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"I could readily believe that report on me varies greatly, and I would wish that you do not try to sketch my character now Miss Bennet, I fear the outcome would reflect ill on both."

"But if I do not sketch it now I may never have another opportunity."

"Be it not in me to deny you a pleasure Miss Bennet." The response was cold and definitely annoyed Elizabeth.

"Is your brother much like you?"

"My brother." An expression Elizabeth had no name for flitted across Darcy's face and as he had given no answer, Elizabeth was unwilling to start another question, and as he said no more the dance ended in silence with both of them unhappy with the outcome. Elizabeth had immediately departed and gone to the punch bowl, where she was detained by Miss Bingley.

"So Miss Eliza, I hear you are acquainted with Mr. George Wickham, Mr. Darcy's father's steward."

"So he has said himself." Elizabeth responded in a disinterested tone hoping that Miss Bingley would give up in disgust and walk away.

"I fear that he is not an acquaintance you should cultivate."

"And why not?"

"I have heard that he behaved shamefully to Mr. Darcy."

"And what did he do?"

"That I do not know."

"Then his crime and his descent seem to be the same thing."

"I beg your pardon, I was only trying to be helpful." Miss Bingley walked away, leaving Elizabeth to set down her punch glass in annoyance and walk out onto the balconies. She slid silently out onto the balcony and sat down in the shade of some shrub hoping that no one had seen her come and that no one else was out there, she wished to be alone. She had a moment or two of respite before a door opened and slow deliberate footsteps paced out onto the balcony.

"Sir?" It was a soft whisper and Elizabeth nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Yes Nash." The response was quiet, but even if the name mentioned had been unfamiliar the voice was unmistakable, one did not forget the voice of a dancing partner who annoyed you that quickly.

"You are five minutes late, sir."

"Just give it here." Darcy was more than a little annoyed, he had just had one of the worst dances in his career, not that he could blame his partner for it, and now Nash was taking him to task on a matter he was all too conscious about.

"I don't like it sir."

"I'm not asking your opinion, just give me the stuff."

"But sir..."

"Do you want me to hit you Nash?"

"No, sir."

"Then give it here before I bloody well do. I know, Alastair wouldn't approve of what I'm doing, you don't approve of what I'm doing, I don't approve of what I'm doing, but I damn well don't have a choice. Now give the stuff here."

"Sorry sir." Nash's response was apologetic.

"Don't be sorry, just don't try to tell me what I should and shouldn't do."

"Your cane sir?"

"I don't need it." Darcy hurriedly drank off the slight dose of morphia and sat down heavily on the bench.

"Will you be alright sir?"

"I'll be fine, just shut up."

"Yes, sir." Nash slid quietly away, and Darcy knew that Nash had gone to get his cane. There was a soft creak and Darcy jerked his head up, the last thing he needed was company at this moment. The sound wasn't repeated so after a minute Darcy lowered his head and ran a cautious hand up and down his leg, by the feel the problem was solely muscles unused to such a large amount of work.

"Thank you Nash." It was some five minutes later when Nash returned with the cane and Darcy had the feeling that it would come in use, but right now it was nearly suppertime and he needed to get inside.

"Sir?" Nash held out his hand having noticed that Darcy had seated himself in a position where he had absolutely nothing to help him get to his feet again.

"You need to get to bed Nash." Darcy took the offered hand and used it as little as possible, Nash's rather breathless condition did not escape his notice. "You need to get back on the machine."

"So fortunate for you, what stories I could tell if I wasn't dependent on that machine." Nash sounded a trifle disgruntled

"Couldn't you just, maybe I'll respond by finishing the job off." Darcy couldn't help a glimmer of laughter in response to Nash's devilish look. "Get to bed." Darcy waited until Nash had left the balcony again before finally re-entering the ballroom, he went immediately to his supper

Elizabeth scowled darkly out over the balcony as the door closed behind Mr. Darcy, she had never heard such arrogance before, Mr. Darcy hadn't even attempted to sound like he was paying any attention to Nash at all. Well if she had had any doubts about the history of Wickham her doubts were now settled, Nash was indeed dependent on something that Darcy could supply and he sounded disgruntled by his situation. Elizabeth shook herself and stood up, it must nearly be suppertime and she didn't actually know where she was meant to be sitting.

"Elizabeth." Jane caught her arm as she came back into the ballroom. "I've been looking for you all over."

"I was just outside Jane, the air in here is quite stuffy."

"Well it is nearly suppertime, besides which I needed to talk to you."

"What about?" Elizabeth carefully arranged her cheerful smile.

"Well you had asked me to ask Mr. Bingley about Mr. Wickham, anyway I did. Mr. Bingley says that certainly Mr. Wickham was to be given financial support through theological college, but there were some conditions attached. He doesn't precisely remember what those conditions were but he seems to think that Mr. Wickham behaved somewhat badly to Mr. Darcy. Mr. Bingley was somewhat unsure of the history as he has not seen Mr. Wickham in five or six years, but he does say that Mr. Darcy would never treat badly someone who did not deserve it."

"You surprise me Jane, I assumed from your expression that you had probably forgotten all about Mr. Wickham. Still I will certainly not say anything against the sincerity or honesty of Mr. Bingley's character, but I feel that his reading of his friend is inaccurate. I just heard the way Mr. Darcy treats his valet and he threatened to hit the man."

"Valet!" Jane let out an exclamation. "Oh dear, Mr. Bingley did say something concerning Mr. Darcy's valet, but I cannot remember what it was."

"Try Jane, please try, the man appears so unwell most of the time and he is apparently dependent on some machine."

"Machine." Jane grabbed another word and creased her brows. "What he said had something to do with Nash, apparently the man was shot in a hunting accident sometime last year. It was a shotgun and from what I understand the man has only one lung left. Bingley says that Nash is only alive thanks to his iron constitution and the generosity of Mr. Darcy as he is very reliant on a lung motor."

"And he thr..." Elizabeth suddenly marched away to the supper tables absolutely seething, that Mr. Darcy would even consider hitting a man so disabled...unless Mr. Darcy had caused the accident, after all hadn't Wickham said that Darcy had ensured that Nash couldn't tell. Elizabeth's head spun as the idea settled, surely even Mr. Darcy couldn't be that despicable...or could he?

"Lizzie, is something the matter?" Jane caught her sister by the arm worried that such a thunderous frown would cause talk.

"No Jane it was just an unpleasant thought. How was your dance with Mr. Bingley?" Elizabeth was satisfied with the diversion created by her question and listened with honest pleasure to Jane as she commented on her hopes and thoughts concerning that gentleman, until that gentleman arrived then Elizabeth excused herself and went to join Charlotte who was standing next to the wall looking at nothing in particular.

"Lizzie! How was your dance?" Charlotte was delighted when Elizabeth came up to her.

"Which dance? My dances with Mr. Collins were bad, my dance with Mr. Denny and my dance with Mr. McKenna were most enjoyable, however my dance with Mr. Darcy made Mr. Collins a most respectable partner."

"Lizzie! do not exaggerate."

"I'm not, as a dancer Mr. Darcy far outclasses Mr. Collins, but as a conversationalist he makes a drainpipe seem talkative."

"You seemed to be talking quite a bit after the first couple of minutes."

"Ten minutes Charlotte, and after that bout of silence we were arguing."

"Well then you must have said something for Mr. Darcy is not argumentative."

"Charlotte!" Elizabeth stared at her friend in amazement. "When did you become such a expert on the subject of Mr. Darcy?"

"I do not claim to be an expert on Mr. Darcy, I merely said that Mr. Darcy is not argumentative."

"Well I most certainly disagree with that!" Though Elizabeth had to admit that the argument on the dance floor was entirely her fault as she had been deliberately provoking him. "I spent nearly a week in his company and I can say that he provoked everyone he could, and did it deliberately."

"You exaggerate Elizabeth." Charlotte suddenly smiled. "'Evening Mr. Collins."

"Miss Lucas." The Reverend Collins nodded briefly then turned to Elizabeth. "Cousin Elizabeth I have just come to tell you a most amazing discovery I just made. I cannot think why it escaped me before, and I really deplore that it did escape me, my noble patroness Lady Catherine de Bourgh would be most disapproving if she knew I had made it. But I heard it from his own lips when he was speaking to Miss Bingley, the lady who was doing the honours this evening, I heard him refer to his aunt Lady Catherine de Bourgh and his cousin Anne de Bourgh. To think that I might possibly meet a nephew of one so highly respected, I must go and assure him that his aunt was well a se'ennight and one day ago. Too think that I had not known this before, I must plead guilty to negligence of duty and hope he will forgive me for not having introduced myself before. My ignorance must plead for my failure to pay my respects."

"You're not going to introduce yourself to Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth was absolutely horrified.

"No, I am going to introduce myself to the nephew of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, to call him Mr. Darcy is an offense when he is such a close relation to such a great lady."

"But I am sure that Mr. Darcy will consider your introducing yourself a gross impertinence." Elizabeth continued for most of a minute to persuade Mr. Collins that Mr. Darcy was more likely to take offense then he was to take it as a compliment if Mr. Collins were to introduce himself, but her protests were in vain as Mr. Collins spoke as soon as she paused to take a breath.

"Your forethought and concern does you credit Cousin Elizabeth, but I feel that I know better as I have been in the world for many more years than you have. Certainly I agree with you that he would be more likely to take offense than take it as a compliment if one of the rabble were suddenly to introduce himself to the nephew of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, but as an emissary of our noble Lord I feel that such a move as introducing myself would not be considered an impertinence, in fact I feel sure that he should take it as a compliment that I am concerned enough for him that I trouble myself to assure him of his aunt's good health..." At this point Elizabeth gave up even attempting to listen to what Mr. Collins was saying and it was with a sigh of relief and despair that she watched Mr. Collins leave them and approach Mr. Darcy some two minutes later.

"Lizzie." Jane suddenly came and stood behind her, with Jane's arrival Charlotte discreetly left.

"Yes, he announced his entire plan before he acted on it. He seems to feel that it is negligence on his behalf that he did not discover Mr. Darcy's relationship to Lady Catherine de Bourgh."

"Oh dear."

"That, Jane, is an understatement." Elizabeth watched with growing embarrassment as Mr. Darcy's expression grew ever more haughty and distasteful, before Mr. Darcy slammed the small notebook he was holding together and stood up. He addressed a few words to the bowing Mr. Collins, then turned and walked away to where the punch bowl was situated.

"Cousin Elizabeth, I have come to report that he was most gratified by the concern I had and he did not seem to consider it at all impertinent of me to so address him."

"I'm glad to hear it cousin." Elizabeth turned slightly then excused herself, she did not believe that the evening could get any more embarrassing.

"Why my dear Mrs. Lucas, of course it is to be. I have never seen a man so in love before." It wasn't until she started to sit down that Elizabeth realized that not only was she seated but one seat from her own mother, but Lydia was on the same table and Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth was prepared to revise her thought that the evening could not get any worse, it most certainly could, and plainly intended to do so. "And to think of my dear Jane so well settled in such a lovely house. Such a comfort for a mother to have a daughter so well settled."

"Mama!" Elizabeth hissed in horror, for Mr. Darcy could hear every word of what she was saying.

"Such a pity all the girls won't marry so well, in fact I'll be surprised if Lizzie here marries at all, she is so determined to be independent, and so...unladylike." Mrs. Bennet shuddered, but at the same time cast Elizabeth a 'told-you-so' look. "Those trousers of hers! But will she listen to her mother? Not at all, Miss Lizzie always claims to know best! But back to my dear Jane, it will be such a comfort to have her settled so close, she is bound to attract rich young men, and then the other girls will marry well to."

"Mama!" Elizabeth hardly even bothered to lower her voice this time, how could their mother so betray herself in front of Mr. Darcy.

"No Lizzie I will not be quiet, I do not care if Mr. Darcy can hear me, what care I for the opinion of such an ill-bred man? No Lady Lucas, none will equal my Jane in beauty, and such a relief it will be when she marries she'll probably stop working at that awful hospital, our life has been so uncertain ever since dear Folin died." Mrs. Bennet dabbed at her eyes affectedly and Elizabeth hurriedly excused herself from the table. She could take it no longer, it was bad enough having to listen to her mother talking about Jane in that manner, but to drag Folin into it. Elizabeth fled, but not before she noted that Mr. Darcy's expression had changed from disgusted contempt to grave consideration. Elizabeth returned from the ladies room as soon as she had recovered and immediately had an urge to return, for Mary had just risen to play and entertain the company. Elizabeth wondered how much it would take to bribe the floor to open up and swallow her as Mary began her first song. It was not that Mary was not a good piano player, in fact Elizabeth knew for a fact that technically speaking there was no better player in Meryton, unfortunately Mary's playing was as interesting as a slate pencil and her voice sounded the same. It was with eagerness that Elizabeth awaited for the close of the first song, but her eagerness was ill rewarded as Mary began a second song after very minimal encouragement. Elizabeth turned to look at Jane as the second song began, but Jane was sunk in conversation with Mr. Bingley, Elizabeth's composure was aided not in the slightest by the sight of Bingley's two sisters making signs of derision to each other, her eyes then passed onto Mr. Darcy, who continued to stare at his wine glass with impenetrable gravity, Elizabeth then looked to her father, who nodded slightly, then back at Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy sat there with one piece of chicken on his plate and with a full wine glass in front of him, it was such an odd setup that Elizabeth couldn't help but stare at it, why should he have one piece of chicken and a full wine glass?

"Thank you Mary, you have entertained us quite enough, perhaps if you let some of the other young ladies display?" It was the sound of her father's voice that drew Elizabeth away from her puzzle over the oddness of Darcy's setup and into the realisation that Mary has finished her second song and that she, Elizabeth, should be applauding. It was in a half hearted manner that Elizabeth applied her hands together and it was in sympathy that Elizabeth viewed Mary flush, it seemed her entire family were out to embarrass her and Jane that evening, how could her father have been so insensitive when it came to putting a hold on Mary's performance. Elizabeth glanced unconsciously back at Darcy as Mary descended and Miss Bingley ascended to the piano, but her unconscious glance turned into a very conscious study, for Mr. Darcy had now looked away from his wine glass and was studying Bingley and Jane with that same impenetrable gravity.

"Mr. Darcy!" Miss Bingley was only halfway through her technically complex piece when Lydia's shrill tones interrupted proceedings. "Mr. Darcy you promised me a dance!" A soft ripple of laughter eddied around the room when Lydia voiced her demand and Miss Bingley's music died away in an atonal chord. Elizabeth turned her head and stared at Lydia and Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy was staring at Lydia as if his chicken had suddenly sat up and started talking.

"I beg your pardon?" His tone was most blighting.

"You promised me a dance!" Lydia repeated her demand.

"There is no dance music playing." Mr. Darcy shifted slightly as if to close the conversation, but he obviously had not counted on the determined streak in Lydia.

"You promised me a dance!"

"Go on! Give her a dance!" It was one of the Canadian Officers who suddenly spoke up.

"As I observed before and as I will observe again, there is no dance music." Icicles were practically hanging off each letter as he uttered them.

"Well I'm sure our hostess will oblige us." The same officer cried. "Miss Bingley, please, some music we may dance to." Miss Bingley responded by closing the piano lid and descending back to her seat. "Alright! Miss Mary Bennet, will you oblige us with some dance music?" Mary immediately rose and took her position, giving out the warm up chords of a jig. In a remarkably short space of time the tables were pushed to the sides and couples had risen, Mr. Darcy himself had risen, but he showed no intention of doing anything other then possibly leaving the room.

"Let her what proposed it and him what noted the lack of music start it." Once again the Canadian's voice rang out and as he spoke Elizabeth felt a tap on her shoulder, and turning she observed Lieutenant McKenna to be holding out a mute hand. Elizabeth accepted it promptly and joined the other couples who were forming up on the floor.

"This could get interesting." McKenna's remark was made in a low undertone.

"Why do you say that?" Elizabeth looked at him curiously.

"We're nearly at quota for this particular floor and dance and our friend Mr. Darcy is yet to take his position with your sister."

"You think he actually will?"

"He has to." McKenna grinned suddenly. "Thanks to your sister's very public announcement, he is compelled to dance, either that or suffer a visit from the Canadians."

"Suffer a visit?"

"They're Canadians, not always precisely civilised in some of their notions and if Darcy lets them down I am sure they will make a fuss... " McKenna's explanation was interrupted by another yell from the Canadian who had really set proceedings rolling.

"Last one in is a Monkey with wax on his tail and they have to dance the jig a second time alone."

"I knew it!" McKenna's whisper was gleeful as Darcy suddenly dragged Lydia onto the floor, only just beating a flimsy looking officer in a Canadian uniform who was dragging Mariah Lucas.

"Hey! Lead the way man!" The Canadian immediately formed up behind Darcy and the other couples soon followed suite, and it was with surprise that Elizabeth identified the possessor of the voice in the flimsy looking Lieutenant. Mary, having patiently given warm-up chords through all of this finally went on and started the jig. The jig had been going for perhaps five minutes when Darcy suddenly fell. The room froze as he crashed to the floor, there was something terrifying about the way he fell, then Bingley was at his side in a flash from his position on the edge of the dancing.

"Are you alright S...Darcy?"

"I'm fine Bingley, just give me a hand up." Darcy grabbed Bingley's shoulder and hauled himself to his feet. He stood there for a minute gingerly testing his right leg before walking up to the flimsy Officer who began the matter, he limped only slightly as he approached the man, and before anyone could react Darcy had suddenly lifted the man into the air by his collar.

"Wha...?" The man's protest died away into a gurgle both from a sudden shortage of air induced by the hold on his collar and because murder was clearly to be read in Darcy's expression. Dead silence fell on the room, not a man uttering a word and everyone watching tensely.

"In future my friend, I suggest you investigate matters further before you interfere with things." Darcy then contemptuously dropped the man and turned towards the door. As he turned the room seemed to re-animate, some of the women fainted and there was an instant rush first towards the officer who was tugging weakly at his collar, then towards Darcy, who was limping slowly towards the door.

"Stop!" Mr. Bennet's yell caught the room by surprise and everyone stopped, including Darcy whom wheeled around and stared thoughtfully back towards Mr. Bennet, silence came to the room once more. "A more disgraceful display I have never before witnessed by members of the armed forces, are all of you intending to rough up one man?" Mr. Bennet looked enquiringly down at the officers who were headed towards Darcy.

"He attacked Lieutenant Phelps." A Canadian voice objected from somewhere in the mob.

"Who says he attacked Lieutenant Phelps?"

"I do!" A fairly burly looking Lieutenant stepped forward.

"Well permit me to introduce myself, my name is Colonel Bennet." A gasp of amazement went around the room as Mr. Bennet suddenly jerked the man off his feet by his collar. "Do you call that an attack?" Mr. Bennet returned the Lieutenant to the ground.

"No, sir!" The Lieutenant gave a stiff salute as his feet met the ground and he could resume regular breathing.

"Then why do you call his move an attack?"

"He's not an officer in the army!"

"How do you know?"

"He's not in any uniform."

"So an officer can do that and it is not called an attack, while a civilian is said to be attacking because he does the same thing?"

"Well, yes sir." The Lieutenant was starting to look uncomfortable.

"Then what makes an officer?"

"Well sir..." The Lieutenant started to look very uncomfortable.

"Mr. Bennet, sir." It was Darcy's soft tones, which interrupted the Lieutenant's nervous gurgling.

"Yes Mr. Darcy?" Mr. Bennet turned to look at Darcy.

"Perhaps you leave me to my own fights?"

"Darcy!!!" Bingley suddenly came to his feet.

"Bingley be quiet!" Darcy didn't even take his eyes off Mr. Bennet, while Bingley subsided back into his seat.

"Your fight Mr. Darcy? I thought you were issuing a warning?"

"Indeed I was, I was warning him in future to be wary of situations where someone refuses to do something. There is usually a reason for it."

"You trying to say there was a reason for your refusing to dance?" The second Lieutenant stared at him in disbelief.

"Seems odd doesn't it? Seems even odder that I was enough annoyed with my fall that I bothered to lift such a wispy scrap of humanity off the floor."

"I'll admit it, it does."

"Then I suggest in future you and your fellow officers make inquiries BEFORE enforcing a form of action."

"That still doesn't explain why you lifted Phelps off the floor."

"You care to fight the matter out with me?" Suddenly the entire room seemed to realise that Mr. Darcy was a good head taller than the rest of the room and at least as broad.

"Wax tail!" The Officer spat at Darcy as he turned away.

"Oh no you don't my friend." Darcy got in front of the Lieutenant in two steps and suddenly the Lieutenant was hanging by his collar. "Let me assure you my friend that no one wax tails me."

"Mr. Darcy, how do you know what he means?" Another Lieutenant came forward but he clearly was merely curious, nothing else.

"Not all of us are limited in our knowledge, you seem to have forgotten where that came from."

"Where what came from?" The Lieutenant lifted an eyebrow.

"Wax tailed monkeys. There were Canadian troops involved in the Boer War and the phrase comes from there."

"Know anything else about it?"

"Certainly, it is merely a translation of a curse which was used at Magreeta's Kraal."

"You've been to South Africa?"

"Before this war for a bit." Darcy suddenly shifted his grip then removed his right hand. "Name's Darcy, care to introduce yourself?"

"March, Lieutenant March." Elliot shook the offered hand.

"Hey March, could you see whether he'll release Morely, he's looking a bit blue."

"Would you possibly release Lieutenant Morely?"

"Depends." Darcy suddenly turned and looked at the Lieutenant he was holding, then made a sudden group of glottal sounds before dropping the Lieutenant back to the floor. "Now what were we talking about?"

"When you'd been in South Africa. You responded that it was just before the war. What did you say to him?"

"Wouldn't you like to know." Darcy smiled slightly and left the room.

"Well I'm a monkey's uncle." McKenna rubbing his chin and gave a silent whistle before suddenly meeting Elizabeth's surprised gaze.

"Why do you say that? And is it the monkey with the waxed tail which has just been under discussion or some other monkey?"

"I think it was another monkey I'm the uncle of." McKenna turned sharply. "Bing are you sure that the Major is in a hospital in Kent?"

"Quite sure Mac, do you think the Major would wear civilian dress and ignore you?"

"I wouldn't be sure, the Major has done some damn queer things before." McKenna rubbed his chin again.

"Well if he's that queer then I'm mighty glad I won't have him for a C.O. again. Damn it all he doesn't even play Major to me if he is the Major."

"What's this about?" Elliot suddenly stepped closer.

"Friend Lieutenant McKenna here, known to all as Mac, knew the younger brother of Mr. Darcy. He has most intelligently observed along with most of the rest of the human race that there are many similarities between Mr. Darcy and his brother."

"Brother of Mr. Darcy?"

"Yes, last I heard of him he was in a Kentish hospital with his leg in a cradle. Major by rank, Major by manner, and I doubt you'll get far in France without hearing at least of his immense height. He was my Commanding Officer until we got shot up at Loos."

"That must have been fun."

"Not much, to much noise and blood for it to be fun."

"Do you know what he said to Morely?"

"Haven't the faintest idea." Bingley admitted with a grin. "I don't happen to be fluent in any form of language other than English."

"A pity, now Morely's going to have to ask the man in question himself."

"Well assure Morely that he probably won't get an answer. Well it looks like I have not only managed the ball to end all balls, but this evening looks like ending an hour sooner than expected." Bingley couldn't keep the bitter note out of his voice, he was very nearly angry, and at a guess he'd say that Caroline was angry judging from her expression.

"Looks like I'd better clear out then, I'm hoping to catch a lift back with Morely and Phelps."

"Fellow Company Officers?"

"Yep." Elliot gave his excuses before hurrying from the room. McKenna excused himself soon afterwards, and the party thinned away at a rapid rate. The Bennets were the last people to leave and even they were home within the hour, Mrs. Bennet complaining bitterly at such a sorry ending to such an enjoyable event.

Chapter 20

Posted on Sunday, 19 March 2000

December 20th 1915-Longbourn, England

They may avoid suffering and sorrow,
But they simply cannot learn,
Feel, change, grow, love or live.

Elizabeth stared at the pile of mail, one would have thought that nearly a month after the hospital had closed that people would stop sending mail to the place. Netherfield Park, the name leapt out at her and with a sigh Elizabeth realized that she was going to have to pay a visit there today, the idea was decidedly unwelcome, but neither had she anything to do which might warrant sending the mail back to the post office the next day, delaying its arrival by three days.

"Lizzie?" Lydia came into the room with a dramatic and very bored sounding sigh.

"What is it Lydia?" Elizabeth continued sorting through the mail, some of the letters were going to have to be 'returned to sender' since there was no address that Elizabeth knew for forwarding mail to people who had gone where they had gone.

"I'm bored Lizzie, can I do anything?"

"Bored?" Elizabeth stared at her sister in stunned amazement, Lydia was never bored.

"Well there's nothing to do."

"Well sort through those parcels and get the parcels for Netherfield Park out."

"Thank you." Lydia went to the massive pile of parcels and packages and sorted through them relatively quickly. Elizabeth was re-addressing the letters as she went, so it wasn't until Lydia had been stopped for quite a considerable length of time that Elizabeth realized that she had stopped.

"Something the matter Lydia?" Elizabeth was of the opinion that letting Lydia help might have been a big error.

"I'm not sure if this is misaddressed or the name is wrong." Lydia was staring in bewilderment at a pretty solid package. Elizabeth frowned then got out of her seat.

"What do you mean Lydia?"

"Well the address clearly reads Netherfield Hospital, of that there can be no doubt, but the package is addressed to Darcy."

"Nothing else?"

"No, just Darcy, Netherfield Hospital, Hertfordshire."

"Odd, well I'll take it along with the rest of the Netherfield mail which has been mis-sent, I'm sure Mr. Darcy will claim it if it is his." To say Elizabeth was bewildered by the package would be an understatement, was the parcel for Mr. Darcy and had merely been wrongly addressed, or was it for another Darcy she did not remember.

"Can't I go Lizzie?" Lydia whined.

"You want to go deliver the missent mail to Netherfield?" Elizabeth stared at her sister in disbelief.

"Please, I haven't been out of the house in days."

"Lydia, it has been only two days since you last went to Meryton."

"Please Lizzie, you know you dislike going there, can't you just let me go, I promise the mail will make it safe."

"Okay." Elizabeth couldn't say why but she had a very bad feeling about having given into Lydia and let her take the mail. Why did Lydia of all people wish to go to Netherfield?

Elizabeth looked up from her work readdressing the parcels to their new addresses when she heard her mother's voice approaching, Elizabeth glanced wildly around the room and let out a breath of relief when Kitty suddenly came into the room with a vase of flowers.

"Something up Lizzie?" Kitty looked at her elder sister curiously.

"No Kitty, or at least nothing that can't be helped. That's a nice arrangement of flowers." Elizabeth looked appreciatively at the array of small flowers.

"Aren't they nice, they just came from Netherfield with a letter for Jane. She asked me to deal with them while she read her letter." Kitty inspected the flowers where she had put them on the mantle piece.

"I wonder..." Elizabeth stopped as Mrs. Bennet suddenly came into the room with Mr. Collins, the matter was even worse than she had feared.

"...I am sorry if my timing is ill Mrs. Bennet, but I was hoping to have a period of conversation with your daughter Elizabeth."

"No, not at all Mr. Collins, there is absolutely no problem of your having private conversation with Elizabeth. Come Kitty."

"Mama there is no need..." Elizabeth was hoping desperately that her mother wouldn't remove everyone from the room.

"No NEED? For goodness sakes Lizzie think of what you say, no need indeed. Come Kitty, I have some lace to show you."

"But mama, Mr. Collins can have nothing to say to me that need not be heard by others." Elizabeth was now regretting having let Lydia take the mail, one it was entirely possible that Lydia would be distracted and never actually deliver it, and also even meeting Mr. Darcy was preferable to suffering a proposal from Mr. Collins.

"Rubbish child, now sit here and hear Mr. Collins out. He is a most patient gentleman and I won't have you tormenting him so." Mrs. Bennet gave a satisfied smile as she lead Kitty from the room and Elizabeth sank weakly into a nearby chair.

"My dear Miss Bennet...My dear Elizabeth, your modesty does much to commend you but I doubt that you have any doubts about why I am here, as far as I know I made my wishes clear of late..."

"Without any doubt at all Mr. Collins." Elizabeth muttered the response under her breath as Mr. Collins' presence had forced her to sit out nearly half the dances the night before.

"It has been my wish for many months now to express myself to you my dear cousin, but I suspect that my request will come as no surprise. It has been long my wish to request you to do me the honour of becoming my wife..." Mr. Collins held up a hand to stop Elizabeth from answering. "My reasons are these. Firstly, as a clergyman I feel it my duty, now long neglected, to set the scene on the matter of matrimony for many follow where the clergy lead. Of all the women in Meryton I singled you out to aid me in this task. Secondly, I feel that to enter into matrimony would greatly enhance my conviviality of my already pleasant circumstances. And thirdly...though perhaps I should have mentioned this matter first...My noble patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh herself advised me that I should enter into the holy state of matrimony. She said it to me while I was down in Kent just the other day on matters pertaining to the visit of Count Alexei this evening. It came while Mrs. Jenkinson was straightening Miss Anne de Bourgh's footstool. 'Mr. Collins' you understand that she was addressing me and me alone, not addressing anyone else in the room. 'Mr. Collins, you should marry.' Those were her very words and they were addressed solely to me, I had not even requested her advice on the matter. 'I have long observed that a clergyman in your easy position and situation of life should be married as you are now entering a period in life when you should be beginning a family. Choose your wife well Mr. Collins, choose a young lady who has not been brought up too high and knows how to make a little money stretch a long way. Choose wisely Mr. Collins and I will come and visit you as your marriage will make it possible for me to offer you the parish here in Hunsford.' You understand the generosity of her offer of course for the Parish at Hunsford has had a vacancy for some months now, it is a well paying parish and has such a pleasant rectory, and so close to Lady Catherine's house, why only a lane separates it from Rosings Park where her ladyship lives. Will you do me the honour of accepting my proposal Cousin Elizabeth?"

"Mr. Collins." Elizabeth took a breath and considered the best way to word her refusal, she really did not wish to hurt him. "I do not feel it appropriate that I should accept your proposal, you are certainly destined to become a bishop, and I most certainly was not born to be the wife of a bishop."

"My dear cousin Elizabeth your modesty and thoughtfulness do you great credit. So to does your confidence in my abilities. I feel you underrate yourself and your capabilities. Besides which you really cannot afford to refuse me, your situation in life is most lamentable. Your recent loss in the death of your brother has removed from your existence all possible stability. It is entirely possible that your father may not live much longer." Mr. Collins took on the tone of a very wise father pitying the idiocy of his little daughter. "Then you and your sisters will be entirely dependent on my generosity for your continued safe existence. Surely you realise that you cannot refuse my generous offer, and most certainly I will never chastise you for your lack of dowry which you will bring with you since I fully realise that you have only a small inheritance to gain from the death of your mother..."

"That will do Mr. Collins!" Elizabeth could hold her tongue no longer, that he had the sheer gall to propose in such a manner, that he should drag her situation in life into the matter, that he should condescend to assure her that he would never chastise her lack of dowry, such condescension was not to be born. "You have said quite enough. I wished to spare you from any pain possible but you have left me no other option. I have refused your offer and I have no intention of accepting it, more ungentleman-like behaviour is rarely to be found. I have no wish to marry you, I care not for your condescending assurances that you will never chastise my lack of fortune. Had you any decency you would refrain from such activities for at least a three month. Now if you will excuse me!" Elizabeth turned and stormed to the door, only to be stopped by Mr. Collins' paternal and thoroughly infuriating tones.

"But my dear cousin Elizabeth, I have already pointed out to you that you thoroughly sad situation has made it impossible for you to refuse my offer, you cannot be sure you will ever receive another proposal of marriage."

"I have said no Mr. Collins and I mean no, so I suggest you depart before I am forced into action which I may later regret. Namely throwing the family bible at you." Elizabeth indicated the immense tome briefly before she left the room and fled upstairs, sobbing bitterly.

"Lizzie!" Jane leapt up from her seat at the windowsill as Elizabeth burst tempestuously into their shared bedroom. "Lizzie, what is the matter?" Jane stared in amazement as Elizabeth just buried her face in the bedclothes and sobbed to herself. After a minute Jane softly left the room and closed the door behind herself, never had she seen Elizabeth so miserable, she descended the stairs wondering whether she dared ask what had happened.

"Oh Mr. Collins, she shall be brought to see reason, such a foolish headstrong girl she can be." Mrs. Bennet's shrill tones more than answered Jane's questions, obviously Mr. Collins had finally proposed and just as obviously Elizabeth had refused.

"Well if she is headstrong, maybe she is not the wife for me."

"Oh Mr. Bennet!" Jane watched as her mother suddenly fled across the hall and into the library. "Oh Mr. Bennet, we shall all be ruined."

"What has happened now Mrs. Bennet? Surely the chicken hasn't been burnt again?"

"Oh Mr. Bennet! please be serious. It is Lizzie, she has refused Mr. Collins."

"Has she indeed?"

"Yes, and now Mr. Collins has started having second thoughts on whether he wants to marry her. You must speak to Lizzie and make her see sense."

"Speak to Lizzie?"

"Yes, you must tell her your opinion on this matter."

"Very well, go get Elizabeth and I will speak to her."

"Jane, go get your sister!" Mrs. Bennet poked her head out into the hall.

"Yes mama." Jane turned and reclimbed the stairs, only to find Elizabeth at the top of the stairs.

"Yes Jane I heard, I suggest you take shelter."

"What happened Lizzie?"

"Later Jane, I need to face mama and papa first." Elizabeth pushed gently past her sister and descended the stairs.

"Come in Lizzie." Jane heard her father speak softly and promptly fled to their room, wishing to hear no more.

"Yes Elizabeth, come in." Mrs. Bennet frowned darkly and bustled around. "Your father wishes to speak to you."

"Yes papa?" Elizabeth stood quietly in front of her father.

"I hear you have refused a proposal from Mr. Collins?"

"Yes Papa." Elizabeth answered calmly.

"Now let me get this straight, you Mrs. Bennet will never speak to Elizabeth again unless she accepts him?"

"Yes, if she continues to refuse him I will never speak to her again."

"Elizabeth I fear there is an unfortunate situation ahead of you. As of this day I fear you must be a stranger to either your mother or your father, for your mother will never speak to you again unless you accept Mr. Collins." Mr. Bennet swung his chair to face towards his desk. "And I will never speak to you again if you do."

"Oh Mr. Bennet!" Mrs. Bennet's wail made Mr. Bennet rub his ears and Elizabeth escaped hurriedly out the window, she had no wish to see what happened next.

Lydia hunched down behind the hedge, she was more than a little miffed by the rain, it was most certainly not part of her plan that it should start to rain while she was going to Netherfield.

"Miss Lydia Bennet, you look suprisingly damp." The voice had Lydia spinning with an irritated frown, but her frown vanished immediately.

"Mr. Darcy." She straightened stiffly then blinked. "I have never seen a conscientious objector standing around like a Major. Do lounge a bit."

"A Lieutenant-Colonel, but I'll let it pass." Darcy promptly adjusted his stance. "What are you doing out here?"

"Heading towards Netherfield, I have the missent mail to deliver. Lieutenant-Colonel?"

"Came through in the mail. I thought your sister usually delivered the mail?"

"She does, but Lizzie can be persuaded when it comes to tramping three miles when she knows she will be stopped by your dog at the other end."

"Dougal does not always stop her."

"He does actually, but that is beside the point. You look a trifle tired."

"Not a particularly large surprise I hope, morphia may be a pain killer and a sedative but that does not mean you sleep at all well. I'll thank you in future not to use such a public method when it comes to trying to deliver a message in future."

"Well how was I to know that that Lieutenant would turn it into a big fuss."

"Think about it next time perhaps. Now what was it you wanted to tell me so urgently which was prevented first by the dance, then by my departure?" Darcy was frowning slightly, he had been more then a little stunned when Lydia had delivered the top priority warning and thoroughly worried when she never actually managed to inform him what the problem was.

"The police wish to talk to you and I advise against your holding conversation with them."

"Why on earth do they want to speak to me?" Darcy looked stunned.

"Something to do with Lieutenant Peter Fitzwilliam, some evidence appeared most handily and they now wish to speak to you concerning his murder." Lydia paused. "They were coming last night but McKenna managed to delay them by setting them onto our friend Wickham. Wickham made a nice display of reluctance and they shouldn't come before two this afternoon."

"Now that's just what I needed." Darcy scowled morosely at the dark countryside. "ANOTHER run from the police. So much for keeping the family name unblemished."

"Well while you decide on what action you plan to take could I possibly hand you this mail that ended up with Elizabeth? Mr. Collins will in all likelihood propose today and I need to have a fit of hysterics over the matter."

"Well can I leave an address with you? I'm expecting a parcel any day and I certainly can't afford to have it go astray."

"Is this it?" Lydia held out the doubtful box.

"Yes!" Darcy pounced on it and quickly checked the sender's address. "It most certainly is. I have no problems deciding what to do now. I bid you farewell Miss Lydia and hope you survive the war."

"I expect I will, my work is not particularly enlivening. Same back to you Lieutenant-Colonel." Lydia waited in silence until Darcy had vanished again before turning and hurrying back towards Longbourn. She was in fact sorry that Elizabeth needed to suffer Mr. Collins' proposal, but with luck he would not bemoan his loss very long.

"Charlotte you must be joking!" Elizabeth was all but gaping as she listened to the receiver.

"Why should I joke Lizzie." The response was calm.

"You've actually accepted Mr. Collins' proposal of marriage?"

"I never said I was at all romantic Elizabeth. He suits me well enough, he will give me stability and a safe home. Why shouldn't I accept his proposal?"

"But Charlotte..." Elizabeth felt rather ill. That Mr. Collins could propose to her, then less than two hours later propose to Charlotte Lucas made her feel more ill than she already felt. She really couldn't tell Charlotte that Mr. Collins had already proposed to her that afternoon.

"I'm not romantic Lizzie, please try to understand why I'm doing what I'm doing."

"Well if you think you'll be happy with him..." Elizabeth felt totally helpless.

"Stop it Lizzie. But please, promise to visit me sometime."

"Well, sure." Elizabeth never felt so helpless as she did right then, and after exchanging a few more inane pleasantries she hung up and gave a soft giggle. She climbed up the stairs giggling softly the whole way and was still giggling when she entered the bedroom she shared with Jane.

"Lizzie, you're hysterical!" Jane stared at Elizabeth in amazement.

"I know." Elizabeth gasped around her giggles. "Oh dear what a horrible day." Elizabeth collapsed onto the bed and gave up trying to control her giggles. Jane found them quite infectious and was soon giggling herself.

"Lizzie, please." Jane tried to stop giggling as her sides were aching.

"Sorry Jane." Elizabeth wiped her eyes and took some deep breaths. "It is just so funny." Elizabeth relapsed into giggles again. "Mr. Collins..." Elizabeth was really fighting for her breath.

"Lizzie, calm down before I slap you." Jane frowned as threateningly as she could down at her sister.

"Sorry Jane." Elizabeth crossed her legs on the bed and started taking slow deep breaths, which were intermittently punctuated by giggles. "It's just that Charlotte is engaged."

"Engaged?" Jane looked totally stunned. "Who to?"

"That's the funny thing. She's engaged to Mr. Collins, he apparently had just asked her." Elizabeth started giggling again, she couldn't help herself, she had never seen Jane look so stunned before in her life.

"Oh." For the first time Jane had not another thing to say, there really seemed nothing else to say.

December 24th 1915-Narrow Creek, Canada

Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear, not absence of fear - Mark Twain

Victoria stamped her feet to clear the snow from her boots before walking into the kitchen, she had just been on a visit to her relatives in Narrow Creek and now she was back at the 'Little House' looking forward to her dinner.

"That you Vicky?" Mrs. March looked out the door.

"Yes."

"Dinner will be ready in five minutes, would you mind staying out to catch the mail?"

"Not at all." Victoria rebuttoned her jacket and trudged back around to the front gate, why she hadn't thought to get the mail while she was at the post office was a complete mystery to her.

"Merry Christmas Vicky." Jasper Elliott came wading up through the snow and held out a bundle of letters and a parcel. "If what I saw on the top is anything to go by I expect you'll have a very merry one indeed." He touched his cap as he started to return the way he had come. Vicky barely responded to his greeting as her eyes flickered over the mail, until one medium sized parcel had her eyebrows shooting skywards. Indeed this would be quite a good Christmas. Vicky turned and hustled back to the house, the absence of a man was keenly felt in the house as no one had the strength required to shift the snow which drifted into the yard of the 'Little House' most nights, small paths had been trampled from the house to the gate, and after that you were required to use snow shoes to get anywhere.

"Much mail Vicky?" Emilie looked up from her knitting and blinked as Victoria let herself in the backdoor.

"Lots." Victoria pushed some hair which had escaped out of her face. "Two Red Cross circulars, Rosie has written, the Professor of Mathematics has written. There is a letter from Alaska for the Little Mother, there are several cards from my relatives in Bellerby Falls, there are a few cards from relatives here in Narrow Creek."

"Nothing else?" Emilie hadn't taken her eyes of Victoria. "You haven't yet mentioned the parcel."

"Elliot! We finally have a parcel from him." Victoria's eyes gleamed as Emilie laid her knitting aside.

"What was that about Elliot?" Mrs. March suddenly came back into the room.

"We have a letter and a parcel from him."

"Then get reading, dinner can wait and the letter won't." Mrs. March perched herself on the edge of the bench while Victoria took her usual high stool.

"Here goes. He writes from somewhere in Hertfordshire, England, a place called Meryton, the letter is dated three weeks ago.

Dear People,
Greetings from several thousand miles away. The weather here is abominable, but as observed by our Colonel we are not in control of the weather so we have to suffer what is sent to us.

I have not the faintest idea when this will arrive, no one has seen fit to tell this poor Lieutenant how long the postal service takes over the delivery of mail, but I feel it is quite a respectable length of time, so I will hope this arrives before the new year, though I guarantee nothing. I suppose I had better catch everyone up to date with what has happened since I left the 'Little House' six months ago.

Oh dear, I only realise now how scandalously I have neglected you when it comes to writing, but until now I have had no place you can send to with any reliability of it catching me and I guess I just forgot. I would add about a million sorries here, except that I doubt I could fit them on a respectable number of pages and I had intended to sends some little somethings in the parcel.

Here's my life up to date since my departure from Narrow Creek:

Well I successfully caught the mail train to Kingsport that evening, arriving at midnight and spending the night with my old Landlady. The next morning I sallied forth and found the recruiting station, where I got my enlistment papers. After some minor difficulties I got them filled out (would you believe it I forgot the home postage address, my father's date of birth and my own date of birth!) and went back to the station and handed them in. Because things were pretty quiet that day my papers were processed immediately while I waited, and then this uniform clad individual came strolling into the room (I have since learnt that he was the big name at Valcartier, the training camp here, and was processing his own departure to England and France). Anyway for some reason there were some major delays in the back rooms and some problem was struck in my papers (don't ask what the problem was, they never told me) so I got sent through for my medical examination that day instead of the next day. With flying colours in the medical examination, I was sent back into the small waiting room where I had been waiting all day, and because there was nothing else to do the man and I fell into conversation. I now cannot remember all that we discussed, but I can remember thinking that we must have spoken on every topic that was known to man. Then he was suddenly called back into some side room, at the time I still thought he was just some officer with a problem in his papers.

I spent nearly an hour in that room, kicking my heels waiting for news of what I was meant to do next. By the time someone came into my room I was getting thoroughly bored, it was in fact the...receptionist girl, is I suppose the best word for it. Anyway she requested that I step back with her. The room I was taken into was occupied by my friend the man whom I had been in conversation with, and some stranger, who was decidedly large to look at and more than a little terrifying. I was invited to take a seat, then absolutely bombarded with questions, I still hadn't the faintest idea what was going on. I was then dismissed and returned to my room, where I resumed my seat feeling rather miserable. Had I known what was facing me I doubt I'd have even managed to leave Narrow Creek, for once I thank God for my ignorance.

I cooled my heels then for a few hours, and by this stage it was six in the evening and I was starving, but I didn't dare leave because I hadn't an idea of what was going on and I didn't want to miss something important. At seven thirty someone finally emerged from those backrooms and I was requested to be at a certain place at seven thirty in the morning, I will admit I was not overjoyed since I was dismissed directly after that. I had sat in that building all day with nothing to eat, I had watched several other people pass in and out within a couple of hours, and I had been kept waiting for the entire day and then I was told to be at such and so an address by such a time tomorrow. I stopped at the little shop which I showed Vicky to top up before I went home for dinner.

The next morning I duly arrived at the place named, it was a decidedly nondescript building, and was shown into a small side room. I had learnt my lesson from the day before and I brought food with me. I had been waiting fifteen minutes before someone appeared, I was then run through an absolute medley of tests which made my head spin (I now know that what I was run through was one of the Sandhurst exams, big military place in England....no I do not know why I was sent through the exam for my fellow officers certainly did not sit it). By five that evening they had finished with me and I was requested to show up at the recruiting station the next morning.

So on morning three in Kingsport I duly turned up for the second time at the recruiting station, and much to my surprise I was finished within an hour. I was then given the offer of an immediate departure, or a one week delay in my departure time. I chose the prompt departure because I didn't wish to return to Narrow Creek now I had made the definite decision and there was nowhere else to go. They then took my measurements and I was supplied with a uniform, kit, train ticket, and the rank of a Lieutenant in His Majesty's Canadian Armed Forces. Nice thing to have sprung on you at nine in the morning, I had signed up to be a Private and here I was as a commissioned officer. Though I must say it does a dashed lot for your confidence, the initial surprise that is, they then spend the next months deliberately destroying any confidence they think you might have, and build up another type of confidence. They aren't interested in the fact that you might be able to recite most of Homer's Iliad and can multiply almost any sum in your head, they want you to be physically strong. So depart the mental superiority, we have now entered a world which is solely interested in the physical, each man carries a pack of sixty pounds, and unfortunately we are required to be able to march for miles with these, we are meant to be able to run carrying such a load. As an Officer you are required to think a bit, but it isn't normal thought....or at least it doesn't seem to be, maybe I've just never thought normal before in my life, which is entirely probable.

The day starts at six in the morning with the wake up call and breakfast, we are then studying arms and weaponry until lunch. After lunch we get down to old-fashioned muscle work, we learn to dig trenches, we learn to use the bayonet (a more gruesome device I have yet to see), we have courses on first aid, we march and run for miles (sometimes missing the morning coursework to do a suitable distance). You crash onto the hard piece of matting called your bed at about ten in the evening and you sleep like a log until six the next morning, then you stagger out and repeat the previous day. After about a month of this we got sent off to catch a ship and came here to England, where we have been housed at various points around the countryside. We are warned that we will depart for France in the next month or so (on such points they are deliberately foggy just in case we might wish to tell the Germans that we are coming on such a date). Here in England we have repeated what we did in Canada, except we're mending roads as much as we dig ditches, we may be being housed for free here, but we're definitely working for our free board and saving them quite a lot when it comes to paid manual labour for their road repairs.

The weather here is a miserable drizzle and dark heavy clouds, here's me pleading with very bad grammar for the crisp cold of Canada, at least there my nose merely freezes I don't turn into a solid lump of shivering humanity. Seems strange not to have to shovel away feet of snow, they seem to get no snow here, just rains all the time. Far too miserable, rest assured I'm coming home just a soon as I can.

I am now politely informed by the Colonel that mail will take approximately three weeks, so it is entirely possible I will have left Meryton before you ever receive this, but I promise more letters will follow this one and I hope you enjoy the parcel.

I find it strangely exhilarating to be doing this, nothing is expected of me except obedience, no one cares whether General March was my father, my father could be the King of England for all they care, or the grottiest street sweeper, life is redefined on a completely different scale. What we used to consider important is now negligible the new structure is built on rank. The rank and file, the privates and the Non-commissioned Officers. The privates are the ultimate scum, laid aside for manual labour, as a private you most certainly do not think for yourself, you just do as you are told....Cannon-Fodder is the very polite name they are called. The N.C.O's are there to help keep the privates in line and behaving themselves. We then have the Lieutenants, who are pretty basically imitation thinkers, supposedly we are meant to think, but for the most part we merely carry out orders and make sure that our platoons carry out orders. You then go scrambling up the hierarchy through Captain, Major, Lieutenant-Colonel, Colonel, Brigadier, and then you have all the different Generals which are just the lower ranks with general tacked on the end, so you have Lieutenant Generals, Major Generals, and Brigadier Generals. Then come the Field-Marshalls, but I have met neither Generals nor Field-Marshalls so I'm not going to give a long dialogue on the subject of them.

Here seems to have their families just as we have back in Canada. The Bennet's are the 'family' here in Meryton much like the Elliotts were the 'family' back in Narrow Creek. Everyone seems to be related some way or other to the Bennet family and from what I have seen of them the Bennets actually seem a bit odd, he is a former Colonel in the English Army, she is without doubt a fool, but I think she must have been quite beautiful when she was younger. They have five daughters and I believe that there was a son who recently died in France, but as to the son it all seems somewhat unclear the only set fact being that he died during the recent battle of Loos. Listen to the talk of the town an he might have just died as a result of a stray bullet or he may have died heroically saving the Commander in Chief of the English Army.......both theories are much discussed in the local parlours when members of the family aren't present and also a large number of alternate theories are also discussed.

I have for fellow officers Phelps, Morely and Hellas, we have Major Hastings keeping us in line, and the Major has the Colonel keeping him in line along with a few other Majors and Captains, I'll probably remember as soon as I discard this letter how many Majors are under the Colonel. Eight is the number of them under the Colonel, and when you talk of eight companies you are actually referring to rather a large number of men. There's 30 plus men in each platoon and there are four platoons in each company and eight companies in each battalion, there are two battalions in each Regiment and two regiments in each brigade and two brigades in each Division. By the time you reach a division you are talking about an awful lot of men...and to think that father was once in charge of all of them. I'm afraid the idea frightens me...terrifies me actually.

There's an interesting bird in these parts. Officially the man claims to be a Conscientious Objector, but if he's a Conscientious Objector I've suddenly grown a tail and turned a bilious green for I've never met a Conscientious Objector with an army ranking before. I was running the patrol walks two days ago when I literally tripped over him, not that Major Darcy is easy to miss, he is a full six foot plus in height, at a guess I'd add at least another six inches on top of the six feet but that is beside the point, suffice to say that he is actually a bit hard to miss. Be that as it may be I did miss him, missed him entirely until I tripped over his feet. He was attired in civilian attire (no he didn't explain the reason for his dress to me, he just threatened to get me into a lot of trouble with the military police if I ever gave him away). Anyway I was ready to march him down to the Colonel, after all, we can't have civilians spying on our encampment else why bother having patrols? We had a rather heated couple of minutes while he tried to avoid going to visit the Colonel, then finally he pulled rank on me and as he is quite substantially further up the ranks then I am there was nothing I could do, especially since he backed up his claims with I.D. disc and rations card. He then warned me to keep this under my hat as he would get in a lot of trouble, and so would I get in a lot of trouble, if it leaked out that he was in fact an officer. Makes it a bit interesting to meet him, for one instinctively salutes a superior officer when one passes him especially when the officer is so clearly an officer, EVEN in civilian dress. I don't know what it is, but the higher ranks seem to have a distinct and unmistakable air about them.

I rather wish I knew what the man was doing, he drifts around Meryton in a rather effeminate manner, complete with impeccable attire, cane and monocle, never seems to do anything at all and yet he must be doing something or else I doubt he would be here pretending to be a civilian. Though his interest in our encampment has caused some difficulties, he actually paid a polite visit to the Colonel the other day and the Private who was on watch at the time claims that Darcy merely abused the Colonel, but I have my doubts. It is entirely possible that this last bit may have been blacked out by the censor because I have mentioned names, but maybe it will get through without too much difficulty as our mail is collected by a regional military carrier as opposed to the local mail service.

Well the mail is about to go so I will wish you a merry Christmas, both late, early and on time since I don't know when this will arrive. I will also wish you a happy New Year and hope it brings peace with it, as before, early, late and on time.

Goodbye and pleasant time to you
Elliot.

"He seems happy enough." Emilie picked up her knitting again.

"Certainly sounds that way." Mrs. March turned back to her cooking. "I'm glad he's a commissioned officer, too many Privates die."

"I think that's just a ratio. Because there are an awful lot more privates than there are officers of any rank." Victoria was frowning down at the letter.

"Well you are little Miss Sunshine today." Emilie gave a dry little chuckle. "How are the relatives surviving?"

"They object to the fact that I am living with people who are nearly the most unrelated to me in Narrow Creek, but otherwise I think they are coping quite admirably with everything in general."

"Take cover Vicky, I observe Mrs. Becky coming up the path." Mrs. March placed a lid on her cooking while Victoria hastily gathered up her things and scurried out of the room. Victoria was currently in Mrs. Becky's bad books, for not only had she not married Elliot before he left, but she had also had the gall to fail Mrs. Becky's nephew in the recent exams.

Chapter 21

Posted on Saturday, 25 March 2000

December 26th 1915-Longbourn, England

War is God's way of teaching Geography

"You're not in love with him are you Lizzie?" The question came as Elizabeth and her aunt turned at the far end of the formal lawn.

"With Mr. Wickham?" Elizabeth tilted a thoughtful head then shrugged. "He's a nice man, he's easy to talk to and an interesting conversationalist. I could be in love with him, but no I am not."

"I do not advise you let yourself fall in love Lizzie, and certainly not with someone in Mr. Wickham's position. I trust that you will not now fall in love out of sheer defiance, I certainly believe you to be more sensible then that."

"I sometimes have my doubts." Elizabeth shook her head gently.

"Why do you say that?" Mrs. Gardiner looked curiously at her favourite niece, surprised by the slightly depressed note.

"I don't know that either." Elizabeth gave a short laugh. "I think I just missed Folin. I still find myself turning, looking to see him coming running across the lawn in those terrible overalls of his, I just can't seem to move on, he's always here, chasing me, laughing at me. Am I going crazy? Surely I shouldn't continue working at the hospital when I'm so easily distracted?"

"Lizzie!" Mrs. Gardiner caught Elizabeth's arm and turned to face her directly. "Lizzie, he was your brother and twin for nineteen years, that is not something you can shrug off in a day or two. Do you remember Maria?"

"Maria?" Elizabeth blinked in surprise, then caught her breath, indeed she did remember Maria. Maria had been the Gardiners first child and had died at age of six. "Yes, I sort of remember her."

"Don't feel guilty Lizzie, you were only eleven when she died and you only met her a couple of times. Maria is just over there, she's playing with Helen." Mrs. Gardiner pointed to where Helen was playing tag with the two boys. "She hasn't aged, she's still six years old, but she's there, she's always there. Do you think I am crazy Lizzie?"

"No." Elizabeth looked at her aunt in surprise.

"Folin will always be there for you, laughing you through hardship, sympathising when necessary, making fun of people so you don't get to angry with them. He'll always be nineteen years old, he'll always be in those terrible overalls, his hair will always be a wild shock as it appeared when it got too long, he'll want to make you laugh at the most inopportune moments as frequently as he did in life. Don't run from it Lizzie, he promised you that you would never be alone, can't you see that he is keeping his word? You never will be alone because without any effort he will come and sit next to you. He'll stick out his tongue and chew on a stalk of grass while you're feeling ill because someone's come in with a few extra orifices to the open world then they were designed to have. He'll always be Folin at age nineteen and he will never desert you."

"How do you know this?" Elizabeth looked curiously up at her aunt.

"I fought when Maria stayed, I didn't want her, I wanted to be left alone to feel miserable, but Maria was having none of it. She upset things in the kitchen, she made fun of the cook, she made depressing remarks about my books, she poked her tongue out at the people who came to commiserate me in my loss. I couldn't mourn her, for I was blessed I had had Maria for six years and even now she hadn't deserted me."

"Vivaldi, today is Vivaldi."

"I quite agree, but we were not actually discussing ghosts. What's with Jane?"

"Officially confirmed by telephone yesterday, Lieutenant Charles Bingley has returned to France, his sisters are once more settled in London, Netherfield will probably never open again unless it is sold."

"Pity it didn't happen to you Lizzie, you would have laughed yourself out of it."

"I don't think so, Folin would have laughed me out of it."

"I said he'd have his uses. Was that your new hospital this morning?"

"Yes. So amusing Charlotte has married Mr. Collins and moved to Hunsford, Kent. My new hospital is Camthorne in Kent a mere ten miles closer to London than Hunsford."

"You're not being kept at that rectory?"

"No fear." Elizabeth laughed. "I have no intention of entertaining more of my cousin then is absolutely essential. No, we're actually housed on the grounds which will be an interesting experience."

"When do you go?"

"I leave in a week."

"Well you leave and I'll steal Jane and see if I can cheer her up, after all Mr. Gardiner is supposed to go to Paris in a fortnight."

"Is he?" Elizabeth stared at her aunt in surprise. "Well remember to write some letters as I will probably never leave England and I would like to know what Paris looks like...even wartime Paris."

"Oh Lizzie, you are terrible! Now come, I see your dear papa beckoning and I expect that means he has something for either you or both of us to do."

"It's the map. Do you want to help aunt? We decided last night to add the Eastern and Italian fronts to our map and at a guess I'd say he wants it at least started today."

"Map?" Mrs. Gardiner blinked in surprise.

"Come, I'm sure you'll like it." Elizabeth relinked arms with her aunt and they headed for the library windows.

"Now it is all set up again. What do you think aunt?"

"I think it looks remarkably like one of your father's maps."

"Surprising that, maybe because it is his map. Before we started this it was the campaigns of Napoleon, hence Spain is a bit larger then it is meant to be."

"Well maybe if you explain what is happening we might be able to get started."

"True, oh wise aunt. Now these flags are set aside for the Eastern Front. Green marks a battle started by the Russians, Yellow marks a battle started by the Germans and purple marks Austro-Hungarian offensives. You scribble the beginning date on one side and the ending date on the other."

"Seems straight forward enough, however I'll watch and you can talk as you work."

"What a wise aunt." Elizabeth cleared aside a bunch of excess flags, then stopped and shoved a bunch into the western front.

"White?" Mrs. Gardiner eyed the single white flag planted on the map.

"Battle of Loos." Elizabeth's response was very brief while she sorted through the flags. "This nasty green is for the Italian front because the Italians have initiated all four of their battles of Isonzo." Elizabeth planted four flags simultaneously on the edge of the lower Isonzo River. "Battle one occurred on the 23rd of June and went on 'til the 7th of July. The second battle was mostly just a series of skirmishes, which lasted between the 17th of July and the 3rd of August. At this point the front appears to have settled down into a similar form of the Western Front." Elizabeth paused. "Lieutenant Bingley claimed that it was like bickering, no one had quite enough energy to make a decisive move, and yet neither was passive enough to just sit and build up strength. Hence they just sat there and threw explosives at each other hoping the other would take offense and walk away."

"You make it sound like a fight from the nursery." Mrs. Gardiner had made herself comfortable in one of the chairs, Mr. Bennet was buried in some heavy leather bound book.

"At times it feels like a nursery fight, the sheer idiocy of it."

"To those involved it is no more idiocy then it is to the children who start the fight in the nursery."

"Aunt, you are being depressingly sensible, please join me in complaining."

"I doubt you actually want me to do that Elizabeth, I feel more to the point that you want to complain and be told you are a fool so you can make an argument of the matter."

"For or against the idiocy of war?"

"That's for you to decide not me. There is nothing I dislike more then being given a hopeless case to argue."

"Mr. Darcy doesn't." Elizabeth turned distractedly back to the map.

"Mr. Darcy?" Mrs. Gardiner blinked and looked very surprised.

"Yes, he was staying with Mr. Bingley, much to our surprise, he is a dandy and a Conscientious Objector. Dandy in the old sense of the word."

"Can't be too much in the old sense of the word if he is willing to argue a hopeless case he has just been given."

"It's about the only thing in his favour was his willingness to match wits in a pointless argument, otherwise he was more concerned by his clothes, in particular the set of his trousers, and being as rude as possible to the rest of the world." Elizabeth ended with a screech as she drove a pin carelessly into her finger in frustration.

"When were you arguing with Mr. Darcy Lizzie?" Mr. Bennet suddenly came out of his book.

"It was while Jane was ill at Netherfield, Mr. Bingley misconstrued a series of remarks and managed, with I will admit a bit of help, to totally reverse the meaning of Mr. Darcy's words. I then called on Mr. Darcy to defend what he had most certainly not said. He very politely informed everyone that was not his stated view, then proceeded, until Mr. Bingley stopped things, to attempt to set up the argument." Elizabeth paused. "It was rather fun actually." This was added in a reflective tone.

"I seem to remember that you and Folin use to do that when exceptionally bored." Mrs. Gardiner had a laughing smile on her face.

"Well it is a fun way to pass time, unless it gets unfriendly." Elizabeth shrugged and turned back to the table.

"Do you like Mr. Darcy Lizzie?"

"Good grief no." Elizabeth stared at her aunt in amazement. "Why on earth should I like him after what he did to Mr. Wickham?"

"That doesn't actually answer the question, but I'll let the matter pass." Mrs. Gardiner chewed her lower lip for a minute. "You said four battles and so far you have mentioned precisely two."

"Thank you Aunt." Elizabeth turned back with relief to the map, her remark about Mr. Darcy had been purely off-the-handle, but she was decidedly unimpressed that she had been questioned about him...a murderer! "On the 18th of October the third battle of Isonzo started and it had just as much effect as its predecessors and ended on the 4th of November. The fourth battle followed almost immediately on the 10th of November, this battle ended on the 2nd of December with much the same result as before. In six months of warfare the Italians had approximately 250,000 casualties, the Austrian figures are unknown, but expected to be lower since they were on the defensive for all the battles and Italy does not excel in the artillery." Elizabeth jammed the last flag into the map, then wiped her hand on her skirt, only to stop the move as soon as she started it and pulling out her handkerchief. It was in distracted silence that Elizabeth cleaned up her hand, her eyes focussed on the map.

"Western front?" Mrs. Gardiner interrupted when the silence looked like growing too long.

"Not much for the year. The French lost a lot of men gaining some five hundred yards near Champagne where the Germans are firmly entrenched during February and March. There was then the attack at Neuve Chapelle, which is between Lens and Armentieres, by the British, which began on March the 10th and was nearly a success, unfortunately it seems our ammunition supplies ran low. The attack lasted about two days, and as a result of that particular attack and a general outcry we now have our Ministry of Munitions under Lloyd George to co-ordinate the production of munitions and the supply to the Western Front has much improved. We then had the second battle of Ypres." Elizabeth indicated two flags positioned practically on top of each other. "Where the Germans used Gas, we were very lucky with that matter that the Germans didn't manage an entire break through." Elizabeth paused momentarily to reposition one of the flags. "This second battle was elongated by attacks and counter-attacks until the 25th of May, when we retreated from the Ypres Salient to a narrower front." Elizabeth stopped again and frowned down at the map. "How odd..." Elizabeth continued staring at the map for a second before continuing. "We then have rather a mess. We have a series of skirmishes between Lens and Arras the main one was lead by Foch. It started on the 9th of May by V.L. d'Urbal's army on a four-mile frontage. Heavy losses were sustained all around except for General Petain's corps who not only managed to get off fairly lightly, but they also managed to penetrate a good three miles into enemy territory. A breach that was quickly closed as it was too narrow..."

"It's called planning Lizzie." Mr. Bennet interrupted her calmly. "The breach was too narrow, too late and the reserves were too far away, that is why it was closed. Losses are easily kept to minimum if one plans. The problem is that no one was bothering to plan then."

"You think they are planning now?" Mrs. Gardiner looked at her brother-in-law curiously.

"It will certainly be improved now that General Haig has replaced Sir John French as Commander-in-Chief of the army. But continue Lizzie, I interrupted your masterly handling of a mess in your own words." Mr. Bennet gave a chuckle as Elizabeth cast him an annoyed look.

"Around the same time Haig with the 1st Army attacked towards Aubers Ridge, simultaneously the larger French attack began under Foch. The attack occurred at two points, Fromelles and Festubert, the total frontage being two and a quarter miles. But the attack swiftly died away, an insufficiency of British shells and an over sufficiency of German machineguns I'd say." Elizabeth stopped again for a moment and to marshall the next couple of flags. "We then have the resumption of the attack on May 15th in the Festubert sector which continued until May 27th. The offensive between Lens and Arras was prolonged until June 18th, the expense of this was high."

"What do you know of the ground in that area?" Mrs. Gardiner glanced at Mr. Bennet as she spoke.

"Very little, I did most of my work in South Africa and a bit in India. France and the rest of Europe is essentially a mystery as far as warfare goes."

"Pity, I was hoping to hear you utter some scathing remarks concerning the choice of terrain."

"Scathing remarks of the high command have never been encouraged and never will be."

"You're hiding something brother-in-law."

"And you're being stuffy sister-in-law, now leave me to sulk in peace and keep my own secrets."

"Hiding something papa?" Elizabeth looked up from the map and across at her father.

"I am hiding nothing, I am just choosing to hold my tongue, now continue Elizabeth."

"There's nothing until September and the autumn offensive. What are you hiding?"

"A personal opinion on the subject of censorship, an opinion I feel others agree on."

"As far as I know it's to help confuse the Germans." Mrs. Gardiner frequently found her brother-in-law to be both annoying and confusing.

"The Germans do not look to the newspapers for their information on the casualties and morale of a country any more than we do. There is a very good reason for our censorship and any reasonable officer knows the reason for it. Loos cost us approximately 50,000 men, the entire autumn offensive cost about 242,000 men. We're talking of casualty rates that equal the effects of entire wars that stretched over a decade or so in the space of four months. This isn't injured we're referring to, this is the dead alone, Lieutenant Bingley will not have been one of those number, neither will the mysterious Major. By the way Lizzie, am I wrong or is the mysterious Major supposedly Darcy's own brother."

"Well from remarks made by Denny and McKenna I certainly understand that he was a Major Darcy and some relation to this one, but I do not know exactly what."

"Pity Mr. Darcy has left, having a Major for a brother would decidedly cramp him in any argument concerning the war."

"Mr. Wickham said that that is why Mr. Darcy was such an unvocal objector."

"Don't blame him, I'd hate to have to try and argue against the war if my brother was taking part in it...even if my brother and I weren't close."

"You never had a brother, close or otherwise, but why the comment on the closeness?" Mrs. Gardiner was feeling puzzled again, it could be so confusing to come to Meryton, nothing ever seemed logical there.

"If one believes Lizzie's Mr. Wickham apparently Mr. Darcy and his brother were extremely close. A singularly odd situation all things considered."

"Okay, this is pointless. What is the reason for this censorship if it is not to confuse the Germans?"

"To protect the high command of course. Think of the uproar if the newspapers calmly published the real statistics and conditions in France? Think what good it would do to the country's morale? Now Lizzie, continue or this won't be completed before dinner time." Mr. Bennet settled back into his book. Elizabeth frowned thoughtfully at him for a minute, then turned back to the map.

"The autumn offensive began in the last week of September on a broad front. The French attacked at Champagne, the Franco-British force attacked at Artois, either side of Lens, and the British attacked at Loos..."

"Haig will not have liked having to make that attack, the sector is inappropriate for an attack."

"Loos began on the 25th of September and it seems to have used the entirety of the 1st army with the exception of some local reserves..." Elizabeth stopped once again as her father interrupted.

"Haig and his commanders expected French to supply reserves from the general reserve. French however showed typical indecision and released the reserve late, he also did not see to their being properly outfitted when released, so everybody got mauled at Loos and nothing was achieved."

Continued In Next Section