Beginning, Previous Section, Section XXXVIII, Next Section

May 31st 1918-Pemberley, England

Whether it is a mountain, or a molehill, depends on whether you are standing at the bottom or the top.

"Sister Bennet!" The loud call had Elizabeth looking around in surprise. No one was supposed to know she was here. "Sister Bennet!" A hand caught Elizabeth's arm and turning Elizabeth saw Nelli.

"Nelli!"

"Well I observe that I am remembered. Come Lizzie, I've got the cart out the front and Georgiana was only prevented from accompanying me by an extensive arguement. She's waiting for you back at Pemberley and positively bubbling over with excitement."

"But my bag....." Elizabeth died away as Nelli interrupted her.

"Oh Hawkins can get them later. Now come on.....Who's this?"

"Peter James, ex-Private from the 13th Midlander's Division.

"So you're Peter?" Nelli looked at Peter for an unblinking moment before waving a hand by way of greeting. "Move it the lot of you......thank goodness we've still got some of Dougal's food left."

"Okay." Elizabeth gave in finally to the pulling on her arm. The trip to the main gates of Pemberley took half an hour and Elizabeth rigidly studied her hands the whole time.

"What's up?" Nelli brought the horse to a cautious halt. They were perhaps a hundred yards past the gate and not particularly near anything. With the exception of Peter and Dougal who were about four yards ahead and constantly increasing the distance.

"Why do you ask?" Elizabeth parried the enquiry blandly.

"Sister Elizabeth Bennet does not return to England for a couple of months, not say a word to anyone, and then abruptly come to Pemberley." Nelli spoke quietly.

"What are you implying?" Elizabeth looked up sharply.

"Nothing actually, but clearly there is something I could imply about. Please tell me Lizzie."

"I can't." Elizabeth hesitated and shook her head slowly. "Currently I'm not allowed to tell Nelli......Please believe me."

"Well, can I ask an exceedingly personal question?"

"Why?" Elizabeth hesitated warily.

"Because forewarned is forearmed and Georgiana could ask some potentially embarrassing questions."

"What was the question?" Elizabeth shifted so she was sitting on her hands, she already knew what the question was going to be.

"Did you marry David Fitzwilliam Darcy in November of last year?"

"I did."

"Thank you, Lizzie, I won't have to make an awkward apology to Georgiana. You must forgive me." Nelli set the horse in motion again as she spoke. "Mr. Darcy sent us a letter back in November. In it he referred to important news, but did not say what it was. At the time I made a rash guess that he had probably married someone. Since April Georgiana has been clinging to the hope that it was you."

"She wasn't before?" Elizabeth made a wry face.

"Definitely not, she was praying it was Caroline Bingley." Nelli made a mischievous face. "She's always hoped it was you....ever since she met you at Pemberley. In fact everyone hoped it would be you.....eventually."

"Could you....." Elizabeth hesitated, uncertain of what words to choose.

"I'm not going to say a word, and when Miss Darcy tells me I'll be duly delighted and go into raptures on the matter. I must admit that I only ever asked because I wished to avoid the painful situation if you had not....or if he had been referring to something entirely different."

"That's very kind of you." Elizabeth hunched forward slightly fierce shivers shaking her.

"Just out of curiosity what would you have answered if I had asked whether you had married General Darcy?"

"I don't know." Elizabeth responded softly. "You didn't ask that and I didn't have to answer it. How's Georgiana?"

"Depending on what's happening depends whether she's euphoric or utterly down in the dumps. Currently she is positively dancing with the clouds. Correspondingly she'll probably be an utter grouch tomorrow and totally impossible."

"I'll take things as they come then." Elizabeth fought back another shiver before yawning widely. "Sorry, not much sleep lately."

"Sleep? What's that?" Nelli's tone was light. "That went out of fashion in 1914 along with long hair."

It was a limping man with a young-old face who took the horse as they drew up in front of Pemberley. Elizabeth started to unload her own bag, but she didn't even attempt to argue when the man gently pushed her to one side and transported the bags to the top step where they were retrieved by another and whisked off into the house. Peter had hesitated uncertainly, his eyes almost falling out of his head as he gaped at Pemberley. Then Peter had spied a familiar face and with a quick enquiry of Elizabeth he had gone chasing after it.

"Lizzie!" Georgiana's shriek bounced off the walls and caught Elizabeth by surprise as she walked into the main hall. There was a bang and Elizabeth looked up in amazement as Georgiana came jumping down the stairs. Elizabeth turned to look at Nelli, but Nelli had discreetly withdrawn and was now very much Mrs. O'Niell the Housekeeper and Georgiana's companion.

"George." Elizabeth caught Georgiana as the girl jumped from the last step and hugged her tightly. Though Georgiana might be able to see now, Elizabeth actually had not the faintest idea, she wasn't going to risk seeing the girl go crashing into a wall or something.

"Come to the music room." Georgiana was dragging Elizabeth off as she spoke and Elizabeth had no choice but to follow. "Now let me look at you." Georgiana was pushing Elizabeth onto a low stool as she spoke and Elizabeth fought back the desire to flinch as delicate, thin fingers danced across her face. "You've got older. Tell me what's happened since I last saw you?"

"I've been in France but came home a couple of months ago on home leave." Elizabeth gently shook her head, resisting the temptation to rub her face. Georgiana's mode of greeting had reared wondering doubts whether Georgiana could see again. But this form of 'looking' reassured Elizabeth that Georgiana was still blind.

"Very concise edition." Georgiana nodded gravely. "Lord James was here until two days ago, he's finally been reposted to France."

"Lord James as in Ashie?" If Ashie had been in Pemberley that might well be reason for why Georgiana could run and jump without worrying about hitting something.

"Yes." Georgiana nodded. "You know him?"

"Pretty well." Elizabeth smiled wryly to herself at the understatement.

"I haven't seen him in years. It was very nice to meet him again, though the War has aged him a lot and he's not as much fun as he used to be."

"He used to be fun?" Elizabeth hid the doubt in her voice, fun was not a description she would have ever attached to Ashie. Mad, insane, or crazy were possible descriptions, but not fun.

"Definitely, he could even make Algebra interesting." Georgiana nodded firmly. "Oh but I'm being forgetful. You'll want to be having a wash and a change." Georgiana was on her feet immediately and pulling Elizabeth to her feet as she did so. "Come I'll show you to your room."

Georgiana led the way through a bewildering assortment of passages, upstairs, downstairs and through a most confusing assortment of galleries. After about five minutes Georgiana finally came to a halt outside a door.

"I hope you like it." It was the first time that Georgiana had seemed remotely like her former, shy self.

"I'm sure I will." Elizabeth cautiously followed Georgiana into the room. Until Elizabeth actually saw the room she had been wishing that she had been given the room she had been in on the previous visit. The room was high ceilinged with dark trim. The walls were of a pale, fairy green colour. The curtains and the carpet were a dark green, thick and rich. "Oh my hat." Elizabeth gaped somewhat helplessly around the room.

"You like it?" Georgiana had attached herself limpetlike to a post of the high-canopied bed.

"I've.....I've never seen anything like it." Elizabeth had nothing else she could say as she stared around the room. The trim, the dresser and the bed were all a dark walnut in colour, it was an absolutely amazing room. Elizabeth took one more look around the room before looking back at Georgiana, without any doubt this was not just any old guest bedroom. This room was worth thousands of pounds, even at pre-war ratings, now it was totally unbelievable. This was not just anybody's room. Elizabeth hesitantly touched the canopy curtains before glancing in alarm at the two curtained windows. The dark green curtains were velvet, thick and heavy, and there was tens of metres of it scattered around the room. "Who.....Whose room was it?" Elizabeth almost didn't dare to ask the question, and she certainly didn't feel that she could sleep in it. It was the kind of room which really showed up mess.

"My mother's." Georgiana whispered the answer softly.

"It's a beautiful room." Elizabeth looked once more around the room before firmly closing her mouth, which was tending towards gaping, and crossing to give Georgiana a hug.

"He wanted you to have it should you ever return to Pemberley." Georgiana spoke at little more than a whisper. "He's never even allowed relatives in here before. But he wanted you to have it.....and now he's dead." It was like the last word had slipped some catch or other within Georgiana because when she next spoke it was not at all controlled. "They're all dead....no one loves me." Georgiana was sobbing violently and Elizabeth realised that the girl was only a hair short of hysteria.

Elizabeth tightened her grip around the shaking girl and looked up at the ceiling. Did she cry when her father had said that Folin was dead? Did she cry when Philadelphia..... Elizabeth blinked at the ceiling in surprise as her thoughts skittered and sidestepped the matter. A few moments later Elizabeth had forced herself to complete the thought, but all that happened was that she felt sick again. Anything short of deliberate concentration on the subject sent her thoughts scuttling wildly away from the incomplete thoughts. She hadn't cried when Ashie told her that General Darcy was deceased either. Once more Elizabeth found herself wondering if somehow she was defective on the emotional plane. In fact Elizabeth couldn't really remember having ever cried in her life.

"Oh, sorry." The slight noise which accompanied the startled remark had Elizabeth turning just in time to see Nelli withdrawing.

"What is it Nelli?" Georgiana straightened up. As with her last visit it startled Elizabeth how quickly Georgiana could snap from one emotion to the next. There was no embarrassment at having been seen crying in near hysteria, Georgiana's entire thought was concern that something might be wrong.

"Not much Miss Darcy. The Countess just called and announced that she is coming over."

"Josephine's coming?" Georgiana's expression was alarmed. "Who else?"

"No one else....though possibly Edward Fitzwilliam will come if he makes it up in time."

"Thank you, Nelli. We'll be down in a couple of minutes." Georgiana nodded her dismissal before turning to pick distractedly at the canopy curtain. Elizabeth was slightly puzzled by the expression of relief in Nelli's expression as she withdrew. Why was Nelli relieved?

"Who's Josephine?" Elizabeth shook off her distraction over Nelli and turned her attention back to Georgiana.

"She's my cousin. Josie's married to my cousin Jermyn.....and I keep forgetting that he's now the Earl. Seems so strange that my Uncle Howard isn't alive any more."

"She's a dragon?"

"Josie? No, not at all. But she has a maiden aunt who most certainly is....and unfortunately Josie feels it her duty to employ Aunt Sarah as a companion." Georgiana's expression got dismal. "However she isn't coming with Aunt Sarah this time and she might have Edward with her. You'll like my cousin, he's nice."

"If Cousin Edward is Colonel Fitzwilliam sometimes called Ned, we've met before."

"You've met?" The interest in Georgiana's expression was unmistakable. "When? Where? Did you like him?"

"I found you're cousin to be charming, flippant, and a person who likes to tease. I met him back....1916....good gracious that seems far too long ago. April 1916, I met him in Kent when he was visiting your Aunt Catherine."

"I'm glad you like him. I like him.....most of the time." Georgiana paused again. "S'pose I'd best leave you to tidy up and stuff." Georgiana was sounding uncertain once again.

"You are sounding like Ashie Georgiana."

"I am?" Georgiana looked startled.

"S'pose....hardly a word you learnt from your governess.....I also doubt she taught you to use stuff in that context."

"You sound like Mrs. Annesley."

"Which reminds me, is Mrs. Annesley still here?"

"No." Georgiana looked very vaguely sorry. "She left to help her sister with her brother-in-law....they never actually told me much, but David told me that he had lost both his legs....at least I can still walk." Georgiana had finally made it to the doorway and was pausing hesitantly.

"That is a very true statement. You can still walk, and you can also run and jump."

"I...I think my brother liked you a lot." Georgiana hesitated and fiddled nervously with the door handle. "He....he said he wanted to marry you just after you'd left Pemberley last time."

"He did." Elizabeth spoke very quietly indeed and as a result Georgiana paused and frowned uncertainly as she mulled over the words.

"Are you actually saying my brother married you?"

"Ummm, yes." Elizabeth continued to watch Georgiana warily as the girl fiddled with the door.

"So....so you're my sister now?"

"Well....yes, I guess I am."

"Do you want to be my sister?"

"I would certainly like it.......but the choice is actually yours."

"Are you serious about wanting to be my sister?"

"Georgiana, I'm currently in no condition for levity. I'm scared half out of mind because I've got no idea whether you even like the idea of having me for a sister. I'm also feeling sick and tired, so could.......could you either be delighted and then go away or can we continue this after I've tidied up?"

"Oh I'm delighted alright." Georgiana abruptly flung herself forward from the door and it was only by a quick move that Elizabeth managed to catch the excited girl in her arms before she hit the bedpost.

"I'm glad you are." Elizabeth hugged Georgiana back fiercely. With the majority of her fears laid aside her feelings of queasiness started to subside slightly.

"But you feel sick, I'll send Nelli up. Nelli has perfectly splendid ways of making people feel unsick......did you know she had a boy about half a year ago?"

"No I didn't know." Elizabeth smiled as she released Georgiana. "How about sending Nelli up, but there is no need for her to know I'm feeling sick, it's not that kind of sick."

"Ooops!" Georgiana bit her lip as once more she paused at the door. "She'll be with Brian right now....is it okay if you wait until she's finished with him?"

"No problem at all Georgiana." Elizabeth desperately wanted to laugh, but she also wanted to lie down.

"I'll let her know.....you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine Georgiana, trust me please! I'm just tired from the journey and I suspect that's why I feel a bit sick. I promise you I'll be fine in an hour or two."

"Okay." Finally Georgiana withdrew from the room, closing the door behind her. Elizabeth sank onto the bed and stared around the room.

The soft tap on the door startled Elizabeth out of her reverie and she looked up sharply before calling for the knocker to enter.

"It's me." Nelli came into the room with a large basket. "Your Private is hot on my heels and Dougal is safely stowed in the stables once more. I suggest you go check on him after dinner if you can, he's a bit restless."

"Hello Nelli." Elizabeth gave a yawn. "Peter, I hope the familiar face was polite."

"It was Gordy." Peter dumped Elizabeth's pack in the corner. "He used to be a runner with me until he lost his hand."

"You comfortably lodged?"

"Very!" Peter's voice was emphatic. "Takes only five minutes to run here. If I can't come then Gordy most certainly will, he's sharing with me."

"That's good to hear. Alright Peter, go away."

"Good-bye." Peter ducked out of the room and banged it firmly behind him.

"He seems politer to you than he is to anyone else."

"Only because he was given a thick ear the only time he has even attempted to be rude to me." Elizabeth picked up her pack and pulled out a pair of trousers and a shirt.

"Georgiana said you were feeling a bit sick." Nelli pushed the basket into the corner as she spoke.

"A bit, not much......what's in the basket?"

"That is Brian, he's being bad and was raising a racket every time I attempted to leave, so I've brought him with me. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all." Elizabeth looked curiously at the basket, then across at Nelli. "How did you manage?"

"How did I....?" Nelli stopped and gave Elizabeth a sharp look. "If you're anything like that you are not stirring out of bed until dinnertime at the earliest."

"But..." Elizabeth started to protest, only to be cut off by Nelli.

"Four months or I'm a nitwit....is it four months?"

"Roughly."

"Believe me, Elizabeth, either you know to the day or you've been lying to a lot of people claiming to have been working frantically in France." Nelli looked up sharply from where she sat on the foot off the bed just in time to catch Elizabeth turn bright scarlet. "So?"

"Four months, six days." Elizabeth had the backs of her hands to heated cheeks as she whispered the response.

"October then." Nelli gave a nod. "Fairly late October, but October. Possibly September if it takes after the father......but from your current size I'd say the fortunate thing, though maybe a bit on the large size, is going to be nothing like the size of the father." Nelli frowned for a moment. "Obviously we're going to have to do this a bit more often. Can't have you colouring like that all the time, people will talk and say nasty things. Why it didn't occur to me before I'll never know."

"It's embarrassing!" Elizabeth snapped shortly.

"Not at all, be proud!"

"I am!" Elizabeth hesitated. "I just don't like hearing about it."

"Then don't go near Mrs. Reynolds.....yes, she still lives here, we sort of mix the house-keeping duties." Nelli shot Elizabeth a sharp look. "How are you feeling?"

"Still a bit sick." Elizabeth admitted the matter reluctantly.

"Can't possibly blame it on my choice of conversation?"

"No." Elizabeth shook her head.

"Stay put, I'm fetching Mrs. Reynolds. You're a fool to have travelled here, however now you're here we're not letting you go."

"But my sister...." Elizabeth's protest was weak.

"Will be informed by telephone that you are safe and remaining here until after your confinement....at least. The same goes for your family." Nelli stopped and looked sharply at Elizabeth. "Protest too much and I'll give the lot of them the tongue-lashing I want to give them but am refraining from since it would only upset you. Now, get into that bed and remain there. I'll leave you for an hour. If you're still queasy then I'll bring in Mrs. Reynolds. If you become queasier just pull the bell-pull and we'll come. But for now you've got to sleep and take it easy."

"Yes, Nurse." Elizabeth spoke in a despondent tone which drew a bark of laughter from Nelli.

"Too true Sister Darcy, you're going to feel exactly like that before very long." Nelli gave another laugh before she drew the curtains and checked Elizabeth was tucked in before retreating from the room complete with her large basket.

June 14th 1918 - Squadron 83, France

The three Camels landed in very quick succession at an unbelievably close spacing. Freddie, who had been enjoying a quiet smoke with Eddie the M.O. and Way, one of the pilots, groaned as he observed the familiar colours.

"What the hell brings you here?" Freddie strolled across to where the pilots were descending.

"Orders.....you should have got them today." Ashie chucked helmet, goggles, coat and gauntlets into his cockpit before sliding down to the ground.

"Ahh, so you're the three new arrivals." Freddie shook his head. "And here were we hoping we were going to get someone worthwhile."

"Well you got three worthwhile people instead. As Johnstone said, no need to worry about reconnaissance flight rendezvous' anymore since you're flight is sitting right in front of you."

"Seen Mac?" Freddie glanced at them enquiringly.

"I saw him heading back to England under guard. He seemed certain he was going to be shot at dawn without even a fair trial." Ashie hesitated a moment before answering. "Last I heard he and Nero were giving the Detention Centre staff more grey hairs than the rest of the inmates put together. He's added about a fortnight to his sentence already in bad marks."

"He coming back here?"

"Should be. Should return to France in August anyway and he'll get his transfer application flying I'd expect if he isn't posted here straight away." Ashie shrugged again.

"Garry's in there. You'd best go see him to nut out what you are and aren't doing, where you're sleeping and the rest of that garbage."

"Thank you." Ashie nodded briefly before he, Pyro and Florrie moved off towards the barracks.

"Well if that don't beat all." Freddie shook his head and gave a laugh. "Wonder who their staff will be? Though I'm guessing it's Geordie and Denny."

"Be fun if we get old Pip Squeak back." Eddie was laughing softly. "I can still remember when Paige dubbed him. Damn I've never seen such a mix of uniforms."

"True." Freddie shook his head. "Weird old world we live in. Who'd a thought that someday we'd have had the Cads of the Flying Corps attached to us."

"Well here's hoping Mac and Nero make it back before the war ends." Eddie stubbed out his cigarette and restored it to his pocket. "Catch you round Freddie, I've got some paperwork to fill out."

June 28th 1918-Somme, France

Captain Jack Carrigan rubbed watering eyes and blinked before once more attempting to see a familiar face among the swirling smoke and the crush of people. A moment later Carrigan saw the familiar faces he had been hoping to see and he began the slow process of working across a crowded pub.

"Well if it isn't Carrie. How's it going ugly?" Ashie rose as he spoke and hooked a nearby stool across for Carrigan to sit on.

"Foul." Carrigan sank down onto the stool and yawned widely.

"When you get back?"

"Couple of hours ago."

"I'd have thought the old blue birds were flapping around merrily then."

"Frankly they were more active while we were up." Carrigan yawned. "Get me a drink someone, I'll pay you if I ever find some money."

"Had a nosey have you?"

"No." Carrigan latched firmly onto a proffered drink. "Damn sight worse than a nosey. We were nicely settled in a barn and a couple of wrecks when along come some Yanks who did their level best to kick us out. Something about having paid in advance or something.....didn't actually listen."

"Could you have listened?" Pyro paused halfway through lifting his glass. "Last I heard you was stone deaf for hours after coming back."

"No, but that is irrelevant. Principle of the matter and all that. Never listen to a Yank, they talk too much twaddle."

"Anyone would have thought you were just back from leave." Ashie meditatively twisted his empty between his fingers. "You up for some anytime soon?"

"Have to admit I ain't got the foggiest." Carrigan yawned slightly. "How was England?"

"Boring." Ashie abruptly became fascinated by his glass.

"It was England." Pyro put in another order before responding. "It rained, it was full of objectionable relatives, and it was full of men who either had good reasons for not going to war, or were just a little bit too old to go, which they felt gave them an excellent right to tell me why they considered me a coward when I said I wasn't in the Army."

"Well you are." Carrigan finished off his drink. "The Army is the only place to be."

"Bats." Pyro gave another yawn. "Utterly bats, your brains must be addled......what?.....oh."

"What?" Carrigan looked around sharply just in time to see Ashie slide off his seat and onto the floor.

"Ahhh, Ashie's just avoiding a dear old friend of ours." Pyro's mouth twitched slightly.

"Oh, what did he do?" Carrigan finally located the Major Pyro had been eyeing with amusement.

"Not actually certain, but they had a blinder of a row."

"Chap knew Ashie in the States and doesn't like Silver Bentleys." Florrie finally looked up and actually spoke.

"Don't blame him, it's a damned affected look. Why's he not U.S. Army then?"

"English. Comes from Cornwall.....I think. He went to America to make his fortune."

"Did he make it?"

"No." Florrie returned to his drink. "Foul-mouthed bugger, seemed to think he could order Ashie around."

"Possibly if Ashie would actually get his braid updated that might be avoided."

"Looks damned stupid to have one shiny bit of braid with faded stuff." Ashie finally returned to his seat as the Major finally departed from the pub.

"Running scared Ashie?"

"Nothing of the kind." Ashie called for some more juice before stretching awkwardly. "Just don't like the chap and have no wish to get tangled up in another brawl with him."

"Fair enough." Carrigan finally pushed back on his chair. "Being a C.O. seems to agree with you so I'll take myself off. Micky Niell sends his regards."

"Tell him he'll have to do better than that if he wants more brandy." Ashie gave a lightning grin.

"Cheerio." Carrigan worked his way back out of the pub, leaving Ashie and Pyro to exchange speculative looks.

"Some Yanks attempted to give Carrie the boot?" It was actually Florrie who finally spoke the question which intrigued all of them.

"That was what I understood. Ashie?"

"I'll join that club." Ashie gave slow, twisted smile.

"Advance payment......I hope Carrie didn't flatten the poor fellow."

"Didn't look like he had." Ashie abruptly yawned and then rubbed his chin. "Well I'm off. See you when you return." Ashie stood up as he spoke and had soon vanished through the door.

"Carrigan, Micky Niell.......are any of that Company still alive?" Pyro spoke softly.

"I don't think so." Florrie shook his head. "Certainly Carrie's the only remaining active Officer.....and I think that goes for the Battalion as well as the Company. I think a couple of the Brigade left, but don't count on it."

"I suggest we depart Florrie or we're going to become not only drunk, but sorry for ourselves as well....I don't think Ashie would like that."

"Ashie would buzz our barracks if we did." Florrie stood up as he spoke and followed Pyro out of the bar. When one was feeling the war a bit too much, the last place to be was half drunk at the pub, it all too frequently lead to a fight and angry superiors.

July 8th 1918-Kingsport, Canada

Often the hurt inflicted is greater when one is attempting to save another from pain.

"VICKY!" Rosie came racing into Victoria's bedroom waving a telegraph envelope around in the air in a most energetic manner. "This came for you a minute ago."

"Did it?" Victoria took the envelope with a sinking heart and turned it over thoughtfully between her fingers.

"Yes, now open it before I do." Rosie watched as Victoria reluctantly slit the envelope open and began scanning the contents. "What is it? who is it from?"

"It's a telegram and it's from Emilie March." Victoria rubbed her face wearily. "Mrs. March is failing badly."

"March is the name of the people you stayed with in Narrow Creek isn't it."

"Yes. Mrs. March was starting to fail when I took this holiday, I was afraid something like this was going to happen."

"Come Vicky." Rosie dragged her friend off the bed and started down the stairs.

"Wait a minute Rosie, where are you taking me?"

"To the telephone, I don't actually know how to call that place."

"But Rosie..." Victoria stopped utterly helpless in the face of Rosie's suddenly masterful nature.

"What's the number? How do I call them?" Rosie picked up the receiver.

"Get the Narrow Creek connection first."

"Okay." It took Rosie a good minute to get connected to the Narrow Creek telephone network. "Now what?"

"Three rings, one ring, three rings."

"A country line?" Rosie's voice was almost horrified.

"Very." Victoria rubbed her head wearily.

"'The Little House'." The voice which answered was unfamiliar and male, a fact which startled Rosie.

"Could I please speak to Mrs. March?"

"No."

"HEY, WAIT A MINUTE!" Rosie gave a yell as she realised the voice at the other end was about to hang up, but before she could extend on her theme she found that Victoria had taken the receiver.

"Elliot March! Stop being a bloody-minded turkey and put Emilie on!"

"Vicky?" There was a stunned silence.

"No this is the King of England, now put Emilie on!"

"Yes, ma'am." There was a brief scuffle as the receiver changed hands.

"Vicky?"

"Afternoon Emilie, how's life?"

"We're surviving." The response was calm.

"Then stop it, I'm coming down by this afternoon's train."

"This afternoon?" The response was slightly stunned.

"Yes, so don't set Elliot to cleaning the house, even though it might do him some good."

"He's been doing it for nearly a month now.........he remarks most impolitely that I had better add that he is famed for his kindness to chickens and rotten apples as well."

"Well tell him I'm glad he's taken up charitable works."

"He also says to get off at 'The Station'."

"Okay. See you for supper Emilie."

"See you soon Vicky." As soon as Emilie had finished Victoria hung up and was headed for the stairs.

"Hey Vicky!" Rosie dashed after her friend and found her packing a minimum of luggage in a minimum of time. "What's going on?"

"I just ended my holiday, I'm catching the next train to Narrow Creek and it leaves in an hour and a half."

"Well I'm coming with you." Rosie vanished from her doorway and Victoria continued packing her bag.

They were two breathless young ladies who caught that afternoon train, and it was nearly dark when they descended onto the ill-lit platform at Hall's Landing.

"What do we do with our bags Vicky?" Rosie found this all rather bewildering.

"We wait for about fifteen minutes, and if an answer doesn't come by then we'll hold a discussion with the my Uncle Phelps."

"Oh." Rosie sat down wearily on her bag. "You're Uncle?"

"I am related to nearly everyone here, my Uncle is the Station Master, and he's actually only a second uncle."

"Why fifteen minutes?"

"Because I'm not sure......" Victoria stopped and stared hard towards the edge of the platform. "The services of Uncle Phelps are not required." Victoria grabbed her bag as she spoke and headed towards the edge of the platform. "Come to rescue me again Elliot?"

"You might say so." Elliot grabbed her bags and dumped them into the back of the pony trap, he then took Rosie's before jumping up into the trap, he then reached a hand back down to help first Victoria then Rosie up into the trap.

"Sorry Elliot." Victoria shifted on the seat. "Meet Rosie Cane, Rosie, Elliot March.......you knew him before as George Washington."

"So you're George Washington are you?" Rosie frowned up at the deeply creased face, she actually could see little similarity between this greying, hatchet-faced man and the young man who had been so abominably rude to her while she and Vicky had been at Redmond.

"Emilie's in the kitchen Vicky." Elliot finally spoke again while he put the bags on the front porch.

"Thank you." Victoria passed quickly through the front door and led the way to the kitchen.

"Hello Vicky." Emilie looked up from her regular chair as Victoria came into the room. "I see you made it safely."

"Indeed we did. Safely collected by one Elliot March and now come to haunt you." Victoria gave Emilie a hug.

"We? I take it your friend Rosie came as well......she packs some lung power, Elliot fairly jumped back from the receiver and even I could hear what was said."

"She was annoyed at him, he was going to hang up on her. But yes I'll go get her." Victoria crossed to the door and stuck her head out. Rosie was drifting aimlessly around the hallway looking very puzzled. "Rosie!"

"Coming Vicky?" Rosie crossed and passed so Vicky could close the door again.

"Emilie, this is Rosie Cane. Rosie, Emilie March......She's a sixth cousin on my father's side."

"How on earth do you know that?"

"She knows it the same way that most people know it. One thing about this place Rosie, don't look suprised if you find yourself being introduced as 'Miss Cane, Victoria Elliott's friend....you know Victoria, she's Harry's umpteenth cousin."

"Nah, nah Mrs. March, lemme introduce Miss Cane, you know she's that posh friend of Vicky's....you know Vicky, she's Harry's niece's third cousin's aunt." Elliot came into the room as he spoke.

"Elliot you SWINE!" Victoria threw her handbag at him as she walked over to the stove.

"What, willing to take me off rations Vicky?" Emilie looked up with a grin.

"No, Rosie's going to do that."

"What do you mean....rations?" Rosie looked worried.

"You'll understand as soon as you see the larder."

"Take it back!" Elliot pitched Victoria's handbag back at her.

"Well you should be a better shopper then."

"What is this about his shopping?"

"Elliot shops by buying a ton of the cheapest meat, a ton of onions, some potatoes and as many carrots as he can lay his hands on. He then cooks by the simple means of pitching it all into the pot with about 4 litres of water."

"What! No cabbage?"

"Couldn't get that." The blunt response startled Rosie out of the larder and she looked suspiciously at the man who was leaning somewhat heavily against the doorframe.

"Couldn't get it?"

"In France." Elliot shrugged slightly. "Just like I can't get bully beef here."

"Those are your ingredients Rosie....we want an edible meal, Super Cook, not just stew and bread."

"Then out of the kitchen.....though Emilie may stay. I'm not working with distractions." Rosie shooed them out of the kitchen.

"Where's the 'Little mother'?"

"In her room." Elliot lead the way up the stairs, but he didn't open the door, or follow Victoria in when she went in.

It was over two hours later when Victoria finally descended the stairs again. She poked a cautious head into the kitchen, but the door was very quickly closed after a negative answer as to knowledge of the current whereabouts of Elliot. Victoria stood hesitantly in the front hallway and stared at the dark, stained woodwork before she quietly turned and climbed the stairs. Victoria glanced first into her old garret room. Elliot had produced bedding and both her's and Rosie's bags lay on the bed. Victoria looked quietly at the old room for a minute before turning and crossing the small and narrow hall to another dark, stained door. It was barely a tap and Victoria nearly fled after she'd made it, but the quick response prevented her departure.

"Come in." It was low, it was tense, but it was unmistakably Elliot. Victoria edged the door cautiously open and looked nervously around the edge of the door.

"Mind if I come in?"

"Not at all." Elliot was seated on the edge of his bed, but as he spoke he pulled his legs up and rolled over so he was lying on the bed and staring at the ceiling.

"Why wasn't I told earlier?" Victoria sank slowly onto the foot of the bed.

"She only really just got bad." Elliot pulled himself awkwardly into a half-sitting position leaning against his bedhead. "Honest Vicky, I'm not fibbing. The Little Mother has been a bit drifty for the past couple of months, but it was only last week when she clearly took a slide." Elliot paused and moved his head awkwardly. "Vicky...." Elliot paused again and then mutely extended an arm to one side. Victoria glanced briefly at the arm, then at Elliot's face, before giving a choked sob and burying her face in his shoulder. Elliot silently closed his arm around her, and shut his eyes.

"She didn't know me Elliot." It was choked out between sobs.

"She doesn't know anyone Vicky and she hasn't all week." Elliot spoke softly.

"I just wanted to say goodbye."

"Didn't you say goodbye when you left?" Elliot stared up at the ceiling as he spoke, then abruptly bit his lip. "Sorry, guess it's bad habit."

"Bad habit?" Victoria's question was muffled.

"Just saying a last goodbye every time."

"Do you do that?" Victoria lifted her head to look at him, but Elliot had closed his eyes again, a faint crease forming between his brows.

"I learnt it the hard way. Some of the boys did it from the beginning, but I didn't. Arrogant wasn't it? I was so certain that no friend of mine would die. It wouldn't happen to me...I'm not one of them...My friends don't get killed." There was a pause. "Then Jackie went west. Jackie was another Lieutenant, he had the second platoon. Jackie was no friend of mine. Jackie was mining stock, sharp as a beaver and hellishly bad-tempered. Jackie never laid off sniping at my posh parents and great schooling.....never realised how fortunate I'd been in family until Jackie started hurling it in my face at every turn. Then he heard I'd worked my way through my schooling. Jackie didn't like that at all. Then Jackie went west. Didn't realise until he'd gone that it had been jealousy. Jackie wanted to go to College, Jackie wanted to be a scientist, a medical man even. Jackie lost his dad in a mining mess. Jackie always said 'if only....' if only they'd had a doctor at the site. If only the other men hadn't been dead drunk. If only...... amazing couple of words there, they can make and break, they're a rock solid excuse. Jackie's mum weren't having him near no 'posh school'. Jackie was to become a miner just like his dad. Then Jackie went west. The boys told me almost as if they thought I'd be delighted. I wasn't." Elliot shifted slightly. "It was a dark night, Jackie had been on picket duty, just keeping checking they were alive and awake. It was a bright, starry night. Don't like starry nights, the 'planes come over looking for you. It's as tempting as hell to fire when one of those birds buzzes slowly over. But you can't fire, he'll see the flash of your gun. You've no chance of hitting him, and he just empties his magazine in the rough area. Cloudy nights are good, they don't come out as often because visibility is worse. The picket fired that night and Jackie died as a result. The picket wasn't even grazed, but he was one of Jackie's boys and he killed himself two nights later. The boys thought I'd be happy, but the biggest problem was I'd yelled at him only that morning. I was furious, he'd swiped my beef and it was my last can. Jackie'd run out the day before and he wasn't above a bit of snitchin' to keep full. And now Jackie wasn't coming back. Jackie wasn't just going to walk into the room cursing us and threatening to blow the brains out of the lot of us. Jackie wouldn't wake me when we were back as he stumbled and cursed his way through the tents ripping up most of the strings. Jackie weren't a friend, but he was a mate as the Aussies called 'em. You don't necessarily like him, but you tolerate 'im because he's got his good sides. Jackie had a foul mouth, but damn was he impossible to rattle. Mikey tended to be afeared of the guns so his platoon was usually sort of squashed in among the rest of us, he became the adjutant very soon indeed. Jackie was always in the hot of it. The man who dies fast with a lot of ribbons as they called them. I realised that night that people could and did die. I realised I'd probably die somewhere out in that reeking, stinking hell. I realised that I couldn't afford to not say goodbye because you never quite knew........" Elliot paused and shifted awkwardly. "I went to see Jackie's mum before I came home. I made a promise the night he died that I'd go back to his home and tell his folks. His mum had died the day after he left. She'd fallen asleep while smoking and burnt the house down around her. Seems she'd been drunk pretty much since Jackie's dad had died....Jackie was three when that happened and he was nigh on thirty when the war began. Jackie had a cousin, cousin couldn't go to the war because he was missing a leg. Mining accident that time, got his leg crushed. Milton still reckons twenty years down the track that the only reason he survived the amputation was because Jackie had been there from the beginning, begging him to live. There was a man I met over there. He'd smashed himself up to the point he was up for six months convalescence. He returned to France then just in time to catch typhoid and nearly die again. That man swears the only reason he lived was because he heard a nurse telling someone to hush because 'a man's dying in there'. There's dozens of others of them, probably thousands I never heard of. I can't guarantee it Vicky, but I'll lay my last penny on the fact that even if the Little Mother doesn't seem to know you, she'll hear you and she'll understand. I'm sunk if she doesn't because I didn't say my real farewell either. It would kill me if I thought she was going without knowing how much I owe her and how much I love her. I can't imagine life without her.....but I don't want her to be where she doesn't want to be either. I'd prefer to have the happy memories."

"Elliot." Victoria had lifted her head, she wanted to see his face, not just his profile. "Elliot."

"Hmm?" The was a pause and then Elliot rolled his head over to look at her. At a range of less than two inches Victoria studied the grey eyes which were likewise studying hers.

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?" Victoria touched one lean cheek. "Why won't you let us in?"

"Wouldn't have told you now....except that I couldn't think of another way to tell you. In some ways, Vicky, I just want to forget, I just want to pretend it doesn't exist. But I can't and there's always a bit of me saying that. I can't honestly say that I hated it, because at times I loved it. I wasted over a week in London at the records trying to track down my Battalion, just to find out who was still there. Stopped to see a couple of them in England because they were convalescing. I suppose I want to forget how Jackie died. I want to remember Jackie and what he taught me, but I want to forget where it happened. I want to forget what we were doing at the time."

"What's the time?" Victoria realised that Elliot was, as ever, politely fending her to one side without really saying anything.

"Getting on for ten.....if you decide you're hungry feel free to go down, but I must admit I'm not the slightest bit hungry."

"The great tape worm taken a holiday?" Victoria relaxed back against the comforting shoulder.

"Guess you might say that." It was almost a chuckle which accompanied the words.

"Hope you don't mind me lying here for a bit Elliot, but I really couldn't get up right now....just don't seem able to." Vicky was vaguely conscious that Elliot had made some response, but it didn't register any more than the curious stiffening which seemed to wave through Elliot at regular intervals had earlier.

Victoria lay motionless, she had no idea what had woken her, but something had and she couldn't shake the feeling that it was an important something. Victoria lay for another minute, slightly disorientated and uncertain of where she actually was, before abruptly rolling over and struggling into slippers and dressing gown. Victoria cinched in the waist as she stumbled sleepily to the door. Rosie stirred slightly when Victoria stumbled over her feet, but did not wake. Victoria closed the door behind her and after a moment she quietly descended the stairs to the first floor. Silence held the first floor in grim wraps, but a listen at two doors reassured Victoria that both Emilie and Mrs. March were peacefully asleep. Victoria paused and looked thoughtfully down the narrow stairs which lead to the kitchen and living rooms. Nothing stirred. Victoria turned and retraced her steps to her bedroom door, but there she stopped. The feeling still nagged that something was wrong. Victoria glanced hesitantly across at the dark, stained door on the other side of the hall. Victoria looked down at her feet for a moment and then back at the door. Finally Victoria shuffled across to it and cautiously pushed it open. The room was dark as pitch and strain as she might Victoria couldn't pick out a thing. Victoria hesitated, but relieved by the steady rhythm of breathing she turned to go.

"No....ten minutes yet." The words were spoken quietly and caused Victoria to jerk back in amazement. "Yeah right, as if." The words were followed by a soft chuckle. "Don't be daft, just imagine Belle sitting over there. Can't you see her on that little mound? Poor little Belle is waiting for you. Can't fire 'til you're past Belle or you'll shoot her....What's that?....No, still five minutes......Guns are nice and noisy aren't they?....A point it would be much nicer if they were all ours......No, two minutes yet Jim." There was another moment of silence and Victoria fished after the torch in her pocket. The narrow beam of light lanced out and flicked around the room until Victoria located the lamp. "Watch out, here they come....like the lights Jim?" Victoria lit the lamp and glanced around the room. It was essentially untouched since Elliot's return. A Pack still stood in the corner and Elliot might as well have just walked into the room, except that he was now wearing civilian clothes instead of his uniform. "Ten.....nine.....eight.....seven.....six.....five......four.....three yeah.....two.....one.....okay boys, over we go." It was so casually said, a mundane and bored comment slightly underlaid by tension. There was then a crash and turning Victoria was just in time to see Elliot kick himself off the bed and crash onto the floor. He had landed awkwardly and heavily. "That was too close." It was rasped out awkwardly, but still the unreal calm seemed in command of the voice. "Who's where?...Oh damn! Right boys come on, get you're feet together. Jim? You alright?....Damn! Where's Harold's?......damn! damn! damn! Jimsy! Watchit....oh hell! get your masks boys here it comes......get that mask on you fool...." Elliot had pushed himself up into an awkwardly twisted position, eyes darting restlessly, but Victoria was pretty certain blindly, around the room.

"Elliot!" Victoria shook the shoulder she had caught as hard as she could.

"Not now, Milty." Elliot easily brushed Victoria's hand from his shoulder as once more he jammed himself against the bed. "Keep it low, the wire's just ahead."

Victoria looked for a dazed moment at Elliot before hesitantly backing to the door. It took Victoria precisely one jump and a slide to cover the distance of the stairs and she dove into Emilie's bedroom.

"Emilie." Victoria found one thin should in the blankets and shook it carefully.

"What's is it Vicky?" Emilie's tone was groggy.

"I'm scared. Elliot's having a nightmare or something."

"Damn boy." Emilie stirred. "Turn my light on Vicky, I'm still asleep."

"But Emilie...." Victoria cautiously lit Emilie's lamp as she spoke.

"Don't worry Vicky, he'll wake himself up soon enough......or at least I assume he will, his father always did." Emilie yawned widely and then squinted at the light. "What time is it?"

"Two in the morning....perhaps a bit after." Victoria scratched her head. "When did Elliot actually start spending the night in the house?"

"'Bout a month ago.....I think." Emilie blinked again. "Just try to get back to sleep Vicky, there's nothing you can do."

"Sorry to disturb you." Victoria snuffed Emilie's lamp.

"No need to be sorry. I'm actually relieved to have it confirmed that he is having nightmares." Emilie settled back into her covers while Victoria carefully closed the door behind her.

"What's up Vicky?" Rosie was perched on the end of Victoria's bed when Victoria returned to her room.

"I don't actually know." Victoria sank onto her bed for a moment, and then hurriedly stood up again. "Back in a second Rosie."

"Well make it a quicker second than last time, this is a noisy house Victoria Elliott."

"It is rarely this noisy." Victoria slid from the room and quietly re-entered Elliot's. Elliot was still wedged hard into the corner between his bed and wall. Even in the dim lamplight sweat glistened on his face and soaked into his shirt.

"Vicky." It was spoken so softly that at first Victoria wasn't certain that she had heard it. "Vicky, you've got to help me." The repetition confirmed her original feeling, that Elliot was speaking, and not just speaking in his sleep, he knew she was there.

"How?" Victoria knelt down beside him.

"I don't know." It was still the same helpless whisper. "I don't know Vicky, but you've got to help because I can't help myself." Elliot moved his head restlessly. "I know I'm not in France, I know it's just a dream.......and yet I am and I can't break free. The picket is just over there, about a hundred yards to your left. They're concealed behind the mound, but they're there. We've been pushed back for the third time tonight, the pickets aren't happy because they have to know in all this muck whether it's us coming back or some Germans coming which means they've got to move back fast." Elliot moved his head wearily. "I can't do it Vicky. I just can't do it."

"Get back into your bed Elliot, I'll be back in a moment." Victoria helped Elliot back onto his bed before she retreated to retrieve face-washer and a pitcher of water from the landing.

Five minutes later Victoria was satisfied that Elliot had pulled fully clear of his nightmare, but something still troubled him. Victoria watched for perhaps a minute of silence before touching him gently on the shoulder.

"What is it Elliot?" Victoria watched as the heavy bar his eyebrows formed over his nose relaxed almost imperceptibly.

"Nothing." Elliot shifted his head in a slight negative, but his expression was still concentrated and his eyes still focussed on something far outside of his bedroom.

"Elliot, why do you lie to me?"

"I'm not."

"But neither are you looking at me."

"Vicky, I received some bad news today, that's all. I say nothing because there is nothing you can do about it." But Elliot still hadn't looked at her and his brows had drawn even more tightly over his nose.

"In other words you don't trust me." Victoria rose to her feet and moved towards the door. "Sorry to have bothered you." Victoria slid quietly from the room and returned to her bedroom. Rosie was still perched on the end of her bed. Victoria took one look at her old friend then turned and walked down the hall and down the stairs.

The front porch was chilly, the air bit sharply, and the air seemed to be icily crisp like it hadn't been for years. Victoria pulled the jacket more firmly around herself before huddling down on the old swing chair. She could feel hot tears sliding down her cheeks, leaving an icy trail behind, but Victoria was too tired to care. Too tired, too exhausted, too utterly battle weary. Victoria shivered and swallowed angrily a sob which seemed to choke her. Tomorrow she would return to Kingsport. Tomorrow she would find a place to live, she had enough saved to survive for a year on if she was careful. Tomorrow she would begin once more the process of finding somewhere to live and work. Somewhere.... Another sob choked Victoria, she didn't want to go, but she wasn't strong enough to stay. She didn't have the reserves now to face through another war against Elliot's fears, the competition was too unequal. Another sob rose in her throat too fast for her to catch. With one sob escaped others followed fast behind and Victoria just let herself cry. Tomorrow she would say a final good-bye to Mrs. March and Emilie, then she would leave Narrow Creek for the last time

July 23rd 1918-Farnborough Aerodrome, England

Every prisoner is released eventually....whether it is the release of life or the release of death is another matter. - Death Row

Captain Ellis McKenna, newly released from three months of prison, alternated an exceedingly mournful eye between the aeroplane which sat on the tarmac, Nero who sat at his feet, and the Observer who sat in the cockpit.

"And you are?" Mac prodded the dust with a gloomy foot as he looked at the fresh young face which peered out of the cockpit.

"Sergeant Ellis, sir." The response was stiff.

"Oh hell." Mac looked at the man with an even gloomier expression then before. "Are you assigned as my observer?"

"I believe so sir."

"Been in France before?"

"No sir."

"Great." Mac nibbled meditatively on the large scar ridge which replaced his index finger.

"Sir?" Over a minute of silence passed before the Sergeant prodded warily.

"Why are you a sergeant with no time in France?"

"I was in the Home Guard sir."

"Why change?"

"My grandmother died."

"Am I meant to deduce from that that your grandmother prevented a transfer before?"

"Yes sir."

"Well you're daft."

"Yes sir."

"Can you stop saying sir, it's driving me bats."

"Yessir."

"That's even worse." Mac mumbled softly to himself.

"No sir."

"At least it's a change. I'm Mac to all."

"Yes sir." The response caused Mac to roll his eyes. "You, get down."

"Why?" The query came as Ellis swung down from the 'plane.

"Because Nero will probably eat you if he doesn't know you."

"This is Nero?" Ellis was eyeing Nero warily.

"Correct. And since Nero is travelling back to France with me, he is also travelling back with you. And since I'm the pilot he's travelling back in your cockpit."

"Ahhhh, yessir." Ellis looked gloomy.

"Nero, Ellis. Ellis, Nero. Nero, Ellis is not for eating." Mac spoke laconically and the response came with a short bark.

"He eats people?" Ellis was looking both doubtful and gloomy.

"No, but he chews everything." Mac bent down as he spoke and snapped imperative fingers. There was a scrabble as Nero came to his feet. Mac grunted as Nero's far from negligible weight slammed onto his back and then there was a thump and further scrabbling as Nero settled into the cockpit.

"Chews everything?"

"My boots for starters." Mac extended one boot which was clearly imprinted with a lot of teeth marks. "He'll probably chew yours during the flight, but don't worry, he very rarely chews right through."

"You fill me with confidence. Must he travel with us?"

"You can pay for the havoc he creates if he doesn't." Mac scrambled up as he spoke. "We'll be stopping three times along the way. Once this side of the channel and twice on the other."

"Why?"

"Because we'll need to be carrying all the fuel we can possibly cram in to reach the aerodrome from Calais.....likewise the calls of nature with a dog can only be delayed so long and he gets very restless if he's cooped up for too long."

"Ah, yes sir." Ellis was cautiously attempting to enter the observer's cockpit. "How am I meant to get in?"

"NERO!" Mac snapped it sharply and Nero promptly slid off the seat and flattened himself against the floor of the cockpit. "You should fit now. Just kick him if he gets in the way. He'll only bite back if he's getting tired."

"And what should I do then?"

"Let me know so I can find a place to land."

"You're just going to land any old where?"

"What else would I do?"

"Possibly look for an aerodrome."

"Highly unlikely there'll be one, Nero never chooses stopping places because they're convenient."

"Yes sir." Ellis finally tightened his last strap and he was fingering one of his machine-gun's somewhat gingerly. "Am I likely to need this?"

"Not before we reach France. After that.....well who knows." Mac shrugged before abruptly swinging down and having a brief inspection of the engine.

"Something the matter?"

"No." Mac swung back up again as he spoke and waved the ack-emma to spin the prop. "Just habit."

"What were you looking for?"

"Damage.....admittedly that's unlikely in this bus, but I don't take risks." Mac let the engine run for a while before he began opening it up and moving off for take-off.

"Something the matter?" The question came in broken lumps ripped by the wind, but it made little difference to Mac, he had been waiting for the question.

"Yep." Mac finally pitched over on his wing and slipped down to a bumpy landing on a small field. The run ended with the nose practically in the perimeter hedge and Mac killed the engine before staring gloomily at the mist around them.

"What's up?" Ellis felt uncomfortable in the sudden, deafening silence. They had been flying for ten hours almost without break and Ellis was used to the din so the silence now seemed painful.

"The biggest problem is that I have no idea where in hell I am." Mac finally yanked his restraints off and swung down to the ground.

"Uhhh. Why?" Sergeant Ellis looked more than slightly worried.

"That compass is utterly buggered."

"How?"

"If I knew that I'd probably attempt to fix the damn thing....actually I do know. The casing's been cracked and oil compasses sort of require oil to work."

"How could that happen?"

"I assume a spanner was dropped on it or something."

"But there hasn't been a spanner near it. How can it just break like that?"

"It broke before we left England you clown." Mac abruptly turned on the Sergeant with a snarl.

"But why is it a problem now?"

"Getting from England to Paris doesn't raise a sweat. Most of us could do it blindfolded and only one or two actually use a compass."

"But...."

"Look just shut up. Shut up and move it. I want Nero with me."

"Where are you going?"

"To find out where in bloody hell we are. If I'm not back inside an hour take off and fly that direction as fast as you can." Mac pointed south as he spoke

"Why?"

"Because if I'm not back within an hour it means that we've crossed the lines without knowing it and I'm most likely cursing mutely while being watched by a plethora of Huns." Mac was digging around inside his cockpit. "Likewise if you hear me hollering fit to raise the dead."

"But I can't fly." Ellis was looking exceedingly upset.

"You got matches?"

"Yes." Ellis abruptly looked exceedingly blank.

"Fuel tank's there, I hope that doesn't need further explanation."

"No sir."

"Right. If you decide to drop the match in there be ready to run because otherwise you'll go up with the 'plane. Same as last time, head south if you head anywhere."

"Where's South?"

"That direction." Mac pointed backwards over his shoulder. "However I highly doubt either eventuality will occur. I'm guessing we probably are near Stemin as the boys call it. It's much further west than I've ever been before....but it has a reputation for thick mist." Mac moved off as he spoke, quite relieved to see Ellis' expression relaxing slightly, he was in fact willing to bet his life that they were nowhere near Stemin.

With Nero at his heels Mac moved quickly. There was a road on the other side of the hedge, and having pushed through the hedge Mac kept to the ditch. It was a nose-wrinkling odour which caused Mac to stop and push through the nearest hedge, having pushed through the hedge Mac promptly stopped and stared. Mac had at no point believed that he was on allied soil, and now he knew for certain that he was not. The sign stood at six feet square. 'Achtung'. The rest of the sign Mac didn't even bother looking at. Achtung more than answered the question which had been troubling him. Exactly where he was in occupied land he didn't know, but he sure didn't want to remain for long. Mac hastily pushed back through the hedge and dodged down the road, only to dive and roll into the ditch and under the hedge on the other side. The motorcycle snarled past at less than a foot's distance.

Mac remained where he was until several minutes had passed. Once certain the cyclist was not returning Mac rolled cautiously the rest of the way through the hedge and found himself in a deeply plowed field.

"Hey!" It was a muted call and it had Mac turning in alarm, his hand immediately grabbing Nero by the neck. The figure was vaguely visible in the mist and it was getting steadily closer. "Anglais?" The man who came up was a local peasant and Mac cautiously released his grip on Nero's collar and relaxed his shoulders.

"You speak English?" Mac tested the man cautiously.

"Very well indeed, thank you." The peasant responded with a cheerful grin and the accent of Southern England. "Man you've lead me on a merry dance. What in Hades do you mean by coming down here?"

"Buggered compass. Where is here?"

"You're twenty miles from the lines.....and they're looking for you."

"Hell." Mac paused. "That how to get away from here?" Mac indicated the direction he guessed was south.

"That's certainly the best way." The man gave a quick grin and then tipped his head. "You'd best get moving, they're starting a field search and they'll have dogs for that."

"Dangerous for you talking to me isn't it?"

"Buddy, every breath I breathe is dangerous. Chatting to a downed pilot's going to make little difference."

"If you say so. I'd better get moving." Mac glanced at his watch as he spoke. "By-the-bye, the field across the road from here has a whopping big sign with 'Achtung' on it and masses of cylinders and camouflage netting. What is it?"

"Whoa you'd better get moving." The man grinned again. "Duivel won't be happy, but that's life. That's their chlorine plant. I've been searching for it for three weeks now. You'll get shot out of hand if they realise you've seen that."

"Anything I can do for you?" Mac caught the man's sleeve just as he started to melt back into the mist.

"You serious about that?" The man looked at Mac intently.

"Deadly."

"Then as soon as you land near a telephone, get through to Intelligence and let them know this. C49-D50-24-NY."

"C49-D50-24-NY?"

"Correct." The man sank into the mist as he spoke. "There's no guarantee I'll get that safely back but I'll try anyway."

"Good luck." Mac called it softly before he dodged hurriedly back through the hedge and started running for the 'plane.

Mac broke through the hedge which separated him from the 'plane and came to an abrupt, jolting halt.

"Put that thing up." Mac ducked out of the line of Sergeant Ellis' revolver before bending down to allow Nero to get back up into the cockpit without overly damaging the 'plane.

"Sorry sir." Ellis hastily pushed the revolver back into his belt. "I've been hearing an awful lot of motors passing.

"That doesn't surprise me." Mac was fiddling in the cockpit for a moment before he jumped out again. "Hurry up, this bus won't turn itself and we need to get moving."

"Why the hurry?"

"I'll tell you later." Mac flung his shoulder into turning the 'plane. The 'plane turned with the utmost reluctance and it was a very pale Mac who failed twice to climb back into the cockpit. "Damn it all. Get here Ellis, I need your help."

"Sir?" Ellis was beside him in a flash.

"Grab my arm and pull as hard as you damn well can." Mac bit his lip and anchored his arm inside the cockpit. It was a brief tug-of-war, but Mac's shoulder was soon back in place and Mac was successful in his third attempt to climb into the cockpit. "Spin her up." Mac fiddled the controls as he softly called the instruction. In the soft mist and the silence the engine sprang into rackety life which had both men instinctively flinching backwards. As Ellis swung up into the Observer's cockpit Mac was already pulling the throttle open, there was little space to waste, and even less time. Mac cautiously nursed the 'plane towards the perimeter hedge, flinching not at all as the bullets hammered uncomfortably close to the cockpit.

"They're shooting at us!" Ellis was looking white-faced at the hedge they left behind them.

"So what! Shoot back!" Mac nudged the stick gently then glanced again at the perimeter hedge which loomed large. A few seconds passed during which a couple more bullets slammed into the cockpit and Mac frowned as one grazed across his head. Then the gun behind him stuttered into life. Mac dragged the stick back against his breastbone and sighed in relief as the 'plane lumbered awkwardly over the hedge and continued to gain both height and speed. Their escape would most certainly have been seriously delayed had they not cleared that hedge.

"Well look who's returned to haunt us." The voice cut through the weariness in Mac's mind and he looked up to see Ashie grinning cheerfully over the edge of the cockpit. "What on earth did you mean by taking a tour of Belgium on your way back? It's not good for the health."

"You can say that again." Mac slowly started pulling off his restraints. "Sixteen hours is too long to be flying for."

"I'll believe that." Ashie stepped sideways and turning Mac saw him yanking on Ellis' restraints. "Who's your observer?"

"Sergeant Ellis.....he only just fell asleep."

"I know, we could see him wilting as you came up." Ashie finally freed the last restraint and stepped back so a couple of burly ack-emmas could scramble up and pull Ellis free.

"How's Nero?" Mac pushed cautiously to his feet and gently rubbed his legs.

"Seems to be fine." Ashie spoke as Nero jumped out of the cockpit. Ellis had been dumped on a stretcher and was being carted away.

"That's good." Mac finally started to descend.

"You got hit?" Ashie stepped back as Mac reached the ground.

"Compass is stuffed, ended up in Germany and they had a potshot at us we were leaving."

"Must have been fun. Eddie'll want to see that."

"I'll bet he does." Mac ruefully fingered the tear in his helmet and winced as his fingers connected with the trench of raw flesh beneath it. "I'll want to know why you're here when I've had some sleep."

"Surprise, surprise. With luck we might even be here when you return." Ashie moved off as he spoke, leaving Mac to navigate cautiously to the M.O.'s corner.

August 3rd 1918 - Paris, France

Miss Caroline Bingley pressed the handkerchief more firmly to her mouth and nose as she threaded her way through the crowded streets.

"'Ullo, Miss." The voice made Caroline shiver and she drew closer into the edge of the building. The scrap of paper was now a mess and Caroline had to squint to read it. "Now, now, no pullin' back missy....." The man took hold of her arm.

"Leave me alone." Caroline yanked out of his grip, thankful that the shaking fear didn't leak into her voice.

"Oooh, we are prim."

"You heard the lady, leave her alone!" The voice snarled savagely. There was a brief pause after the words and then the arm withdrew.

"Sorry." The voice which had leered before abruptly filled with respect.

"Get gone." The voice was curt.

"Yes sir, sorry sir." The hand retreated. Caroline kept motionless for several minutes, uncertain whether to be relieved.

"You alright?" The query was made by the same voice, but the voice was now kind.

"Fine....thank you." Caroline turned tiredly to look at the man, then her brow contracted sharply. "Have we met before?" Caroline couldn't say why, but the face was indeed very familiar.

"Yes we have Miss Bingley." The face was rueful. "However I'll die if you ever manage to name me."

"Why?"

"Because, lovely lady, I was still in shorts. Having dealt with that subject all I'll say is thank your lucky stars that Peter came belting into our hideout fifteen minutes ago."

"Peter?" Caroline looked, and was, bewildered.

"Private Peter James." The other paused and looked at Caroline sharply. "Most unwise of you Miss Bingley, I would have thought you knew better than to travel foreign without a companion."

"My maid is back at the hotel." Caroline lifted her chin stubbornly. The other responded with a laugh.

"Miss Caroline Bingley, you do beat all. Now where are you going?"

"I'm going to L'Hopital de Angleterre."

"You don't want to go there." The other's mouth abruptly tightened.

"Why not?"

"Because......because it's not nice there. What do you want with that hospital any way?"

"Before I answer that question, who are you?"

"Lord James Florrington-Smythe." Florrie tilted his head and watched in amused silence while recognition dawned in Caroline's face.

"Well if it wasn't I'm to relieved to see you I'd probably scream." Caroline frowned and then turned to look over Florrie's shoulder. "Peter." Her call brought the ex-Private from where he was lounging against the wall.

"Yes?" His expression was blank.

"What are you doing here?"

"Miss Beth sent me to see you safe." Peter's chin lifted and Caroline turned in irritation to where Florrie was holding onto a wall, laughing 'til tears ran down his face.

"Be quiet!" Caroline turned and glared at Peter. "And what did she think you could do?"

"She thought he could do exactly what he did do." Florrie quietly pushed Peter back behind him again and met Caroline's expression levelly, there was not the slightest trace of amusement in Florrie's face or voice. "There are twenty-two men currently combing Paris for you. They'll stop in five minutes so either you tell me your reason for visiting the Hospital or you don't go another step." Florrie rubbed his chin. "Paris isn't a safe place to be Miss Bingley, even for those of us who do know how to fight. You'd better thank Peter later for getting us busy. You can thank Miss Beth later for the foresight to send about the only man who could find reliable people in Paris."

"Lord James, if there is one thing which truly annoys me, it is being told something I already know. I'm looking for Sister Roberta Harrison of the VADs."

"She's no longer at the Hospital." Florrie responded briefly.

"How do you know?" Caroline countered sharply.

"How else should I know? I saw her two days ago fifty miles from here." Florrie's accent was flat.

"Sorry." Caroline touched one coarse sleeve. "Truly Lord James, I am terribly sorry."

"Thanks." Florrie's mouth twisted up. "If you were truly sorry you'd stop driving me bats by calling me Lord James, I'm Florrie, or Lieutenant, depends whether I'm in trouble or not."

"I couldn't call you that!" Caroline was shocked.

"Good Lord, Miss Bingley indeed." Florrie exploded into laughter.

"Stop it!." Caroline scowled at the laughing Officer.

"Sorry Miss Bingley." Florrie hugged his ribs as he fairly howled with laughter. "Hell, to think a day would come out here when a woman made fuss over names."

"I'm going." Caroline turned on her heel and stalked off. However she only got a couple of steps before Florrie's hand caught her arm in a grip of iron.

"No you don't Miss Bingley." Once again Florrie startled Caroline, he had been roaring with laughter only seconds before and now there wasn't even a trace of it

"You are infuriating." Caroline snapped irritably. "How can I see Roberta Harrison?"

"You can't." Florrie didn't bother mincing words.

"Why not?"

"Because Miss Bingley, you wouldn't like it. Now, where's your hotel?"

"I'll go see her whether you let me or not." Caroline hardened up and yanking her arm free one more time she moved off. Florrie shook his head, thankful to note that she was headed away from the hospital.

"Watch her Peter." Florrie shook his head curtly and clapped his hat on. "Watch her, and tell her to be in this evening because she'll have visitors."

"Aye sir." Peter shot off leaving Florrie to pull a glum face.

"Well I may have laughed at you, Ashie, when you said that Miss Caroline Bingley was the most terrifying woman you have ever met. Unfortunately now I fully agree with you. Damn I wish you were here."

Miss Caroline Bingley grit her teeth together and carefully averted her eyes as much as possible as she worked towards the small building which had been pointed out to her as where she could find Sister Roberta Harrison. The sights, the sounds and the stench made her stomach heave. Elizabeth Bennet had voluntarily worked in these surrounds for over a year? Caroline swallowed even harder, then obediently took the jug of water which had been shoved into her hands.

"One glassful to the man over there. No more."

"Yes, Doctor." Caroline hastened over to the indicated man and measured out a glass with shaking hands, it was a miracle that she didn't spill any. The man seemed to be soaked in blood, it lay congealed around him in immense pools. Caroline would never have believed that the human body could lose so much blood and yet continue breathing. With tight lips Caroline gave the man his drink before standing up, she didn't like the look in his eyes, it terrified her, it was too grateful.

"Oh thank you." It was an exhausted voice which spoke behind Caroline, turning she saw an exhausted looking woman in a VAD uniform.

"He yours?" Caroline was worried, she didn't want to upset anyone.

"Not mine." The girl wiped her face. "But what are you doing here?"

"I'm looking for Sister Roberta Harrison."

"Bobbie? Bobbie's in theatre currently, you won't see her for another two hours."

"But it's urgent."

"Her family?" The girl's eyes abruptly widened fearfully. "Don't tell me her grandmother has died."

"No." Caroline shook her head slowly, uncertain whether she should tell this girl.

"What is it then?"

"Her......her husband arrived home." Caroline licked her lips nervously.

"Bobbie's husband is home?" It looked like the girl was going to be excited for a moment but it faded before it really became apparent. "He's not hurt is he?"

"No." Caroline shook her head. "He - he was captured by the Germans and managed to escape into Holland."

"Well if you don't mind helping until Bobbie's got rest time?"

"What do I do?" Caroline swallowed again.

"Just give water to anyone who calls. Never more than a glassful. If there are abdominal wounds just moisten the lips, no actual water. Other than that....please don't be sick."

"I have no intention of being sick. Just let me know when Roberta Harrison is available so I can speak to her."

"How did you......PETER!" The girl stopped and screamed. "Peter James where did you come from? Have you seen Sister Bennet? How is she? Is she coming back soon?" The girl went off into a blur of questions all fired at Peter. Caroline gave a sigh and slowly began her work giving drinks to those who wanted them. This was not the first time when the focus had shifted from her to Peter, but Caroline had a nagging feeling that she should be exceedingly grateful. If one thing could be said about travelling with Peter James, it was that nothing in the way of shelter or food ever lacked.

"Here hold this." It was over an hour later and seven jugs of water that someone actually spoke to Caroline. The speaker was a doctor, he seemed to be attempting to do three things at once. Caroline took a deep breath and set her hand firmly in what appeared to be a great pool of pulsing blood. Caroline could feel part of the bandage under her fingers.

"It's already slipped into the hole." Caroline almost shrieked, completely ignoring the fact that she was past her wrist inside the man. The Doctor responded with a fluent string of invective and hastily freed the bandage, re-setting it and making the preparations again. This time Caroline didn't need telling when he needed her to hold it, she grabbed it immediately before pulling free at the last possible second.

"Thanks." The Doctor wiped a weary hand over his face. "Wait a minute, civillians aren't allowed here."

"I'm here to speak to Sister Roberta Harrison, I was given the jug of water and told what to do with it while I waited."

"Good news or bad?" The Doctor looked up briefly from the next patient where he was fingering around a gruesome cut.

"I don't know. Her husband is in England."

"For her good......for us VERY bad."

"Why?" Caroline gave yet another man a drink.

"Because Bobbie will go home and we always need people." The Doctor responded frankly. "Why, are you civillian?"

"I don't like blood." Caroline responded briefly.

"Uh-huh?" The Doctor's look was speaking.

"Yes, I know I've got blood all over me. No, I'm not going to look or I'll be sick. I wouldn't ever have arrived except someone had the infernal nerve to tell me I couldn't do it."

"Ah." The Doctor's mouth twisted up, then quite abruptly he rolled his eyes. "What do you want?" The exasperated question was addressed to someone standing beyond Caroline. Caroline finished giving a drink to the man and then straightened awkwardly to look at the Officer.

"Greetings hideous scum." The Officer gave a yawn.

"What brings you here, Pyro?" The Doctor sighed.

"For a look-see actually, and fortunately I don't have to look-see very far. Greetings Miss Bingley, it is a pleasure to see you."

"I might possibly respond with similar pleasure if I knew who you were." Caroline glanced at him briefly, she definitely didn't know this man, he had red hair.

"True, you only ever met my brother......besides which you wouldn't know my name even if I told you."

"Why does everyone seem to know me when I don't know them." Caroline glared at the man.

"You must excuse me, Miss Bingley, I in fact only know you by hearsay."

"Well that bodes well for me. Who supplied the information?"

"Nuh-uh." Pyro shook his head with a grin. "Though I promise you it was not Florrie, though he did say you might be here."

"It seems the entire Western Front knows me." Caroline snapped then abruptly turned away to give another drink and then lend the Doctor a hand before she turned back to Pyro.

"So what ARE you doing here?"

"Satisfying curiosity as to whether you arrived safely or not."

"Well announce it to the world that I did arrive safely. Now having done that you can either lend a hand here or go away."

"Thanks for the generous invitation, but I'll leave."

"So you have left your Camel in the next field." The Doctor shook his head.

"You ride a Camel?" Caroline looked suspiciously at Pyro.

"No, I fly a Camel." Pyro gave a slow smile. "A Sopwith Camel to give the entire name. Now if you delightful people will excuse me, I must get moving before my C.O. comes looking for me."

"Well, you are a mysterious person Miss Bingley. Everyone seems to know you, AND you're here on a mission."

"And I refuse to get sick because someone said I would." Caroline lifted her chin once more. "Now the wounded are waiting and I have yet to hear that Sister Harrison is available, so I will continue to water the wounded."

"Very wise." The Doctor gave a soft laugh. "But tell me, why do you come to tell Bobbie as opposed to her receiving a letter?"

"He didn't want to send a letter and I was coming to Paris. It was thought that she was at L'Hopital de Angleterre."

"She hasn't been there for close on a month." The Doctor paused. "How do you know Peter James?"

"Hmm?" Caroline looked up in surprised and noticed Peter bending over a nearby stretcher. "He's working for a friend of mine."

"Surprising, I'd never have thought Peter would go anywhere but to the Darcys."

"My friend is Mrs. Darcy." Caroline spoke hesitantly.

"Mrs. Darcy is a friend?" The Doctor looked uncertain.

"Okay, Mrs. Darcy's sister is a friend of mine."

"And who was Mrs. Darcy? Or is it too likely that I don't know her."

"She was Sister Elizabeth Bennet. Withdrew in April this year."

"Ah, Sister Bennet is indeed a familiar person." The Doctor had been working swiftly as he spoke, occasionally enlisting Caroline's aid, but mostly just talking.

"You knew her well?"

"She worked here for a couple of months. Probably the hardest worker we've ever had. I don't know how, but she seemed to live without any sleep at all. Thinking of it now, General Darcy was around a fair bit more often than was really necessary."

"She's got a younger sister who also never seems to sleep."

"Your friend?"

"Correct. Kitty's an old softy, but she never seems to sleep."

"Hence we have not seen the sister?"

"Kitty is only 21....maybe 22 now, but you don't let people out of here before they're 23 at least. But I will agree, Kitty would not fit into this environment."

"Sister Clare told me that someone wished to speak to me." It was a soft voice which finally interrupted their conversation and Caroline turned to see a quiet woman somewhere around forty years of age.

"Sister Roberta Harrison?"

"That's me." Bobbie smiled.

"I'm Miss Caroline Bingley, my brother Charles you've met, though you probably don't remember him."

"You're correct, I have no memory of your brother at all.....when did he come through?"

"He lost an arm in 1916, about the middle, August he was in the hospitals."

"Then I'm not surprised I don't remember him. August 1916 was a busy patch. I've got a few minutes off, so will you come join me for a bite to eat and tell why you're looking for me?"

"Certainly." Caroline relinquished her jug to Peter who had appeared next to her, before carefully picking her way after Sister Harrison.

Continued in Next Section