that I never asked you. I just announced the fact and created an embarrassing situation."
"It needn't be." Elizabeth's response was barely more than a whisper.
"Needn't be what?" Darcy's tone returned to its wariness.
"Needn't be embarrassing." Elizabeth focussed hard on a nearby hedge, the sky, anywhere but on the scene.
"Are you saying what I think you're saying." Darcy rubbed irritably at the scar on his neck.
"I don't know." Elizabeth was fast coming to the conclusion that she didn't know anything, in fact what she wanted most was for the ground to open up and swallow her whole. "Oh let's just drop it, this is going nowhere.' Elizabeth abruptly rose to her feet, but a strong hand stayed her departure.
"No Elizabeth, this has to go through.......it's gone too far now." Darcy rose to his feet and caught her other hand. "I want to ask you to marry me...but I'm not going to unless I think a positive answer is likely."
"Do you actually think I'd have remained silent if I had had objections to your saying I was engaged to you?" Elizabeth abruptly looked up from the tops of her boots. "Not even a brother-in-law could pull that on me, so you can rest assured I will not shred you if you propose again."
"Oh Elizabeth, I adore you." Darcy abruptly pulled Elizabeth in and hugged her fiercely.
"I'll take that as your proposal and my acceptance....must admit that I was put off a proposal from bent knee years ago.....and the fact that you'd probably still be taller than me seals the fact." Elizabeth mumbled the remark somewhat incoherently into Darcy's shirt front.
"Why?" Darcy released her sufficiently that she could talk coherently.
"You know." Elizabeth gave a slightly self-conscious laugh. "Church play, nothing like having a brother proposing to you in what he considers a soulful manner.....besides which Mr. Collins also used the knee approach and I'm of the opinion that it doesn't work."
"When did you reform your opinion?" There had been a few minutes of silence before Darcy asked the question.
"I honestly can't say, but I think it was Nash."
"Nash?" There was definite enquiry.
"He's too faithful to you to be a servant held in durance vile. He worried about you, he kept an eye on you, gave you hell when you were being stuffy and was so rarely polite that most people assumed that he hated you bitterly....."
"Did people actually think Nash hated me?" Darcy looked startled.
"Only like they think that Ashie hates you."
"Well Ashie certainly doesn't miss an opportunity to abuse me." Darcy grimaced ruefully.
"You don't miss all that many opportunities to swear at him either." Elizabeth voice was slightly reproving.
"It's good for him." Darcy responded in a dismissive tone.
"My point exactly, if I didn't know both of you reasonably well I'd think you hated each other as well."
"Why do you say it that way?" Darcy looked up curiously.
"Ashie has been referring to me as 'The Major's Lady Love' for the past year more or less." Elizabeth pulled a face. "Now! Stop distracting me. Though both these men spent the better part of their time trying to persuade the world in general that there is nothing they'd like better than to run you through, they also are sufficiently concerned about you that they'll kill anyone else to help you."
"I don't know...." Darcy grimaced slightly.
"Look, Ashie didn't drag me very illegally into your headquarters a month ago for my health....in fact Ashie probably wouldn't have given a damn if it had killed me."
"Trust me, he did give a damn about you." Darcy responded quietly.
"Only because he has it fixed firmly in his head that your sanity is dependent on my existence."
"Well he can't be far wrong there...." Darcy's tone was grave enough until he met Elizabeth's doubting look at which point he exploded into laughter. "Trust me Elizabeth, Ashie likes you for yourself."
"How kind of you to say that." Elizabeth hesitated. "Why did you cremate Nash?"
"Nash doesn't like being underground.....very, very claustrophobic, took him a year to get the hang of living indoors of a solid building. Can't say I'm particularly partial of being underground myself and I'll quite easily wait until they chuck me into the cold earth."
"That is a foully inappropriate remark." Elizabeth punched the arm next to her.
"So true.....Tea?"
"Please." Elizabeth was handed a mug full of the now tepid fluid and she then settled back against Darcy's knees. Slowly the minutes ticked past in comfortable silence and then Darcy gave a brief stir.
"It's going to take at least a week for the Division to settle down to the new General....after I get back." Darcy was talking softly, almost as if he was talking to himself. "Even if it's only Hazy, we'll still have to reorganise everything. Then we'll be up front again which means a fortnight before I can even think of getting...." Darcy paused again and frowned blankly off into the distance.
"David?" Elizabeth called him somewhat cautiously.
"Mm?" Darcy refocused on Elizabeth's face with a grunt. "Sorry, got distracted for a moment."
"That's what I thought. David, do you want to marry me as soon as possible?"
"Frankly I'd marry you right now, but the fact remains that there is not a church and in ten minutes we have to go retrieve a General." Darcy paused. "But if you'd prefer to wait....."
"No." Elizabeth spoke forcibly. "That's why I asked you, if you want to wait....."
"Elizabeth my darling, even if I wanted to I can't.....and I don't want to. Time isn't something I've ever had to waste and I'm not about to start wasting it now over the most important thing in my life."
"How soon can it be done?"
"Literally speaking we could be married this evening, but frankly I don't like the idea of having to race it all. After tonight the next time I'm even going to be visible is in about a fortnight...possibly as long as a month, though I should be able to wrangle a day or two of leave when we do surface, but there's no guarantee and then you'll also need to get some leave, half a day at least."
"It all sounds horribly complicated, I'd much prefer just to stay here."
"Pleasant though the suggestion is it is not feasible, we have a General to pick up still." Darcy moved as he spoke and resumed his interrupted task of packing away the luncheon remains and in five minutes they were on their way, having left a prominent note attached to the wheel of the other motor stating that Elizabeth was travelling with Darcy and would meet them back at the hospital.
"Basic research is when I'm doing what I don't know what I'm doing." - Wernher Von Braun
Nathalie looked cautiously around the room; it was occupied by three men. The first man was tall, relatively slender but clearly not weak, he had introduced himself as the Count and had given no other name. The second man had spoken to no one, but had been referred to as Phillipe, he had been clearly attached to the Count and he seemed to be a guard of some type. The third man had introduced himself as Major John Smith and his appearance was as unimpressive as his name. Major John Smith was a hair under average height, but he was a fraction wider than was the average and Nathalie had the feeling that if he were to remove his shirt he would be very heavily muscled indeed, but neither height nor width were such that they would be noticeable. Major John Smith had a head of hair of an indiscriminate brown and was possessed of a square face with no notable feature. In fact the most striking thing about Major Smith was that he was an utterly unimpressive, if asked to describe him five minutes after he left Nathalie knew she would come up empty handed.
"Gentlemen." Nathalie nodded briefly and all three gave a polite nod in return. The silence which fell was not comfortable, it just was. Phillipe continued to stare out the window, his face a blank as a pancake. The Count was occupied with studying a small book and Major Smith stared at the wall, gently rubbing the toes of his boots on the calf of the other leg.
"Matron Nathalie Beausoliel, formerly Nathalie Bonnard and Giselle Vernard of the Paris Ballet." The Count spoke quietly, almost as if he was reading it from a book. "Father Dr Pierre Bonnard, former professor of Medicine at The Sorbonne, now head Doctor of L'Hopital de Francais. Mother Felise de Perriac, housewife, deceased fifteen years ago. You are now 28 years of age and married to Aristide Beausoliel who was a Sergeant in the French Army, now deceased, Verdun. You have no siblings and nearly no friends......dedicated people never have friends and you were dedicated." The Count paused and finally looked up from the book he was holding to pick up a small picture from the table next to him. "Do you recognise this person?" The question was asked as he handed the small silver framed item across to Nathalie.
Nathalie hesitated for a moment before she finally took the small frame and flipped it over so she could view the contents. There was a moment of silence and Nathalie knew that every eye was resting upon her as she studied the picture. The picture was of a man in a faultless morning suit. The man's face was thin and arrogant; it was the picture of a man so assuredly confident in himself and his own abilities. Dark hair was brushed straight back from the forehead in the continental style and the dark eyes gleamed with intelligence from under heavy lids. Nathalie was about to return the picture with an apologetic shrug when abruptly something caught her eye and she took a closer look at the picture. Before Nathalie had been positive that she had no knowledge of the man, but now as she took a second look she knew that she knew him.......and she knew him very well indeed.
"Yes, I recognise him." Nathalie handed the frame back to the Count; the composure of her expression belied her state of mind.
"Who is it?"
"To my world he was known as Georges Wickée, to his world he was Graf Georg von Nickel."
"Now how do you know that?" Major Smith looked away from the wall a flicker of interest dancing across his face.
"He told me so, he produced all the evidence to attest the fact."
"At last we have the link." The Count gave a soft sigh. "Gods be praised Lydia, for what we thought was stupid was a move which saved us all." The Count paused for a moment. "Would you mind telling us of your entire acquaintance with Graf von Nickel?"
"Why?" Nathalie looked thoughtfully at the three men.
"Please Count." Major Smith finally stepped forward and he did it with a faint smile. "Matron, for the passed three years we have been searching for a man. This man started his mission just before the war began, and his aim was to steal the placement of the British Home Fleet. Fortunately his plans were foiled. We imprisoned this man and until January of 1915 we assumed he was dead. In January of 1915 this man turned up again, we still had no name for him, we had no face for him. In January he received his first name Georg, there was no other name he was known by. Unfortunately at the same time as Georg was seen and named he also vanished and remade himself. The man surfaced again in November of 1915, he surfaced as George Wickham, a Lieutenant in his Majesty's Armed Forces. Once again Georg slipped through our fingers....this time it was because we were looking for Georg, not for George Wickham. February of 1916 found Georg in Turkey where he had been giving us hell. July of 1916 found him in Brighton, England. August he was in London, England. September he was in Paris, France.......where he was shot but not injured seriously. It was in August, while he was in London, that we were finally told who he really was and managed to start putting together a history of him. But we have two major holes in his history and as a result we are still nearly as blind as we were before. The first hole stretches between 1910 and 1914.....the second hole is the past year. Only one person can tell about the past year and he certainly won't......but it is a general belief that Giselle Vernard can fill the other hole."
"I see." Nathalie paused and looked thoughtfully at her feet for a moment, already she could feel her mind and memory pulling away from the present. "Georges was my replacement partner, Phillipe broke his leg and he was replaced by Georges....Georges had only been with the company a short time, but no one could question his skill as a dancer."
"Giselle." Madame was beckoning imperiously from the other side of the room. Giselle had promptly ceased her exercises and crossed the room, when Madame called everything ceased.
"Yes Madame?" Giselle had glanced briefly at the small group. Madame was standing with Georges, Heinrich and Claudio. Where was Phillipe?
"Phillipe has broken his leg, Georges is to partner you in the upcoming Romeo et Juliet."
"Yes Madame." Giselle had looked enquiringly at Georges and he had smiled. Georges always smiled in those days, there was no cheerfulness to it, he did it like he did the daily class. 'Engage cheek muscles, this is a smile, disengage muscles...next exercise.' It did not matter what he did with his face his eyes always remained the same, dark and hidden. Georges eyes held no hidden cheerfulness, when the situation called for a smile he smiled, but otherwise it was like talking to a rock wall for all the expressions he used. Giselle had smiled perfunctorily back and then nodded and returned to her stretches and warming up.
"Georges face did what he told it to do, nothing more, nothing less. If Georges told his face to smile, it smiled, if he told it to frown, it frowned." Nathalie paused. "Georges has no emotion, he generates emotion when required. There is no question Georges was a superb Dancer and Actor but there was nothing beyond it, his life was dead and a blank. Where did Georges live? No one knew. He danced with the Paris Ballet for three and a half years and in all that time no one even knew if he lived in Paris or off the world all together.....and yet no one thought it at all bizarre."
"No one thought it bizarre because George made it normal." The Count spoke softly and mostly to himself. "I apologise, I interrupted you."
"It was strange, no one knew anything about Georges, and yet universally he was liked. Georges was the most popular dancer Paris Ballet ever had....possibly he was the most popular they will ever have." Nathalie paused.
"Four years in Paris." Major Smith whistled softly to himself. "Four years in Paris as a popular man......no wonder he slipped through our fingers, we never thought to trace for pre-war roots."
"Sir?" Nathalie looked enquiringly at him.
"I do apologise." Major Smith looked vaguely apologetic. "I was talking out of turn."
"Georges Wickée was demoted after your retirement and he retired within a month of that demotion.....why?" The Count brought attention back to the matter on hand.
"As with theatre stars, you get a good partnership and people automatically connect the name. Vernard and Wickée, we certainly had our faithful followers....those same faithfully followers would never see us apart and Paris Ballet knew that. When I retired Georges popularity nose-dived. Georges knew it would happen, I knew it would happen and as a result he also retired within a month and left Paris."
"If you knew it would happen why did you retire?" Phillipe looked away from the window.
"Why do you ask?" Nathalie looked at Phillipe curiously, this question had totally different under tones to all the others.
"Phillipe is a professional trapeze artist......He finds it an assault on his professional morals that someone would end the career of another." The Count spoke softly.
"Would he consider it an equal assault that I did not retire and as a result dragged both of us down into the mud of 'stars who stayed too long' because I was completely unable to trust Georges as a partner any longer?" Nathalie struggled to contain the slow burn of irritation. To become annoyed would not help and it could hurt a lot.
"With that consideration I have no problems." Phillipe flattened his hands pacifically.
"You shouldn't." The Count rolled his eyes, a move which almost drew a laugh from Nathalie.
"Why shouldn't he?" Major Smith looked quizzically between the two men.
"The Circus world is not quite so polite as the Ballet world......a partner never retires." The Count responded cryptically and Major Smith bit his lip firmly, Nathalie was sure she did not wish for an explanation of that remark.
"And now that we have finished with all that shall we proceed?" Major Smith broke the silence which was rapidly forming.
"That introduces the question of what is to be proceeded with.....unless Matron Beausoliel thinks there is more of interest." The Count was pulling thoughtfully at his ear.
"Frankly I have seen nothing of interest in anything yet."
"It depends on the point of view." The Count abruptly yawned. "I think we can call this finished.....though we may wish to see you again."
"Well I'll make the assumption that you can find me if you want to speak to me and say very well then gentlemen." Nathalie rose to her feet as she spoke.
"A safe trip to you." The Count nodded politely as he spoke and then frowned out the window as the door closed behind her.
"Boss, when yer quite done malignin' me...." Phillipe died away and bit his lip.
"Phillipe.....I do believe your accent has slipped again." The Count rolled his eyes again. "Smith, was that all clear what I want to get to Parker.....and make sure that it gets right through to de Duivel."
"Who is de Duivel?" Major Smith lifted an enquiring eyebrow.
"If I knew that for certain do you think I'd call him by such a ridiculous name?"
"A point, a definite point......is he one of Mac's men?"
"No." The Count restored the small book to his pocket and finally crossed to the door. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got an appointment in Berlin which I would be devastated to miss." The Count gave a partial bow and then slipped out of the room with Phillipe on his heels.
"That's peculiar." Major Smith shook his head as he ducked through into the next room where Uncle Mac was seated. "Why does the Count have a second who speaks with a Yankee Accent?"
"If I knew that I wouldn't have bothered sending you in to speak at all......that is the fourth time Phillipe has apparently slipped and I'm rather of the opinion that they are deliberate slips."
"You don't think he's crossed the floor do you?"
"I have no opinion of the matter at all.....do you know where Chris currently is?"
"Nothing since he said he was returning to Europe in September." Smith paused. "You don't think he's been nailed do you?"
"I don't know what I think." Uncle Mac abruptly yawned. "General Darcy's in London isn't he?"
"He's certainly in England." Major Smith agreed cautiously.
"Then go tell him I want to speak to him.........Von Hense is a nuisance who must depart."
"But we don't have anything on him."
"So what? Darcy can complain about him and he'll be deported, exit problem." Uncle Mac shrugged.
"He's been around for rather a long time." Smith's protest was cautiously worded.
"Irrelevant." Uncle Mac shrugged. "Unless he was connected to Nickel......and he isn't or Nickel would have surfaced."
"Could it be Nickel?"
"It is not Nickel." Uncle Mac spoke with blunt assurance, it did not call for argument, it ended the subject completely.
When all the blandishments of life are gone,
The coward sneaks to
death, the brave live on. - George Sewell
Victoria shuffled wearily through the snow. It had been a tired and leaden day, nothing had worked at the school, most of the classes had failed quiz time, all had been late in from lunch break, the stove had been smoky and sullen so the schoolroom had been miserably cold.
"Vicky." It was a fairly toneless greeting that Emilie gave as Victoria stripped off her coat and it was with puzzlement that Victoria entered the room. Emilie was seated in her usual corner, but for once no knitting was in sight, Emilie was looking every last one of her ninety odd years and he hands were lying limply in her lap. Victoria turned her head and saw in stunned surprise that Mrs. March was slumped over the kitchen table, not a muscle twitching. Nervously Victoria shook a shoulder, there was absolutely no response, it was like shaking a rag doll. Victoria looked at Emilie with growing alarm, but Emilie just shook her head.
"What's going on?"
"She's alright Vicky, just upset. Do you think you could get her upstairs?" Emilie finally moved from her stillness.
"Well I can try." Victoria tried somewhat hesitantly, and ten minutes later she was sitting limply back at the kitchen table, it had nearly been more than she could manage to get Mrs. March into her bed. "What's happened Emilie?" But even as she asked the question the answer abruptly formed in her mind. "Elliot...it's Elliot isn't it?" At first Emilie made no response and then she slowly nodded. "What happened?" Victoria shot across the room and knelt beside Emilie's chair.
"We got the telegram today, just forty minutes ago." Emilie paused for a minute. "Wounded and Missing-in-Action, assumed dead. It will be several weeks until any further information will come."
"Assumed dead means possibly alive." Victoria looked up hopefully into the elderly face.
"Assumed dead to the army means even if he is alive they won't spend any time or money finding out whether he is or isn't......that's just their polite way of saying he's dead but they've unfortunately misplaced his remains." Emilie's expression was bitter. "His father was missing in action assumed dead for three years before they finally located the Private who shot him."
"I never realised Elliot's father died in action." Victoria blinked in surprise and then frowned, the truth of the matter was that no one knew what happened to General March he had just ceased making his irregular returns.
"Elliot's father didn't die in action, he was shot by one of his own Privates who objected to the disciplinary actions taken against a fellow Private."
"Ah." Victoria grimaced.
"Now you know why he never returned and no one ever mentioned the matter.....they hung the Private who shot him and left him out for the birds....three men dead because Harold wasn't happy with Parade Discipline....That's discipline for you, thousands of men have been executed at some time or other because Parade Discipline wasn't strong enough but only once or twice has retaliatory action been taken.....though there is no doubt that the initial action was necessary, if discipline is bad on parade it's going to be utterly useless on the front." Emily gave a shrug.
"You don't think that's happened to Elliot do you?" Victoria caught one gnarled hand.
"Child I don't know what I think." Emilie paused and stroked Victoria's cheek. "But Elliot is not the type who gets shot by his own men....much more likely that he was shot because he just clean forgot to stay out of sight."
"What are we going to do Emilie?"
"We're going to continue living. We have a farm to watch, a school to teach, Sunday school to lead, Red Cross to oversee, socks to knit, sheets to sew....shall I continue?" Emilie looked inquiringly at Victoria who was giggling in a helpless manner.
"No please don't." Victoria dried her eyes. "I'm sorry, I was in a bit of a funk and...well...." Victoria paused, uncertain of her ground.
"Don't worry, I've had forty minute to get over my funk as opposed to your three minutes. Now if you'll see what you can do in the way of dinner I'll see what I can do in the way of knitting.
Dinner that evening was a quiet meal and Emilie was knitting between mouthfuls. Victoria had watched for perhaps a minute before she too began knitting around mouthfuls the evening passed in similar silence, Emilie continued to knit and Victoria took to sewing sheets when she finished marking the homework from the day before.
The clock struck the hour of eight with a musical ching and Emilie deliberately laid her knitting to one side and began folding up the blanket which rested on her knees.
"Bed Emilie?" Victoria looked up enquiringly from the white linen she had been occupied with.
"Not really, but I should go." Emilie hunched her shoulders. "I do not think I'll get up for the next week, I really cannot face Mrs. Becky."
"You mean I've got to face her all alone?" Victoria's eyes widened in alarm.
"Don't mind me Vicky." Emilie chuckled softly. "I'm just giving into my witchish foibles and trying to tell the world to go to hell.....but I haven't managed to hell the world in 90 years and I won't be starting now, unfortunately." Emilie gave a sad little sigh. "Well time this old witch went to bed....and you, you little witch, had better be close behind."
"I don't think I can sleep tonight." Victoria spoke softly.
"Well don't be surprised by it, I'm not going to sleep either.....but I'm still going to bed." Was Emilie's bracing response and it drew a weak laugh from Victoria. But Victoria did not feel like laughing, and fifteen minutes later when she settled with a shiver onto the chair on the front porch she still did not feel like laughing. Victoria did not feel like crying either, in fact she was feeling nothing at all, it was as if a dead void had opened up within her and swallowed all the colour from the world. Monochromatic lighting suited her mood beautifully, hushed and still, a dead world. Elliot has been gone for three weeks already! The thought jarred against her like a cracked bell. Three weeks later and the idea of missing the person was ludicrous.....even if he should be missed at all.
"Not only does he not come home, but our right to grieve is stolen." Victoria stared out sullenly across the snow, she wanted to cry but the tears would not fall. Victoria wanted to scream and kick, but pride would not let her. Elliot was not a relation, they were nothing but friends and as a friend grieving was not allowed to her. Victoria bowed her head and blotted out the world with her hands, it was not fair, if they showed signs of grief they would be reminded that the telegram did not say dead, and if they showed a cheerful face they would be reminded of the fact that the telegram said assumed dead. Victoria lifted her head once more and the stillness abruptly made her shiver it was as if nature were waiting, listening, poised and ready for action....waiting. Victoria abruptly jumped to her feet and hurried into the house, she didn't want to wait, she didn't want to think, she wanted to work. Work until her bones ached and her fingers could hardly move. Work until she was physically and mentally exhausted. Work until she could think no more and could feel no more.....work until she could no longer feel the void within her.
They called it freedom of choice.....I call it the brainwashing of what we call civilisation.
"Mr. Darcy!" Isabelle Dellingham looked up in surprise as Davids showed him into the room. "...Sorry, General Darcy." Isabelle corrected herself with a smile.
"Why is it that rank or no rank every acquaintance of mine greets me with a stunned 'Mr. Darcy!'....complete with exclamation mark."
"Possibly because you are so remarkably good at turning up when you're least expected." Isabelle gave Darcy a quick hug before inspecting him gravely. "You are terribly thin and grey, if I did not know you better I would call you ill."
"I have never been better in my life." Darcy settled down into a chair which creaked protestingly under his weight.
"Interesting." Isabelle gazed thoughtfully at Darcy for a moment in total silence and then abruptly her hand dropped. "You've finally asked her?"
"No." Darcy shook his head, a faint smile twisting up the edges of his mouth as he observed Isabelle's puzzled look. "Imagine, I've finally managed to floor Isabelle Dellingham."
"You haven't floored me....you've utterly confounded me." Isabelle frowned. "Tell old friend, Parker isn't due for another two hours and I won't give you tea unless you tell."
"Such a fearsome threat." Darcy rubbed his chin, his smile becoming even more twisted and rueful by the minute. "I didn't ask her...and she didn't ask me.....it just sort of happened."
"Will you ever give a straight response?" Isabelle shook her head in exasperation. "Are you or are you not engaged?"
"I am.....that straight enough?"
"Yes.....Who to?"
"Sister Elizabeth Bennet.....who else would it be?" Darcy looked at Isabelle in puzzlement.
"How should I know....for all I'm told by your letters you might be marrying the man on the moon."
"I'd rather not." Darcy had wrinkled his nose thoughtfully.
"You are horrible."
"And Lady Isabelle is impolite." Darcy gave another slight smile.
"I'm sorry." Isabelle abruptly vacated her seat and settled down next to Darcy's feet, the smile had not reached his eyes. "Please, I won't tease you any more. Pax Romana?"
"I wish it was." Darcy gave a sigh. "I'm sorry Izzy, life's hell and thanks to the Americans it's going to stay hell for a while longer."
"You don't like the Americans?" Isabelle's expression became wary.
"No, I've got nothing against the Yanks.....just been around Ashie too much lately."
"And what is that cryptic remark meant to mean?"
"We're nearly exhausted Izzie, if the Americans had not decided to become combatants this war would be over by Christmas. We might not like the result and in all probability in twenty years time we'd be back at it again because one or all the parties will be unhappy with the situation which was imposed by pure exhaustion. Instead we're going to slog it out for another year at least and probably only the United States of America will be happy with the end result.....so we'll be at war again in twenty years anyway."
"That doesn't make sense." Isabelle shook her head.
"It's purely a matter of motive.....ask Parker about it, he'll more than fill you in for Churchill is very decided on his views.....for all his mixed heritage."
"Motive?"
"We entered this war because a treaty was breached, we have no particular dislike for the Germans, we're just fighting them because they had the gall to invade territory which we had signed a treaty guaranteeing peace over. We want nothing from this war, we'll gain nothing at the end, we'll have lost a lot in the process, but we will be able to say that we have kept our promise, we have fought to restore Belgium to her rightful Monarchy."
"So why have the Americans entered?"
"Because their trade is at risk, if we lose this war, they'll have lost one hell of a lot of money and they will have lost their access to the Suez Canal and the majority of the Mesopotamian Oil fields....though admittedly they have more than enough oil in Texas. Likewise they'll have lost the majority of their access to Europe as well for Germany is highly unlikely to deal with them since they have clearly been pro-allies for the majority of the war. The other reason why is because they are sick of the Germans sinking their ships......but that's for the same reason as before, terribly bad for trade. See Ashie next time he takes leave....if he takes any this side of the armistice.....He'll give you an earful and a half on the subject."
"Which reminds me....how is he?" Isabelle finally returned to her seat the matter had clearly gone over her head.
"Ashie?....Better than should be expected." Darcy gave a disinterested shrug. "Turns up at the most inconvenient times he could possibly choose and then makes as big a nuisance of himself as possible while he's there and then vanishes again."
"That sounds very like James." Isabelle smiled. "I take it he is in reasonable health?"
"I'd wish reasonable brains on him first." Darcy scratched his chin. "Yes, currently he seems well though he's just had two rough patches."
"How rough?" Isabelle looked curiously at Darcy.
"Rough enough that I was strongly considering removing the citation." Darcy spoke softly, almost inaudibly.
"Goodness." Isabelle carefully closed her mouth again. "What was wrong with him?"
"Same as last time." Darcy scratched his upper lip with one broad thumb and then glanced across at Isabelle.
"You've spoken to Alastair?" Isabelle looked sharply across to Darcy.
"Correct." Darcy paused and scratched his lip again. "Alastair's only comment is that he's amazed that Ashie is still alive...a fact Miss Marshall will probably back up." Darcy scratched his lip again. "No one knows what internal damage Ashie has sustained, in fact they're only guessing that it's kidney damage which is keeps making him sick.....to put it bluntly nature may get him before a German bullet does."
"You know just how to cheer me up." Isabelle gave Darcy an old-fashioned look.
"Good, then maybe you'll agree to come shopping with me." Darcy pushed out of his chair as he spoke.
"Shopping? What for?" To say the least Isabelle was startled, startlement which became bewilderment as Darcy just gave her a puzzled look.
"What for? What on earth do you think for?....I'm not buying Elizabeth a French ring." Darcy's expression was not impressed.
"Ah." Isabelle rubbed her nose, hoping Darcy did not observe her twitching amusement.
"Have you met her?" Darcy turned back abruptly.
"Elizabeth Bennet? No I have not." Isabelle shook her head and was abruptly over taken by a fit of coughing which was as brief as it was violent.
"Manners Izzy, it is not wise to laugh at a General.....is my box still here?"
"Yes....I believe Parker put it in the safe."
"Can you get into the safe or is it Parker's private safe?"
"I have a key.....do you want it now?"
"Please." Darcy returned to his chair while Isabelle slipped from the room.
"Your box." Isabelle returned with the item in question. It was a small oblong box made of some dark and heavy wood and heavily banded with iron bands.
"Did you know I dropped this down a waterfall by accident?"
"Oh." Isabelle's voice was politely bored and Darcy responded with a laugh.
"To true, a more boring and pointless remark I could hardly have found." Darcy pulled the thong looped around his neck and revealed three keys knotted onto it. The key he selected was small and heavy. "And just to add to the useless information we spend three months ensuring that the lock could survive three direct hits from a gun."
"How interesting." Isabelle was not quite so successful at the polite boredom as a bubble of laughter formed.
"Isn't it just." Darcy wrestled briefly with the lock before he lifted the lid.
"What on earth are they?" Isabelle looked in astonishment at the contents. Row upon row of small boxes lined the inside and Isabelle wrinkled her nose at the dull looking supply. "You're rock collection?"
"In a way yes." Darcy carefully lifted away the first two levels and frowned at the trays then revealed before removing them again. "Hah." Darcy pounced on the box in the corner and tipped the contents into his lap before restoring all the other boxes to their positions. "Now let's see." Darcy held the first up to the light for a moment and then calmly discarded it, and several others which followed before he finally laid one on the arm of his chair and so the process continued.
"Your rock collection?" It was not until Darcy had finished his second sorting that Isabelle finally spoke.
"Mm-hmm." Darcy nodded, clearly paying little to no attention.
"They look horrible."
"Not to the initiated." Darcy abruptly hooked up a dull whitish stone about the size of the top joint of Isabelle's thumb and easily flicked it across. Isabelle fumbled but held the stone and squinted at it before looking uncomprehendingly at Darcy. "You currently hold in your hand about 6,000 pounds.....or you could sell it for that much......worth about 10,000 if it was cut well."
"Cut well?" Isabelle gingerly handed it back. "What is it?"
"Uncut diamond." Darcy restored it to the small bag from where he had removed it.
"What are those?"
"Conglomerate, just odds and ends, you might get 1000pounds for them if you really fought over the matter." Darcy had continued sorting as he spoke.
"Are they all the same type?"
"No, top rows are fairly low quality but they get quite good near the bottom." Darcy finally set three stones aside and restored the rest to their box and the small box to its place in the big box.
"Ah so that's what the mysterious box contains.....when did you arrive Darcy?"
"Couple of hours ago." Darcy gave a disinterested shrug.
"So what are you doing with those?"
"Getting them set." Darcy frowned and produced a fine chisel and a fine clamp.
"Why?" Parker settled into a nearby chair.
"He's engaged at last and he refuses to give her a French ring." Isabelle waited until Darcy was clearly not answering before she answered for him.
"Who is it?" The query was voiced in the polite manner which society demanded, but some undertone in the question caused both Darcy and Isabelle to look curiously at Parker.
"Sister Bennet." Darcy responded slowly, his eyes didn't even stir from Parker's face.
"Have I met her?"
"I don't think so." Darcy shook his head but still he did not return to the work he had been doing.
"Is there a problem Parker?" Isabelle looked curiously at her brother.
"No." Parker shook his head. "Remind me we need to talk after dinner Darcy....but for now I'm going to sleep."
"Sleep well." Darcy watched as Parker retreated with a grave crease between his eyebrows. "Izzy..?" The question went unfinished, it didn't need finishing and Isabelle responded with a small shrug.
"I have no idea....if you'll excuse me I'll go see what I can find out."
"Go, feel free to go, I'll be very poor company for the next hour or three." Darcy returned his attention to the small stones as Isabelle let herself out of the room.
"You good company yet?" It was six in the morning when Parker stuck his head into the small parlour. "Obviously not." Parker grinned to himself as he withdrew his head for Darcy was asleep in his chair.
"Is he awake?" Isabelle was now totally adjusted to her brother's hideous hours and used them herself, with the help of a short sleep most afternoons.
"Very, very asleep." Parker grinned and then yawned. "Tell him to be around at lunch time, I need to speak to him, it's important, but I've got to leave now."
"I'll tell him." Isabelle nodded in resignation and handed Parker his coat.
"Was that Parker who just left?" It was ten minutes later when Darcy's voice interrupted Isabelle's solitary breakfast.
"He left about ten minutes ago, so probably yes." Isabelle paused and glanced at Darcy. "Breakfast?"
"Please.......you know it's awfully quiet here."
"Is it?" Isabelle blinked in surprise. "Parker wanted you to be in at lunchtime, he says he has something important to discuss with you."
"Will do......compared to France it is excessively quiet and it makes sleep quite difficult."
"I'm afraid I can't ready order noise.....and certainly not of the right type." Isabelle gave laughing shrug and handed Darcy a plate of food and a bowl of heavy porridge. "Sorry if you don't like porridge, but we use it to pad out the meal here."
"I have no problem with porridge." Darcy suited his words with actions and was eating quickly.
"What is the situation in Russia?"
"Hellish.....to state the matter simply." Parker paused and then blinked. "Why do you ask?"
"The last reliable news I had of Russia concerned the battle in the Augustow Forests."
"There are no battles left now.....Russia's pulled out of the war and signed an armistice." Parker paused. "Okay, they haven't done either yet, but they will have before the new year."
"Why?"
"They had another revolution two days ago. Chap called Lenin is now in power and if he's to stabilise everything they're going to have to shut down external distractions.......and war is one hell of an external distraction."
"A point." Darcy nodded slowly. "Indeed it is a point........okay walk me through this, I heard from Ashie that there was a fuss over there but nothing more....that was back in March."
"Well let's see." Parker paused and frowned at the far wall. "Czar Alexander II is currently being held by the military, he's been held by them since March. The Imperialistic Regime has been replaced by a provisional government....it was very provisional. A lot of peculiar things happened as the government reshuffled and then came the offensive in Eastern Galicia on the first of July. For the first ten days it looked very like the war was over....."
"Let me guess, then the German's reinforced the Austro-Hungarian forces and what began as a brilliant assault turned into what was close on a bloody embarrassing run for life?" Darcy lifted an eyebrow.
"Nearly right." Parker nodded. "It was a brilliant assault.....it was a bloody embarrassing run for life. The German's called it quits at Tarnopol. But then resumed it in the North of Galicia and went and took Riga in September....they also got the Estonian Islands which has opened up the Gulf of Finland to the Prussians." Parker yawned and then frowned. "That covers the military activity on the Eastern front since March."
"Political Front?" Darcy turned a thoughtful head and looked at Harry from the corner of his eyes.
"Now that is interesting." Parker nodded slowly. "How about I start at the beginning once more. March saw the decline of imperialism in Russia."
"Decline?"
"Fine, have it your way, utter and humiliating collapse." Parker looked faintly irritated.
"Please continue."
"April saw a convention of the Ukraine National Council at Kiev, they elected a Rada and became an autonomous republic on June 23rd."
"Ah." Darcy nodded pensively.
"Late July saw the approval by the Russian Minister of War, Kerenski, of an Independent Czechoslovakian Army....that came after a Czechoslovakian Brigade made an impressive showing in the first part of the Kornilov Offensive. The Czechoslovakian Army was put under the French Command on October 9th....being sailed out to the Western Front....but I'll be damned if I know when. July 18th and the Finnish government took over the powers as formerly exercised by the Russian Czar over Finland."
"That sounds like trouble."
"It is. July 30th and Latvia declared political autonomy. September 3rd brought the fall of Riga and the arrival of the better part of Latvia under German supremacy. September also brought a convention at Vilnius and even though they have long been under German Supremacy, Lithuania has declared Political Autonomy as well. October brought a similar declaration from Estonia but they have yet to install a government. November brings an interesting proposition from the Germans to Poland of all Countries and we are correspondingly nervous about it. Germany has promised Poland an Independent Monarchy."
"Are they hoping to win the Poles as Allies?"
"Of course they are." Parker shrugged. "But the Poles won't go."
"The Poles won't go." Darcy started to slowly nod. "Pride of people, you can no more buy the Poles than you could buy the British Army. Damn it all, am I sick of war.....why did you call me in?"
"This is a very bad way to start on the subject......but I doubt you'll give me another chance so I'm going to take it." Parker sighed and glanced briefly at the ceiling. "Graf von Nickel.....everybody's favourite person."
Does that make sense?" Parker looked sharply across the table top at where Darcy was gazing blankly at the far wall. "Darcy are you with me?"
"Yes I am Parker." Darcy gave a resigned sigh and turned his head away from the wall. "You have just spent four hours telling me what I've known for quite a while now. Nickel is still out there, Nickel is a nuisance to everyone, Nickel must go....but you've got no idea how. Frankly I don't see what this has to do with me Parker, I'm an army officer who's had a few lucky breaks. I agreed other times to do the damn stuff because there wasn't anything else for me to do. I happen to be quite comfortably settled here. Possibly I would think otherwise if you had an idea where he was, but you don't."
"Darcy." Parker paused before continuing, to say the least ground was touchy.
Twenty minutes later Darcy was kicking morosely at a rock as he wound his way through the crowded streets of London, his expression was sourly bitter and with one final kick at the unoffending rock he swung around on his heel and stalked back towards Queen Anne's Gate, but ten minutes later he turned once more and stalked off down the road in the other direction.
"Parker." It was a sleepy looking Isabelle who was perched on the stairs when Parker walked into the house in Queen Anne's Gate at two the next morning.
"Isabelle." Parker nodded briefly and started distractedly stripping off his coat as he spoke.
"When did you last see Darcy?"
"Three yesterday afternoon." Parker paused and frowned. "Are you saying he hasn't come back?"
"He very certainly hasn't." Isabelle paused. "In fact he has been seen nowhere."
"What do you mean by nowhere?" Parker looked up cautiously.
"At eight o'clock Davids got busy with the telephone. He is not in Derbyshire, he is nowhere between here and Derbyshire....besides which his motor is still at Cheringham Place. The Cheringham Flat has not seen him in a year now. He is not in Kent. He is not at Netherfield and Bingley had not seen him or heard from him within the year. Neither has Alastair seen him but for an hour close on a fortnight ago when he delivered a General and stopped to discuss Ashie's current condition. He is not in a club, he has not been seen at one of his clubs....and neither is he in the house."
"Darcy is very capable of looking after himself." Parker paused as he pulled off coat, waistcoat and tie. "Especially when he is in a foul mood."
"What have you asked him to do now?" Isabelle's tone was resigned.
"I have asked him to do nothing." Parker draped his discarded clothes over his arm and started mounting the stairs. "I just let him know the background for a job which is coming."
"And so he is bitterly upset because he knows that even with a wife he's still going to turn up and do the job......Parker, if I were you I would be hoping like nothing on earth that Elizabeth Bennet is the type of wife he needs."
"And what type of wife is that?"
"A wife who can accept that no matter how much her husband loves her, he will still leave her for duty......duty which could well kill him."
"Enough Isabelle." Parker snapped shortly in response. "I have my own conscience, I do not need you to become one for me." Parker's face had tightened and he strode quickly up the stairs, leaving Isabelle to follow at her leisure.
"True you have your own conscience....except unlike me it never shuts up.....I hope Elizabeth Bennet knows what she's getting into." Isabelle sighed and shook her head in resignation before similarly ascending the stairs.
There may be many paths, but the end is always the same
Isabelle Dellingham was gravely studying the society columns when Parker came into the breakfast parlour, and the eye she turned him was not precisely friendly.
"Who was von Hense?" Her tone was on par with the eye which peered above the paper.
"That is what everyone wants to know." Parker settled into his chair. "Suffice to say that the War Office has decided that he is a person.....and an undesirable one to have in the country."
"So you kick him out of the country.....are you certain he's an undesirable, couldn't this be like what Darcy did two years ago?"
"What did I do two years ago?" Darcy's head appeared briefly around the door.
"I think she's referring to David Seymour's polite letters to the editor of the Times before we assisted you to depart the country."
"Oh that." Darcy shrugged dismissively. "Well since I'm not in trouble I'll wave my departing hand and take myself off. See you next time I'm in London.....I'll try and bring my wife with me." The glance Darcy gave Parker was not without underlying meaning and Parker responded with an urchin-like grimace.
"Please do." Isabelle smiled at him and then retired back into the newspaper again. Darcy lifted a hand and then banged the door behind him as he left.
"You were saying when he turned up?" Parker turned politely back to the table.
"I was asking whether this wasn't your 'unsuspicious' departures for an agent or something."
"Izzie, even if he was I certainly wouldn't be telling you, but since he isn't let me assure you that we merely wanted von Hense out of the country. The man was a walking liability and a damn sight too nosy for anyone's comfort."
"So without any solid complaint other than he is nosy you kick him out of the country.....and you blackmail Mr. Darcy to do it for you."
"So now we reach the real issue for the complaint." Parker removed the top from his egg. "Let me assure you there was no blackmail involved."
"No, I know, you just happened to mention it as he was leaving." Isabelle's tone was resigned. "Dear brother, there are times when I wish we lived in the middle ages, at least the language wasn't used to make threats. The threat was clear, I hold a knife to your back and you do the task. Today we make an idle comment seemingly in passing and everyone knows that someone has just received a direct order which will have nasty side effects if not carried out."
"And what may I ask could I do to Darcy?" Parker's tone was light.
"Nothing." Isabelle's tone was grimly despondent. "You merely play what you know of yourself off on him. You're not fooling me Parker, you're not doing this because you enjoy it, so will you please stop pretending that you actually like all this work and blackmail you do on a daily basis.....at least around the house."
"The Minister of Foreign Affairs would love to hear you speak......the mere thought of blackmail makes the poor man positively cringe. Dear chap wouldn't blackmail anyone."
"No, he just makes a suggestion and leaves the auditor to fill in the blanks of what subtle horrors will result if the job is not done."
"Tired?" Parker finally looked up from his egg.
"Very." Isabelle laid the paper aside and rose to her feet. "General Darcy knew who the man was....do you?"
"Then he is one up on me." Parker paused. "How do you know that he knew?"
"Because the newspaper quotes him verbatim on the subject......tell him to speak more quietly next time he wishes to encourage the deportation of a person."
"What?" Parker grabbed the newspaper and hastily found the page he wanted. "Who in hell could it have been?" Parker rubbed his forehead.
"Nickel?"
"Uncle Mac says it was not Nickel." Parker rubbed his forehead again. "Besides which, Nickel would never have let Darcy drag the whole situation and scene out into the street. Nickel much prefers the midnight flit to scenes and fusses."
"Well you probably know what you're talking about.....try not to bring him to London without his wife." Isabelle spoke the last softly as she left the room.
"Don't worry Izzie, if Darcy does not bring his wife next time he enters London it will be because she is dead." Parker's response was even softer and clearly not meant for any man's ears. "So von Hense has headed for Switzerland.....I do hope the Foreign Office is pleased with our efforts for we will undoubtedly hear about it if they are not." Parker pulled a gloomy face before hastily attending to the rest of his meal.
Life is lived forward and understood backward. - Soren Kierkegaard
Captain Ellis McKenna sighed deeply and then stretched back to scratched the rough furred head which he was leaning back against. The day had been very quiet, but likewise Mac had to admit gladness on the subject for his finger was not healing as quickly as expected.
"Hullo Mac." Freddie emerged from the recording office and yawned widely. "We've still got Paschendaele and the heads all seem to think that we've got it for keeps."
"Well that's a blessing and a half." Mac's response was almost sour in tone, but he gave a relieved grin anyway.
"That finger still bad?" Freddie looked enquiringly.
"Freddie I'm fast coming to the conclusion that it's not going to be anything else." Mac held up the member for inspection. The finger was swollen to three times its usual size and puss and blood seeped slowly and continually from the gash....a gash through which the shattered bone could still be seen.
"What the medic say?"
"It comes off tomorrow." Mac's expression was gloomily satisfied. "My loss to this war two fingers and four years...to date."
"Cheerful company aren't you. Well tuck the finger away and take a squint because I want to know if I'm right or I'm right and that is Ashie who is, as per usual, lining up to land with a dead prop."
"It's Ashie." Mac sighed as he saw the familiar ribbons and within five minutes Ashie was squatting beside him on the tarmac.
"'Lo Mac.....Forget it Nero.....How do Freddie."
"You outta fuel again?" Freddie's expression was resigned.
"Nope." Ashie shook his head. "I've actually got half a tank left."
"Then why the dead prop?" Mac straightened up in surprise.
"I reckon it's a miracle." Ashie shook his head slowly and seemed to have taken a wild divergence. "A mugger can jump me out of the sun fire three shots before he daftly flies in front of me and of course two shots miss entirely and the third wipes out the shaft coupling." Ashie shook his head as Mac and Freddie exploded in laughter.
"It could only be you Ashie.....I defy anyone else to have their prop shaft coupling blown out." Mac held his aching sides and wheezed uncomfortably.
"Where'd the sod get you?" Mac smiled quietly to himself, that Ashie had lost his prop coupling said that a lot more than three shots had been fired. Likewise the probability of someone who had shot up Ashie's coupling straying into Ashie's line of fire was very remote.
"Just across the lines, I was at 18,000 ft at the time." Ashie grimaced ruefully.
"Priceless Ashie, you owe me a drink or I'll tell everyone."
"I'll stand you both two drinks, but first I need a shaft coupling before I become late and Thomlin takes the hide off me."
"Would he?" Mac looked up sharply curious.
"Well he's have a damn good shot at it, I've had a rotten couple of days, and that on top of the strafing and we've got bugger all for spares and I can't seem to keep anything intact."
"What were you doing out?" Mac was well acquainted with the fact that Ashie took dawn patrol and at three in the afternoon he should have been anchored at the Squadron.
"Florrie's taken crook." Ashie's tone was grimly satisfied.
"How crook?"
"Septic finger, we took the carver after it last night and he is appropriately sore this morning. Silly mutt had the top of his finger blown off a week ago, but decided just to wrap a bandage around it instead of taking it into the M.O......he'll never make that mistake again."
"I'm sure he won't." Mac winced slightly. "The Major back in France yet?"
"Very much back in France and has been running round like a dizzy these three days past."
"Why?" Mac settled back again.
"He got the Division, spent half a day thinking he'd been given the boot because they removed him from the Brigade before the order came through from H.Q. and since then he's been trying to thrash things into shape."
"Why the hurry?" Mac frowned.
"He wants to get married before they're shunted forward on the 16th and he needs to mangle half a day's leave for that." Ashie shrugged.
"So the Major's getting leg-shackled is he?" Mac rubbed his chin and then winced as he banged his injured hand against his shoulder. "Guess we're in for a bit of change here abouts then."
"No change, for a Darcy and particularly for General D.F. Darcy, duty has precedence over everything. His fortunate wife will see him when they can both get leave.......and all I can say is that fortunately she understands why. Sister Elizabeth Bennet....you know Mac it would give me infinite joy if she could leg-shackle him properly....unfortunately she won't even try, probably couldn't anyway." Ashie shrugged and then deprived the ack-emma of the shaft coupling he was carrying up.
Twenty minutes later saw Ashie wiping his hands clean in satisfaction as he sat in the cockpit listening to the satisfying whir clack of the engine turning over and the prop spinning.
"Hi Mac."
"What?" Mac crossed to the Came and smiled wryly to himself as he saw the blank board which currently served as an instrument panel.
"Something I want to show you over the lines, care to come?"
"Ashie, I can't fly." Mac extended the splinted and swollen hand.
"Scramble on the back, I'll fly you there." Ashie flicked some ropes over the back of his cockpit as he spoke.
"Holy smoke." Mac gaped at the panoramic scene which stretched out underneath the Camel. Mac had thought that the Ypres front near Paschendaele was a mess when he'd flown over the week before, but that had been nothing compared to the present. Mud, miles of churned glutinous mud surrounded the lines.
"You think that's impressive." Ashie's words were only just intelligible over the howl of the engine. "I'll take you a bit lower." The nose dropped as Ashie spoke and Mac watched in awed silence as the earth welled up in his vision and the old and the new trench-lines took on form, rolls of wire were scattered across the ground and here and there were derelict tanks and batteries and then abruptly Mac's breath hissed out in a sharp, astonished gasp.
"Good God in Heaven.....who was under that?" Mac stared in horror at the ground directly beneath them.
"Canadians." Ashie responded with a succinct yell. "And the Germans."
"Well I'm damn thankful it wasn't me." Mac took another look at the pitted surface, there wasn't a scrap of colour to be seen in the grey-brown mire. Shell holes were a common sight around the lines, but Mac was willing to swear he'd never seen such a concentration of them. There were not just a few shell holes scattered around, there were thousands of them, hundreds of thousands of them overlapping, deepening and enlarging each other. It was like......it was like nothing Mac could even imagine. Mac only semi-registered Ashie pulling around in a sharpish turn to return to the aerodrome, he could not remove his eyes from the sight.
"Sobering, what?" Ashie didn't speak until he'd killed the engine on the tarmac.
"That's war." Mac spoke softly and then frowned, Ashie was tapping the fingers of his right hand against the Bowden Lever of his gun with an astonished expression on his face. "Steady on Ashie, we don't want a round of shots fired into the hangers."
"I'm not depressing it at all." Ashie spoke quietly and then he abruptly shook his head and straightened up, simultaneously ceasing his assault on the lever. "Pyro took some photographs of that....you want a print?"
"Please." Mac nodded and then finally slid off the back of the Camel. "See you round Ashie."
"Same to you." Ashie responded at a yell as the Ack-Emma spun the prop and the still warm engine caught.
"You are late." Thomlin was leaning against the hanger door as Ashie scrambled down from his Camel.
"I'm not only that, but I'm also one shaft coupling in debt to 83." Ashie yawned widely.
"Ashie, have you any intention of ever returning intact and on time?" Thomlin looked concernedly into Ashie's face.
"No." Ashie responded bluntly and started to turn away, only to stop abruptly. "If it isn't the Major? What brings you here, sir?"
"You." Darcy responded coolly.
"I don't like the sound of that." Ashie responded flippantly, but Thomlin did not miss the wary flicker in Ashie's eyes and he doubted that Darcy did.
"You should." Darcy fell silent again, it was an awkward and uncomfortable silence and after a moment Thomlin shifted and then spoke.
"Unless I'm actually wanted I'll clear out." Thomlin promptly retreated as neither man acknowledged his comment. Thomlin had been gone for over a minute when Darcy turned and started walking away, the silence still held. There was no hesitation when Ashie followed and the silence continued except for the crunch of boots as the walked down the road until Darcy cut off into an empty field.
"Do you have any problems with my marrying Elizabeth?" Darcy came bluntly to the point the minute Ashie stopped beside him.
"No." Ashie responded quietly and he met Darcy's sharp look easily.
"Good." The silence fell again.
"Truth of the matter Major I'm thanking God she accepted you, I've yet to meet another woman who could come remotely near coping with you and your demons."
"Thanks, you make me sound like a charity case."
"You sometimes make me think you are one."
"I'm not that bad....yet." Darcy's tone was still short.
"I hear you got your division at last."
"Mm-hmm." Darcy nodded.
"I would say congratulations, but I know for a fact you don't want them."
"True." Darcy shot yet another sharp look at Ashie. "You need to get talking...you've got Thomlin worried, and he isn't easy to worry."
"No, Thomlin isn't easy to worry." Ashie agreed gravely. "Did you know my fingers were itchy this morning?" Ashie's tone was inconsequential, even dismissive.
"All fingers?" Darcy's face had at first been startled and then his brows had snapped together.
"All fingers." Ashie nodded his confirmation.
"Just itchy?"
"Nope." Ashie shook his head slowly and didn't bother trying to smother the slow grin which was forming slowly.
"Pain?"
"None." Ashie negatived again.
"Elizabeth's going to be over the moon when she hears this." Darcy's brows had relaxed and he was shaking his head gently.
"It's nowhere near through the woods....but I had to tell someone."
"It wasn't just this morning was it?" Darcy tilted his head enquiringly.
"No." Ashie shook his head. "Been intermittent for the past month or so, only this morning when I finally figured out what it was."
"Anything else?" Darcy was slowly shaking his head.
"Nope." Ashie shook his head again.
"You've got the rest of the day off......Elizabeth wanted to see you, she seemed to be of the opinion that she owed you special thanks."
"She doesn't, a year ago I merely threatened to kill her if she played you fast and loose."
"Ah." Darcy gave a quick and twisted smile. "So nice to know there are people looking out for me."
"Ever occurred to you that it was merely selfish, my continued existence out here is reliant on you after all."
"A point." Darcy paused. "Ashie, will you do something for me?"
"Depends on what it is." Ashie studied Darcy for a brief moment.
"Elizabeth, I can't keep an eye on her all the time.....I want you to keep half an eye on her as well."
"Those....." Ashie bit his tongue hard and winced. "The War Office haven't called you in again have they?"
"No." Darcy shook his head gently. "But they will within the month, Elizabeth knows that there are risks in marrying me, unfortunately she can't precisely trigger the alarms after she's been taken."
"Abduction?"
"The only one they'll dare take." Darcy's tone was somewhat dull. "Well I'll clear out....try and see Elizabeth today."
"I will Major, I'll also keep an entire eye on her for you." Ashie watched as Darcy left the field and then he slowly sank down onto his heels, automatically pulling off his gloves and rubbing the backs of his hands together as he did so. "My God have mercy on any man who dares interfere with your wife.....for assuredly you won't." Ashie smiled wryly and then stared thoughtfully down at his hands. As cold blooded as it sounded Darcy was not protecting his wife-to-be from attack, he was protecting potential attackees from the upshot of an attack on his wife-to-be. Ashie slowly pulled his gloves back on again and rose to his feet, duty called and he was going to have to hike for the Clearing Station where Elizabeth worked, though with luck he'd get a lift.
Author's note: The Battle of Paschendaele was photographed the day after and it was analysed that within one quarter square mile 0.5 million shells had landed.