Beginning, Previous Section, Section XXXVII, Next Section

April 28th 1918-Shedforth Downs Detention Centre, England

"I remember the story of a POW Colonel who demanded eggs, bacon, toast and orange juice for breakfast, and he got them. When in jail take the initiative, it makes the visit so much more comfortable." - Adapted from Douglas Bader

There was a fuselage of shots and some fluent cursing in at least three languages Mac did not speak. Mac hoisted himself up to look dubiously out his small window which was well above head height. As Mac guessed he was looking up just in time to see a black and tan streak go flying across the parade ground.

Ten minutes ticked slowly passed and then an abrupt crash of arms and some military footsteps caused Mac to roll his eyes and lean back against the wall. The bolt scraped noisily across and his door creaked open agonizingly. There was a brief scuffle outside which was then followed by an irritated voice.

"Call yer bloody mongrel before I blow 'is bleedin' brains out of 'is bloody 'ead."

"Nero." Mac called softly and looked resignedly at the leg of lamb which Nero still carried. "And what will that set me back?"

"Ten pund." There was a gloomy satisfaction to the man's voice.

"Thank you." Mac nodded acknowledgement before pushing Nero and his prize towards the back corner. "Not on my bed you don't eat that."

"How does he do it?" The Guard was looking gloomy again.

"He does it because you keep throwing him out of my cell and feeding him insufficiently." Mac smiled faintly at the guard before waving dismissal.

"'Ere, none of that!" The Guard growled angrily.

"Why?" Mac looked up, his expression challenging.

"'Cos ya can't just order people out of your bloody cell!"

"You going to stop me?" Mac pushed up onto one elbow and promptly waved a second dismissal.

"Look you're not making this easy for us." The guard sighed in exasperation.

"I'm meant to be making it easy for you? Look I didn't ask to come here. In fact there is nowhere I would prefer to be right now than in France. When I ask to come here then I'll take whatever is meted out. But until then you'll have to forgive me for being awkward. I'm not happy so I'll be damned if I let you be happy."

"We can shoot that bloody mongrel of yours."

"The Times would love that article. Dog shot because prisoner did not appreciate conversation with guard." Mac politely lifted his eyebrows before permitting a faint smile, the Guard had paled visibly. "Exactly so, you won't touch Nero because you know I could make the Military incredibly unpopular with certain sections of the English Population. So why don't you just bug out of here before I start using it to advantage."

"You'll be sorry." The Guard banged the door viciously closed, leaving Mac to roll over and study the ceiling thoughtfully.

"Somehow I doubt I'll be sorry.......Shall I give the insufferable squirt a lesson?" The response Mac garnered from that question was exactly nil. "True, I'll have to apologize when I leave but I expect I can manage to survive that." Mac pondered the ceiling for a moment, his expression faintly thoughtful. "There is something relieving about this matter Nero." Mac paused to push Nero's head aside. "You stink of cooked lamb, go back to your corner. I may have expressed my doubts about the worthwhileness of life a week ago, but as of this morning I have changed my mind. Who cares if I've now got 52 days of this....plus whatever minor infringements I make of their rules which prolongs my sentence. There is something relieving about being alive. Though I will admit that the Parade Ground feels me with a strange sense of dread."

Arms crashed loudly, bolts screeched and once more the door creaked agonisingly open. Mac looked up in bored disinterest as the Captain of the Guards came into the room.

"I hear reports that you have been insolent."

"Not at all." Mac was aware that he probably should have got off his bed and come to attention, but no one had told him to and he wasn't going to do anything without being told to.

"That is hardly the response one would expect."

"You didn't ask for the response you expected.....you didn't even ask a question. I merely stated my opinion on the matter after you told me I had been reported. You say I've been reported for insolence, and I observed that I did not think that I had been insolent."

"You were also reported for threatening behaviour."

"I threatened nothing, he threatened and I made an observation as to the possible outcomes of his threat."

"What were you threatened with?"

"The guard threatened to shoot Nero.....I merely observed that the Times would love an article of that type."

"I am not certain Captain whether you are a very clever man......or a remarkably stupid one."

"I'm still trying to figure that out myself.....Do tell me if you find an answer." Mac smiled politely and then waved a hand of dismissal.

"Don't forget you've got Parade Duties tomorrow." The Captain was out of the door.

"Do tell me if I'm wrong..." Mac hesitated while the Captain turned back. "But Parade Duties are not marching, rather weeding aren't they?"

"That is correct Captain. You may have you rank back, but you're still a prisoner and we're going to use you."

"Good, be terrible if I was out of shape when I returned to France." Mac settled back with a twitching grin as the door screeched home. Mac had no doubt that he was going to be worked, in fact he suspected he was going to be worked off his feet. But equally clearly as long as he worked he wasn't going to be matted for a bit of guard baiting.

"Nero." Mac sighed in exasperation as for the hundredth time Nero charged through his pile of weed he had pulled from the parade yard, scattering bits of greenery far and wide.

"You there!" The call caused Mac to glance up, but he immediately returned his attention to the pile of weed. When a Lieutenant addressed him as 'You there' he, Captain McKenna, was not going to respond. Nero, who had been using his nose to scatter weed to the utmost distances, abruptly lifted his head and bounded across to stand by Mac's shoulder. A large boot then appeared and it was only because he was expecting it that Mac got his hand away before the boot fell home.

"You speaking to me?" Mac spoke in a distant tone as he rose to his feet. Nero started grumbling deep in his throat. Mac hearing the grumble tapped Nero on the nose, it was a gentle tap but Nero still got the message.

"Who else might I be speaking to?"

"How should I know? You might have some Private with you."

"You think I'd address a Private like that?" The Lieutenant's voice was damping in the extreme.

"Well if you wouldn't address a Private like that then I'll be damned if I allow you to address me in that manner." Mac stared down at the Lieutenant, he was exceedingly thankful that the man was shorter than he was. It is hard to stare down at someone who is taller.

"Well how else am I meant to get your attention?"

"Try Sir." Mac turned his back on the man and kicked at the loose gravel before returning to his quest of uprooting a particularly stubborn weed. Behind him Mac could hear the Lieutenant shuffle uncomfortably. Nero was watching sullenly, a gentle rumble coming from deep within him. Nero hadn't even twitched a muscle, but without doubt he was ready and waiting.

"The Captain desired you to know that you have the rest of the week to have all the weeds uprooted."

"Is that all?"

"Yes......sir." It had been a long time in coming, but it came.

"Then you can tell the Captain from me that it shall be done." Mac smiled briefly to the Lieutenant's bafflement and then once again returned his attention to the ground.

"If you don't mind me saying that makes no sense. Why are you perfectly willing to rip up tens of yards of weeds and yet you make the most outrageous demands on the kitchen staff and the guards."

"I never make outrageous demands Lieutenant. However I do like my meat sufficiently dead so it doesn't start eating grass when I'm attempting to eat it."

"It's canned beef, there's no possibility of it eating grass!" The Lieutenant sank down on his heels and shook his head in amazement.

"Well last night it looked like a distinct possibility. In fact it looked like it was going to stand up and walk away any minute." Mac gave a crow of delight as the root came up and he pitched it away over his shoulder. "I can shovel muck because a superior officer has asked it of me, but I have had no superior officer ask me to eat meat which still moos or sleep when water is dripping noisily onto the ground outside. When he does I'll consider it, but until then I expect to be treated appropriately."

"You're sounding awfully like that stuffy bugger we had in here a couple of years back."

"Good, nothing like making sure I'm remembered." Mac smiled again and moved onto the next weed. The Lieutenant shuffled his feet again, but then beat his retreat as Nero carelessly bared a very long, very sharp, and very white fang.

"And stop that bloody mongrel o' yours raiding the bloody kitchens. We're sick of reports from the local pub against him."

"Right! I'll give him permission to raid anything then. It's taken me two years now to persuade him that sheep and chickens are not legitimate catch."

"Good God sir, you wouldn't dare!" The Lieutenant had become as white as a sheet.

"No I wouldn't." Mac paused and watched as relief started to seep into the pale face. "But he would." Mac jerked his head at Nero. "Lock him out for the night and you'll really regret the result....and I won't pay for it."

"If he's such a hell hound why do you keep him?"

"There are advantages Lieutenant." Mac gave a final enigmatic smile before waving the Lieutenant dismissal. If Mac had only a week to uproot this place he needed to get working. Fortunately the instruction had been uproot instead of uproot, pile and destroy.

April 30th 1918-Narrow Creek, Canada

Keep me away from the wisdom which does not cry, the philosophy which does not laugh and the greatness which does not bow before children. - Kahlil Gibran

It was a miserable, drizzling dawn in which the small engine wheezed into the Narrow Creek Station and ejected its sole passenger out onto the platform with all the milk cans and mail. The engine then loaded up the new milk cans and mail before wheezing again and trundling away towards Hall's Landing and the two other stations which it visited on its run.

"Can I help you sir?" The Station Master looked curiously at the khaki clad newcomer as he gathered together the mailbags and dumped a tarpaulin over the milk cans. The newcomer was of medium height and nothing particular seemed to mark him.....except for a rolling gate reminiscent of the daft flick the Station Master seen the other day when the Admiral on a ship had rolled in his walk like he'd had a few too many. The uniform was badly faded and much patched, some of the patches in places where the Station Master didn't like the idea of a hole being. The rank was that of a Captain, and the face above was deeply carved with lines and wrinkles, brown from exposure, but with the coldest, steadiest eyes the Station had seen in a long time. In fact the eyes reminded the Station Master of someone, but the name and place were elusive. The dark hair was thick and shot with silver-grey grey hair, but the Station Master was certain the man was nowhere near as old as he appeared. This was the face of someone who had suffered, and still suffered.

"No thank you." The head was shaken briefly as the man looked curiously around the station.

"All right sir." The Station Master moved away leaving the stranger to stand out in the rain. It didn't bother him if some nut chose to stand around in such awful weather, but when he looked back the stranger had vanished. The Station Master shook his head, maybe it had all been a dream, but either way he'd hear about it if it were not a dream.

Elliot had waited until the station master had turned his back then limped swiftly out of the yard, out of habit he went straight past the road and headed up though Old Abe's pasture. Not only was the path shorter, but he was also very unlikely to meet anyone, and in his current mood Elliot most certainly didn't want to meet anyone. Not that his mood wasn't quite content, he just didn't want to meet anyone outside of family right now. Elliot couldn't say why, it just was so. The weather was pretty miserable, but Elliot merely rolled up his collar and continued walking, one couldn't fight in France and live England without becoming fairly immune to miserable weather. Elliot had reached the old orchard gate when he suddenly changed his mind and his direction and headed out across the fields, once again, he could not say why he suddenly chose to delay his arrival, but he did.

It was late afternoon when Elliot finally approached the 'Little House' for the second time, this time he came from the front and paused by the gate. What would his reception be? It was with surprise that Elliot realised that he was afraid of going home, more afraid of returning then he had been of leaving.

"Can I help you?" The voice came from close behind him and Elliot turned sharply to see an angel. Well she wasn't actually an angel, Elliot had known her for too long to be mistaken on that subject. Had she not turned up Elliot had little doubt that he would have turned and departed again. But she was there and he couldn't delay any longer.

"I was looking for the 'Little House', am I right in assuming that this is it?" Elliot knew perfectly well that it was the 'Little House', but since Victoria didn't seem to be recognising him he had to say something.

"Correct." Victoria nodded, a slightly puzzled frown creasing her forehead as she looked at the familiar face, but for everything in the world she could not seem to put a name or location to the face. Though she was willing to bet that there had not been such a large quantity of grey in his hair when she had last seen him.

"Thank you." Elliot stared at the ground in indecision, then suddenly held the gate open and stepped back. "But I stopped you, please." Elliot hadn't looked up from the ground, and as a result missed the puzzled look Victoria had cast at him before she moved through the gate.

Victoria moved slowly up the path, very puzzled by the stranger at the gate, why was he familiar and why could she not give him a name or a place. On instinct Victoria turned back to look at him, and stopped dead. He had leant up against the gate post and was staring blindly off into the middle distance, his thumb and forefinger circling each other. There was only one person Victoria had ever met who had that particular habit when thinking.

"Elliot?" She stared at him, doubting what her own eyes were telling her. His head snapped back to look at her, but he did not move from the gatepost, he merely looked at her. "Elliot?"

"Vicky." When he finally replied it was as if she was released, and without knowing how she got there, Victoria suddenly found herself in his arms being gently kissed. Then quite abruptly it stopped and he pulled back. "Sorry...."

"Don't you dare!" Victoria had hold of Elliot's coat in a flash. "You've departed from my life once like that Elliot March and I won't have it happening again."

"But...." Elliot paused and looked gravely down at Victoria. "You don't mind?" Elliot's gravity subsided into doubtful wariness.

"Elliot March, do you think I'd have let you do it the first time if I minded?" Victoria's expression was warning. But the answer to her remark was to be found in actions, not words, and it prevented words for awhile. As she was released Victoria was amazed to find tears pouring down her face. She wasn't sobbing or anything, the tears just seemed to come in a great, unstoppable flood. Victoria then heard her own voice and she listened to it in amazement. "They told us you were injured and missing-in-action, assumed dead." This woman had a B.A.? Victoria listened to the unstructured babble in bemusement, bemusement which merely increased when she realised she hadn't released Elliot yet and that she didn't want to. "The Little Mother was in bed between October and January, Emilie's been knitting like one possessed." Victoria had a very bad feeling that any minute now she was going to wake up and find herself clinging to her pillow.

"Softly Vicky." Elliot held her close, then kissed her again, he could think of no other way to silence her. "Vicky, I think we should get inside, this weather looks distinctly like rain."

"I think you're right." Victoria eyed the heavy cloud of rain which was sweeping down the side of the Mountain, before taking the large handkerchief Elliot offered her. It was an immense square of linen, many times bigger than any handkerchief Victoria had seen before. "What...." Victoria stopped, the expression which had briefly flitted across Elliot's face more than answered the unasked question. It was not a handkerchief, it was a regulation field bandage....usually used for slings or head wounds. Victoria moved towards the house after she had dried her face and returned the 'handkerchief'. But she had barely started when she stopped again. "What's with the leg?" Victoria frowned worriedly, his curious, rolling gait was quite alarming to see.

"No knee is the problem. Stopped a lump of shell with it at Courcelette. The Germans couldn't fix up a working joint so they pulled all the perishables out of there and fused the joint in the most useful position." Elliot shrugged it aside, he was more than thankful that the bubble of fear within him didn't come out with his voice.

"Okay." Victoria nodded then continued towards the house. They beat the rain by a few seconds and it was with a relieved sigh that Elliot stripped off his heavy mud-caked boots.

"That you Vicky?" Mrs. March appeared at the door of the kitchen and squinted up the hallway.

"Yes, we have a caller."

"Not Mrs. Becky?" There was a decided note of dread in Mrs. March's voice.

"No, hopefully a much nicer caller, I think he wants to stay for the night at least." Vicky hurried across to where Mrs. March stood.

"We don't have any rooms to spare, he'll have to go to the big house."

"Well...." Vicky stopped as Mrs. March looked past her and paled.

"Elliot?" It was a soft, disbelieving whisper and Mrs. March wavered, to the blindest it was obvious that she was on the verge of passing out, but before Victoria could move Elliot had leapt past her and caught his mother. Victoria hesitated momentarily, then edged past mother and son and into the kitchen. The pot boiled gently on the stove and Emilie was knitting quietly in her usual corner.

"Elliot's home isn't he." Emilie's voice was contented.

"Yes, I think he arrived on the milk train this morning." Victoria moved distractedly over to the pot on the stove and stirred it mindlessly, currently she was content to go without thinking. Victoria's thoughts were in a dazed whirl, she knew she would have to wait until evening to sort out her thoughts, but for now thought was unnecessary. Ten minutes passed silently in the kitchen, then finally the door opened and Mrs. March came into the room, a few seconds later Elliot also slid silently into the room and took up a position in the shadows behind Emilie's chair, giving the occupant a hug and a kiss as he passed. Victoria left the stove so Mrs. March could resume possession of her pot and took a seat on the high stool which she had always sat in as far back as she could remember. It was in a distracted manner which Victoria removed a slice of cake from the cake box, she then suddenly handed it to Emilie who handed it to Elliot. Victoria then took a second piece and started to munch on it.

"Lord, but this weather does take it out of one." Mrs. Becky's voice caused everyone to jump when she spoke from the backdoor as she removed her coat, for the room had been silent since Elliot had given his thanks for the cake. "Vicky are you out of your mind?"

"My name is Victoria!" Victoria was not at all happy to see Mrs. Becky. There had been yet another big fuss only the previous day because Mrs. Becky was certain that Victoria was being biased against the girls who did not wish to go to Redmond.

"I don't care what you call yourself you abandoned hussy!" It was now to be seen that Mrs. Becky was very excited about something, her eyes gleamed fiercely from her face.

"I beg your pardon?" Emilie and Mrs. March spoke at the same time, their expressions totally stunned. Victoria had no idea what her expression was, but her thoughts were definitely stunned. No longer could Victoria survive without thinking, she had to start thinking....and start thinking fast.

"Ask her yourself, she daren't deny it, she was seen shamelessly kissing a strange man."

"Wha..." Victoria got no further as she caught three pairs of eyes. The message was clear in all three, this was Emilie's war. Emilie had always ruled the March household, though advice and help from the other members was always welcome.

"Who saw her?" Emilie frowned up from her knitting.

"Jeb Carter."

"What was Jeb doing all the way out here?" Mrs. March looked even more astonished than she had before.

"I don't know, but we are not here to discuss what Jeb is doing."

"We're not discussing anything Rebecca Hughes, you are laying down the law and expecting us to listen."

"Oh be quiet Emilie." Mrs. Becky thought it a pity that Emilie's senility was getting so out of hand.

"What are we supposedly discussing Becky?" Mrs. March had turned completely away from her cooking.

"I am trying to find out what explanation Vicky has for kissing a strange man at your very front gate when it's not yet a year since Ell..."

"That will do!" Emilie's voice ripped through the room, startling everyone since she rarely lifted her voice at all, and this was a lot louder then Victoria ever remembered Emilie's voice to be.

"Oh very well. Do you deny it?" Mrs. Becky turned back to Victoria completely undisturbed by Emilie's warning.

"Deny what?" Victoria was completely at sea as to what the question was about.

"Why," Mrs. Becky blinked, totally taken back by the question, "that you were kissing a stranger at the gate."

"Of course she does." It was the first time Elliot had spoken since Mrs. Becky had entered the room, his tone was a disgusted belittlement of the question. Elliot pushed out from behind Emilie's chair as he spoke. "For one point he was kissing her, not the other way around. Second he was not a stranger, at least not to her."

"And who might you be?" Mrs. Becky bristled violently at the bored scorn and belittlement in the voice, no one spoke to Rebecca Hughes in that manner, least of all strangers she had never met.

"Captain Elliot...." Elliot got no further as Mrs. Becky went into action.

"I told you he was a stranger, none of the Elliotts of Narrow Creek even became commissioned officers. I told you Vicky, you should have lis........" Mrs. Becky fell silent, a situation which was enforced upon her by the arrival of a very large, brown and strong hand over her mouth.

"I seem to remember that you always prided yourself on your knowledge of this place Mrs. Becky, and the infallibility of your deductions. This afternoon you have both proved how faulty your knowledge is and how completely fallible your deductions are. You have come into this house in which you have no claims at all. You have laid down the law and expected everyone to listen and to obey what you say. You behave like the worst of the ancient's gods." Elliot finally removed his hand from her mouth. "You came here today, bubbling over with the damage you could do. You were told by a distant relative that the girl who had refused him twice had been kissing a stranger at the gate, you then came and demanded an explanation. What right have you to an explanation? What do Victoria Elliott's affairs have to do with you? You are an eighth cousin and despised by her father, Emilie has more right to pry into her affairs then you do. You came into this house and very successfully managed to insult four people, and this is Captain March who is giving you this information."

"Bu..." Mrs. Becky looked around the room, there wasn't a friendly eye in the place, for years they had suffered her presence and her voice, but she had finally over stepped the line of the March hospitality. "You can't be Elliot March, he died."

"Incorrect, Captain March was listed as wounded and missing in action, assumed dead, let me assure you that my death was never confirmed." Elliot watched silently as Mrs. Becky looked around the room once more, then suddenly she rose to her feet.

"Well I need to be going." Mrs. Becky hurried out of the room and was seen running down the lane. Silence held the room for a moment after Mrs. Becky's departure, and then with an abrupt, choking sob Victoria fled, banging the door behind her. Emilie glanced briefly up at Elliot, who was staring after Victoria, and then hastily averted her eyes. There are some things which can be seen but should not be. Elliot's face was there for the reading but Emilie had no intention of reading it. Elliot's face was Elliot's business and Emilie was pretty certain that if he knew his face had a quarter the expression on it that it actually had, he too would have left the room.

"Well I think this counts as the all time most cheerful homecoming." Emilie straightened in her chair. "Meg, dry your eyes and get dinner going. Elliot, stop being a fool and go find Vicky."

"But....." Elliot hesitated.

"You are a fool young man. Vicky did not stay here for her comfort, she's stayed here because she made a promise. Now you go out and make your peace with her. You should know as well as anyone that you and Vicky are like a....like a.....like you've got homing pigeons in your ears who fly immediately to Mrs. Becky the minute you two even meet."

"Obviously my homing pigeon is blind.....yes granny I'm going." Elliot ducked out of the kitchen as he spoke and as a result missed Emilie's slightly grim expression. His quick departure also prevented him from seeing the look which passed between Emilie and Mrs. March.

"This Meg, is not going to be easy. We got our miracle, we'd better not stuff it up now or we'll lose both of them."

May 3rd 1918-Berlin, Germany

"Guten Abend." The tone was polite as Dr F.C. von Hense showed yet another patient politely from his inner sanctum. Good evening

"Herr Doktor." The tone was somewhat demanding and it was with a puzzled blink that von Hense turned to look at the speaker.

"Ah, Herr Schlief, stets ein Vergnügen." It was with relief that von Hense let the other into his room. Ah. Mr. Schlief, a pleasure any day.

"I thought I'd come see how you were going?"

"Very good indeed." Von Hense lead the way back into his inner sanctum before settling into a large and comfortable chair. "What brings you here in this decidedly inclement weather?"

"Merely to talk. Herr General has been most impressed with the reports you have given."

"I am pleased to hear that." Von Hense picked up a pair of spectacles and gently perched them on his nose. "I do my best to give satisfaction everywhere."

"That is indeed gratifying." Bernd Schlief willingly accepted the drink that was offered to him and settled more deeply into his chair. "The General had a special request of you."

"'Deed?" Von Hense's brows rose slowly as he sipped delicately on his drink.

"You were forced out of England primarily due to the efforts of a General...."

"General Darcy....what is your interest in that man?" Von Hense's tone was not particularly encouraging.

"The General is curious as to Herr Darcy's frame of mind." Schlief precisely deposited his glass on the table by his elbow.

"Ahh." Von Hense pulled a slightly gloomy expression.

"A problem?"

"Perhaps." Von Hense scratched his chin. "Herr Darcy has been remarkably unforthcoming in thoughts of late."

"What is that meant to mean?" Schlief's expression was warning.

"He had many very interesting thoughts after he left Switzerland......but he has had no thoughts at all since early April."

"Is it possible the man is dead?"

"Possible." Von Hense nodded gravely. "Herr Schlief I am Fortune-teller, but I am not St. Peter. I can say nothing beyond that Herr Darcy has had no thoughts or emotion that I am aware of since early April. Likewise he has no future that I can see. Likewise he is not here, sitting in front of me so it is possible I have missed something"

"Is that not unusual?"

"Exceedingly, for someone like Herr Darcy, but I can make no promises or guarantees." Von Hense shrugged slightly.

"Well please let me know if you find any more about him." Schlief rose to his feet as he spoke. "Also let me know if you have any needs."

"Certainly." Von Hense rose to his feet as well. "Please convey my thanks to the General for his permitting me to go to the conference in Switzerland."

"Nothing gives us greater pleasure." Schlief smiled and then permitted von Hense to let him out of the room.

"I'll bet." Von Hense's good-natured expression faded as he shut the door behind Bernd Schlief into an expression which would have seriously alarmed Schlief had he ever seen it. "I'll bet nothing gives you half as much pleasure as humouring this old fool."

"Talking to yourself again old mate?" It was a lean and weathered face which appeared from the next room.

"Yes. Let's clear out."

"No problem, I got news for you." The lean face was attached to an equally lean body.

"About time." Von Hense opened the door and let himself out of the small building. Von Hense walked slowly along the road before entering the small Kafeteria where he usually had his meals. Von Hense slowly consumed a small meal of an unidentifiable nature. Having finished his meal von Hense left the kafeteria and moved slowly down the road, soon to enter a small house several blocks down the road from the kafeteria. As he entered the house once again the good humoured expression faded away to be replaced by a harder, more determined and unforgiving expression. By the time he was through the door he was no more Dr F.C. von Hense than he was the King of England, Chris was not at all happy today.

"So Bill did manage to get you." The peculiar greeting which met Chris did not even merit a twitch of surprise from Chris.

"You doubted his ability?"

"No." The other acknowledged the remark with a tilt of agreement.

"Good. If you had doubted him I'd have asked him to be changed immediately. What's up?"

"We've got a scuffle down near the line."

"We are rarely without a scuffle down there. Anything from Uncle Mac?"

"Not a peep.....other than the repeated request for us to find out what the hell happened to General Darcy."

"Everyone seems interested in the General today. Why can no one just assume that he's dead?"

"I think they mostly believe that the General Darcys of this world do not die in something so minor as a crash."

"Surprise, surprise." Chris rubbed his chin and bit his upper lip thoughtfully. "What's the scuffle at the line?"

"A dead patrol."

"A dead patrol?" The look that accompanied the query was doubtful.

"Yes."

"What's so special about that?"

"Their necks were broken."

"Their necks were broken?" Brows rose in slow disbelief. "An entire patrol of broken necks?"

"Correct. The Germans put it down to the Belgians again..."

"But you don't. Why not?" Chris rested his chin in his hands.

"The Belgians use guns, knives, mostly any weapon."

"Right, but they don't just break necks." Chris rubbed his chin gently, then looked up sharply as a half-starved waif erupted into the room.

"What's up?"

"Munks just reported in sir, they got someone."

"Useful. Who?"

"Dunno sir, he's some allied officer but he's not got a thing to identify himself and he's stripped off all possible identification stuff....newish uniform though."

"Munks is near Breque isn't he?" Chris was looking slightly interested.

"Correct."

"What does Munks intend to do with this man?"

"Well he had intended to send him out by the canals.....the chap's a bit obstreperous, seems he won't do a thing and keeps breaking out."

"Very interesting." Chris rubbed his chin gently. "We could make Munks and get back before dawn couldn't we?" Chris looked enquiringly at the man who had met him.

"Well...."

"Why not, there must be a dozen envoys for the front each night."

"But...." The man paused. "I'll hold you accountable if we're nabbed."

"Don't be ridiculous. Get yourself a Captain's uniform and be ready to leave in an hour." Chris rose to his feet as he spoke and headed for the door.

"Damn! I should have listened to Uncle Mac when he said you'd ask all manner of questions you already knew the answer too." The other man shook his head. "Yar, I'll be ready in an hour.....though I don't see how you can be."

"That's my business." Chris had the door open as he spoke and he ducked out it as he finished.

"Coming round." The voice came predictably from a distance and it was the same voice as ever. He didn't even bother attempting to surface any further knowing that any second now there would come the jab.

"Gut. Sie können sich jetzt aus dem Staub machen" A second voice spoke, this voice was also familiar, but it was familiar for a different reason and he couldn't place a finger on it. Good, you can clear out now. A door banged firmly behind a departure and a chair scraped the floor nearby. "Wachen Sie auf, wann immer es Ihnen beliebt." The voice was coming progressively nearer as it spoke and he finally opened one very unimpressed eye. Feel free to wake up anytime.

"Signs of life are indeed occurring so do shaddup."

"Two people who use that." The voice responded in English.

"I'll lay odds I can name the other person who uses it."

"That wouldn't surprise me at all.....are you yet awake?"

"No." He answered calmly while blinking myopically at a ceiling which just wouldn't come into focus.

"Care to say why?"

"Because it's been over a week since I was last fully conscious and used to morphia though I am it is not something you just snap awake from.....particularly if you have stockpiles of the stuff."

"You sound awake."

"It's called practice I would still be at a dead loss if you ask me what my name was."

"What is it?"

"Damned if I know."

"Would it help if I told you?"

"Nope." He shook his head. "Grand total of no short-term memory here.....what were you going to tell me?"

"Point taken. How long until it starts to operate?"

"I can't say. The more morphia I've had the longer it will take for it to return. Okay I've got my name back and I think I've placed your voice."

"Care to say what your name is?"

"Yes. Last I knew I was in German-held Belgium with some swine bashing my brains out with a rifle butt."

"I believe you were resisting."

"And you wouldn't resist under the situation?"

"Well I must admit that I probably would have.....but that is irrelevant."

"I would hardly have considered it irrelevant. How can you expect me to do other than what you'd have done yourself?"

"Because you're meant to be the intelligent one who knows too much."

"Not lately. How long ago was the fourth of April?"

"Today is the twenty-eighth of April, I'll leave the rest up to you to figure out."

"How kind of you." Darcy finally pressed down hard and pushed himself into a sitting position before finally turning an unenthusiastic eye onto his visitor.

"Had I been told what they had pumped into you and seen you now I frankly wouldn't have believed them." Chris was looking at him with a fairly admiring eye.

"Nothing like a six-month addiction to the stuff to give you a high tolerance to it.....particularly when you're using it as a knock-out not as a drifty bit of socialisation, and you had high resistance to begin with." Darcy gently rubbed his chin as he looked at the other. "Do I have you to thank that I've been allowed to surface at all?"

"Probably."

"They yours?"

"Who?"

"I'll take that as affirmative." Darcy pushed himself further upright. "Chris would you be decent enough to tell me what is going on?"

"Well." Chris paused and pushed his hand through his thick mop. "You've got the High Commands of Five Nations frantically trying to find you."

"Why?"

"Well England doesn't like losing its Generals. France thinks you know too much to get into the hands of the Germans. The Germans don't like it that they're accused of holding someone they don't know they have. The Austrians want you because you're a General and they might be able to use you as a bargaining point."

"That's four."

"Forgot the Yanks. They are worried since you happen to know a bit about them."

"I'm more likely to curse them than give away any worthwhile information. Now, what happens now?"

"Well you could turn yourself over to the Germans. You could return to England for keeps." Chris paused.

"Logical, the Germans are going to know I've been kicking around here for a while and I don't like the idea of being shot out of hand at the first opportunity. There is a third option?" Darcy looked enquiringly at Chris.

"Not really." Chris rose to his feet as he spoke. "I'll let you get some sleep."

"What aren't you saying?"

"I've got to get back to Berlin or I'll be in real trouble....so if you'll excuse me."

"I'd prefer to know what you were going to say then changed your mind over."

"That can be discussed later. It's going to be a couple of months before we can get you back onto allied territory, too dangerous to do it this close to your arrival, they're on the lookout for you."

"See you later then. And tell your friends I'll strongly resist any further attempts to drug me so they may as well save their poisons."

"They'll want a parole."

"What the hell can I possibly do? Grow a beard and hide as a hedge? I'm going to stay put because currently it's the safest thing I can do......provided they don't dose me again."

"They won't.....you've far too devastating an impact on our very minimal supplies." Chris withdrew from the room as he spoke.

Ten minutes passed before Darcy's solitude was interrupted again. The man who entered was one of those people who are so unremarkable that you can hardly help but stare, even if later you couldn't describe a thing about them.

"Do you want food?"

"No, thank you." Darcy looked at the man thoughtfully for a moment. "Do you have a name?"

"I'm Munks."

"So."

"Do you have a name?"

"I don't know." Darcy responded quietly and then swung his feet off the far from comfortable bed he had been lying on.

"Can you refrain from killing anyone for a couple of days?"

"Only if they refrain from trying to detain me. Try to stop my movements and the response may be less than healthy."

"You seem remarkably confident that we can't harm you?" Munks tilted his head curiously, then skipped a couple of steps backwards as he met Darcy's look.

"I have good reason for that confidence little man." Darcy continued to stare unblinkingly at the man. "I'm completely unarmed.....you searched yourself?"

"Yes." Munks nodded warily.

"Well learn to search better." Darcy spun three inches of deadly wood and metal between his fingers.

"Blast it all, we even checked your boots. How did that get passed?"

"That's a trade secret. Just remember I have it."

"Well if this was meant to be a subtle show of strength and superior position the message has been more than received. You could walk out of this place and I can promise no one will twitch an eyelash."

"That's unnecessary." Darcy finally stood up and the knife returned to it's home as he hastily grabbed the wall for support. "Utterly deplorable.....why the couple of days restriction?"

"Oh, you're moving to a slightly safer place then."

"Good-oh." Darcy gave a nod as he slowly pushed up from the wall.

"You alright?" Munks looked at Darcy warily.

"Fine." Darcy responded shortly.

"Alright." Munks abruptly withdrew.

"What?" Von Hense looked up sharply as a side door abruptly swung open. For the first time the somewhat bland face showed more than a trace of irritation.

"I tell you he's still armed." Munks slid into the room as he spoke.

"Of course he is." Chris gave an exasperated sigh. "Look, just ignore him, he won't give you away.....neither will he hurt you if you don't interfere with him."

"But..."

"Look, you had him unconscious on morphia for a week. Think about it, you were giving him a rather large does to send him under for any time at all. That sort of signifies previous and extensive contact with morphia. Does that, or does that not give him a reason to feel a trifle irritated with you?"

"Well..." Munks hesitated.

"Thanks, now get out. I'll see you tonight at the usual place." Chris shoved Munks hurriedly into the other room before hurrying across to open his usual door. As he approached the other door his expression slipped and changed. As the main door opened it was Dr F.C. von Hense who looked out and blinked somewhat thoughtfully around his waiting room. "Ah, Ms. Smith, Sie sind wieder in die Sprechstunde gekommen. Ich hoffe, es geht Ihnen insgesamt besser? Haben Sie dieses Mal bessere Nachrichten?" Ah, Frau Schmidt, you come to see me again. I hope all is improving? Maybe better news this time?

"Right, I have been in three different locations now and frankly I'm getting sick of doing nothing but kicking my heels and scaring everyone half witless."

"I think they agree with you.....I think they're sick of it too" Chris' mouth twisted slightly.

"They're a bunch of limp chickens."

"I quite agree." Chris was lounging on a far from comfortable chair.

"What was the third option you never gave me?"

"Ah." Chris closed his mouth firmly. "Option three was to take up full-time what you've been doing more or less since December."

"Ah." Darcy fell silent as his gaze drifted off into infinity.

"Duivel?" It was five minutes later when Chris prodded the inanimate figure next to him with the query.

"Yes, I'm here."

"You've got two days to reach a decision......and in those two days you won't see anyone."

"Right." Darcy nodded briefly his attention drifting away quickly as Chris departed.

May 4th 1918-Longbourn, England

Keep company with those who may make you better. - English saying

Elizabeth Bennet Darcy looked nervously around the front hall as she followed Jane into the house of her childhood.

"Jane darling!" Mrs. Bennet came flying down the stairs to embrace her oldest daughter.

"Forgotten again, Lizzie?" Mr. Bennet looked out of his Library as Mrs. Bennet dragged Jane into the parlour.

"So it would seem." Elizabeth gave her father a brief hug before following him back into the Library.

"You going back to France again soon?" Mr. Bennet looked enquiringly at Elizabeth as he settled into his favourite chair.

"No." Elizabeth shook her head slowly as she settled gently into another chair.

"What? They decide you were too bad to keep?" Mr. Bennet's expression teased.

"Something like that." Elizabeth idly twisted a nearby flag on her map. "This hasn't been added to since I left has it?"

"No. Kitty got confused by it......and I guess I just didn't have the heart to do it." Mr. Bennet shrugged slightly. "The papers are under the table if you want to work through it."

"May as well." Elizabeth idly picked up the papers and then looked hard at the board. "I seem to have left off in Russia....ugh! 1916 seems all too long ago."

"It does seem rather a long time ago." Mr. Bennet's brows rose slowly.

"February 23rd 1917 we have the Germans taking a step backwards......look at the wild jubilation in the newspapers."

"You sound like you didn't have wild jubilations." There was almost a note of amusement in Mr. Bennet's voice.

"I have never seen so many worried officers in my life." Elizabeth spoke bluntly as she drove a flag into the board. "Further retreat.....or should I say complete retirement occurred on the 16th of March."

"Where to?"

"They dug in under the salient between Arras and Reims before heading south and east to rejoin the old line at Anizy." Elizabeth was threading the pins together as she spoke.

"That's west of Cambrai and St. Quentin isn't it?"

"Yes." Elizabeth carefully knotted off the thread and looked back down at the papers.

"Sorry Lizzie." A chair creaked and Elizabeth felt her father's hand on her shoulder. "There's nothing else I can say. I'm sorry."

"How did you know?" Elizabeth turned slowly to look up at her father.

"Let's just say that a couple of months back I took a trip to Paris and though I didn't see you as hoped, I met a man. I never thought I'd say it Lizzie but he was probably the only man I'd willingly have let you marry......He may have lived dangerously, but he knew how to survive in that life and he knew how to protect what was his."

"And now you don't have to say it." Elizabeth turned back to the board.

"True." Mr. Bennet returned slowly to his seat and he picked up his book once more. Though the book was in front of his eyes his attention was miles away.

"The 3rd March....this year, has finally brought about the Brest-Litovsk treaty between Soviet Russia and the Central Powers. So it became a race between Germany's Eastern Army getting back across to the Western Front, and the American's Army to get across the Atlantic."

"Who won?"

"Germany." Elizabeth responded briefly as she nailed a recently marked multi-coloured flag into Brest-Litovsk. "The Russians gave up a lot of land to get their peace."

"So why aren't the German's in Paris?"

"Because they fell for a bluff and stubbornness." Elizabeth paused for a minute. "But I got to go backwards a bit. May 1917 we have another scuffle in Italy and the 10th Battle of Isonzo. Unfortunately the couple of inches that were gained during the Battle of Isonzo were promptly lost when the Austrians counter-attacked through the Carso Sector. Been there." Elizabeth's tone was slightly flippant as she drove the flags home.

"What's it like?" Mr. Bennet dropped his book finally.

"Couldn't say, it was dark."

"Ahh!" It was a profound noise Mr. Bennet made as he retrieved his book from his lap. "You treat the matter rather flippantly."

"If I don't I'll cry and I'd rather not alarm everybody by crying. All things considered it's rather humorous, I received two proposals inside of six months, I married once and now both are dead. October the 24th brings the Battle of Caporetto. October 28th brings the fall of Udine, the former Italian Headquarters. Tagliamento fell on October 31st. November 9th finds the remaining Italian Forces on the Western side of the Piave. That finishes all major activity down in Italy, though skirmishes appear to have continued until December." Elizabeth drove her final pin in. "Back to France and we find the Battle of Arras......I think."

"You don't sound certain."

"Well Somme feels like yesterday and that was now two years ago." Elizabeth scrambled through the newspapers for a minute. "Arras it was. 9th of April in all it's bloody glory. Then nothing really happens until August and the Battle of Messines which was the introduction to the 3rd Battle of Ypres.....Did you know the Allies mined and blew up 9 miles of front from under the Germans in that assault?"

"Weren't there two parts to Arras?" Mr. Bennet had been meditating on her remarks for a minute and now he looked up curiously.

"Correct. They tried to murder each other for about a week. Then took a breather to dry their bloody noses and had another shot. About one or two days between the two encounters so it counts as one battle."

"Fair enough.....Is that the entire year?"

"Well Ypres hiccuped along for the better part of four months, but yes, that is the year.....for the Western Front. All rather boring unless you were down in Arabia and Africa."

"Well I think maybe if the dear old Med. is forgotten for a bit." Mr. Bennet pushed his chair back and gave a yawn.

"Why?" Elizabeth somewhat warily pushed the papers aside. She was quite willing to leave the map, but she wasn't certain she was at all interested in the conversation which was likely to occur with the map pushed aside.

"Because Lizziekins, we need to talk."

"About what?" Elizabeth hesitantly lowered into a nearby chair, she had known it was coming but wasn't willing to attack head-on.

"A lot of things." Mr. Bennet paused and abstractly picked up a nearby pen. Silence settled in a heavy manner on the room before Mr. Bennet abruptly broke it when his pen spun across the room.

"He did that very frequently." Elizabeth spoke distractedly as she stretched down and retrieved the pen.

"Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"How did you guess?" Elizabeth countered with a question of her own.

"Not a matter of guessing Elizabeth." Mr. Bennet looked over the top of his glasses at her for a moment before dropping his eyes once more. "I've known you for a lot of years and I have also met the man in question. Suffice to say that a man does not look like he's been walloped with a sandbag without very good reason. He was expecting that an assault would be made on you, but even that knowledge couldn't help him when it actually happened. Not an easy man, but a stubborn, determined human being......who loves you."

"Why didn't I tell?" Elizabeth gently scratched her head. "Because I'm afraid." Elizabeth paused again. "For once in my life I am truly afraid. Afraid of what people will say. Afraid of how they'll judge me. Afraid of what will happen. How will I be named?" Elizabeth rubbed her head gently. "I married David. I didn't marry him because with a crash and a tinkle and a couple of fireworks I knew myself to be in love. I actually hated him. Before Nickel ever entered the scene I hated him. It wasn't a conscious hate. I hated him because he unsettled me. I hated him because no matter how hard I tried he would not be neatly compartmentalised away. Most of all I hated him because he made me feel vulnerable. Then Nickel arrived and I had a focus for all of this. You know the story so I won't bother repeating it. I now had a reason to hate this man. One problem I had was that Conscientious Objector though he was I could not despise him as I did so many others. His arguments were never trite, repetitions of meaningless speeches. He argued a serious, logical, structured side to the argument and most of the questions he asked were utterly unanswerable." Elizabeth paused. "I'm not certain but I think he was always asking himself why he fought. To hear or to think from the other side can often help formulate ideas. Duty can be a terribly vague thing and it tends to be what we make it." Elizabeth sighed and rubbed her head again.

"When did it start to change?" Mr. Bennet was leaning forward in his seat.

"I don't know." Elizabeth shook her head and spread her hands in a useless manner. "It was a lot of things, many things which I didn't acknowledge at the time but I later remembered. Mr. Nash....his Valet...of sorts." Elizabeth grimaced. "If he had been the tyrant I tried to make him there was no way that Mr. Nash would have behaved how he did. Colonel Fitzwilliam is not the sort of man to make jokes about a serious matter. He might possibly make flippant remarks, but the subject is never serious, it's just making conversation which cannot be steered into dangerous waters. Mr. Bingley.....there's an absolute host of them. His sister..." Elizabeth shifted her hands once more. "I married David, a man I felt safe with. Yes, he probably would never notice if I was wearing a new dress or had had something done to my hair. Yes, he can be an exceedingly thoughtless person.....but he also was willing to do anything he possibly could to protect me. He doesn't need jokes explained. No matter how many changes of thought I take he seems able to keep track of what I actually referring to....and that in itself I find utterly amazing. He may not have patience for pettiness and ignorance but if real trouble looms......I'm afraid I'd go to him before anyone else.....and that includes my family. It sounds ludicrous to say it, but I feel safe when he is around. I've heard many people talking about what they fear most. Usually it's dying, or thunderstorms, visits to relatives. I'm afraid of being alone, and now I am." Elizabeth paused again. "I can't just send him a note. I can't expect to see him coming up the road....and worst of all I can't take comfort in knowing that somewhere out there is a man, a friend....a husband. I can't scribble a note of something I want to tell him next time I see him. I didn't marry General Darcy, though the General was always there. I didn't marry Mr. Darcy the owner of Pemberley and goodness only knows what I else, though he was also part of it. I married David.....it sounds idiotic, it feels even worse. Why haven't I spoken? Mama would have hysterics about how rich and famous I would be....'married to a General and all. Oh my dear Mrs. Long....'" Elizabeth grimaced speakingly. "That's my family for the most part.....no one else speaks. I know his sister, but only as a friend. Most of his relatives will raise Cain if I popped up claiming to be Mrs. Darcy."

"Who've you met?"

"Only a couple. Lady Catherine de Bourgh and a bunch of his relatives around Kent. Colonel Edward Fitzwilliam. His sister....a couple of relatives around Derbyshire."

"Colonel Fitzwilliam." Mr. Bennet frowned. "He related to the Earl?"

"Younger son." Elizabeth responded bluntly.

"When did you meet him?"

"'16."

"He's brother to the Earl now." Mr. Bennet paused again. "I hate to say it Lizzie because I know what your problem is......but sometime you are going to have to let the family know you exist. I really regret to say it but the sooner the better."

"Why?"

"I believe you've heard of entailment....or if you haven't you clearly haven't been listening while you lived in this house." Mr. Bennet paused. "Now's not the time to play pretty. If that's a boy you're carrying life could get extremely uncomfortable if you don't let him become known to the family. You can demand your privacy, but the family must know about you. And may I remark the sooner the better or you could be up for a big mess."

"Yes I know." Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Legitimacy of everything questioned. Months being run through the mincer of our legal system and the press."

"So you've had this lecture before? Who was the kindly minded individual?"

"Dr. Alastair. He very kindly informed me that I had a husband who could probably pay off the war debt.....it's not the truth and frankly quite irrelevant."

"Well the family certainly could and Darcy holds by far the majority of the wealth." Mr. Bennet smiled faintly. "But the good Doctor has a point."

"That good Doctor is a meddlesome....." Elizabeth abruptly bit her tongue.

"How true." Mr. Bennet paused. "In many ways I've been both a bad father and a bad husband. But believe me Lizzie, I love you all and I am here if I'm needed....you aren't all alone."

"Thank you, papa." Elizabeth gave her father a quick hug. "Tell Jane I'm walking home. I don't know why, but I need to walk."

"You wouldn't be human if you didn't." Mr. Bennet hugged her back and then watched in silence as Elizabeth left by the window. Mr. Bennet's expression was blank but his eyes were sad. Some day this day would have come, but that didn't mean he liked it when it came.

May 13th 1918-Belgian Canal system, Belgium

"Well?" The query broke the silence which had utterly engulfed the barge for two days.

"What else is there to say? I can't sit around in England so I may as well stay here." Darcy rose to his feet as he spoke and gave a slight shrug. "I'm dead for them already, what I do will matter little."

"You've been at this longer than I have been, in an intermittent way, so I won't bother outlining risks and the rest, you know them at least as well if not better than I do."

"Very kind of you. Where do I go?"

"I want you down in South Germany. I don't care how you get there. I don't care who you are there. But we need someone down there desperately.....and someone who isn't constrained by anything." Chris paused. "Can you do it?"

"I expect so." Darcy paused and then smiled.

"What are you going to do?"

"That is my business." Darcy moved his head dismissively. "How do I get anything back?"

"I'll leave that to your ingenuity." Chris stood up as he spoke.

"Good. You'll see me when you see me."

"That fills me with confidence." Chris grimaced slightly. "Goodbye then, and good luck. See Munks if you need anything."

"No." Darcy had a hand up in a flash. "I won't need anything and I'll let you know myself if I do."

"Why?" Chris paused with one foot on the railing.

"That is my business. I want to be trusted Chris, you've dumped this on me and I'm taking a free hand on it. If you can trace me, then the Germans can trace me and that is not good news."

"Point taken." Chris nodded slowly. "So literally, de Duivel is going to be swallowed into the earth, he will be contacted when he wishes it?"

"Correct." Darcy smiled slowly. "This is how I work best. You'll get the information you need and you'll get it in abundance."

"Okay." Chris finally swung to the bank. "Good luck, Duivel."

"Whatever, good luck yourself." Darcy nodded and gave a half-saluting wave as Chris dodged into the nearby trees, before turning back into the boat with mixed expression. "That would seem to be that.....Please forgive me Beth, but there's nothing else for me to do."

May 24th 1918-Narrow Creek, Canada

Don't go around saying the world owes you a living; the world owes you nothing, it was here first. - Mark Twain

Victoria slid silently into the house and dropped her books with a loud bang on the table, she took a second to check the pot on the stove before she stepped across and gave Emilie a swift kiss on the cheek by way of greeting her.

"How's Emilie today?"

"Tired." Emilie suddenly laid aside her knitting and looked thoughtfully across at where Victoria was slowly sorting her way through the massive pile of papers. "How's Vicky?"

"Tired as well." Victoria's shoulders suddenly slumped forward.

"Rosie wrote last week didn't she?"

"Yes." Victoria responded distractedly as she returned to sorting through her papers. "She continues her invitations to visit her."

"Well send her a telegram in the affirmative and tell her you're arriving tomorrow."

"But Emilie, it's the middle of the term."

"Who cares, Elliot has a degree, he's just as capable at teaching as you are, he is here doing nothing and you need a holiday. So, you give an affirmative response to Rosie and pack your bags and Elliot can take over the school until either they get another teacher or you are refreshed suitably."

"What do you mean by refreshed suitably?" Victoria frowned slightly over the words.

"Okay, until Meg and I decide it is safe for you to return to teaching." Emilie picked up her knitting again.

"But what about these? I can't mark them all tonight."

"Leave 'em for Elliot, he needs to polish up a bit before he starts."

"But....."

"The telephone is there, get calling." Emilie smiled to herself as Victoria dithered uncertainly for a minute before picking up the receiver and asking for a line to Kingsport.

"Uhhh, could I speak to Rosie?" Victoria was startled by the unfamiliar voice which answered the telephone.

"I'll get her." There was the sound of some background yelling then suddenly Rosie's voice came on line. "Hello, Rosie speaking."

"Victoria Elliott here."

"Vicky! You absolute darling. Why are you calling."

"I was wondering whether your offer was serious."

"What? about your coming up here to visit? Of course it was serious. I'm starting to get offended by your repeat refusals my friend."

"Would it be okay if I were to come tomorrow?"

"It would be utterly splendid. Always said you never did things by half. Tell me when you'll arrive?"

"Sometime after lunch I think." Victoria was startled at how eagerly Rosie pounced on the matter.

"Good, you'll get two days to sleep off the effects of teaching and war, then you are going to become the giddy schoolgirl you never were. We're going to the movies, we're going to go to every sight there is to be seen, we are going to the theatre, and we are going SHOPPING!" There was a brief pause. "And if you call off now I will come in person and abduct you!" Rosie finished the call on that threatening note and promptly hung up. Victoria well aware that her matchmaking friend was now probably calling ninety different numbers and splitting her sides with laughter. It took Victoria nearly an hour to get hold of the head of the school trustees and arrange to see him, it was then a matter of resuming coat and boots and hustling out of the house.

When she returned two hours later Victoria was starving and exhausted and the smell of food which assaulted her nose was more then welcome.

"Hello Vicky, take a seat, have some stew." Mrs. March dumped a loaded plate on the table in front of Vicky and handed her a thick slice of bread.

"Where's Elliot?" Victoria set to work on the plate.

"Not in yet."

"Oh." Victoria said not another word until she had finished off her plate.

"Any more?"

"No thanks." Victoria pushed her chair back and planted her elbows on the table. "The trustees passed it after a lot of discussion, I decided to catch the milk train out."

"You needn't save on a train ticket Vicky."

"It lessens the probability of my getting a big send off."

"Okay." Mrs. March pottered around for a few more minutes before excusing herself and retiring for the night. Victoria watched her go with worried eyes.

"What is it Emilie?" Victoria looked across at Emilie.

"Meg's over fifty now, her life was never easy and this war hasn't made it easier even though the end doesn't seem to be far off."

"Why are you chasing me off then, I can help."

"So can Elliot, we're not so selfish as to make you stay, so we're chasing you away for a few months. Take your holiday Vicky, enjoy it, forget there was ever a place called Narrow Creek."

"But what if something happens?"

"Stop dithering girl, there is such a thing as telephone and telegraph. We'll let you know if anything interesting happens."

"Okay." Victoria stared thoughtlessly at the papers on the table until she suddenly caught sight of Emilie yawning. "Do you want to go to bed?"

"Well I would if Elliot would turn up." Emilie suddenly laid aside her knitting.

"Would you trust me to do it again?"

"Without trying to sound ingracious it looks like I'll have to." Emilie yawned again. Victoria hesitated for a second and then proceeded as she had spent nearly three years doing. In a matter of minutes Emilie was comfortably ensconced in her bed and blinking sleepily up from the bedding.

"Sleep well Emilie." Victoria took the light with her when she went and ascended to her garret room and turned her attention to packing.

It was at five when Victoria came down the stairs the next morning and having dumped her trunk in the front hallway she went back up to see how Emilie was going. She found Emilie sitting up in bed so she sat down on the end of the bed and waved a hand, there was a brief pause before Emilie waved back.

"Going?" Emilie blinked for a second.

"Yes." Victoria paused for a second, then suddenly gave Emilie a fierce embrace. "Thank you for all you have done these last few years." Victoria then turned and left the room, leaving Emilie's faint smile to turn into a faintly disapproving frown. There was a faint clunk out the front and Emilie heard Victoria's feet descend the stairs again. The front door swung open, there was the sound of heavy boots, then a horse could be heard travelling away from the house.

Emilie hurriedly wiped away a stray tear and shifted uncomfortably before picking up the book she had discarded just before Victoria entered the room. Now all she had to wait for was for Elliot to turn up for a night, the jolt for him was going to be even rougher than Emilie had intended. The only response Emilie had for that was that it was his fault since he had been out of the house for the entire evening and left before five that morning.

"Emilie." Mrs. March came into the room at seven.

"Take a seat Meg." Emilie laid her book aside as the younger woman crossed her legs and sat on the foot of the bed.

"When did Elliot leave?"

"About half an hour or so before Vicky did."

"I think I'm having second thoughts on this Emilie."

"Make or break, it was the only option left available to us." Emilie shifted again, but it was apparent that she was having just as many doubts as Mrs. March. There was the bang of a downstairs door and Elliot's dragging step was to be heard crossing the floor and ascending the stairs.

"Morning." He poked his head into Emilie's room.

"You weren't gone long." Emilie tried, but was unable, to keep the accusatory note out of her voice. Elliot visibly withdrew a bit.

"No, I saw something that made me change my mind."

"Oh did you." It wasn't a question, it was a response, and a bored one.

"Was that Vicky I just saw leave?"

"Yes."

"Where's she going?" A dark frown started to descend onto Elliot's features.

"She is going to visit a friend. Now come and sit down Elliot. Meg, go back to bed, or go cook or something." Emilie frowned as darkly back at Elliot as he was frowning at her while Mrs. March hastily excused herself.

"Why'd she go so suddenly?" Elliot dropped heavily onto the foot of the bed. "Why wasn't I told she was going?"

"Elliot she has not left Narrow Creek once in nearly three years." The last question had sealed the matter and for the first time in years Emilie really lost her temper with Elliot. "Why should she tell you if she decides to leave? It's not like you gave her much warning when you left back in '15, in fact if she hadn't followed you into the yard she wouldn't have known at all until that letter arrived six months later. You spend approximately five to six hours in the house out of every twenty-four and those hours are between midnight and five or six every morning. Gives a lot of time for you to be told anything, even if we had wanted to tell you. You spend most of your time avoiding the world and hobbling around on that stupid leg of yours while Victoria ran the school, the Red Cross, and half of the Sunday School. She has been doing it for three years without break and you have the presumption to get annoyed because she decided to take a holiday. We don't care about your leg Elliot, it makes absolutely no difference to us whether it's there or absent altogether, what we do care about is the fact that you add to the general upkeep of this house and yet have done hardly a stroke of work since you returned. I'm telling you now and I mean it as well, from now on you are going to pull your full load when it comes to this house, either that or you are rapidly going to learn how much work Vicky actually did around the house." Emilie scowled darkly at him. "Now there's a pile of paperwork for you to mark since they dumped the school on you."

"Do you want to go down for breakfast or do you want to stay in bed for the day?" They question caught Emilie off guard and cooled her anger, it was in fact all she could do not to give a puzzled frown.

"I'll go down for breakfast thank you." The trip downstairs didn't take at all long and soon Emilie was ensconced in her customary chair in the corner by the stove, Elliot then turned and started to leave again.

"Where are you going Elliot? It's only five minutes until breakfast."

"I'm going to retrieve that damn geometry text and speller since I have completely forgotten what is in them and I have a mountain of papers to mark before Monday." Elliot left the room soon to return with Geometry Text, English Speller and a decidedly battered looking slate. He settled on one of the high chairs and applied himself to the business of remembering things he had not even considered for close on three years.

Three in the afternoon and Mrs. March had left to deal with the Red Cross Society. Elliot was snowed under in a mountain text books, papers and slate dust. Three empty teacups surrounded his books and a fourth was precariously perched on top of a text on ancient history.

"Elliot, what are you going to tell them?" Emilie spoke up when he lifted his head briefly, asking a question that had nagged her for a while.

"The truth." Elliot looked slightly startled. "That Miss Elliott is taking a well earned holiday so they are going to have to suffer my poor efforts until either the term ends or I am replaced."

"Poor efforts?"

"They'll appear poor, I haven't touched this stuff in three years."

"Why not aim to do well?" Emilie earned another startled look, then Elliot buried his head in his books again.

"It saves disappointment and prevents expectation." The answer emerged some twenty minutes later.

"It could also cost you the respect of the students. They're going to know you haven't touched this stuff, they know you as the only commissioned officer in Narrow Creek. Take it as it comes and don't talk yourself down either to get false praise or to prevent disappointments. A Captain is a person of decision. Act like one."

"I don't think you want me to do that." Elliot looked even more startled then he had before. "But you have a point." Elliot returned to his work for about five seconds before emerging and making Emilie another cup of tea.

May 26th 1918-Scherkwald, Germany

War is a game of improvisation. They tell you the rules before you start, but the rules have changed before you even begin.

"Ich bin General Darcy, Armee Seiner Majestät, 13. Midlander Division, 2. Korps." The words were spoken gravely enough and had the Kommandant not already made his analysis of this ragged giant he would most certainly have fallen off his chair. I am General Darcy of His Majesty's Army, 13th Midlander's Division, 2nd Army Corps.

"Tatsächlich." The Kommandant's tone was dry. Indeed. "Wann und wo sind Sie geboren?" When and where were you born?

"England, 1887."

"Danke" The Kommandant's tone became drier if anything. thank you "Sie haben eine Ausbildung?" You're schooling?

"Eton und Cambridge."

"Nach Cambridge?" After Cambridge?

"Ich bin zur Armee gegangen." I joined the Army.

"In welchem Jahr war das?" What year was that?

"1912."

"Hatten Sie damals gleich die Offizierslaufbahn eingeschlagen?" Were you commissioned when you joined?

"Nein, ich war einfacher Soldat." No, I was a Private.

"Danke." The Kommandant spoke calmly, scribbled briefly for several moments before leaning across and ringing a small silver bell.Thankyou.

"Kommandant?" The Orderly came smartly into the room.

"Sorgen Sie dafür, daß diese Mappe nach Berlin kommt. Und zwar unter 'Eilt, sofort'. See this folder forwarded to Berlin. For immediate attention.

"Kommandant." The Orderly took the folder and then retreated, banging the door behind himself.

"So, General Darcy...oder soll ich Sie Hamish nennen?" So General Darcy....or may I call you Hamish?

"Ich heiße General Dary, niemand verwendet meinen Geburtsnamen." The response was arrogantly accented. My name is General Darcy, no one uses my birth name.

"Gut, bleiben wir also bei General Darcy." The Kommandant shook his head, this was the third General Darcy who had been in his office in this month. Very well we'll keep it at General Darcy then. It was amazing how the highly publicised death could abruptly bring the man out of the woodwork. The Kommandant shook his head a second time as he look once more at the motionless figure who sat in the chair on the other side of his desk. If this 'General' had any points in his favour it was that at least he was remotely near the right size....as reported in Official Files....and of approximately the right colouring.

"Kommandant." The Orderly returned somewhat apologetically to the office. "General Grief sagt Scherkwald."

"Danke." The Kommandant's mouth twitched slightly as the Orderly retreated. The General's response had been fully predictable. "Nun, General, ich habe gute Nachrichten für Sie." The Kommandant rose to his feet. Well, General, I have good news for you. "Wir geben Ihnen die Gelegenheit, ein paar Freunde im Gefängnis Scherkwald wiederzusehen." We're sending you to join some friends of yours in the Scherkwald Prison.

"Das ist sehr freundlich von Ihnen." 'General Darcy' stood up slightly stiffly and grimaced as he bumped against the chair. That is very kind of you.

"Man wird Sie in ein paar Minuten dorthin geleiten." The Kommandant took one last look of disgust at the man before he picked up another folder and started to read it. They will come to escort you in a minute.

They made a grim cluster around the grey metal door, grim-faced men wearing grim grey clothes. In fact the entire building seemed to be grim and grey.

"Werden sie überleben." It was a worried looking Guard who asked the question. Will they survive?

"Das sollten sie." The Doctor grunted sourly. They should. "Sie sollten sie bis spätestens Ende des Monats zurückgebracht haben. Obgleich der, der sich für einen General hält....keine Ahnung, was mit ihm los ist, er scheint nicht in der Lage zu sein, einen Laut von sich zu geben. Er mag schwerere Verletzungen davongetragen haben. Die Zeit wird es lehren." You should get them back by the end of next month. Though the one who reckons he's a General.....dunno about him, seems unable to make a noise. He may have sustained more severe injuries from it all. Time will tell. The Doctor paused. "Kann mir jemand sagen, was passiert ist?" Can anyone tell me what happened?

"Nicht wirklich." The Head Guard paused. Not really. "Im wesentlichen fiel die Mauer um. Der Bombenwurf muß mehr Stützen unterhölt haben, als wir gedacht haben. Das ganze Gebäude brach zusammen, während sie drinnen waren. Wir haben drei Stunden gebraucht, um sie zu befreien." Basically the wall fell down. The bombing must have undermined more supports than we thought. The whole building came down while they were in there. It took us three hours to free them.

"Warum ist der Korporal fast unversehrt?" The Doctor finally asked the question which had been irritating him. Why is that Corporal almost untouched?

"Er lag unter dem 'General'." He was underneath the 'General'.

"Sein Glück. Ich vermute, er wäre tot, wenn er nicht diesen Schutz gehabt hätte." The Doctor hesitated once more, but then moved off without asking any further questions. Fortunate for him. I suspect he'd be dead if he hadn't been protected. There were still several things about the whole matter which worried him, but simultaneously they were not questions with which to trouble the guards.

Kommandant Karl Haas rubbed his head before throwing a look of pure exasperation at the Orderly who stood rigidly staring at nothing in particular.

"Sanitäter, bestellen Sie bitte den guten Doktor hierher." Orderly, will you summon the good doctor in here.

"Kommandant." The Orderly turned sharply and retreated, soon to return with the Doctor in tow.

"Doktor." Haas flipped the folder to one side. "Setzen Sie sich. Sanitäter, Sie sind entlassen." Take a seat. Orderly, you are excused.

"Kommandant." The Orderly retreated and banged the door shut behind him.

"Sie wollten mich sprechen, Kommandant." The Doctor had settled on the very edge of his chair. You wished to speak to me sir.

"Diese Akte wurde mir gerade vorgelegt." Haas picked the folder up and handed it across to the Doctor. This file was just brought to my attention.

"Kommandant." The Doctor flicked through the file. "Was is das?" What is it?

"Das ist die offizielle Krankenakte des richtigen Generals D.F. Darcy von Pemberley, England." That is the official medical files on the real General D.F. Darcy of Pemberley, England.

"Ich verstehe." The Doctor in fact did not see a thing, or at least not as to the importance of the file with relation to himself, but he had to make some response. I see "Warum hat man sie Ihnen geschickt?" Why was this sent to you?

"Weil Berlin entschieden hat, dass 'unser General' gelegentlich ein bisschen zu genau ist. Sie haben den Verdacht, dass wir den wirklichen General haben." Because Berlin has decided that our 'General Darcy' is a trifle too accurate at times. They are suspicious that we might have the actual General.

"Aber General Darcy spricht kein Deutsch." But General Darcy speaks no German.

"Sprachen kann man lernen. Nach der Akte soll General Darcy auch nicht fließend Französisch sprechen, aber ich kann Ihnen versichern, daß er keinerlei Schwierigkeiten hat, sich in Frankreich verständlich zu machen. Unglücklicherweise ist diese Akte vier Jahre alt." Languages can be learnt. General Darcy also supposedly can't speak fluent French by that file, but I can assure you that he has no difficulty at all in making himself understood in France. That file is unfortunately four years old.

"Dies hier sagt, Darcy war in Oxford, unser Darcy behauptet, die Universität in Cambridge besucht zu haben. Desgleichen sagt unser Darcy, seinen Militärdienst im Jahre 1912 abgeleistet zu haben, während dies hier feststellt, daß er niemals einen Militärdienst gesehen hat." This says Darcy was at Oxford, our Darcy claims Cambridge as his University. Likewise our Darcy claims Military Service in 1912, yet this states he has never seen any Military Service.

"Sie sehen ein bisschen bestürzt aus, Doktor." You seem a trifle upset Doctor. Haas looked sharply at the man. "Versuchen Sie, mir etwas vorzuenthalten?" Are you attempting to hide something?

"Keinesfalls, aber die Dinge haben sich in der letzten Zeit etwas eigenartig entwickelt. Drei neue Gefangene zur gleichen Zeit, ein Gebäude stürzt ein, obwohl die Ingenieure sagen, das es das nicht tun würde. Daneben haben wir ein paar Gefangene verloren, die England fraglos gerne zurückgenommen hätte." Not at all, but things have been peculiar of late. Three new prisoners at the same time, a building which collapses even though the Engineers say it will not. We've also lost a few prisoners whom there is no question England would like to return home.

"Was wollen Sie damit sagen?" What are you saying? Haas looked even more sharply at the Doctor, they had been together more or less since the beginning of the war. Haas had a more than passing respect for this mouse-like Doctor, who also happened to be the intelligence head of the sector. The only response he got was a piece of paper slid across the desktop.

One observes with interest that General Darcy has vanished from France for the second time in less than a year. Ostensibly the first departure was to undertake a temporary post at a training camp in England, and to recuperate from a far from easy autumn. If we believe that story we well and truly deserve to have failed at St. Quentin. Miraculously this General reappears just in time to prevent our passage to Paris (this is simultaneous with the loss of the 'Big Fish). England tells us he was in a Bristol which crashed on our side of the lines. We find the Bristol in question but there is no sign of said General. Neither has anyone seen trace of either General or Pilot.

There was a large smudge on the page as if something had been dropped on it.

Quite suddenly there appear a spate of 'General's in Southern Germany, I would be worried. Berlin is immediately certain that the General is infact alive and most likely coming to Southern Germany, where everyone knows the English have lousy intelligence. Berlin sends its own men, every prisoner is intently questioned and thoroughly searched. They find nothing. Certain they have missed something they repeat their searches time and again. Still the result is nothing. Berlin redoubles its efforts. More people come, a building falls down in suspicious seeming circumstances. Even more people come. There is hardly a person left in Southern Germany who isn't either a prisoner or an intelligence person.....now you need not worry.

"Und der springende Punkt ist...?" And the point of this is....? Haas lifted an enquiring eyebrow from the page.

"Was ich denke, dringt endlich in die Köpfe von Berlin ein, nämlich dass sie woanders suchen müssen, wenn sie den RICHTIGEN General Darcy finden wollen..." What I think is finally sinking into the heads in Berlin, is that if they want to find the REAL General Darcy that they're going to have to look somewhere else. The Doctor smiled. "Die Engländer bluffen gern, sie lancieren die kunstvollsten und sorgfältig geplanten Finten, hinter denen nichts steckt. Die wahre Person gleitet herein mit dem Abendessen und wieder heraus mit dem Abfall. Wir verdächtigen den Vorsitzenden, wenn der eigentliche Agent der Ober ist. Wir verdächtigen den Ober...aber oh Schreck, sieh sich das einer an, der wirkliche Agent war der Vorsitzende. Wenn man es mit dem Engländer zu tun hat, sollte man nie am offensichtlichen Platz suchen, denn die gesuchte Person wird niemals dort sein. Es würde mich nicht im geringsten überraschen, wenn die Engländer momentan hierauf keine ziemlich beeindruckende Aufklärung angesetzt haben. Aber eines kann ich Ihnen versichern, nämlich dass General Darcy auch nur im entferntesten hier in der Nähe zu finden ist. Es ist nicht auszuschließen, daß sich der Mann wahrscheinlich in Arabien aufhält, um die Niederlage dieser verdammten Türken zu unterstützen." The English like to play bluff, they set up the most ornate and deliberate infiltrations, which have nothing behind them. The real person slides in with dinner and out with the garbage. We suspect the chairman, when the agent is in fact the waiter. We suspect the waiter.....goodness gracious but look at this, it was actually the chairman who is the agent. When dealing with the English never look at a deliberate place, for the person you want is never there. It wouldn't surprise me in the slightest if the English don't now have a pretty impressive intelligence set up going here now. But one thing I can assure you is that the General will not be found remotely near it. Point of fact the man's probably gone to Arabia to encourage the defeat of those damned Turks.

"Meine Sie wirklich?" You think so?

"Sofern Sie nichts an einer Psychologie auszusetzen haben, die sich auf zehn Jahre Studieren und Leben in England gründet, kann ich Sie dieser Tatsache versichern. Die einzige andere Erklärung für dies alles wäre, daß sie nach jemanden suchen." Unless you're going to fault psychology which comes from studying and living in England for ten years, I can assure you of the fact. The only other explanation for all this is that they are searching for someone.

"Was sollen wir also tun?" So what are we going to do?

"Nichts." Nothing. The Doctor finished flicking through the folder and laid it to one side. "Wir suchen weiter nach dem geflohenen Gefangenen, wir verabreichen weiter Medizin und wir lehnen uns zurück und warten, was zum Vorschein kommt. Ich wäre sehr überrascht, wenn es sich dabei um General Darcy handelt." We'll continue to search for the escaped prisoner, we'll continue to administer and we'll sit back and watch to see what emerges. I will be very surprised indeed if it is General Darcy who does.

"Ich fürchte, ich muß Ihnen zustimmen." I'm afraid that I agree with you. Haas sighed. "Vielen Dank, Doktor." Thankyou Doctor.

"Gern geschehen. Ich muß zugeben, ich bin froh, wenn Berlin endlich zur Ruhe kommt, sie stören die Suche, wenn sie so viele völlig Fremde herschicken. Zweifellos sind mindestens zehn Spione der Alliierten darunter." You're more than welcome. I must admit I will be glad when Berlin settles down, they interrupt searches by sending so many complete strangers in. No doubt there are at least ten allied agents among them.

"Zweifellos. Viel Spaß in Ihrem Krankenhaus, Doktor,....aber kommen Sie morgen zum Tee." No doubt. Enjoy your hospital Doctor....but do come for tea tomorrow.

Concerned looks came from nearly all round as the scrappy little waif spluttered out the message he had carried from Munks in Belgium, who was the only link to South Germany.

"How can he not be there?!" It was an anxious hiss. "Good God! We're dead if they've got him."

"They haven't got him." The waif was still somewhat breathless. "I merely state that he is not where you expected him to be."

"Damn it all!" The man pulled restlessly on the clump before turning in irritation on Chris who was slumped in a nearby chair displaying a grand lack of interest. "What the hell are you smirking about?"

"I wasn't aware that I was smirking." Chris shifted slightly and gave a slow blink.

"Well stop sitting there doing nothing. The Germans have got Darcy and we've damn well got to get him back."

"Is everyone quite finished?" Chris glanced indifferently around the ring of faces most of which carried more than slight marks of concern.

"No! And we won't be finished until we've got that man back."

"Ahh." Chris abruptly allowed a faint, slow smile to surface. "So it was courtesy of you that we've had so many utterly lousy Darcy's cropping up in southern Germany." Chris paused for a moment. "How unwise, and infact I must admit that I'm incredibly relieved that your report comes back negative."

"Look you....!" The man swung towards Chris, only to stop. Two things stopped the man's charge, the first was a small revolver which everyone was aware would be just as deadly as a shell. The second was a small book.

"I was aware that this is not my usual time to pay a visit here, but a visit was necessary. We are sending no more men into southern Germany unless I give direct instructions that they are to go. If I hear of anyone near southern Germany I will personally deal with them, and the person who instructed them to go there. South Germany is my business Gentlemen, as is Berlin and Poland, so if I say no one else is to go there, I mean it for a reason." Chris paused for a moment and blinked once more. "We currently have seventeen men in south Germany. Except for one, I am not in command of any of them. If they have not left south Germany by tomorrow sunset I would be very concerned for their continued health."

"Why?" The expression was hard.

"Because if they are not out by tomorrow sunset most of them will be in the hands of the Germans....very likely dead. There is a very unhappy person in south Germany, he is the man in charge of Intelligence and Counter-Intelligence in that region. He is unhappy because Berlin's recent activities have seriously upset his very effective means of population filtering. By tomorrow morning Berlin's last visitors will have withdrawn and he will be able to resume his sweeps."

"And?"

"He is Hans Gruber, a fanatic for the Prussian cause. He has studied and lived in England for approximately ten years and I doubt there is a man more familiar with the mentality which drives English Intelligence. He is aware, Gentlemen, that we are searching for someone. He is also aware that there are currently more English Agents in his region then there have ever been before at any point in the war. He is also very determined to remove them. I say no one is to enter without my direct permission because I have no wish to see life wasted. Southern Germany is covered very well indeed. The person covering it is even less tolerant of interference than I am." Chris paused. "Why were you searching southern Germany for General Darcy?"

"Munks." The response caused Chris to roll his eyes.

"Munks said Darcy was in southern Germany so you needed to search southern Germany for him. Gentlemen I applaud you in your efforts. Perhaps if you just ask me next time instead of stirring up your different hells. I do not like seeing my men fall because another interferes where he has no business. Now I must be going or I'll be in trouble. Here's the current report from southern Germany. I think you will find it satisfactorily complete and detailed.....you'll probably find mention of your agents in there as well, but I wouldn't worry unless he is still there tomorrow at sunset." Chris stood up as he spoke and spun the small book onto the table before walking from the dusty house.

May 30th 1918-Netherfield, England

"Lizzie, are you alright?" Jane frowned as she saw Elizabeth walk through the room for the third time. As always if Elizabeth entered a room, Dougal was only two steps behind her

"No." Elizabeth responded abruptly and left. Jane blinked and returned to tying up her bootlaces, she had to leave for the hospital in five minutes. "Jane." Elizabeth came back into the room. "Do you mind if I accompany you to Meryton?"

"Not at all. Why?"

"I need to go to London to speak to some people."

"Okay. Sure you don't want Charles to go with you or something?"

"No thanks Jane, I can do it much faster if I'm alone."

"Right. Leaving in five so you better get ready."

"I am." Elizabeth sat down and nervously rubbed her hands together. Jane glanced briefly at the door and sure enough the blanked-faced young man stood only just in sight with a hand around Dougal's collar. Peter James scared Jane more than she was willing to admit. Peter James was yet another unsolved mystery in her sister's life. More than once Jane had wished for the old Elizabeth back. In some ways it was Lizzie who was currently staring at the ceiling rubbing her hands, but this woman had many, many things she would never talk about. This was a woman who had become an expert at changing the subject without seeming to. Dougal had arrived about a month before and since his arrival he had been utterly inseparable from Elizabeth, the odd thing being that Elizabeth had no objections as all. Then a mere fortnight ago Peter James had turned up on the doorstep. Peter had not uttered a word on arrival, and except to Elizabeth he had not uttered a word since. Even Charles had been unable to fathom the secret of Peter James. Jane glanced once more at her sister before returning her attention to lacing her bootlaces. Mrs. Bennet had warned her, as had Mrs. Hill and most of the other women in Meryton that without doubt Elizabeth would frequently seem irrational. None of them could explain why, except that it had something to do with her pregnancy. They had all be wrong so far, Elizabeth was in fact just not around much. If you started a conversation she would politely carry it through to a conclusion, but she never started the conversation herself. Infact Jane had to admit that Elizabeth spent most of her time staring out the window or looking suspiciously at strangers. It was all too confusing and Jane resolutely put the matter out of her mind as she left the house with Elizabeth, Peter, and Dougal trailing behind her. Elizabeth had a small pack, and Peter had an even smaller one, but that was all their luggage. One tangle a week before had taught Jane that Elizabeth did not take kindly to interference, it had also taught Jane that Elizabeth viewed Peter as much greater protection than Charles or their father. It seemed odd to Jane, and even odder was the fact that Elizabeth hadn't stopped rubbing her hands in the slow, nervous manner she had been for several days. Elizabeth of old was never afraid, but this Elizabeth was certainly nervous about something, though Jane had no idea what.

Elizabeth was still rubbing her hands when she looked around the crowded station. It was becoming late evening and the lights of the station were feeble imitations of a light.

"Lizzie!" It was with relief that Elizabeth heard the call and turned to see Anne Marshall threading her way through the crowd.

"Anne!" Elizabeth fell into Anne's arms. "Take me away, I am going insane."

"I'm not surprised." Anne paused to collect the small bag Elizabeth carried with her before leading the way out of the station and beginning the search for a cab. Peter James and Dougal were a predictable two paces behind. "What brings you down to London? I thought you were set on hibernating up in Hertfordshire for the rest of the year?"

"I had to change my mind." Elizabeth grimaced and then laughed. "Sorry if I've inconvenienced you, but my Aunt and Uncle are away and I do dislike hotels."

"How surprising." Anne sank into the cab seat as she spoke and then gave the address in Queen Anne's Gate to the driver. "Where are you off to tomorrow?"

"Derbyshire." Elizabeth spoke quietly.

"I see." Anne didn't say another word until they reached Queen Anne's Gate. No words were needed because they both knew what lay behind that word. Elizabeth was going to Pemberley. Peter had flickered his brows in slight surprise, but he had said nothing and merely wrapped his fingers a bit more tightly around Dougal's collar.

Continued in Next Section