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June 18th 1916-Camthorne Hospital, England

Elizabeth kicked the trunk at the foot of her campbed viciously, the swore in a most unladylike manner as she hopped around clutching the abused member.

"You okay Lizzie?" Sister Clare looked sleepily up from the next bed.

"No, I am not alright." Elizabeth started unloading her bed and returning the articles of clothing to the trunk. "Of all pathetic days, we started with a five hour surgery run, we had six gangrenes and two staphs, the phone has been ringing of the hook since staph has broken out at Chelfort and they're trying to relocate as many as possible." Elizabeth slammed her trunk shut. "And to finish off, Lady Catherine de Bourgh deemed it essential that since she could not have this hospital closed she must needs inspect every nut and bolt and joint in hopes of finding a way to force our closure. After all it is only ten miles to her precious Rosings Park and it really wouldn't do for the surrounding land to be so polluted...in fact, I doubt a day could get any worse."

"I thought you said that a fortnight ago."

"I did." Elizabeth dropped heavily onto her trunk and glared at the floor, even more anger welling up within her.

"Well which is worse?"

"That one was definitely worse."

"Mind telling me why?"

"Just my youngest sister joined the VADs and going down to Brighton."

"What's so bad about that?" Sister Clare sat up.

"You wouldn't ask if you knew Lydia...she's of age only two days now, even though she's been preparing for a fortnight..."

"Lizzie." Sister Howards came into the room.

"Yes?" Elizabeth shoved her still unopened mail under her pillow.

"You have a visitor."

"Who?" Elizabeth was in no mood for visitors.

"She says she is Sister Bennet...but it is not your sister Jane."

"Blast!" Elizabeth mumbled in annoyance. "Thanks, tell her I'll be right down." Elizabeth kicked her trunk again in annoyance as Sister Howards left the room. "I was wrong, Sister Clare, today is now the worst day I have ever had." Elizabeth turned and stalked from the room.

"Lizzie!" Lydia leapt out of one of the hardbacked chairs which were left for visitors.

"Lydia...let's go outside." Elizabeth barely glanced at her sister as she headed for the door.

"Kitty was sulking when I caught the train this morning."

"You shouldn't gloat Lydia." Elizabeth gave semi-waves to a few of the convalescents and quickly lead Lydia into a nearby rose garden which was in a state of bad mismanagement, but which had the high point of privacy to it.

"I wasn't, I was just stating a fact." Lydia hesitated briefly. "Please Lizzie, don't be angry with me."

"I'm not Lydia, I'm just angry at the world." Elizabeth noted that Lydia was nervously twisting her apron between her fingers.

"Oh...a bad day was it?"

"You might say that." Elizabeth shrugged the matter aside, then frowned for she had never seen Lydia appear nervous before.....maybe her father hadn't been wrong in permitting Lydia to join the VADs after all.

"Please Lizzie." Lydia grabbed her sister's arm. "Don't shut me out Lizzie, I'm going to Shearton Hospital. Please!"

"Lydia, we just had a really obnoxious visitor to the hospital, I just want to forget."

"I'm sorry." Lydia suddenly glanced nervously at her watch. "Lizzie, please, I'm here for a reason and it's important." Lydia rubbed her face nervously and glanced around.

"Do you have a train to catch or something?" Elizabeth ignored Lydia as she noted Lydia glance at her watch again.

"Yes." Lydia glanced at the watch once more, then gave a slight yelp. "Oh no, it's stopped...what's the time Lizzie?"

"Just after five...why?"

"I've got to go or I'll miss that train." Lydia glanced around desperately then shoved something into Elizabeth's hand. "Take this Lizzie...keep it safe...I'm about to do something which will appear very stupid to you but please! believe me that my reasons are good, I couldn't bear to have you think ill of me." Lydia then turned and fled, leaving Elizabeth to gape after her. Elizabeth could not believe that her sister Lydia was this same desperate and fearful looking girl, what had happened? Elizabeth finally opened her hand and looked at what Lydia had thrust into her hand, it was a small gold locket. Elizabeth inspected it thoughtfully, then gasped as she recognised it, it was Lydia's locket, Lydia had never even taken this off before. Elizabeth turned the locket over between nervous fingers...her eyes barely noting the mix of letters and roman numerals which were engraved on it in a triple circle. Bewildered to say the least, Elizabeth hastily thrust it into her pocket and marched back to the hospital. Trust Lydia to be melodramatic and sensationalist, hysterics seemed to be the breath of life to the girl...and yet Elizabeth hesitated before she buried the locket into her trunk and instead fastened the clasp around her neck, she could never say why she made the move yet she most certainly did fasten it around her neck and it wasn't until many months later that she learnt that the move had saved the locket.

June 19th 1916-Somme, France

Darcy stopped abruptly, sidestepped so he wouldn't be stepped on, and glanced back over his shoulder. They had just passed a labour battalion filling in a shell hole, which had blown up half of the road. Not that a labour battalion would usually have stopped Darcy, in fact they usually wouldn't have even been acknowledged, but the fact remained that Darcy had to satisfy himself that he wasn't seeing things. Tired he definitely was, sick...well perhaps just a trifle off colour, and in pain he most certainly was, but Darcy did not believe his condition was bad enough to lead to hallucinations. Darcy watched the battalion for a minute until the rest of his battalion had passed, then walked across to the battalion officer.

"Can I help you sir?" Scotland practically yelled from every letter, and Darcy was willing to guess at a Glaswegian upbringing.

"Possibly." Darcy hesitated for a minute as he considered how best to approach the subject. "Have you a man commonly known as Ashie here?"

"Aye sir." The face tightened visibly with disapproval. "And if ye don' mind me sayin' he's a sullen brute."

"Could you step him out for a minute, I wish to speak to him for a minute."

"I'm afraid I can't." There seemed to be satisfaction in the man's tone.

"Why not?" Darcy creased his brows in bewilderment, he hoped they weren't talking of two different people.

"'Ee's a deserter, 'e's nicht ta hev na leave." The man's accent thickened almost to the point of unintelligibility.

"I'm not asking you to give him leave. I'm asking you to stand him out for a couple of minutes so I may speak to him in private, about a private matter."

"We-e-ell, verra gude sir." The officer gave way with obvious reluctance and a few seconds later Darcy was a short distance from the diggings looking down into the face of the former Captain Lord James Ashington-Frankston, and almost failing to recognising the man. Never would Darcy have believed that such a change could be effected in such a short length of time, four months had changed Ashie from his usual debonair self who well concealed his intelligence from the world, into a sullen and bitter looking man who's eyes held latent anger and no shortage of bitterness and cynicism.

"What are you doing here?"

"What does it bloody well look like I'm doing here, I'm filling in bloody shell holes." Ashie turned immediately as if to return to the work, but Darcy caught him before Ashie got more then half a step.

"Oh no you don't Captain. I asked you a question, answer it!"

"I'm not a Captain."

"Why?" Darcy didn't even bother loosening his grip, there was no doubt that Ashie was more than ready to return to the shell hole.

"One would have thought the officer there explained the matter to you fully." Ashie's voice spat bitterly.

"He did say something about deserting...but how on earth? You can't be reposted in four months, and I'm very well aware that they wouldn't have let you back onto the African front. Not to say I bluntly don't believe you capable of deserting....and I did have my doubts that you'd be able to return at all."

"I didn't desert." Ashie's jaw tightened mutinously. "I wasn't reposted, and I wasn't ever on the African front again. Your mate Mikhail got me safely transferred back to Cairo...he just neglected to set my deliverers straight on where I was coming from. I was introduced to H.Q. as 'Another o' yer bluidy deserters' so I got shipped back to England, was charged, discharged and thrown into quod...they then decided that perhaps they were a bit harsh and sent me out here instead."

"How in hell did that happen? Surely your battalion reports backed up your story."

"Not all the battalion officers are as good as you Major, in fact the whole bloody system is corrupt as hell. My Battalion Officer just neglected to file the paperwork announcing my non-presence for over a month. Hence my story claims I was captured a month before I went absent. To top that off Griz was never registered as missing at all. Point two in my favour shot to hell. Then I find that the fact I was invalided out of Gallipoli was not even recorded. They even had the gall to decide that I deliberately hacked myself up to back up a pitiful story..."

"Hack yourself up?" Darcy wasn't certain whether this was what he thought it meant, or it was some Australian colloquialism he had never heard before.

"Yes." Ashie abruptly rolled his sleeve up several inches and displayed in part an angry red scar. "That's not the only one, and not the worst. The Turkish are not particularly friendly when it comes to trying to obtain information. You've seen some of the others."

"Surely Mikhail's report came through safely?" Darcy was struggling to keep track of everything and keep his equilibrium.

"Yeah." Ashie shrugged slightly. "But they're only a bunch of Russian freaks, don't know at all what they're talking about...Mikhail's report was discredited."

"Where would you go if you could get out of here?" Darcy frowned slightly as he turned a few things over in his head.

"It doesn't stand need to consider." Ashie's tone was bitter again, the anger had died away behind the rigidly controlled exterior.

"Look Ashie, I was there with you for a week or so, until you got diverted to Africa."

"You wouldn't dare!" Ashie was staring in patent amazement. "You'd never get permission to...BUGGAR OFF!" Ashie's sudden and irate yell caused Darcy to jump, but then he saw what Ashie had seen, the battalion officer was attempting to sneak close enough so he could hear what was going on.

"Ashie!" Darcy's voice reprimanded. "Officer I said in private and I meant in PRIVATE!"

"Ye also said only a minute and ye hev been five already."

"Well you can see us from that shell hole. Just forget about us, unless you can't see us. Now move it!"

"Aye sir." The voice was even more reluctant then before.

"Rank helps." Ashie gave a slight grin as the officer retreated.

"That officer is a nosey buggar." Darcy growled in annoyance, though it was with relief that he saw Ashie's quick grin.

"Now...oh yes...you wouldn't dare to say you were out there. You'd get lynched before you finished the first letter."

"Who said anything about my saying anything. I doubt I'd help at all, I'm only a Lieutenant-Colonel. But you forget I needed some superiors before I went out there. I might just send a letter off in this week's mail. But first I need to know where the hell you want to go."

"Flying Corps sir." Ashie answered shortly. "I'm fed up with the Army and the last time I went in a boat I was foully seasick."

"You been flying?"

"Once."

"Will do." Darcy frowned, then hastily dug a grimy pad and a stub of pencil out of his pocket. "Here, give all your details, it will speed things up by nearly a week if they don't have to chase down your file by name."

"Say hi to Bing, Miles and Carrie for me will you."

"Right." Darcy glanced sharply at the pad. "Your officer's a Major ain't he?"

"Sapper Major." Ashie's response was laconic and his expression had darkened again.

"Right...Miles should do the job nicely. You'll get an evening off later this week once we've tidied up from our recent activity."

"I'd prefer you didn't Major." Ashie gave a nervous glance to either side.

"Okay. Stand me a drink then when you get out here again as a pilot...and try to keep free of trouble while going through your training." Darcy wasn't terribly surprised by the refusal, he had been mentally kicking himself the moment the offer was out, though it certainly assured Darcy that Ashie was, in essentials, very much alive and active.

"I promise nothing Major, but if it comes through I'll not deliberately aggravate people."

"It'll come through Ashie...even if I have to go and argue it out with every blasted monarch and politician in London and the rest of the world."

"Then maybe I'll get back to work so the officer can stop staring as if he's being force fed horseradish."

"Cheerio Ashie."

"Cheerio Major." Ashie ducked under Darcy's arm and was soon back in the hole sullenly wielding his shovel. Darcy gave his head a gentle shake as he thanked the officer for his 'patience', one would never have thought from Ashie's behaviour that he was likely to do anything other than continue wielding that shovel until eternity came with the label of deserter pinned to his name.

"Damn it to BLOODY HELL!" Parker swore explosively as he finished reading through the grimy letter which he had abstracted from an even grimier envelope.

"What's wrong?" Anne didn't even glance up from the immense accounting book which rested in front of her on the desk, she was now very use to Parker's regular and explosive outbursts.

"Darcy!" Annoyance was in every syllable. "Seems he just ran across an escaped P.O.W. who helped him in Turkey. The man's been branded as a deserter it seems, and Darcy just seems to think that I can magically click my fingers and the problem will be fixed up."

"Well can't you?" Anne finally lifted her head.

"Well of course I can." Parker shoved the letter into a nearby draw. "I'm just furious it ever happened. Such things should not happen, and by Darcy's account they seem to have ignored a formal report from a Russian General, as well as writing off the results of Turkish questioning as self-mutilation. Good God as if Ashie would do such a stunt, the boy is certainly mad, but he is not suicidal."

"That certainly sounds bad. But surely the army records should back him up."

"They don't." Parker growled in annoyance. "It seems that the Battalion Officer, a Colonel, just forgot to note the disappearance of one of his eight company officers in a Senussi raid until a month after it happened...about a week before the Captain returned."

"A Capt-a-ain?" Anne was stunned to say the least.

"Yes, a Captain, and the younger son of a peer. Uncle Mac can see the matter straightened up...but I think I'll let Churchill get wind of this matter."

"Why Churchill?"

"Because the man has a magnificent ability of ensuring that he is heard and I'll be damned if this goes unheard. It is a scandal." Parker glared at the wall for a minute, then abruptly grabbed his coat and left the room. Anne turned to glance at the ornate clock on the mantle as the door slammed behind him. Eight o'clock in the morning! Where had the night gone? Anne turned back to the accounts and fifteen minutes later saw her wearily climbing the stairs, going to bed when most of the world was waking.

July 1st 1916-Thiepval, France

They had arrived during June and had now been on standby all night. Lieutenant Lord Brian O'Niell pushed his way almost wearily through his men, talking briefly to all of them as dawn slowly broke, it was a damp and drizzly dawn, and the mud was a good ankle deep in most places. Brian glanced up as the sun made a brief appearance in a spectacular show of colour around one of the heavy, damp looking clouds. For all the heaviness of the clouds Brian knew the weather would soon clear, it was going to be a hot and clear day, but in all honesty he really wished the guns would fall silent. He didn't care that that would mean they were to attack, he just wanted the noise to end, an endless din which hammered into the mind and drove men insane. The bombardment had been going for four days and Brian hoped like hell that it was going to be worth the noise it created. To say that Brian was happy with the situation was seriously wrong, in fact he was seriously unhappy with the situation, but at the same time he could also see where High Command was coming from. As much as his Foreign Legion training might go against such a move as crossing the 500 yards of No man's land in neat orderly waves, he could well understand the fact that crossing in neat, orderly waves was the best way to keep control of the green troops. For the first time since he had changed, Brian was seriously wishing he was back with his well trained and hard bitten fellow Legionnaires. Brian risked a quick look over the top of the parapet, 500 yards separated them from the German lines, a further 400 yards separated them from the notorious Schwaben Redoubt. All told they had 900 yards to cross before they would find any shelter worthy of mention. Brian had just finished a brief yelling match with a terrified private when a mighty explosion rocked them all, Brian immediately scrambled to his feet, smoke was rising lazily from a section of the German front and lumps of mud and wire fell back to earth, nine more explosions rocked the front within a few minutes and Brian realised with a start that it had begun, any second now the guns would fall silent and they would be required to run. One thing Brian could not understand was why they were expected to run fully laden, carrying everything with them, it seemed that the High Command must be expecting great things from the day. When the guns stopped, the silence was eerie and total, then whistles and bugles rang out, the time had finally come, the balloon was up and there was no turning back now. Brian set himself to getting his part of the company quickly and cleanly out of the protective wood and crossing the 900 yards of hell which they would undoubtedly have to cross.

They took the first line of trenches at the 500 yard mark with only minimal skirmishing and with a wince Brian watched what he expected to happen and with determination he worked to keep his men from following. Orders had been for the advance to occur in steady waves, but with the success at the first line of trenches all discipline seemed to evapourate, the men went racing up the incline to the Schwaben Redoubt. Brian charged up with his men, occasionally jumping to avoid one of many corpses and soon was back doing what he had not done for many months, physically fighting it out hand to hand in the trenches. Then it really began, with the sudden increase in general noise Brian rapidly backed to see what had happened and only just managed to avoid being run through with a bayonet. Pausing just long enough to dispose of his attacker Brian resumed pondering the problem, then he had it, he also had another German to dispose of. With a grunt Brian disposed of his opponent and charged across the front to where he expected, and did, find the Company Officer.

"The 32nd have failed, we're exposed to the side."

"Tell me about it O'Niell." The response came as a savage growl. "They also happen to have set their artillery to fire into no man's land, we've got no back up coming until we silence all the bloody guns. Get back to your men."

"Yes sir." Brian turned and forced his way back to where his men were, having first taken a look to see what the Company Officer meant, and what he saw caused him to whistle, then gasp as he stopped a bayonet with his arm. Brian used a vicious undercut, then a bayonet to dispose of the opposition, then hurriedly binding up his arm he returned to his men.

"Looks like this is it boys."

"Good!" It came back as a roar. Brian cast another glance back at No man's land where four Belfast Battalions who were supposed to follow up were stranded, getting totally demolished by the German Artillery.

"No Surrender!" The roar seemed to come from everywhere and Brian was surprised to note not very many minutes later that the man next to him was a Private from one of the Belfast Battalions.

Brian circled wearily, integrating a few commands to himself, he was now covering four of the platoons out of the eight platoons in the company, several NCOs had been hurriedly pulled up and many privates had been promoted up through the NCO ranks just to keep a minimum of command, but such was impossible.

"Sir." A Private with a blackened and bloodied face came racing up. "We have it!"

"What?" Brian hadn't the faintest idea about what the man was talking about.

"The Redoubt, the Huns retreated."

"Good, go see what we're meant to do next." Brian watched the private vanish into the mingling mass of men, then started to try and force some order into the milling pack of humanity he had under his command.

"Sir, we're to go for the second line of trenches and Stuff Redoubt."

"Right." Brian cast a brief glance at their objective before giving orders for the platoons to move off.

"Apparently two back efforts to get Thiepval village have failed."

"Right." Brian ripped a strip off his shirt to tie up another point where a bullet had ripped through his upper arm, he was distractedly thankful that he had not been hit on the torso yet. "Hi, wait a second, get through to Company Officer and find out where we're meant to attack?"

"He said where ever, just get there first."

"Right." A worse set of orders he had yet to face, but then, neither did he know what was happening outside his direct company, and there might be very good reasons for this order. Brian hurried off after his men, pausing just briefly to dissuade a Hun from shooting him.

A few hours later they were back on the Schwaben redoubt. Brian was expressing himself with great force and little politeness as he tried to reorganise his thoroughly mangled command, and his remarks were not aimed at his men, they were aimed at the British High Command.

"Hoy! O'Niell!"

"Sir!" Brian saluted stiffly as the Battalion officer came up.

"You just got your company...it's about the size of a platoon, so be nice to them. We'll retreat after dark."

"Yes sir." Brian responded shortly and promptly set to work promoting some N.C.Os up so he had some Lieutenants in his command.

"They were British shells weren't they?" The tired voice stopped Brian and he glanced down at the exhausted face of a Private, grey with pain.

"Yes Private, we got ahead of the artillery timetable." Brian moved on, there was no doubt that the Private would soon be dead, but so many were already dead, another one here or there would make little difference.

"Sir!" A Lieutenant saluted him sharply and Brian blinked in astonishment.

"Yes."

"The prisoners sir, what do we do with them?"

"Move them to the back."

"Yes, sir." As the Lieutenant moved off Brian resumed working over his command, of the original 100 plus men in the command, there were now approximately 30 survivors, it was a distracted wonder which passed through Brian's mind, how many of them would last this. They had German shells behind them, they had British shells preventing them from reaching the German gun placements and they were hemmed in on either side by machinegun nests. Slowly the hours passed.

"Twenty minutes O'Niell, get your men ready." The Battalion officer was sporting numerous injuries.

"Right." Brian turned, then stopped.

"Sir!" It was an agonised yell of warning, Brian spun, looking for the source but before he could find the source the world went black. Twice, three times, Brian struggled to rise from the darkness, then when he thought he had made it, it was dark. Brian shook his head in despair.

"Hah! Signs of life. Come on sir, please wake up."

"Gi' 'im some o' this." A thickly accented voice spoke and Brian felt something pressed to his mouth.

"Come on sir, drink."

"No." Brian couldn't say why, but he knew he could not drink. "Just get me to my feet."

"Right sir." There was a brief tussle and Brian felt his head swimming, and he had a curious inability to control his legs, but after a minute or so he seemed to regain at least partial control of them.

"That's just dandy sir, now see him back to the lines Jims, I don't think Hacky's even worth looking over, I think his head is missing."

"Wells I'se goin' to need 'elp, this un won't last the distance."

"Why?" It was a sharp question.

"'Is guts are somewhat rearranged."

"Right. MAWKY!!" There was a nearby scuffle. "Lend Hal here a hand gettin' O'Niell back."

"Yes, sir." Another hand grabbed Brian and he found himself hustled down the slope then there was nothing.

July 2nd 1916-Somme Laurient, France

"Sister Gawley!" The call had Susan skidding to a halt.

"Yes sister." Susan turned to face the intimidating Head Sister.

"Tell Sister O'Niell she has the rest of the day off, she's wanted in waitingroom B."

"But sister..." Susan was nervous, Sister Helen O'Niell was well known for both her temper and her sense of duty, she would want a reason before she took the rest of the day off.

"Sister." The look held definite warning, then suddenly it left and a wave of weariness seemed to pass over the face. "Lieutenant Lord Brian O'Niell was just brought in, he won't last the day out." The head sister turned, then stopped and turned back. "Sister Francis will take over her watch, she should be up in B ward."

"Yes Sister." Susan turned and ran for the stairs, Susan herself was not overly friendly with Sister O'Niell, but she would not wish such a thing on her worst enemy.

"Sister Gawley." Nelli carefully placed her knitting aside and looked across at the pale nurse.

"The Head Sister has given you the rest of the day off."

"Why?" Nelli fought the fear which rose in her throat.

"Well..." Susan paused, how did she break the news? Did she mince around the matter in a way that was almost guaranteed to infuriate the sister, or did she deliver it straight as the sister did everything. Susan took a deep breath and crossed her fingers behind her back. "Lieutenant Lord Brian O'Niell was brought in just now, the Head Sister thought you might like to stay with him for she says he cannot last the day. She says he is to be found in Waitingroom B."

"Thank you Sister Gawley." Nelli closed her eyes for a second, this is what she had been fearing and expecting for two years now but at least she could see him, so many just vanished into the mud of France never to be heard of again. "Who is to take over my watch?"

"Sister Francis the Head Sister said."

"Thank you Susan." A faint smile flickered over the pale features then Nelli turned to pack away her knitting and run a last look at the patients. She had just finished when Sister Francis came fluttering nervously into the room, so with a brief word Nelli briefed her as if it were the end of the shift as opposed to the beginning, then left the room. Nelli paused outside the door of the waitingroom and straightened her apron and cap before entering. As with all but the wards the room was dimly lit, there were two chairs and a stretcher in the room. Nelli bit her lip then crossed to kneel beside the stretcher. His face had been given a preliminary scrub by the emergency squad to rid it of mud, blood and the general grime from the trenches and a battle, the face was weathered from the months of living among the elements and yet there was the underlying bluish pallor of blood loss which Nelli was all too familiar with. Grey was now sprinkled generously through the hair at his temples, a few days stubble grew on his chin, showing just how busy his last few days had been, and crowsfeet were deeply etched into the corner of his eyes. They had wrapped him in a sheet, leaving only his head, arms and shoulders free, but it was his sheer immobility which frightened Nelli most. It was a nervous hand she gently extended to touch the cheek, the cheek was cool, but it was not the cool of death, merely of impending death. Nelli withdrew her hand and rocked back on her heels to study the face below her, a strong face but kindness was clearly to be seen in it. Nelli gave a choke then buried her face and hands into the sheet next too one of those motionless hands, it was all too familiar and now it seemed he was going to leave without saying a word because she was too late. No one in Banbridge would have recognized the beautiful and flighty Lady Helen O'Brien in the crumpled figure which wept bitter tears into the solitary stretcher. She had been expecting to hear of his death for two years now, she had been scanning every face which passed across the operating table for a year and a half, but that didn't make the future any easier to face. How could she live without knowing that Brian was there somewhere?

"Nelli." It was a soft whisper, barely audible to the ear, but it had Nelli's head up in a flash.

"Brian?" Nelli couldn't believe that he was still there, it seemed too good to be true.

"Little doubter." The dark eyes were mixtures of pain and laughter and the response came as another soft whisper.

"No." Nelli shook her head in a firm negative as she shifted to crouch closer to his head.

"Do you know what's happened to me?"

"Sister in charge of emergency says your internals got rearranged a bit too much."

"Don't cry Nelli." A hand rose to touch her cheek and came away glistening. "I've known since before I was brought in." Brian paused as pain spasmed across his face. "Thank you for coming."

"Please."

"Don't cry Nelli." The hand rose again, but this time it was caught and held up. "'Tis life Nelli, and though I might regret such an early departure, I'm not in a position to question it." Brian choked on a cough and blood ran down one cheek. Nelli carefully wiped it away.

"Don't talk Brian, just rest." Nelli knew it wasn't going to help at all, but there was no doubt that it was hurting him to talk.

"There'll be time to rest later, I just want to talk while I can." Brian closed his eyes for a minute as a wave of fear swept through him, he was dying, he knew he was dying even though he couldn't feel a thing, and he was scared, terrified, for once in his life he had no idea of what might come next.

"It will be alright Brian." Nelli squeezed his hand gently, worried by his extended silence. She was somewhat relieved when his fingers responded by tightening as well.

"Will it?" Brian suddenly opened his eyes and looked up at her.

"Yes." Nelli met the scared gaze flatly, she herself was scared. "And if it's not be kind enough to come back and warn me so I can take precautions against it." It was a thin chuckle which met the dogmatic response.

"Oh Nelli, I sometimes wish you could have been out there."

"I'm not sure you would have wanted me out there, I couldn't even face the guns during the hunting season."

"Neither could you stand blood." The glimmer of laughter deepened momentarily, then vanished into pain as he choked again.

"That was my blood which was the problem, and I think it still probably is a problem. Though your blood looks like being a problem as well."

"Is it?" The look that came with the words startled Nelli and all she could manage was a mute nod in response. "Sorry to leave you like this...no home, no father, no grandfather, and soon...no husband."

"Brian, please." Nelli didn't like him talking like that.

"Looks like a bad deal if you ask me."

"NO!" Nelli hated the way he was talking. "I'd sooner have had them then lost them such as they are than had others."

"But what will you do Nelli?"

"I will continue to nurse until I'm stopped and then I'll find something to do."

"Until you're stopped?" A faint crease appeared between his brows. "You're not referring to the end of the war are you?"

"No, I'm not referring to the end of the war." Nelli looked worriedly down at him. She had tried to contact him a couple of times to tell him, but it wasn't something you could write and she had no other real way of contacting him.

"I'm sorry Nelli." Brian shifted his head uncomfortably. "Now I'm really sorry about this."

"Don't!" Nelli grabbed a hand. "Don't be sorry, you couldn't leave me with absolutely nothing." The dark eyes stared unblinkingly up at her for a minute, then fluttered closed.

"I'd never thought of it that way."

"Well start, I don't want to have to tell Brian Dominic that his daddy was sorry about him."

"What if it's a her?"

"Bryony Dominica to make people's hair stand on end."

"Interesting. Have to admit I was more sorry I was dying then that he was coming."

"Don't be Brian." Nelli laid her head beside his. "Don't be. You've suffered me for 19 years you should get at least a slight respite before I follow."

"Wouldn't call it suffering."

"The number of times you threatened to make up for the punishments I never received seems to contradict that claim."

"Felt like doing it more often then I said. You were indeed a horrible brat to be engaged to. Always said the wrong thing in the wrong place."

"Hmph!"

"Nice Nelli." He touched her cheek gently, then choked again. "Thank you for marrying me, I must have appeared a fearsome tyrant on occasion."

"Indeed you did, now hold still while I clean your face."

"Nice Nelli." Brian's voice had been fading steadily the sentences become increasingly more broken up and spaced out.

"Nice Brian." Nelli stayed beside him, she may have managed to make him laugh, she may have calmed his fears, but she could not calm her own. What he had said was relevant, terrifyingly relevant. She was a daughter of the aristocracy, except as a nurse she was useless, and now she was totally adrift in the world, soon to be retired from nursing on the grounds of unfitness for duty. For someone in such a position there were terrifyingly few options available. Brian only spoke a few more times before drifting out and leaving her, he had lasted five hours, five hours in which Nelli had sat and watched one she had once considered indestructible being destroyed, five hours in which Nelli felt so totally helpless that she found herself wondering about the point of life.

"Someone else will need you Nelli...someone...somewhere...sometime...you will be needed." Those had been his last words. 'someone, somewhere, sometime, she would be needed.'

Nelli straightened stiffly from her kneeling position and automatically settled the hands when she was certain that he had passed on, it was not Brian whom was at her feet, just another soldier, it was not Brian whom she left behind her as she walked slowly from the room, it was just another corpse, another life shed in this bloody conflict. Nelli shivered slightly as she cleared the hospital and started walking down the road, the air was not cold, but it was an atmosphere change. 'Someone, somewhere, sometime, she would be needed'

July 14th 1916-Camthorne Hospital, England

"Sister Bennet!" The Matron's tone had Elizabeth pushing herself up wearily from the bed and rubbing her eyes.

"Yes Matron?" Elizabeth rubbed her eyes again, then cautiously shook her head, hoping to shake the fog of sleep out of it.

"Dr Alastair wishes to see you in his office."

"Thank you Matron." Elizabeth stifled a moan as she responded, and shoved Lydia's abominable letter under her pillow. Elizabeth really did not understand Lydia, sometimes Lydia seemed to make quite intelligent remarks about her surroundings, but for the most part the letter may as well have been written in Meryton. Elizabeth had not bothered responding to any of them so far, but she had probably better respond soon. Elizabeth just wished the fog would clear from her mind.

"Ahh, take a seat Elizabeth." Alastair carefully returned the book he had been reading to the shelf.

"You wanted me for something doctor?"

"Yes, I did as a matter of fact. As of half past three you are going on leave. You will catch the 4:10 train to London, and transfer to whichever train is appropriate to take you into Hertfordshire...unless you choose instead to stay with your aunt and uncle in London. You will be on leave for a minimum of a month and if I even hear of you near a hospital I will come in person and knock you out with morphia until I decide you have had sufficient leave."

"You terrify me." Elizabeth rubbed the side of her head wearily. "But I can't take leave, we have too many patients as it is."

"Sister Bennet, there is a condition in which a human being can become more than a risk than an asset. You are about five minutes short of that. Now take your leave before I order you banned from all theatres and wards. I cannot afford to have you actually falling sick on me."

"Very good Doctor." Elizabeth sighed and pushed herself up into a more vertical position and nearly fell straight back over again.

"See!" Alastair caught her firmly. "Now pack, I'm going to see you onto that train myself."

"Surely you need leave too Dr Alastair." Elizabeth waved his hand aside.

"No, I had leave last week."

"If I knew that spending twenty-four hours sleeping in your office was leave I'd be quite willing to take leave."

"Go pack." Alastair pulled the book off the shelf again and was soon oblivious to the world.

Elizabeth descended wearily from the train, and promptly had to smother an immense yawn with her hand while wondering sleepily how she was meant to transfer her trunk from the station to Longbourn since she had totally neglected to tell them she was even coming.

"Lizzie!" The yell had Elizabeth blinking doubtfully around. "Lizzie! Over here!" A strong hand grabbed her arm.

"Papa?" Elizabeth looked doubtfully at Mr. Bennet.

"Dr Alastair certainly understated matters. Motor's this way." Mr. Bennet dragged Elizabeth across to the motor and shoved her in, before turning to collect her trunk. Ten minutes later and they were unloading at the front door of Longbourn.

"Lizzie!" Kitty came flying out of the house to hug her sister, and the result was that Elizabeth was sitting in the mud with Kitty on top of her. "Ohh, I am sorry Lizzie. Here, let me help you." Elizabeth was only vaguely aware of Kitty shrieking at Mary to help her, and then she found herself firmly ensconced in her familiar bed with Kitty departing and closing the door VERY firmly behind herself.

"Get back to bed!" Elizabeth had only just started to leave her bedroom the next morning when Kitty firmly ordered her back into it.

"Kitty, I've been asleep for fourteen hours!"

"Good. Just get back into bed. Hill will supply you with breakfast in fifteen minutes and then you are to sleep again. Dr Alastair gave strict orders that you were not to leave your room for three days." Kitty pushed Elizabeth back into the room and laughed at Elizabeth's muttered imprecations at Dr Alastair, before hurrying downstairs to get the breakfast tray prepared with the help of Mrs. Hill. Ten minutes later Kitty was struggling up the stairs with a large tray, which carried scrambled eggs, coffee, toast, marmalade, and three rashers of bacon.

"Kitty!" Elizabeth looked up in amazement as Kitty came staggering into the room.

"Hill was otherwise occupied. Now eat dear sister. You are much too thin!"

"You're a good one to talk!" Elizabeth looked hard at her very thin sister.

"Oh I know, but I seem totally unable to get more rounded, so I gave up." Kitty gave a smile. "Now, get eating Lizzie, nothing more happens until you have finished eating everything on that plate."

"I can't possibly eat this much." Elizabeth looked at the tray in dismay.

"You'll be surprised. Now start eating, scrambled eggs are beastly when cold, and Mrs. Parks will be most offended when she hears that the eggs she specially sent over for you went to waste."

"Oh dear." Elizabeth grimaced at the tray and slowly set to work on the scrambled eggs, before moving onto the marmalade and toast. She really disliked it when people used that kind of blackmail to make her do things.

"Now, I'll return when I've dealt with these dishes." Kitty gathered up the plates in a capable manner. "And if you haven't gone to sleep again I'll entertain you with my very boring conversation."

"Unless you intend to converse on the various ways of stitching a cut I can assure you, you cannot possibly be boring." Elizabeth settled back into her pillows as she watched Kitty depart from the room. That her family was full of surprises was the last conscious thought Elizabeth had, and when she next woke up late afternoon sunlight was streaming into her room. Elizabeth gave a moan and rolled over, only to promptly roll back over and start searching with sleepy feet for her shoes.

"No Lizzie, stay put. Your dinner will be up in five minutes." Kitty firmly pushed her sister back into the bed before she left the room and descended once more to the kitchen and the congenial company of Mrs. Hill. "She's slept for nearly twenty hours now." Kitty's tone was satisfied as she gave the eggnog a quick stir and hurriedly served up a large serving of stew and placed a bowl of rice pudding beside it before once more leaving the room.

"Miss Katherine." Mrs. Hill's voice stopped Kitty and she glanced back thoughtfully.

"Yes?"

"Take the whole jug. Mrs. Parks said they currently had no egg shortage."

"Okay." Kitty came back and carefully added the jug containing the eggnog to the tray. Kitty wrinkled her nose gleefully as she carted the large tray up the stairs, there was no smell she liked more than the smell of fresh eggnog and cinnamon.

"Kitty!" Elizabeth's protest was laughing as Kitty came staggering into the room.

"Eat!" Kitty dumped the tray on her sister's legs, then sat herself on the end of the bed.

"And I thought Dr Alastair was a tyrant." Elizabeth set to work in a dutiful manner.

"Hah! Your Dr Alastair has nothing to me when it comes to being a tyrant. That tray is to be cleaned completely before it leaves this room."

"I suppose you're sitting there to insure that I don't tip it out the window." Elizabeth's voice was somewhat muffled.

"Yes." Kitty tucked her legs up underneath herself and stared at Elizabeth, and less than a minute later Elizabeth laid her cutlery aside and stared back.

"Either you stop staring at me Kitty, or you get some food of your own...better idea, help me consume this lot."

"Sorry, I haven't seen you in approximately seven months."

"Okay." Elizabeth returned to eating. "Why am I being fed so much egg?"

"Because we have lots of them currently." Kitty gave a guileless smile.

"Don't try that one Kit. What did Alastair say in his apparent instructions."

"I don't know, papa is doing everything. He just sends in a menu to be produced for you."

"Hmm." Elizabeth gave up on the matter, she wouldn't get far and she knew she wouldn't get far...in fact it was much more likely that Kitty would manage to turn the whole conversation around without much effort at all.

"Hello Lizzie." Mr. Bennet glanced up briefly from his newspaper when Elizabeth came into the room. "Most elegant outfit that."

"I quite agree." Elizabeth's response was sarcastic, as she glanced briefly down at her form, she was wearing her trousers with one of Folin's shirts bulging out around the pair of braces from the same source. She was also wearing a pair of thick purple socks which came clean up to her knees and her hair was hanging in a loose braid down her back.

"I see you have finally rejoined the living."

"Nothing of the kind." Elizabeth blinked and studied the map which still lay on the library table. "But Kitty has finally given me two hours out of my room."

"Well you're looking much better than when you got off that train."

"From remarks I assume that the most nosey Dr Alastair chose to advise you in advance of my arrival."

"That is not polite Elizabeth."

"It's what he calls himself...and I'm never polite to people who order me onto leave."

"Lizzie you have had one fortnight off in seven months." Mr. Bennet finally laid the paper aside. "I assume you didn't actually come in here to be polite to me, so I'm going to ask what did bring you in?...And all the newspapers are inside the desk waiting for you to bring that map up to date."

"Thank you kindly." Elizabeth turned away from the map and sat down opposite her father. "What did Alastair say when he called up?"

"Not much, just that you were coming."

"Papa, you do not feed me eggs, least of all so many, at every meal just because you feel like it. In fact you know very well that eggs are not my favourite food. So why have you been feeding them to me and having Kitty sit in and ensure I actually eat them? I deduce that Alastair is behind this and I want to know what has passed behind my back over the telephone lines."

"It was nothing, Alastair merely advised we feed you as much egg as possible for the first three or so days. Really Lizzie, it was nothing. Alastair merely decided that you were too tired to think straight, and I quite agree with him, so he sent ahead some instructions. That doctor is probably only equal to us when it comes for an interest in your welfare and there is no question that very tired people are very prone to falling very sick."

"Blast him!" Elizabeth glared out the window for a minute. "Can I borrow the telephone for a brief call?"

"Don't blow up at him Lizzie."

"I'm not going to." Elizabeth walked across to the door. "I just want to know how long it was after I left that Corporal Harris came down with Staph."

"Staph?"

"Staphyloccoccus Infection. It's about the only sickness we treat with an excess of eggs. He'd have given the order about eggs if, and only if, he was hoping to save me from falling sick. The man was sick when I left, but nothing diagnosed, I just want to know how bad he is, and when it was diagnosed." Elizabeth left the room and returned five minutes later looking very tired and more than a little ill.

"I observe that the response was not good."

"Staph, septicaemia, and gangrene...Corporal Harris is already dead...no wonder Alastair ordered you to give me egg."

"I take it that it was not Alastair you spoke to."

"No, he's halfway through the morning wave from France. It was Sister Clare who answered."

"Well you have two months leave...orders of Alastair, and your Aunt and Uncle Gardiner are arriving at the end of the week to take you on a tour of North England."

"That almost sounds like fun." Elizabeth turned and left the room, and when Kitty found her ten minutes later she was fast asleep in bed again.

"Papa."

"How can I help you Kitty?"

"What upset Lizzie?"

"She got a report on some N.C.O. who had been unwell when she left...She knew something had happened because we've been feeding her so much egg."

"Oh." Kitty grimaced. "I wish Lydia hadn't gone."

"Try finding something to do for yourself...thinking never hurts Kitty."

"Yes, but..." Kitty stopped and gave a slight shrug before leaving the room. Kitty couldn't understand how her father couldn't see how much fun Lydia was...going into Meryton just wasn't the same without Lydia. Lydia had brought with her a certain spice, she could bully, beg or persuade Kitty into doing all manner of things which were exciting, unusual, and sometimes downright peculiar. Kitty could still remember a day when Lydia had told mama that they were going to visit Aunt Phillips, when in actual fact they had spent the day prowling around the woods near Netherfield. She could still remember Lydia daring her to 'spot the bad man' as they prowled through the woods, she could still see Lydia's eager expression as they recklessly scrambled their way up a large tree. How Lydia had bullied her to climb that tree! Kitty smiled at the memory. Lydia's hair had been all awry, roughly pushed behind her ears, the curiously engraved gold locket which she just started wearing one day was hanging outside again, the small sewing kit which almost magically repaired the rents in their dresses. Kitty wasn't sure, but she was of the opinion then, and still of the opinion that Elizabeth would have enjoyed the day more, but Kitty wouldn't have swapped for anything. And then she had seen the man. Kitty gave a stifled giggle at the memory. It had been so funny, the man was close up against a tree, as if he was trying to hide. Kitty could remember when she brought him to Lydia's attention, and that seemed to spoil the day. Maybe Lydia hadn't expected to find anyone, but she had fiercely bade Kitty never to tell anyone about the day. Not that Kitty had ever wanted to tell anyone about the day. It had been a strange day, but Kitty had much enjoyed it, she had enjoyed the creeping around, the attempts to be stealthy, Lydia's laughing face as they climbed that tree. Maybe she would go back to the tree, maybe she could regain the old magic from it. Life had been so nice until the end of that summer. Kitty shivered unconsciously, still she could remember it, Papa had come into the parlour with a long expression and a newspaper hanging limply from one hand, he had seemed somewhat pale, and then he had quietly announced that war had been officially declared. Kitty stopped and stared out the landing window, she hated to admit it, but she knew, not even the tree would bring back the pre-war days, she had to find the magic of today. The magic which could make Lizzie laugh when she returned from Weatherton Hospital, even when her mouth was sad and her eyes rimmed with black and filled with pain. The magic which meant Jane could smile, always smile in that comforting way, no matter what happened. The magic which Lydia seemed to instill into everything. The magic which made one wish to live and laugh, even if the world was crumbling around your ears. Kitty wished she'd had the courage to join Lydia, she wished that Lydia had made her go, and yet Kitty knew that though nursing suited her two eldest sisters, it did not suit her, it was better that she stayed at home and kept the house running.

July 27th 1916-Longbourn, England

Elizabeth pushed an errant bit of hair behind her ear and stared despondently at the truly intimidating mound of newspapers. Elizabeth then glanced at the Map, its surface already generously dotted with small flags and knew that before the day was over there would be many more flags added, many more lives lost, and many more crippled for life.

"Back at it Lizzie?" Mrs. Gardiner's voice had Elizabeth looking up with a faint smile.

"As you see Aunt. Really it is a most intimidating idea, but if I don't do it now I really doubt I'll get it done this year."

"Then do it." Mrs. Gardiner smiled back down at Elizabeth. "You still look tired, are you sure you'll be alright in a two month?"

"If I'm not right in a two month Aunt I'll be bedridden for life, now please, find someone to come visit me who does not almost immediately comment on the fact that I look half dead."

"Sorry Lizzie." Mrs. Gardiner stepped back out the door, then immediately came back in again. "My Darling Elizabeth, I have never seen a more beautiful picture of radiant health and vitality."

"That makes me feel even worse aunt. Now do sit down and help me deal with this horrible map."

"I seem to recall that I was here when you last did it and you finished with someone or other."

"Someone or other is exactly right." Elizabeth frowned down as a small card pinned on the corner of the map, which stated the date when she had left off. "It seems I left off with the Russians after they drew up their line between the Baltic and Rumania."

"That seems to be as I remember. You called it a mess."

"It was a mess. But now I haven't the faintest idea where to start. Dear Aunt, your foolish niece is bewildered."

"My Niece is more then bewildered. I suggest you start with the Western Front and work your way South and East, before heading North, then you can once more finish with Russia."

"Very logical Aunt." Elizabeth shuffled through the papers for a minute. "Now as we know from my skillful listing of events last winter, the Western Front was rather quiet during 1915, since it only really had the Battle of Loos, while the Eastern Front with Russia was more then a little busy. This past half year everything seems to have returned to the Western Front, and as a result we've been somewhat swamped for the most part with casualties." Elizabeth stopped abruptly and clapped her hand to her mouth, her shoulders shaking as she fought against a sudden wave of nausea.

"Hey, Lizzie!" Mrs. Gardiner caught her shaking Niece and drew her in close, gently smoothing the thick hair and rubbing her back. "It's alright, it's going to be alright."

"No it's not." Elizabeth's voice was choked with sobs. "Oh God, Aunt it will not be alright, our world is insane!"

"Gently Lizzie." Mrs. Gardiner threw a quick glance, almost like a quick prayer to the small crucifix which hung in the corner. "It's going to be alright."

"It's not Aunt." Elizabeth choked again and started sobbing. "I can see them Aunt. Every night they are there, blaming me for not giving them a chance, blaming me for not acting fast enough, blaming me for not working harder then I am, blaming me of carelessness and too much haste. How many are we killing just because of our own ignorance. So many Gangrene cases could be saved if we could just diagnose it earlier and act accordingly. How many do we kill with those Sulphonamides and Antiseptics? Dr Alastair swears that we kill more by using them than if we didn't. But the other doctors use them and it is even more dangerous to use them intermittently. Just one more skilled nurse could make a difference to the number of casualties, but we can't get them. I lie there knowing that I could be saving just one extra life if I were not on leave, perhaps more then one life." Elizabeth was now completely unintelligible through her tears and Mrs. Gardiner stared thoughtfully at the far wall as she rocked Elizabeth gently. The door creaked slowly open and Kitty's face looked worriedly into the room, then immediately vanished. Mrs. Gardiner hoped Kitty would not be so foolish as to get someone else, someone else would stop Elizabeth dead and have her withdraw, but this had to come out and Mrs. Gardiner was thankful that Elizabeth trusted her sufficiently. While waiting for Elizabeth's sobs to calm Mrs. Gardiner found her mind travelling back through the years. Colonel Bennet had never been what they called a striking officer, he had never belonged to one of the Guard Regiments which had such dressy dress uniforms. He had been a Major of a Rifleman Division when they first met, and held to be one of the best shots in the English Armed Forces. Mrs. Gardiner felt a small smile form as she remembered him the first time they met.

Madeleine Gardiner stared dismally at the diplomatic weekly that lay in front of her, how her husband read these things she did not know, but read them he most certainly did. Her sewing lay to one side, totally disregarded. Madeleine was nursing a headache and a feeling of ultimate doom. The headache was because she had fallen down the stairs five minutes earlier, the feeling of doom was because she was to meet her sister-in-law's fiancé in a few minutes. It was not that Madeleine was not fond of her sister-in-law, but her sister-in-law was precisely that, a sister-in-law, and a flighty and fairly feather-witted one at that. Madeleine dreaded meeting her potential brother-in-law, for she knew her sister-in-law and Madeleine did not like the Guard Captain she had seen the day before.

"Come in man." Edward Gardiner's voice had Madeleine coming nervously to her feet. "No, just hand your coat to him...I want you to meet my wife." There was an indistinct mumble in response. "Yes I know it's a bore, but please, she doesn't want to meet you either and my sister would have a million fits if you didn't meet." There was another indistinct mumble. "Oh for goodness sake man, anyone would think you were about to be executed."

"I feel like I'm about to be executed! How may I ask is it that not only you are here, but also both your parents and goodness knows how many relatives?" This time the response was clear, and the tone was acidic.

"I cannot answer about the relatives, but I'm here on work and in fact would already have left had not my work prevented me."

"Well you're not nearly as tactful as I expected."

"You're family, I'm never tactful unless doing business."

"So I gather." The response was dry, and since the voices were now right outside the room Madeleine nervously tugged at her skirt and hoped her hair was reasonable. The door was opened, and Madeleine nearly fell over when the slightly hunched figure entered with her husband. There was no sign of brass and red material, a dingy and dirty green uniform covered the form and dark eyes blinked in an almost sleepy manner at her.

"Madeleine, permit me to introduce Major Bennet to you. Bennet, my wife Madeleine Gardiner."

"How do you do ma'am?" It had come with a curt and stiff bow.

"Very well thank you, and you?"

"Not at all well." The response was curt. "In fact I'm doing damnably badly!"

"I'm sorry to hear it." Madeleine had nearly stuttered over her response, she was not used too totally honest and candid responses.

"Don't bother being sorry, I'll be fine in a fortnight...I hope." There was a curious fatality in the response and Madeleine had the feeling that it would make little difference to him if he was not recovered.

"Do you want a drink Bennet?"

"No thanks, I'll be tipsy if I drink any more."

"Alright." They had then sat in silence for a good five minutes.

"Do you have any Radcliffe Mrs. Gardiner?" The question had caught Madeleine by surprise.

"Well yes...one...I think." Madeleine grimaced, she might well have lost it in the last move, not that she would consider it much of a loss.

"Doesn't matter, Miss Gardiner was wondering whether there was a single book to find by her in Bombay."

"Well any I have, she has already read." Madeleine had blinked at his formality. Ten more minutes had passed in near total silence and then Major Bennet had excused himself and left.

"Odd." Edward had been scratching his chin as he returned from showing their guest out. "Bennet usually has a bit more than that to say for himself."

"Maybe it was because I was here." Madeleine had picked up her stitchery.

"And engaged to my sister? Madeleine that really does concern me that the fall has addled you."

"How polite." Madeleine sniffed. "When did he arrive?"

"Just..." Edward froze and stared out the window, before starting again in a near whisper. "He arrived this morning...and he's injured. Oh help, Fanny's going to murder me!"

"Why?" Madeleine had never considered her sister-in-law at all murderously inclined, though her sister-in-law had made her feel murderous more than once.

"Bennet's a Rifleman Major...3rd Riflemen actually, they are almost permanent installments on the worst parts of the frontier." Edward ruefully rubbed his head. "Don't blame him for his silence Mad, you won't see him for a few days, and then he'll probably be back to normal. Just takes him a day or so to adjust back to life in the civil world."

"Adjust back to civil life?" The wording puzzled Madeleine.

"Bennet considers it a good tour of duty if he only loses ten men, Madeleine. I find my life bad enough knowing that many people will be bankrupt if I make a mess of this...but at least I don't have the lives of other men depending on me and my decisions. Don't accuse him of coldness Mad, he has his own conscience to face every night, his own guilt to fight every night, his own self-condemnation to face. It just takes him a day or two to adjust out of the mind frame which permits him to send his men out to die, and into the mind frame which does not demand him to do that."

"In other words forget this meeting and let our next meeting be our first?"

"That's a good idea I think." Edward then left the room, he was late for a meeting as it was. Madeleine stared out the window, no matter what she had said to Edward, she knew she would never forget this meeting, she knew she would never forget the almost haunted eyes.

Mrs Gardiner softly stroked the dark head, her smile gently fading away. Between father and daughter there were such similarities, for neither could emotion interfere with work, and yet both of them most certainly had emotions. Put them on the job and you couldn't ask for better work, take the pressure off and you would end up with a mentally unbalanced being, though it was usually of fairly brief duration.

"I'm sorry Aunt." Elizabeth spoke thickly as she dug a handkerchief out of her pocket, after an energetic scrub of her eyes and a blow of the nose Elizabeth was back frowning at the map. "Except for the introduction of conscription in January there was absolutely nothing to consider until February of 1916. Then things really did begin to happen." Elizabeth grimaced, but merely drove a pin into the map. "February 21st this marks the beginning of the battle of Verdun, which is still going. Fort Douaumont fell on the 25th of the same month. March 6th sees the German front enlarging from its original 15 miles so it covered the west bank of the Meuse River. We've got a slight lull during which there was some fairly major reshuffling of forces. The British took over the Arras front, which means we stretch from Yser to Somme without break. This relieved the French 10th army so it could go to Verdun. Fort Vaux fell on the 7th of June. For the first time it has been more expensive, in casualty numbers, for the defender than for the attacker. June 23rd saw the Germans nearly at the Belleville height, which is the last outwork of Verdun, and the French were preparing for an evacuation of the eastern bank of the Meuse. This brings us to the beginning of the battle of Somme, which as with Verdun, is still in progress. And with that we finish the Western Front for the past seven months and all I can say is that for the amount of movement the numbers are horrific, and papa says they are well under reality...a view I have no problem agreeing with."

"If those figures are low, then I am really glad I am not out there. Life must be less than friendly."

"Tell me about it, we have more patients then we have beds. We'll now hop across to the Italian front. We have the fifth battle of Isonzo in March. Isonzo was then followed by an offensive by the Austrians down from the Trentino and into the Asiago region. This offensive began on the 15th May and threatened to break through into the Venetian plains, a threat which was over by June 10th. June 16th brought another offensive on the Italian side which has regained much ground already. And that ends the Italian effort for the past seven months." Elizabeth paused as she drove the flagged pin home. "Do you think they'll make any more assaults on the Isonzo Aunt?"

"Don't ask me, I'm neither a reader of the future, nor a member of the Italian High Command."

"Hmph!" Elizabeth returned her attention to the newspapers. "Oh dear." Elizabeth frowned and hurriedly reached for the atlas and was soon flicking back and forth between various maps of Europe. "Ah-hah!" Elizabeth traced across the map with a finger, before skewering another flagged pin onto the map. "This introduces the Serbian Front, which has been a front for the entire war, and is in fact where this war began."

"One doesn't hear much about it." Mrs. Gardiner spoke thoughtfully.

"Why bother when we're getting mangled on a different front...TWO different fronts."

"That is certainly a consideration." Mrs. Gardiner gave a slow nod as she gravely viewed the gaily-flagged map, the gay colours seemed to clash with what the little flags stood for.

"There is double interest in Serbia, the Austrians are annoyed with them for the reason which everyone knows. The Germans are interested because the main railroad to Turkey passes through both Bulgaria and through Serbia, and since Bulgaria allied itself with the Austrians, the little bit which goes through Serbia is a major bugbear for the High Command. Hence in 1914 there were three offensives on that front which were all successfully repulsed. Through the summer of '15 it seems that there was a major tug-of-war between Germany and England to get Bulgaria on side, that ended in September of that year when Bulgaria joined sides with the central powers. On October 5th Greek Premier Venizelos, who was favourably inclined towards the British was dismissed from power. In the same week Russia delivered an ultimatum to Bulgaria, then severed diplomatic relations. October 6th sees the German-Austrian Armies attacking south across the Danube. We see the Bulgarians attacking on the 11th of October into Eastern Serbia, and on the 14th into Serbian Macedonia. This latter offensive cut a deep wedge between the Serbs and the allies in Salonika. This bent the Serbian front like an immense bow. With the threat of a double envelopment and the southern retreat cut off we see the Serbian army retreat through the Albanian Mountains. Spring of 1916 saw them re-armed and reorganised and stationed with the allies in Salonika. As a result 500,000 allies are virtually imprisoned in Salonika. Moving north is out of the question and an evacuation is not being considered for political reasons..." Elizabeth had been driving pins into the map as she spoke, but she stopped both abruptly as the door swung open and a frowning Kitty came marching into the room.

"Two hours sister! You were given two hours since you did not sleep well last night...it has been three hours now."

"Yes mama." Elizabeth sighed as she gave the semi-sarcastic remark, before she pushed up from her position hunched over the map. "Aunt, see what a tyrant I have to put up with." Elizabeth left the room as soon as she had finished stowing away the newspapers.

"Rubbish, what you have is a loving sister who might actually be concerned for your well being. Now go away and sleep. I'll see you this evening." Mrs. Gardiner watched the two sisters leave with a faint smile, before she turned and slowly walked across to stare out the window. The sun was slowly setting out there...but the sun no longer dictated war, and neither did the seasons. Was Elizabeth correct? Was their world really insane?

Author's Note: Sorry about the name changing which comes up in this post, but if he remained with the same name the whole time even the author got confused as to what was happening and where. The near death scene comes with the help of the biography of Douglas Bader...I forget the name of it...not actually pulled out word for word, but there are many similarities shall we say. :)

July 30th 1916-Somme, France

Darcy pushed the blanket off and rolled over, only to have his sleep dulled mind catch up with his movements a second too late. Darcy remembered the projecting stone just split seconds before he slammed his well-bruised forehead into it again. Darcy rubbed his forehead gently and sat up before he stood up, once again he remembered the low roof too late and he slammed the back off his head into it. With a string of fluent invective Darcy removed his coat from his pack where it had been serving as a pillow before exiting the small stone building which served as the battalion's headquarters rubbing the back of his head. He was feeling distinctly tired and heavy this morning, but the work had to be done, he couldn't skip because he was feeling a bit off colour. He must be getting old, he certainly did not remember ever feeling so dragged down by life in general.

"Morning sir." Lieutenant Charles Bingley was leaning in a negligent manner against the side of the hut.

"What brings you here on this beautiful morning Bing?" Darcy's greeting was very sarcastic.

"More paper work for you. Have to admit I much preferred you as company officer." Bingley held out the thick sheathe of paper.

"Don't be stupid Bing." Darcy stepped back into the hut briefly to lay the pile of paper onto the planks which served as a desk then stepped out again. "What are you beaming about...assuming that you don't actually like this weather."

"Weather's not that bad!" Bingley protested and for his pains he received a startled look and Darcy turned to re-enter the office. "Hey! Where are you going?"

"To call Alastair and request him to check you out when you're next in England, you can't have any brains if you think this weather to be not that bad." Darcy indicated the heavily overcast sky which looked like it was about to start raining any second.

"You are being a wet sock. You won't believe who I saw the other day."

"From your tone it was either Kaiser Wilhelm himself, in which case I'll abuse you for not bumping him off, or it was Miss Jane Bennet...AGAIN!" Darcy scratched his head and started walking to the lines.

"Well it was Jane." Bingley seemed somewhat damped that Darcy expected the information.

"How was she?"

"She seemed well. She says that Elizabeth is still slaving away with Alastair and has now twice refused to take her leave." Bingley was semi-jogging to keep up with Darcy.

"That sounds like Miss Elizabeth. How are Miles, Carrigan and the others?"

"Carrigan lost his little finger last week but is now safely back at his post of abusing Miles. He's been in a lot of trouble over the last week with Hadden our new company officer. Miles continues his blessed run of not even stopping a bullet with his hair. I'm damned if I know how he does it!" Bingley was sporting more then a few bald patches where a bullet or lump of shell had scalped him, though only one of them had actually hospitalised him.

"I expect it comes from being Miles Holloway. How long 'til you need to return?"

"That's not a question I wanted to hear you ask. I got to return immediately. Cheerio Darcy."

"See you round Bing." Darcy stopped to watch Bingley leave, and was puzzled when Bingley stopped after going not very many steps and came back.

"Are you alright Darcy? You look a bit unwell."

"Just a touch of 'flu, nothing bad." Darcy shrugged and turned to leave.

"Darcy, you don't look at all like you've got a touch of 'flu!"

"Push off Bing, I have work to do." Darcy walked off without even glancing back, he didn't need Bingley rambling on and making him feel worse. Bingley watched the immense form move off with a compressed mouth. Well if Darcy wasn't going to admit he was unwell Bingley was going to take the matter a bit higher, here was hoping that the Brigadier would listen.

Brigadier Mannering looked gravely up from his work as Bingley was shown into the room, and it took all Bingley's determination not to turn tail and flee from those metallic green eyes.

"Lieutenant Bingley, what can I do for you?"

"Colonel Belling's reports for you, Lieutenant-Colonel Darcy's reports." Bingley handed over the official reason for his visit then hesitated.

"Something else Bingley?" Mannering was slightly amused by the mix emotions which chased across Bingley's face.

"Well sir, as a matter of fact, yes." It came out as a rush and Bingley winced to himself, why could he not keep the serious view? Why did Mannering always make him feel like a guilty school boy in the Headmaster's study?

"Well out with it Lieutenant, we haven't all day." Mannering laid his pen aside.

"It's Lieutenant-Colonel Darcy sir. I think he is seriously unwell."

"Darcy is frequently unwell, he suffers from Malaria."

"No sir, I didn't mean like that." Bingley grappled for the right words. "I've known Darcy for years, and I tell you he is seriously unwell."

"Well unless Darcy comes in himself or gets taken away to hospital there is nothing we can do." Mannering smiled slightly. "I am aware you are worried for him, take comfort in the realisation that nearly a thousand men are worried for him as well. But there is nothing we can do unless he himself calls in ill."

"Yes, sir. Sorry sir, I shouldn't have disturbed you sir." Bingley headed for the door.

"Bingley." Mannering's voice stopped him at the door.

"Yes, sir."

"I am not the Headmaster at Eton, so please stop treating me as such."

"Yes sir." Bingley hurriedly exited, only to be cannoned back into the room by Captain Miles Holloway who came sprinting into the room, with Lieutenant Carrigan hot on his heels.

"That was quick Bingley." Mannering looked slightly amused as the three officers untangled themselves. "What's up Miles? Carrigan being unfriendly again?"

"No, sir. Carrie's just accompanying me to make sure I get hold of a telephone. Your orderly said I'd have to speak to you before I can use it as ours is down thanks to a shell and we have an emergency."

"Telephone's in the corner. Time limit of three minutes."

"Thank you." It was Carrigan who had answered as Miles had just plunged across the room, grabbed the telephone and opened negotiations with some nurse at the local clearing station.

"What's got you two so excited?" Bingley looked inquisitively at Carrigan.

"It's the Major." Carrigan was leaning against the wall as he caught his breath.

"What's happened to him?" Bingley didn't need clarification on which Major was in question, there was only one man who was called by that alone, even though he was no longer a Major.

"Collapsed as he finished running the trench observation posts. He's all but burning up with fever, Miles says it's not Malaria but something else...and something else which packs a bit of punch."

"Move it Carrie, we've got to see him to Acheson's Corner so the ambulance can pick him up." Miles grabbed Carriagan's arm as he shot out of the room, Bingley followed hot on their heels.

It was a good ten minutes before they reached the lines and another fifteen to work through the network of trenches to where the group was clustered around the fallen officer.

"He still breathing?" Miles shoved through the group.

"Aye, sir." It was a distinctly Scottish voice which responded.

"Good, ambulance is supposed to come for him, but they won't come closer then Acheson's Corner." Miles ran a quick check then set about singling out the men required to carry Darcy back to the Corner.

"Miles..." Bingley got no further.

"Bing, you and Carrie get back to Hadden, tell him that Darcy's taken sick, then go to Mannering and find out who's meant to replace Darcy as Battalion Officer. I'm going back with the ambulance."

"He's got a cousin on the General Staff, Fitzwilliam, a Colonel." Bingley nearly stuttered as he hastily spat the information out.

"Right." Miles nodded and ran to catch up with the men who were carrying Darcy.

"Let's get moving Bing, now would be a damn bad time for the Jerries to attack." Carrigan lead the way back through the network of trenches until they were back in the familiar ground, a few questions and they had managed to run Hadden to earth.

"Sir."

"What's up?" Captain Hadden looked up wearily as the two Lieutenants came skidding to a halt.

"Lieutenant-Colonel Darcy has taken sick sir, Captain Holloway told us to tell you."

"Very good." Hadden nodded briefly. "Bingley, go pass it on to the Brigadier, Carrigan, you take over both your platoon and Bingley's until he returns."

"Yes sir." Bingley nodded briefly as he turned and headed for the exit of the trench system. Twice to visit Mannering in one day, how unlucky could he get.

Colonel Edward Fitzwilliam was glaring at a pile of paperwork when the orderly suddenly came running up.

"What is it?" Fitzwilliam hadn't time to waste since his recent sick leave had produced for him an intimidating pile of work he was behind on.

"The General reports that you are to go to Base Hospital 16, apparently the doctors are demanding your presence."

"Unusual." Fitzwilliam's brows rose slightly and he heaved out of his chair. "Thank you." Fitzwilliam rebuttoned his coat and hustled off to the General's Office. Haig would not be at all polite, but Fitzwilliam preferred to face the sarcasm of having verified the matter, then the trouble that would follow if he was not to go. Two minutes and Fitzwilliam was hitching a lift in a passing ambulance. Two hours and he was deposited outside of Base Hospital 16.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam?" It was a pale and weary looking Captain who called to him, but pale and weary looking officers were as common as mud out on the front.

"Yes."

"Captain Holloway. Thank you for coming, I'm afraid your cousin is a bit too strong for the staff and he is very disruptive."

"Could you possibly start at the beginning Captain?" Fitzwilliam had blinked in surprise.

"Sorry sir, not had much sleep lately thanks to the Hun being a bit spiteful as they say. Lieutenant-Colonel Darcy took ill the other day and was brought in here. He's since become delirious and he's a bit too large and strong for any of the staff to manage. Lieutenant Bingley seemed to think that you'd probably be best able to manage him as the hospital are reluctant to lose the five ambulance personnel required to keep him in the right room."

"I'll see what I can do." Fitzwilliam gave a shrug. The idea of dealing with a delirious Darcy did not thrill him at all. Fitzwilliam followed the Captain into a small tent which was nearby.

"Doctor, Colonel Fitzwilliam has arrived, shall I just take him straight in or do you wish to talk to him?"

"Take him in. I'll come speak to you in about an hour Colonel." A very sleepy looking doctor had rolled over and blinked sleepily at them, then rolled back over again and pulled the thin blanket over his head.

"He's over here." Miles lead the way across to the ruined church which was partitioned off into a large number of small rooms. Fitzwilliam frowned at the caked mud on the floor and the continuous stream of moisture which trickled off the walls, this place actually seemed very unhealthy. "Bing's currently in with him, but both Bing and I need to get back to the front, they seem to expect the Hun to kick any minute and everything's a bit of a mess since everything's been reshuffled to fill in for Darcy."

"Who's replacing him?" Fitzwilliam paused at the door before entering.

"I am as a matter of fact, Carrigan's coping with my command and Bing's supposedly covering both his and Carrigan's platoons. If it doesn't work one of the N.C.O.'s will be temporarily promoted."

"Have fun with it, Darcy's referred to you as a good officer before."

"I do my best, but I would much prefer not to be here." Miles nodded curtly and left, leaving Fitzwilliam to frown in slight puzzlement after the man before entering the room, where Bing and a burly ambulance officer were wrestling to keep Darcy in the narrow cot. Their efforts were accompanied by some fairly pointed and very fluent remarks which were decidedly derogatory.

"What's wrong with him?" Fitzwilliam shook his head and took another look at Darcy's form, he had never seen his cousin this sick before.

"About bloody time you turned up Colonel." Bingley passed a weary hand across his brow. "The Major's been fencing his blasted brother for the last hour...Typhoid Fever, Colonel, Typhoid with pneumonic complications."

"Well be thankful he hasn't yet taken up cricket." Fitzwilliam nodded a curt dismissal to the ambulance officer. "You'd better get some sleep you look like you've been up all night."

"I has." The response from the officer was emphatic. "Fust we had a bunch of casualties to bring in, then this bloomin'..." The officer caught himself and had the grace to redden slightly. "He laid out three of my fellow officers before I got pulled on wi' the Lieutenant 'ere. Must admit, I'll be right grateful for some shut eye before the next casualty wave."

"Then go take it." Fitzwilliam frowned around the small room, then settled himself down to sit in the corner, Darcy seemed to be currently lying peacefully. "How often does he try and leave the bed?"

"Irregular. Sometimes he'll have repeat efforts, sometimes he lies there for an hour or more before he charges off again. He's been raving on and off for the whole night."

"Anything coherent?"

"Not for me, Nash features occasionally, Georgiana once, some chap called Mikhael and some Graf Georg von Nickel have so far taken up all the time and I am unfamiliar with both names."

"Mikhael was South Africa I seem to remember, the business was a 'bit unfriendly' in Darcy's terms, but he's never told."

"Darcy's unfriendly goes in the same class as his person who is 'not quite straight'. In our terms his person who is 'not quite straight' is as crooked as a cork screw."

"Bingley, I've known Darcy my entire life, don't try to tell me about his tendency to understatement."

"Oh go away Freddie!" Darcy's sudden growl caused both men to jump slightly and they turned to see that Darcy had hauled his sheets up and was holding them tightly as if someone was trying to pull them off the bed.

"I wonder what's happening?" Bingley looked slightly curious.

Continued in Next Section