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"Lizzie!" Mrs Bennet's shriek echoed through the house. "LIZZIE!!!!!"
"Will you muzzle our mother Jane?" Elizabeth looked up from her half packed trunk, and across at where Jane was frowning down at piles of whiteness.
"Lizzie." Jane's tone only just chided, for even Jane was feeling slightly exasperated with their mother as well. This was the fourteenth interruption in the single day.
"Lizzie!"
"JAAAAAANNNNNNEEEEEE!!!!!! LLLLIIIIIIIIIZZZZZZZZZIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!" The change in the call, caused a quick glance between the sisters before the promptly ran for the door, where they ran straight into their mother. "Well it's about time." Mrs Bennet gave a sniff as she observed Elizabeth's trousers, a sniff which was followed by a shudder as Mrs Bennet observed that Elizabeth was wearing one of Folin's khaki shirts.
"Mama, I'm hardly doing work I can look nice for!" Elizabeth wiped some of the dust off her forehead and shook her head. "But what do you want?"
"Well Jane is managing without looking like a wanton hussy, why can't you."
"Mama, Lizzie's been up in and on the roof all morning, if you don't remember the kitchen flue was blocked and papa can't get up there any more and the sweep's sick."
"Rubbish, he's just being lazy.......stop distracting me Jane......and go change, heavens, Mr Bingley is almost on the doorstep and you look like you've been wallowing with the pigs. Lizzie go to the library, there's nothing to be done for you......I'm relying on you to distract Colonel Darcy, it's really disgusting that your father is never to be seen, but I really won't have that horrible man distracting our dear Bingley." Mrs Bennet fluttered away, leaving Jane to choke with laughter, and Elizabeth to scowl darkly.
"I'm going to wash my face." Elizabeth left abruptly.
"Is it safe to come in?" The cautious question caused Elizabeth to jerk up from her study of the map.
"Certainly." Elizabeth stepped back from the map.
"Jane observed you were a bit off colour....do you want to go for a walk or something?" Darcy was observing her somewhat intently from the doorway, a move which puzzled Elizabeth slightly.
"Well it was nearly a walk which caused the problem." Elizabeth admitted ruefully. "But feel free to help with this map, I've been avoiding it for weeks, but I have to get it done now."
"Reason?" Darcy finally crossed to inspect the map.
"I just got transferred to a hospital in France.......and I leave tomorrow."
"That will be an adventure for you." Darcy paused slightly. "Any trouble with Nash?"
"Nothing that wasn't usual."
"True." Darcy rubbed his chin. "Let's get moving on this map."
"Well last time I was on it I seem to have marked the first parts of Verdun, and though I mentioned Somme, I don't seem to have marked it."
"No loss at all, my suggestion is that you plant a pin around Serre and Beaumont-Hamel. I'd tag that one with a string and take the string south down through Thiepval, Ovillers, and Fricourt. I'd plant a second pin there, pass the string around it then run south and east to Maricourt....though just plant the pin a bit north of Curlu. The french line of attack is behind the river, from Curlu towards Peronne."
"You were in it?" Elizabeth watched as Darcy acted on his advice.
"Not the initial assault and then we only went onto a quiet region." Darcy made a bitter sounding noise. "Quiet, I lost nearly a quarter of my Battalion while we were there."
"Then I'm glad you weren't on a busy part."
"Hmmm." Darcy gave a noncommital grunt. "Blast, I wish I could have seen those tanks."
"Tanks?"
"Armoured cars, Ned said they went through the line like tissue paper.....unfortunately their success was not expected."
"Can you see if we marked Kut as September 1915?"
"Yep, looks remarkably like Kut has been flagged."
"Is April '16 marked on it?"
"Yes, and it is marked in a pretty red ink to show that that was the retreat, not the advance."
"Suez Canal, April of 1916, it should be......oh bother, make it purple. Scribble July 1916 on another in red."
"Got them."
"Battle of Isonzo, 6th, August sixth to seventeenth. stick two or three other flags there as well, but I have no beginning dates for those battles."
"Where?"
"Italy, top eastern edge."
"Got it......Nine battles in the same place? Well I'm glad I'm not there." Darcy drove home the pins and looked speculatively at the map.
"France, Verdun, Ft. Douaumont, write October 24th. Ft. Vaux takes November 2nd."
"Done." Darcy replanted the two flags having edited the back of them in red.
"Shove a blue flag into the Baltic will you, it's the Battle of Jutland which I couldn't make up my mind about. May 30th. Off the coast of Sunderland, August 19th, another blue flag."
"What happened at Sunderland?" Darcy looked at the flag in bewilderment, he hadn't even been in France then.
"Well they seem to think that it was a U-Boat plot or something like that. The paper babbles on about 'Nottingham' having sprung the trap early and it goes on about some small force from Harwich."
"Here, give it over." Darcy swiped the paper and squinted at the article in question. "Hmm, they seem to make even less sense than you did."
"I like that!" Elizabeth retrieved the paper, resisted the temptation to hit him with it, and restored it to its pile. "Turn your attention to the Russian front, likewise known as the Eastern Front."
"Meaning this mass of flags." Darcy indicated the mass of flags he had yet to make an addition to.
"You've been to Vilna?"
"One day." Darcy admitted. "We wouldn't have stopped but the motor ceased running and it took a bit too long to get repaired."
"What were you doing up there?" Elizabeth took a short glance at where he was pointing.
"We were coming down from Norway at the time and were headed for the Italian Alps. I'd never seen George Athur so travel sick in my life." Darcy shook his head. "What colour flag do I position at Lake Naroch?"
"Uhhh...." Elizabeth glanced at the mass of flags. "Green, Russian assaults use green flags."
"Date?"
"Umm." Elizabeth swung back to the newspaper. "March 18th, lasts ten days."
"Planted......well one good thing about this map is that it ensures me that we're not the only ones who must be totally off our heads."
"I thought I was the only one who thought we were off our heads."
"The only people who don't see what murderous stupidity this is are the blasted parlimentarians who are more concerned with the glory of England." Darcy abruptly stopped. "Forget I'd said that, I'm just a bit annoyed currently." Darcy shook his head and refocussed on the map.
"What happened?" Elizabeth looked at him curiously but Darcy just shook his head, the subject was an obvious no go zone so Elizabeth didn't bother questioning further.
"June 4th."
"What's on June 4th."
"Lutsk...Chernovtsy.....Tarnapol.......It's just the South-west group under Brusilov. This offensive drove the Austro-Germanic forces back behind the Strypa. Then in late July there's another flag at Brody and Lemberg, and then further north at the Stokhod River and Kovel." Elizabeth paused. "And guess what, that's all of them."
"About time." Darcy drove the last pinned flag in. "How are you to distract me now?"
"Don't look at me!"
"Why not? Or maybe we should go and interrupt Bingley and your sister."
"Maybe that will make mama even more annoyed with me." Elizabeth turned and walked towards the window.
"Can you get up on your roof?" Darcy didn't speak until several minutes later, and turning Elizabeth saw that he was considering the roof from under heavy brows.
"Yes, there are a few ways."
"Which is quickest?"
"Up the chimney."
"Up the chimney?" Darcy's brows rose sharply.
"Iron pins driven into the side of the chimney. I think they were initially installed for the chimney sweep.....anyway, that's what they're most used for now." Elizabeth had crossed to the edge of the lawn and was now cautiously threading her way through thw garden to where the chimney made a deeply clefted joint with the main house. Elizabeth paused, then gave a leap, catching something that Darcy couldn't see but could easily reach without a jump. Darcy watched in silence until Elizabeth was nearly halfway up before he finally reached up and found the first peg under the ivy. It took Darcy very few seconds before he had wait for Elizabeth to clear extra pegs and he was directly behind her when she finally swung up onto the roof.
"Good view." Darcy hooked his arms over the ridgepole. "That Netherfield?"
"No, Fairview. Netherfield is out of sight because of Hawley's wood."
"Uh." Darcy gave a nod and studied the wood Elizabeth indicated, he then rolled around until he could see the other direction and after frowning for a few minutes he finally spoke again. "Does anyone sleep on the top floor on this side?"
"Not now, Lydia's room was that dormer over there."
"So that's how she did it." Darcy was clearly speaking to himself as he cautiously crossed the roof and slid down to lie next to the dormer. Elizabeth noted that he had hooked his feet into the guttering at the back of the dormer.
"Did what?" Elizabeth had hesitated only briefly before she followed, though Elizabeth paused at the top, opting not to attempt the somewhat dangerous lie.
"Take a look." Darcy obligingly shifted so Elizabeth could come between him and the window. "And no I won't bite, but I really doubt you'll get far enough down without becoming unanchored." Darcy glanced back up at her, and after a minute Elizabeth's curiousity overcame her ettiquette uncertainty and she slid cautiously down and permitted Darcy to clamp her in a wedge between himself, the roof, and the dormer. It was not exactly as though anyone was likely to see her there.
"Ruins of Owl Close?" Elizabeth looked enquiringly back over her shoulder, and received a nod in response.
"Your sister saw my departure and before I never knew how. But take a look at her view. At a guess I'd say she could have crossed to the window from her bed in less than five seconds. The explosion addled me for at least half a minute so Lydia would have her nightsight in fine condition. This view goes straight to where the back bedroom was, and I was in the back bedroom. Use the view, now note the track anyone would take to reach the dovecot. For Lydia I would have crossed straight in front of the flames from the explosion. She knew alright who had come out of that back room, she knew who was fugitive and who was captor. Damn it, I should have thought of it earlier." Darcy gave a sigh and started to pull upright. "Miss Elizabeth, I'm going to dump you fairly unceremoniously the minute I can get you over the dormer ridge. Will you oblige by immediately grabbing my arm?"
"Why." Elizabeth had taken a nervous glance over her shoulder and was stunned to note that Darcy was getting back up by the simple method of bending his knees up.
"Because there's a fairly high probability that I may well get at least dizzy if not pass out and I'd prefer not to run the risk of falling off the roof because my feet jerked free."
"I'll try." Elizabeth took another glance back, and then cast a worried glance at the concentrated face beside her, Darcy was already beginning to pale.
"Here goes." And with a convulsive jerk Darcy completed the last bit and Elizabeth abruptly found herself over the dormer ridge. Elizabeth found that she was actually holding Darcy nearly at his shoulder with the rest of his arm underneath her and bent over the dormer. "Well that is certainly an improvement." Darcy gave his head a shake then pulled himself up until he was next to Elizabeth. Elizabeth started to move so he could get his arm out from underneath her. "Thanks." Darcy gave his arm a rub, and then turning he studied the ridgepole which was about a metre or so above them. A brief scramble had Darcy hanging over it once more, and Elizabeth certainly wasn't above accepting a hand up, the slate tiling seemed to have become slick all over a sudden. Five minutes later they were back on firm ground, and Elizabeth was glad it was still quite acceptable to hang onto the arm of your companion. Elizabeth was feeling disgusted with her knees, which were currently totally unable to bear her weight.
"Somehow I don't think I'll go up there again for a while.......even if I wasn't going to France."
"I must appologise about that Miss Elizabeth.....It wasn't until I got down there that I realised that I was going to need help if I was to return safely."
"Then why didn't you just ask?" Elizabeth looked slightly puzzled.
"Because I didn't want you to run the risk of trying to see what had interested me at some later date."
"Oh." Elizabeth paused and considered the matter, he was quite accurate, she probably would have gone down for a look. And just as accurate was the consideration that she would certainly have had difficulties getting back up.
"I make the comment because I know for certain that I would have."
"Oh."
"Lizzie!" Kitty's call had Elizabeth turning, and she saw her sister come running across the lawn.
"Yes?"
"Suppertime."
"Now....or in a couple of minutes?"
"Now."
"Coming." Elizabeth headed back to the house, dusting her knees as she went. Elizabeth hadn't realised it before, but now she had noticed that her antics on the roof had left long, black dust trails on her trousers.
The evening meal was, for once in a blue moon, going quietly. Kitty and Mrs Bennet were occupied with their own private discussion at one end of the table, and most of the rest of the table were eating in silence. Except for Colonel Darcy who seemed to spend the majority of his time staring out the window.
"Have you got shift tonight Jane?" It was the first question Mrs Bennet had asked in the whole meal.
"Yes." Jane gave a brief nod and checked the clock on the wall. There was still half an hour before she would have to leave.
"What is it Hill?" Until Kitty spoke, no one had realised that the butler had entered and was looking troubled.
"There's been a telephone call." Hill spoke softly, but effect was near electric on Darcy. Elizabeth was later willing to swear she had heard vertebrae crack as Darcy's head snapped around.
"Who for?" Kitty's response was somewhat unsteady, for no one had missed the change in Darcy.
"It was the footman from Netherfield, and he was asking for Colonel Darcy." The next sound was the crash as Darcy's chair went skittering back and into the wall. Bingley was cursing under his breath, but Darcy had left the room.
"What was that......" Mrs Bennet got no further in her bemused question before Darcy returned to the dining room, he had spent less than a minute out of the room.
"Bing, I'm taking the motor........Mr Bennet, could I trouble you for the assistance of your daughter Elizabeth for the rest of the evening?"
"Elizabeth?" Mrs Bennet sounded horrified. "What....?"
"My valet is dying Mrs Bennet and I would prefer he didn't." Darcy's face was set in granite as he snapped around on Mrs Bennet, he then jerked back to Mr Bennet, who just shrugged. Elizabeth was already on her feet and heading out the door. "I'll send Maitland back with the motor for you, Bing." Darcy flung the last over his shoulder as he charged out of the room. There was the bellowing roar as the Netherfield motor came to life and with a screech of spinning wheels it was gone.
"I never understand it." Bingley shook his head. "It takes us a good five minutes to get that engine turning over, but every time Darcy can do it on the first crank."
"Hmmphhh!" Mrs Bennet sniffed. "It is most ill-mannered of him to leave like that."
"Mrs Bennet." Bingley paused uncertainly. "Mr Nash was referred to as Darcy's valet because officially that is what he is. In truth the man is more of Darcy's brother than his valet. Would you consider it ill-mannered for someone to try and save the life of their best friend?"
"It shows a shocking disregard for class difference." Mrs Bennet sniffed.
"There currently is no such thing as class difference. And if there was you needn't have concerned yourself with Darcy's manners because he would never have been in your diningroom to begin with.....he would never have been seen within spitting distance of me if he was concerned by class divisions."
"Is the problem really serious?" Jane tried to distract Mr Bingley from her flabergasted mother, they might have been engaged for a week now, but Jane prefered not to have fights at the dinner table.
"Yes." Bingley gave a somewhat despondent nod. "I don't think Darcy has admitted it yet, but Nash just won't last the year out."
"Oh." For once Mrs Bennet had absolutely nothing to say.
Anne sighed as her pencil slipped from her fingers once more, then rising she crossed distractedly to the window, while continuing to rub the numbing member. It had been just over a week since the operation and tiresome though it was Anne knew she was in for a period of several months, where she would seem to make no progress with her hands. But at least now she could spend five minute intervals writing, which meant that with luck she would at least keep up with the accounts she was working on.
"Anne." Isabelle came into the room, a worried crease between her brows.
"What's up Isabelle?" Anne came back from the window, though the watery sunlight had felt nice.
"Oh there you are Anne." Isabelle nodded distractedly. "I just got informed to inform you that you are to surrender the account books for the next six months......or until Dr Alastair deems your hands to have recovered suitably."
"But what am I meant to do? Surely you can't expect me to do nothing?" Anne was nearly horrified at the prospect, she could think of no surer way to prevent her recovery than to face six months of doing nothing.
"Nothing of the sort. You have that book of Dr Alastair's which you are proofing, you've got those dinner parties of Uncle Mac's and Mavis', Uncle Mac would probably be delighted if you could help him out some more. Colonel Darcy would positively dance for joy if you would take a holiday into Hertfordshire and watch Nash."
"Then I had better not go north." Anne smiled somewhat grimly. "It would not do at all for Colonel Darcy to dance, even for joy.....he would probably go through the floor."
"By which I assume you are actually thinking of that leg of his."
"Well someone has too, he certainly won't and it will take only a small crack for us to have to amputate it above the knee."
"Just like I'm the person who thinks of your hands since you never do. Okay Anne, I see your point. Go north, see more of this lovely island of ours, forget you ever had an education and learn to live again."
"I don't think you want me to forget completely Isabelle, I doubt Colonel Darcy would like to see me at all if that were the case."
"Okay, remember what is necessary to help with Nash and other than that forget you even know how to read. You need to learn how to walk again girl!"
"Speaks the lady who has never left London. Very good Isabelle, I will retreat to the remote extremes of Hertfordshire and take a walking tour or some similar stunt which will persuade the world I've gone insane." Anne carefully stacked up the papers and ledgers. "Who's to do the accounts instead of me?"
"Uncle Mac will find someone I am sure." Isabelle was not particularly interested in who was to take command of the accounts.
"Isabelle I can hardly just desert the accounts like this."
"Not only can you desert the accounts, but you will. Now the door is over there, go and pack, and rest assure if I find any book more than an inch thick.....or infact any book which requires a single braincell to read I am confiscating it immediately from your luggage. Oh how I wish I could come with you?" Isabelle looked a bit sorry for herself.
"You are coming." Anne firmly attached herself to her friend's arm and headed for the stairs.
"But what about Parker?" Isabelle was startled.
"Parker can come as well, he isn't allowed to write for a month so he may as well come and protect us from the various nasties which invariably seem to engulf one when travelling......and if he complains tell him it's his own fault and he should have known better than to get sideswiped by an omnibus and just forget to tell anyone he had stuffed his elbow to buggery......as Alastair would say. Now go pack...or I'm not going."
"That is not at all a good attitude Anne, but I want to go badly enough that I'm going to give into your blackmail. You can go inform Parker of what's happening......and tell him to get in touch with Netherfield and see if we can at least catch a meal there, likewise he'll have to arrange accomodation for us in Meryton.....Likewise tell him that I'll pack for him."
"Well you're not packing for me." Anne finally finished tidying up the desk and she followed Isabelle out of the room.
"Seems somewhat scandalous to be taking a holiday." Isabelle gave a sigh.
"With two invalids on your hands? Don't be ridiculous Isabelle." Anne went hopping up the stairs, she felt ridiculously young and childish again, she felt like she could take off her shoes and stockings and go dancing barefoot in the street. Infact Anne hadn't felt this carefree since her father died. It was, Anne discovered, a somewhat sobering discovery to realise that you were glad your father was dead, but at the same time Anne did not feel the slightest bit guilty of not liking her father, after all he hadn't liked her....and yet. Anne abruptly stared at the far wall remembering the silent man, she had no memory of hearing her father speak at all, a matter she had never even considered. Anne slowly sank down on the top step of the flight and stared sightlessly at the railing on the landing, abruptly she had remembered something long forgotten, a small girl crying because she couldn't climb over the fence because her hands weren't up to it. While others had stood laughing the silent man had silently held out an arm and pulled her over the fence. His arm? Anne started searching through her memory, had her father ever used his hands? Anne came up empty handed, except for writing at his desk Anne had absolutely no memories of her father using his hands, and he'd never written at the desk for extended periods.
"What's the matter Anne?" Isabelle's voice broke through Anne's reverie and caused her to look up.
"Isabelle." Anne nodded slowly. "Do you know I've just realised that I truly miss my father......even though I was not under medical supervision for a week after his death."
"About time you realised that." Isabelle grunted her response, she had two fairly elderly knapsacks in hand.
"Realised what?"
"That the quantity of medical supervision is no sign of true bereavement. Your mother and elder sister no more missed your father then they missed your goldfish when he died. They weren't mourning the loss of your father, they were mourning the loss of Hadleigh and all the social prestige that went with the property. Now hop it and pack, you can consider your life once we're on the train, but not before." Isabelle moved off down the hall leaving Anne to slowly rise to her feet and head for her room. Anne pondered Isabelle's words as she packed, was it possible that her sister and mother's hysteria had been completely unrelated to their father's death? Anne didn't believe that to be possible, and yet.....
"Lizzie!" Jane's voice came from next door.
"Yes, I'm awake." Elizabeth rolled herself out of bed and onto the floor.
"That sounds like a not very." Jane came laughing into Elizabeth's room.
"Go away, you look disgustingly awake." Elizabeth rubbed her face and stretched awkwardly.
"I won't be awake long, I've only just returned." Jane gave a laugh. "Up sister, your train leaves in an hour."
"Just what I wanted to hear." Elizabeth kicked clear of her bedclothes and stood up. Ten minutes later Elizabeth was dressed and checking the contents of her trunk for the umpteenth time.
"Breakfast Lizzie!" Kitty came jumping up the stairs.
"Coming!" Elizabeth slammed her trunk shut and locked it, before she rose to her feet and headed for the door.
"Miss Elizabeth!" The call had Elizabeth turning from watching her trunk being loaded onto the train, and she observed Bingley leading a crowd onto the station platform.
"Just came to wish you luck."
"Thankyou." Elizabeth offered him a hand, only to be engulfed in an immense embrace from Bingley.
"As brother-in-law to be I take this as my right." Bingley released Elizabeth with a grin.
"You shouldn't have done that." Elizabeth growled her response in a tense voice and she turned abruptly to hurriedly finish farewelling her family.
"I wish you didn't have to leave so soon." Jane gave Elizabeth a quick hug and kissed her on the cheek.
"Don't be ridiculous Jane." Elizabeth gave Jane a hard hug back. "Not even I'm so selfish as too demand that my sister delays her wedding for who knows how long so I can see her draped in darned bedsheets obligingly sobbing on mama's shoulder."
"Lizzie!" Jane was laughing now.
"Not now Jane." Elizabeth abruptly moved on to finish with her father, she knew she was going to cry, but she was determined not to cry before the train had left. The blowing of the whistle had Elizabeth diving for the train and she was pleased to note that Bingley was comforting Jane. It was almost with pride that Elizabeth noted that Jane was crying, while her eyes were still dry, but with that Elizabeth felt the tears finally break the barrier and with speed she turned away from the window. With a final whistle the train pulled out of the station and Elizabeth did not get her last view of Meryton.
Two days in town and finally Elizabeth was aboard the train for Dover.
"Hee, look at him." The sister seated next to Elizabeth was gaping as the train started pulling out.
"Who?" Elizabeth twisted her head around.
"Can't see him.....a pity for he must have missed the train."
"He was on the platform?"
"Yes, running fast but I doubt he was fast enough."
"Who was he?"
"Couldn't say, but he was quite a good size."
"Philadelphia you are awful." Elizabeth was laughing, in the past two days since she had first met Sister Philadelphia Baker, Elizabeth had discovered that as zany as Philadelphia seemed her attitude had distinct advantages in that every problem seemed minor.
"A depressing thought..........HEE! Lizzie, you can see him after all." Philadelphia was gaping towards the back of the carriage.
"Stop gaping Philadelphia, it's not polite." Elizabeth rigidly kept her eyes focussed forward, she was quite certain that Philadelphia was gaping sufficiently for both of them.
"Well I'm going to have to......he's coming in here! Help Lizzie, how does one address a Colonel?"
"Wait till he addresses you." Elizabeth muttered back before she buried her nose even more firmly in her book.
"Sisters." The grave greeting had Elizabeth's head up from her book.
"Colonel Darcy!"
"Miss Elizabeth." Darcy gave a grave nod before he settled into the corner.
"You know him?" Philadelphia muttered under her breath.
"He was my brother's company officer."
"Well introduce me then, I refuse to sit in silence just because I haven't been introduced to the third person in our carriage."
"Why should I?"
"Because I'm a nice person."
"How terrifying." Elizabeth took a breath. "Colonel Darcy, permit me to introduce Sister Philadelphia Baker to you. She refuses to sit in silence with a third person in this place and I really can't bring myself to talk."
"You sound very like Bennie. How do you do Sister Baker?"
"Very well thankyou Sir." Philadelphia had looked speculatively at him for a minute, then glanced out the window before excusing herself. Silence reigned in the compartment for several minutes, then Elizabeth finally layed her book aside with determination.
"I had been hoping to thank you for some while for what you did for Lydia." Elizabeth clenched her hands to stop them from knotting together nervously. "My father doesn't actually know it was you, or I don't think he does. And I'd like to extend the gratitude of my family."
"I don't want gratitude." Darcy growled sharply. "It was consideration for you which made the decision to ensure that her remains made it back to Meryton, but other than that it was no more than would have been done for anyone.......and a good deal less in a few points."
"Oh." There was really nothing else Elizabeth could say, because never had she heard Darcy speak like that.
"I was half a minute late, Lydia was shot before I got there. All I did was get there in time to set up a situation for all the expended bullets."
"Was it Wickham who shot her?" Elizabeth finally asked a question which had been nagging her.
"No." Darcy shook his head. "Wickham never deliberately injured anyone, lady....Georgiana was the closest he ever came to it, but that whole affair is now very obviously a different streak to what he does as a standard."
"Standard?"
"We don't know what it is, but he definitely must have one and I'm dead certain now that '14 was out of his usual field."
"Well we're still grateful to you." Elizabeth didn't know what else to say.
"I don't want gratitude, there is no word I despise more in the english language.....or in any other language." Darcy abruptly moved off, leaving Elizabeth to feel sick.
"Hello, he's cleared off." Philadelphia came back some five minutes later.
"Mmm." Elizabeth had her nose buried in the book she was reading.
"Lizzie, it would be much more convincing if you had that book the right way up." Philadelphia gave a soft laugh.
"I'm practicing reading upside down." But Elizabeth righted the book as she spoke.
"Meaning you don't want to talk about it?"
"Correct.....and no we didn't have an arguement, I just said the wrong thing."
"Like?"
"Like what might happen if you were to start asking me about my brother or similar touchy topic."
"Oh." Philadelphia looked thoughtful. "He didn't look very upset when I passed him."
"He wouldn't, that's not the type of person he is." Elizabeth abruptly laid her book aside. "What's your opinion of gratitude?"
"Depends on whether I'm feeling it, or someone else feels that way to me....It also depends if it is true gratitude or not." Philadelphia wrinkled her nose. "I dislike it intensely when it's me who's feeling grateful for it means I frequently do things because I feel I should, not because I want to. At the same time I dislike it when someone important to me feels grateful to me.....are they just being a friend because they are grateful.....or do they actually like me? Gratitude is a horrible thing, a bill of kindness. It's like someone trying to pay you back for some service you gave freely. I think I'd sooner send out a bill. Wanted: 5pounds of gratitude in payment for services rendered."
"Well when it's put that way...." Elizabeth was laughing.
"You do have a nice laugh Lizzie." Philadelphia gave a nod. "I'm picky about how people laugh, but you have a very nice ringing laugh."
"How kind." Elizabeth covered her mouth, highly embarrassed.
"Well I'm serious, but in interest of saving your blushes I won't mention it again." Philadelphia settled down and primmed her mouth shut, but in a remarkably short space of time both girls were laughing again.
"Hey you, up." As happened everyday Florrie was dragged reluctantly into the world of the wakeful with the help of Ashie's boots. Florrie responded as he had every day and dug further under his blanket, at which Ashie proceeded to rip it off his bed. "I said up and I meant up. You're going across the lines today, and even though Pyro wears pyjamas you can't until you've been flying for a month."
"Alright." Florrie finally uncurled, but only because Ashie had grabbed the basin of shaving water....a basin which invariably had a thin shell of ice and dissuaded dawn patrol from ever shaving before they got back. "Were you serious?" Florrie was about halfway through dressing when Ashie's words sank in.
"About what?" Ashie looked up from lacing up his flying boots.
"About me, crossing the lines."
"Well laddie, you've been here for three days now, you're not going to be much use if you don't cross the lines soon."
"Okay." Florrie accelerated his preparations.
"Taking him up are you?" It was Katt who asked the question as the pups were dragged out.
"Well he has to go sometime, and the sooner the better."
"Well for his sake I hope your patrol is as boring as hell in midwinter."
"You ready Pyro?" Ashie totally disregarded Katt's comment as he raced to get the flight into the air.
"Yep." Pyro was scrambling up into his cockpit.
"Right I'll give you a spin." While Ashie spun Pyro's prop up Florrie was struggling to get his magazine mounted firmly. "Just a tick laddie and I'll be there." Ashie ducked away from Pyro's pup and came across to where Florrie was struggling. The magazine seemed to just fall into place as soon as Ashie laid hand to it.
"Thanks." Florrie scrambled down, a trifle red faced.
"Don't worry. I'll give you a spin, just circle with Pyro." Ashie turned to walk forward, then stopped and frowned.
Ten minutes of fast flying brought the lines into sight, and with the accompaniment of Archie fire they crossed the lines. Florrie was feeling sickly nervous, but when they reached the lines he had gone into near panic, he didn't care what he had been told, he was positive that those blasted Archie would get him. The flight had so far been a string of errors for Florrie, first he had forgotten to buckle his helmet, then he had fluffed his take off. These errors were then followed by forgetting to check his guns, this error had only been remembered because he saw Pyro having problems with his testing. Having made a successful gun test Florrie had then had an urgent need of the toilet, a comfort not supplied with fighter aircraft. Successfully forgetting his need of the toilet Florrie had then realised that he had drifted away from the flight and with a brief accelerating dive he returned to his position.
For half an hour Florrie sat in a mess of nerves, positive any moment that enemy aircraft would appear and shoot them up, but with the turning for the return to the aerodrome Florrie found his fears slipping away and he started to enjoy flying again, though his stomach was still a nervous and queasy knot.
Florrie was occupied with trying to decide whether a dirty smear ahead was the lines when he suddenly realised that Ashie was rocking his wings and diving straight for what Florrie had assumed were the lines. Florrie risked a quick look around but he could see nothing, and when he looked back to the front he realised he could no longer see Ashie anywhere. Florrie desperately searched everywhere for the other two pups, while maintaining the dive for the lines, but he could not see them at all...anywhere. The chatter of a machine gun jerked Florrie's head around, and he heard the sickening thunk of bullets crashing home into plywood. He saw a blue 'plane on his tail, Florrie promptly jerked his pup around in a sharp turn, and felt even iller when he saw the maltese cross. Florrie yanked around wildly, but the blue seemed nailed to his tail, and he had now been joined by a red 'plane of similar make. After another minute of wild flying Florrie gave a fatalistic shrug and turned his nose for the lines, he couldn't shake the 'planes so he might at least try to get the 'plane back so another could use it.
Florrie wondered as he watched the lines and listened to the engine what it would feel like when the bullet hit, would it be burning pain? or would darkness just engulf him? So settled was Florrie into considering his death that it took him a minute to realise that the gun chattering behind him had stopped. Florrie jerked his head around and looked over his shoulder, but there was nothing to be seen. Florrie twisted even further, but only the red was in sight and he seemed to be otherwise occupied with another 'plane. Florrie briefly considered whether or not going to see whether it was Pyro or Ashie, but he quickly decided that getting back across the lines as fast as possible was the best idea. Florrie took a quick look at the ground below, he did not like the vanishing of the blue in the slightest, but all that was to be seen was some slow rising smoke. Surely 'planes didn't crash that fast? Florrie hastily returned his attention to infront of him, and as he did he saw a familiar pup swim into view alongside. Ashie pointed a gauntleted fist towards the lines in an imperative manner, and with a sick knot forming Florrie continued getting there as fast as he could. Florrie had no idea where the Squadron-Leader had gone after he had dropped back, but neither did he really wish to know.
Ten undisturbed minutes later Florrie lined up and came in to one of his worst landings on the tarmac of 284. There was no one on the tarmac and with an even sicker feeling Florrie scrambled down from his cockpit and started putting his pup away. Florrie had just finished when the two ack-emmas and Chris appeared, it hadn't even taken Florrie the evening to realise that Chris was not an ack-emma, or at least not an ack-emma in the normal sense of the word. It was without a word that the they pulled the pup away, and feeling even worse than ever Florrie headed for the aerodrome boundary.
"What happened?" Batten's voice some five minutes later caused Florrie to jump.
"Hullo." Florrie greeted his fellow airman in a dismal manner.
"What happened?" Batten settled down on the grassy bank beside Florrie.
"Just made a mess of everything." Florrie had never wanted to cry so much in his life that he could remember, he had so wanted to do well here and now it was unlikely they'd even let him repack his pack before they threw him off the aerodrome and out of the Flying Corps.
"Tough luck." Batten kept silent, he didn't really have the faintest idea of what to say next for he had not come under his own accord. Infact the only reason Batten had come in search of Florrie was because Thomlin had ordered him to.
"Yeah well, probably had best get back and pack.....I hope you do better." Florrie stood up wearily, well at least his mother would be happy, but the truth was that Florrie was bitterly disappointed.
"What in hell are you doing?" Ashie stared at Florrie in amazement.
"Packing." Florrie responded curtly without even looking up from his bed.
"Why?" Ashie crossed the room and took a seat on the bed.
"Because I'd prefer to take my stuff with me."
"You mean I'm not going to be given the kick?" Florrie finally looked up.
"Why in hell should we?"
"I stuffed up, I botched my take off, I nearly forgot to check my gun, I got lost, I was a nuisance and I nearly trashed my pup on landing." Florrie glared at his cousin as Ashie started laughing.
"Laddie, you're priceless." Ashie was fairly howling with laughter.
"What on earth is going on in here?" Katt looked inquisitively in.
"Oh he's priceless." Ashie took a deep breath in attempt to catch his breath. "Lordy Katt, if we ever have such a greenie I'll die." Ashie started laughing again, and Florrie's glare turned into a sullen scowl he started to get to his feet. "Oh no you don't." Ashie grabbed Florrie's arm. "Sorry Katt, but I'm afraid that this dear wingman has just decided he's going to be given the boot because he botched both landing and take off today as well as drifting five hundred yards of course and being chased by that blue _____ ."
"You get him?" Katt was promptly distracted.
"Yep, he flamed on landing but I'm damn certain he was dead before he hit."
"That's good." Katt gave a nod then looked speculatively at Florrie. "Help laddie, if you get the boot for that tame effort than I was kicked half around the world and Ashie here was kicked clean off the planet."
"What did you do?" Florrie looked surprised.
"I totally trashed my pup on my first operation, I tried to fly it through the trees at the end of the tarmac on my take off and as a result never got to fly the operation." Katt pulled a mournful face. "However my effort really paled in comparison to his." Katt jabbed a laughing finger at Ashie who was laughing.
"Note, this is the first time I've heard that, Katt came to us a week later." Ashie was chuckling. "Oh help, why I wasn't given the boot I will never know, I'm sure I must owe my salvation to Jimmy." Ashie shook his head and started laughing again.
"What happened?" Florrie was now getting seriously curious about what had happened now.
"Well Pyro had been up earlier that day and he wiped his undercart out on landing. So I was going to show Pyro how it was really done.....and boy did I show him." Ashie dissolved back into laughter.
"Get telling Ashie or I'll tell for you." Katt growled though he was struggling with laughter as much as Ashie was.
"You wouldn't dare, this is my own priviledge." Ashie took abrupt control of his laughter. "I infact had a really nice and peaceful flight, perfect take off, not even the smell of Hun around. Infact nothing at all happened until I came in to land and boy did it happen." Ashie dissolved into laughter, and this time Florrie gave way to his exasperation at Ashie's laughter and pounded his cousin. "Ouch! I surrender. Yes, I'll continue and no I won't laugh." Ashie made his features suitable sober, though his expression fairly danced with laughter. "I forget how it came around, but for some reason I've carefully forgotten my engine caught fire and being Captain Ashington-Frankston I had to save my aeroplane so fire or no I still came in to land, most stupidly forgetting I wouldn't be able to land....or I could land but stopping would be a minor problem. Alas, in stopping I cost the Squadron three aeroplanes and ...sorry, four aeroplanes, and a hanger. And so started my impressive career in the Flying-Corps.....three days after that I was the Squadron-Leader." Ashie gave a shrug, no explanation was required. "Laddie, you wouldn't get the kick from any Squadron.....least of all this one. No one's perfect on their first flight and fair percentage get bumped off in that first flight....though one is actually expected to shoot when the Hun gets to near."
"How the bloody hell am I meant to shoot when the sod was behind me?"
"By shaking him and getting behind him."
"I tried and he damn well stuck to my tail as if he was glued to it." Florrie looked annoyed again.
"Relax Florrie, Ashie's just fishing for a rise. Don't worry, he won't blame you for not shooting at Mr Blue, he's been chasing that ___ for nearly as long as he's been on the front. That Blue is one 'plane on the front which even Ashie can't shake...you're the second pilot who hasn't perished when he got on their tail."
"Only because I blasted him." Ashie abruptly straightened. "In future Laddie, stick close and don't play with dangerous customers, and if you must play with them P-LEASE make sure they pay for their temerity of trying to take your skin. Throw your bloody pup all over the sky, try anything you can think up and fire at him whenever possible, but damn well don't tamely turn your back and let them have a shot at you.....it's not at all the done thing."
"You wouldn't have got him if he hadn't turned away." Pyro spoke from the door.
"True, but he didn't know we were sitting upstairs waiting for a chance to interfere. He wasn't setting up a shot for me, he was just dumping the fight."
"But the fact remains, intentional or not you got the blighter."
"And speaking of that, what happened to Red?"
"Sod took a run for it and I decided to let him go. He was smoking nicely so I doubt he'll be up for a while......." Pyro stopped as Saine suddenly came through the door.
"There you are...sir where is C.O.?"
"Isn't he in his office?"
"No, both him an' Denny are not to be found." With Saine's words Pyro promptly left.
"What's the problem." Ashie was off the bed and headed for the door.
"Hit's Cub." Saine followed Ashie out the door and Katt and Florrie were on his heels. "Hit's one hell o' a mess."
"I'll say." Ashie had come to an abrupt halt and his jaw dropped slowly. "Get Moggy out of bed and tell him to get the car out here, I'll see what I can do.....damn it Katt, must you be afraid of trees?" Ashie mumbled the latter to himself as he headed for the end of the aerodrome where the crashed pup was clearly visible wedged near the top of the tree.
"Could I help any?" Florrie asked the question warily.
"Any good at climbing?" Ashie called the question over his shoulder as he jogged along.
"Well I hold the speed record for raiding Wardens Room."
"Than these trees shouldn't be a problem......when did you break that? I never thought anyone would break the Darcy record."
"I wiped two seconds off it......though admittedly I did not climb down, just up."
"Robust aren't you.....I thought it impossible for someone to beat the Darcy record without taking some shortcuts. Okay, follow me up." Ashie was already shinning up the tree as he spoke and with a leap Florrie followed. The wreck was firmly wedged and a messy looking tangle and soon the two pilots were indiscernable from the branches and wreckage.
"What's going on here?" Batten came up to where the small group were clustered.
"Cub was trying to lop the trees and he got stuck." Katt didn't even glance back at the Lieutenant.
"What?" Batten was bewildered, this sounded insane.
"Cub just got hit by a bad gust coming in far too fast and he's crashed into the trees." Katt turned around in exasperation. "SAINE!! IS MOGGY COMING?????"
"Right here Katt." Moggy was rubbing his face wearily.
"That'll teach you to forget to go to bed. Cub's been sampling the tree tops and may be in need of your services."
"Glory be." Moggy sat down with a sigh and silence once more enveloped the group on the ground, though there was plenty of swearing from the treetops.
"Everything alright Ashie?" Katt called the enquiry.
"I'm damned if it is." The response was emphatic.
"What's he doing up there?" Batten asked the enquiry generally.
"Well someone has to go, Cub's not precisely coming down by himself so someone has to go up and see why not.....though by the sounds I think I'm glad I dislike climbing trees." Katt's latter remark came after an extended volley of oaths from the tree top and a pair of wire cutters came bouncing down.
"Hold it there I'll be back in a tick." And with those words Ashie seemed to nearly fall out of the tree and grab his cutters before scrambling back up again. "Katt, we need stretcher and lots of rope." It was several minutes later when this call came from the treetops.
"They're already here and waiting." It was Moggy who responded.
"Glory be. I'm coming down to fetch them." Once again Ashie descended with a speed that looked more like he had fallen than he had climbed. Having tied stretcher and ropes together with one rope Ashie once again ascended, before he descended once more. "Pull away matey." And as the bundle proceeded its climb up the tree Ashie ascended for the last time freeing it every time it caught.
"Who else is up there?" Batten was frowning up at the tree.
"Florington-Smythe, someone 'ad to go and I hate trees." Katt responded calmly and in true cockney style.
"Oh." Batten took another look up the tree. "How could they go up there? Surely he's not alive."
"Short of going up to look we can't be certain. Besides which, Cads that we are we don't actually leave corpses lying around....it attracts the local wildlife. Seriously laddie, dead or alive someone has to go up there, and what's more it has to be someone who can climb fast. And as for whether the appearance denotes death or not, all I can say is I've watched as a burning aeroplane went barrelling into the hangers and fired off half the fuel dump and the pilot came away with singed eyebrows. I've also seen pilots do perfect three point landings and be found dead in their seats by the ack-emmas. Appearance counts for bugger all here and I'm fast coming to the opinion that the more dramatic it appears the more likely you are to survive."
"Crumbs." Batten looked like he was about to say more but then Ashie came tumbling from the tree once more and only slightly slower the now loaded stretcher came, then the rope dropped down followed Florrie who was sporting a large rent in his jacket.
"Better get that patched." Ashie spoke over his shoulder while he pulled the blanket back on the stretcher. Batten took a nervous look but the man lying on the stretcher was blinking somewhat sleepily up at the sky.....he was most certainly not dead.
"What's up with him?" Moggy came and took a sleepy look over Ashie's shoulder, a move which caused Batten to wrinkle up his nose in distaste. Batten still was out of his depth and most certainly he did not understand how things were going, for him Doctors did not take a casual look and ask an unqualified person what the problem was.
"Busted leg but that seems to be it. We've got Florrie's shirt stopping the blood so we can only get him across to the hospital."
"Why can't Moggy deal with it?" Batten frowned.
"Get the bloody blanket off." Ashie yanked sharply at the ropes. "Moggy, dose him up a bit because he'll probably start feeling mighty sick once we hit the road. And grab your guts kid because you should be on the point of feeling bloody ill. Sorry Florrie, I'll stand you a shirt to repay for its loss." With a skillful flick Ashie produced the wickedly long pocket knife from up his sleeve and was busy sawing through the knot in Florrie's shirt. Indeed what Ashie revealed when he pulled the shirt aside made Batten feel ill enough that he turned aside and would have left had Katt not caught him. The flesh was ripped and mangled and white bone protruded in a sickening manner and jabbed on even more sickening angles.
"Look and look good Batten. Ashie is the Squadron-Leader here and he has seen more war than any of us.....he has seen more gore than even Moggy has, and he's been through more than you would believe. If Ashie thinks Moggy can do anything he'd call Moggy in from stage one." Katt noted with wry interest that though Ashie had cut the shirt, he had not touched the ropes which held the splint in place, nor the heavy-duty handkerchief which had stopped the blood flow.
"I think you'd be amazed at how much horror and war I've seen." Batten spoke cautiously.
"So what are your experiences?" Ashie didn't even glance up as he fought to get a new bandage from Moggy's bag onto Cub's leg.
"Well." Batten paused. "Well I've been in plenty of schoolyard fights."
"Katt lived on back alley fighting for twenty-four years, he'd probably smash you to hell if you annoy him." Ashie finished with the bandage and set to work retying the ropes.
"He did?" Batten took a curious look at Katt's smooth face, the face didn't look at all like it had even tried to fight, let alone done it for twenty-four years.
"You take a swing at me buddy and you'll regret it." Katt's expression flashed dire warning.
"What on earth has he done then?" Batten glanced nervously at Ashie, he wasn't sure he wanted the answer. For Ashie to have had more experience with war and gore than a street fighter of twenty-four years......Batten was sure he didn't want to know since he considered it.
"He was at The Nek, Gallipoli." Katt responded curtly. "He also has seen a few other things that he won't even tell us the second oldest group of friends he has. That say something to you?" Katt tilted his head.
"Why do you hate me?" Batten looked around the group.
"Get him to the motor Katt, and see if you can run Pyro and Chris to earth." Ashie waved the group aside and turned to face Batten. "Do you realise what you've just said?"
"I beg your pardon." Batten hardly recognised the flippant Squadron-Leader in this lean, harsh-eyed individual who leaned in forward. Batten abruptly found himself face to face with what he had expected to find in the beginning, a man who carried the lives of many on his shoulders and risked death at very regular intervals, and as Batten looked at that face he knew he didn't like it....even the seemingly simple Ashie was preferable to the Squadron-Leader, Captain Ashington-Frankston.
"You have just accused this entire Squadron of hating you....I'm sorry laddie but you don't even rate high enough for us to hate. No one coming into the Squadron gets any rating at all until they have lasted the first week, sometimes it lasts for a month. You accuse us of hating you because we've been ramming some unpalatable truths down your throat in the past couple of days. You came here looking scared and nervous, we made allowance for you because we have had our fair share of scared mice coming in. We've likewise had our share of people who come charging in with great confidence in their skill, and we've had to ram a bit of humility into them before they kill themselves and the rest of the flight in a great act of derring do. Likewise all of us have been fed the unpalatable truths of reality. But never have we had someone come in here nervous and unsure of themselves who then arrogantly writes us off as a bunch of duds. As I said you came here with the appearance of nervousness, so we made due allowance. Come the first flight and you went out to show us what a bloody miracle you were and how lucky we were to get you. What happened? I made you feel like the ass you were. That made you lock two men out of their barracks for the night so we had to squash up and you ask why we started giving you the chilly elbow. Come day one you complained at the housing.....when you had three beds to yourself as opposed to three of you in one bed. Day two you complained about our catering arrangements, the fact that we did not eat meals at a time which suited you was sufficient reason for complaint. You couldn't give a damn that those meal times are arranged for feasibility around the flights of this aerodrome. Day three, why now it is our medical system which meets your disapproval. The fact that Moggy doesn't heavy fist his way in at the first sign of blood you find inappropriate. The fact that he might be unable to do any good with the experience and equipment he has is of no interest to you. The fact that the patient undergoes more in the bumbling attempts than a quick trip means nothing to you once again. You ask why we give you the cold shoulder and you declare that we hate you just because we object to someone who has not been at war before coming in and trying to rearrange what has worked for us for six months now, and has been working in other Squadrons for even longer."
"So I didn't realise how much I didn't know, but am I the first to learn this? Am I to be the one shreaded for your petty..." Batten stopped, realising abruptly that he had stepped to far. Batten didn't even see it coming, though the slap was not hard enough to knock him out it was sufficient to send him staggering.
"You call me petty?" Ashie grated savagely. "You call getting a partially cold shoulder from a Squadron of outcasts a rough lesson?"
"Are you claiming you've had a rougher introduction into reality?" Batten looked disbelieving. "Except for trench warfare I doubt you've seen anything outside of your precious family home with its plush lined Bentleys."
"You need a lesson in life boy." Ashie abruptly grabbed the wrist of his right hand and wrenched the glove off it. "Pretty tattoo isn't it? Care to guess how it's done?" Ashie flipped his hand so Batten got a good view of both sides.
"I...I don't know." Batten stuttered nervously, his stomach had heaved sickeningly at the sight of the vicious scarring.
"It is done by the simple act of taking a a nail, a piece of metal one eighth of an inch in diameter....sounds harmless doesn't it? And driving it with the use of a hammer through the hand and into a piece of wood. Do it five times and you'll end up with a pretty tattoo like this one. Now do you continue your accusations that I know nothing beyond the plush linings of Bentleys?" Ashie abruptly threw up his hands. "This is stupid, melodramatic, ass-witted and bugger all a waste of time." Ashie wrenched his glove back on and shook his head in disgust. "Get a transfer kid, you'll never fit in here and I'll be damned if I have you here." Ashie turned and stalked away, leaving Batten to sink limply onto the ground.
"I don't know what you did or said laddie, but I've never seen the Captain that bloody mad before." The voice came from behind Batten, and turning he saw Pyro chewing a meditative thumb.
"What's your secret? The Lieutenant is a street fighter of many years, the Captain seems to have ....I don't know what, I don't even want to think of it."
"Most people don't." Pyro finally looked away from the retreating figure and looked at Batten.
"Do you know?" Batten looked surprised. "Lieutenant seemed not to know beyond Gallipoli.....or is that Gallipoli?"
"That's not Gallipoli, that's after Gallipoli and yes I do know."
"How?"
"Well." Pyro paused and looked speculatively at Batten. "The man has to shave daily and you can't shave in gloves, likewise he has occasion to change his shirt, and on occasion he runs into difficulties with it. I don't know what you said but you sure sent him over the edge, it takes a lot of pressure before he lets anyone see his hands.....and may I add that that is one of the more acceptable scars he carries. I expect you must have thrown his family in his face, learn fast laddie, Ashie is a second son and is not recognised by his family."
"I don't want to say what I said, I was embarrassed for them as soon as they were uttered."
"Would have served you better not to say them. Only advice I can give no is for you to make your peace and make it bloody fast."
"How? He'll massacre me if I go near him."
"No he won't, if Ashie has one asset it's the fact that his sense of humour controls his temper....as well as his sense of honour. We've been out here too long lad, even if you don't approach him, he'll approach you before you take off again. No wise airman leaves the ground with an arguement still occuring, because the possiblity of return is too remote. Don't make him do it Batty, he'll do it because he knows it is required to keep peace at this aerodrome, and trust me on this the Captain will do anything for peace. We lose pilots altogether too fast here, the pace doesn't need any help by internal fighting." Pyro gave a shrug. "No one briefed you when you came here, so you don't know. Not only are we the outcasts of the Flying Corps, we are also the social misfits. We've developed a way of life so we can all live together, and as with any country or people, we object when people try to interfere. Sure you might object to the fact that we seemed to give Florington-Smythe a warmer welcome, but he came willing to learn. Florrie came with no mental baggage, he knew he was coming to a different way of life, so he decided to learn how to live it. Florrie also had no problem in admitting he knew nothing." Pyro gave a shrug. "Not that we've been easy on Florrie......you've minimised your contact with this base, so you don't seem to realise that Florrie has been clocking over ten flight hours a day and that for the simple reason that he didn't want to be useless and Ashie wouldn't let him cross the lines until he'd completed seventy hours of solo flying. Florington-Smythe came here with fifteen hours of solo flying all told, and fortunately he was willing to admit that these fifteen hours merely meant that he knew nothing. Hatred doesn't exist here....not unless the person is a real scumbag, it's too costly to everyone in question and it's hell for the aerodromes morale. If you think Ashie's being short with you, you sure as hell don't want to hear him in the recording office. You and Florrie were meant to bring this Squadron up to strength.....instead you only just made it possible for us to clear flight numbers, we lost three pilots in the week before you came. If that's not suffcient excuse for us to be fairly short and unwelcoming I don't know what is. They were our friends who died and it's a rather harsh reminder of one's own mortality to have to watch a friend going down in a flamer.....it's bad enough watching a Jerry go down in a flamer." Pyro gave a shrug. "Please Batty, make the first step with Ashie." Pyro rose to his feet and walked slowly away, leaving Batten to look in amazement around the now silent aerodrome, above him the mangled wreck still hung, a sickening reminder of that same mortality which Pyro had just been referring to. Batten gave a shiver and then, for no reason he could explain, he crossed and started climbing the tree. The climb was not difficult, though one did have to be wary near the top of damaged branches.
Batten looked wonderingly at the mangled wreck, it looked even worse from here then it had from the ground. Twisting cautiously Batten proceeded to climb closer, using the cleared path through the wires and fractured spars until he reached the cockpit. Blood was splattered around the cockpit, still wet, it made for a gruesome scene.
"'Ullo, what are you doing up here?" The voice caused Batten to jump, and turning sharply he saw one of the ack-emmas on the branch with a multitude of hacksaws and other implements dangling from his belt and wrists.
"Sorry." Batten took a quick look, but fast realised he couldn't get out of the way unless the ack-emma retreated half-way down the tree again.
"Name's Chris." Chris offered a hand and a hacksaw at the same time.
"Batten." Batten was feeling too shaken by the whole day to refuse to shake the offered hand, and accordingly he also accepted the hacksaw.
"Well if you'll cut your way until you're above this bus, then I'll just putter around below tidying up the stray wires."
"Why are you up here?" Batten automatically turned and started cutting his way through the wreckage by the shortest route, it wasn't until later that he realised that he'd responded as if Chris had been a superior officer.
"I might ask the same of you. I'm here to get this bus down." Chris was busy clipping and coiling flying wires as he spoke. "And while I think of it, why are you here?"
"Just wanted to think."
"Thinking is good fun....but laughing at yourself is even more fun."
"Why do you say that?" Batten turned back and scowled at Chris.
"Well I used to be unable to laugh at myself....now that I've learnt I wonder how I could have been such a boring cad."
"I didn't think you were one of the cads."
"Correct, I'm not one of the Cads, but I was, and probably still am, a cad." Chris followed this by a string of invective as only quick reactions prevented him from being brained by the engine as that item went hurtling earthwards. "Watch it laddie, I'm awfully fond of my head."
"How would you suggest I approach the Captain?"
"Well you could start by saying 'Hello' to him."
"Wise one aren't you." Batten glared in annoyance at Chris, but his annoyance was more directed at himself, he should have known better than to speak to such a fool.
"Well saying hello is one of the easiest ways to start a conversation.......only other suggestion I have is 'I'm awfully sorry I've been such an ass sir, I really want to stay here and I didn't mean to be so critical'......but I will admit that the second option is somewhat cramping for you to do anything but then walk away......unless of course that is precisely what your thinking, and frankly I doubt anything like that is even remotely near your mind so I'll thankyou to stop treating me as a fool. I've been treated as such for a year and a half, do you know it does get tiresome to be treated as a simpleton?"
"Who are you?" Batten whirled towards him in annoyance.
"Careful how you do that laddie, falling out of trees is not a good way to begin your flying career." Another coil of wire was carefully dropped to the ground, and Batten finally settled himself on a branch above the pup. "Through at last are you? Well take that hacksaw after the wings."
"How?" Batten looked at the broad spread of wings nervously.
"Just a second." Chris came up and indicated the joints. "Just saw your way through them, but warn me before they fall."
"Right." Batten turned his attention to the joints and started sawing carefully.
"HI! BATTEN!" The yell echoed around the aerodrome.
"Sounds like you're wanted laddie, best shift and see what's up." Chris was already descending so Batten could get down.
"Oh, there you are." Katt grunted as he saw Batten swinging from the last branch. "What were you doing up there?"
"I was helping bring the Pup down." Batten responded shortly, he had no intention of saying he had just sat through the third lecture in the one day.
"HI! Chris! That you?"
"Yes! Wassup Katt?"
"Nothing, we jus' bin tryin' to track down all you acks."
"Geordie could have told you I was up here."
"True....but we can't find Geordie right now." Katt finally turned away from the tree. "Come on, we're going up."
"Not yet." Batten didn't move.
"Why not?" Katt turned with a frown to the Flying-Lieutenant.
"I wish to speak to Captain Ashington-Frankston."
"Why?" Katt's frown abruptly darkened.
"Bloody hell are you my keeper? I want to speak to the Captain on a private matter which is none of your bloody business. I'll be ready to fly in five minutes." Batten turned and stalked off, leaving Katt to stare gape jawed after him.
"You are not having a good day Katt....or at least not in the diplomacy department."
"Ge'outo'fit!" Katt snapped shortly at Chris before he turned and stalked towards the pups which were being dragged out of the hangers. Four and a half minutes later Katt was irritably flicking the switches on his front board, if Batten was one second late he'd more than hear about it, but as Katt looked up he saw Batten come running up, trying to simultaneously fasten his jacket and clip up his helmet. "'Bout time you showed up." Katt curtly flicked a finger to get Saine to spin his prop up. It was in a morose temper that Katt turned and sent his Pup over the lines, he spared nothing but a curt glance for his wingmen. They were on their way back across the lines when Katt saw Batten surge forward. Katt was glaring furiously as he turned to look at the wingman, and to Katt's astonishment he saw Batten shrug and abruptly put his nose down and plunge. Furiously Katt pulled over and dove after Batten, only to see what Batten had been trying to bring to his attention, Pyro's pup was falling dead in the air. What the hell is going on? As the thought rang through Katt's mind he turned once more and started scanning the sky, with Batten already down there there was nothing he could do except keep his eyes open for stray Huns. A blast of gunfire sent Katt's eyes flying, but all he saw was Batten climbing once more to a level slightly below Katt, there was a dark smear on the back of the fuselage just behind the cockpit which quickly resolved into Pyro crouching as low as he could. Realising that Batten couldn't come up to his current height Katt promptly dropped down to to the level of Batten and turned his nose for the lines, his eyes searching nervously for Huns.
Nothing, and nothing there continued to be until they were nearly at the lines and then a menacing V appeared from the british side of the lines Katt promptly put his nose down and dove for the lines, there was no way of avoiding this confrontation but their survival changes were much improved if they were over allied soil. Soon sunk in the thick of the dog fight Katt had barely enough time to see that he couldn't see Batten's pup and with a boil of anger he abruptly sent a deadly blast into a nearby Fokker and took vicious satisfaction in seeing it flame, but that satisfaction was short lived when he realised her had another Fokker on his tail, and what's more it was a Fokker who sure as hell wasn't letting go of his tail any time soon. The triple blast which sounded sent Katt into a steep twisting climb and casting a glance over his shoulder he saw two smoking wrecks on the ground, a third Fokker was heading back across the lines with a pup in hot pursuit. Katt promptly dove for the pup which had a familiar number and herded Batten roughly back across the lines. It was with irritation that Katt saw the non-presence of Pyro on the fuselage and shortly Katt headed back to the aerodrome. They were just lining up to come in when abruptly three Pups came flying over the trees in tight formation, all three checked at the sight of the two incoming pups turned and promptly landed again. Katt smiled sourly, obviously the fight had been seen and telephoned back. Two minutes later Katt had landed and was looking with undisguised astonishment at Pyro.
"Batty dumped me just over the lines and then went back to help you up. I managed to hitch a lift in a staff car which was coming this way."
"Wonder what's happened?" Ashie was watching with undisguised concern as Batten circled for the fifth time over the aerodrome.
"Probably too scared to land." Katt growled to himself as he helped push his pup into the hangers.
"Unlikely." Ashie didn't respond until Katt was out on the tarmac once more and Batten was making his twelth circle. "He appologised for being an ass before he took off." Ashie paused and frowned. "Either there is something the matter with the pup which is making landing uncertain, or there is something the matter with Batty himself."
"Sorry Ashie, I'm just in a bad mood."
"We all are, and unfortunately we all took it out on Batty. Well it looks like he's decided to land at last." Ashie stepped back and off the tarmac. The pup made a hesitant and rough landing, then veered sharply and buried it's nose into the hedge. The engine died away in a vicious snarl and silence enveloped the stunned aerodrome, then with an abrupt shuffle Ashie sprinted towards the crashed pup, and as if by one accord the rest followed him. "Batty!" Ashie leapt up onto the cockpit, and instinctively the others hung back by the tail. There was some response to Ashie's cry. "What's up?" The question caused them to stir. "No, not one of us could have done better, and yes Pyro made it safe back." There was no apparent sound from the cockpit but Batten must have spoken for Ashie was definitely listening. "No way Laddie, you say he was a grey one do you? Nothing more?" There was another pause. "Well that's what I like to hear.....No, no, no Laddie, done us proud, a true Cad." Ashie waved his hand and Pyro gently started herding the others back and away from the pup towards the mess.
"What's up?" Pyro asked the query as Ashie came walking slowly into the mess. Ashie shook his head in response and went and bashed on the mess hatch, ordering, and receiving, an orange squash before he returned to the table where the other pilots were lounging.
"Pyro, Florrie, we're taking evening flight. Katt, get Chris to help you, but Batty needs a decent put away.....and tell Denny to get on the blower, I want to know the minute a grey Fokker is seen in the air." Ashie pulled a scrap of paper out of his pocket and shoved it across to Pyro. "That'll give Denny all the details."
"Gone west is he?" It really wasn't a question Florrie asked, and the silent nod more than answered the question.
"I think I'm going to be sick sir." Florrie was looking somewhat ill.
"Don't even consider it Laddie, and while I think of it, Ashie, or I'll throw you out the window."
"Yes sir."
"Lumme, will ya look at that!" George Smith from the 14th Labour battalion pointed to the coarse and newly turned earth.
"What abaht it?" His companion wrinkled his nose at the fresh turned earth in the small churchyard.
"That prop, that prop damn well weren't there yesterday."
"Wal mebbe the prop was feelin' lonely. Hit's been a week sin' that'un went in."
"Hit looks like a Gairman prop if you ask me."
"Yeah righ' as if you'd know." The two men continued on to the day's work, leaving behind them a patch of fresh turned earth six foot by four foot which was decorated by a Fokker propeller blade instead of the usual headstone. The blade had been roughly scratched by some sharp object and if one had cared to decipher it they'd have read:
"Mr Speaker, may it please be observed that we are not currently concerning ourselves with the moral rights and wrongs of this stand by the Irish. What we are concerned with is the fact that from some undisclosed source arms are travelling from the United States of America to the Irish Republicans. We are neutral in stance here, it should not be acceptable that we supply arms to either side, or we must supply arms for both......" As the man rambled on Knightley slowly lowered his head and resisted the urge to bang his head against the table top in front of him. Arms to Ireland were not actually a subject which interested Knightley, and this was the third day they had been discussing them for. If the subject wasn't changed in the next week Knightley was of the opinion that he'd start regretting having run for Senate for his third election.....maybe he should have tried for President instead.
Six hours later Knightley stood on the edge of the road considering his options, he could one: Go home and go to bed, two: Drop in as promised to the Hatherway Dinner, or three: He could pay a visit to the Woodhouses, and that was an infinitely preferable option. Paying off the cab Knightley shook the slight dusting of snow out of his hair and walked up the stairs and applied a firm hand to the door. With the coming of Mr Woodhouse and the departure of Isabel, the small cramped apartment had been given up and the Woodhouses were now installed in a spacious house.
"Mr Knightley." Emma looked undisguisedly surprised when she opened the door.
"And a good evening to you to Emma." Knightley pulled his coat off as he stepped in. "I take it I do not interrupt anything?"
"Not at all." Emma took his coat and hung it on a hook before pushing Knightley into the main living room where a large and cheerful fire crackled and blazed on the hearth. "Look who's deigned to visit us for the first time in three months?"
"Hello George." Mr Woodhouse nodded from his seat next to the fire.
"Mr Woodhouse." Knightley sank into a deeply padded seat and nodded when Emma held up an enquiring box of tea to him.
"What happened today?" Mr Woodhouse was working his way steadily through toast and tea in a manner which belied his claim of a feeble constitution and an even worse stomach.
"Not much, we spent nearly the whole day on the Irish question. We had a brief break when we discussed our war position and what that position held."
"Isabella is not happy." Emma handed Knightley a steaming mug before she resumed her own seat, it was only then that Knightley realised that Emma was dressed for bed and her hair was hanging down her back in two braids. Knightley promptly took a look at the clock, surely it wasn't that late already? But the quick look reassured Knightley that the hour was still early.
"Why not?" Knightley sipped at the tea and finally let himself relax into the comfortable chair, if there was any good side to Mr Woodhouse's infirmity it was the fact that it supplied the Woodhouse's with the most comfortable living room in D.C.
"A friend of hers, Uhh, Hilda Grun seems to ring a bell. anyway Hilda has had to return to Wyoming because her parents do not think D.C. is safe." Emma tucked her feet up under herself.
"And they couldn't speak truer. Knightley, would you believe it, Emma caught a chill yesterday. The weather here is truly terrible." The words caused Knightley to glance involuntarily at Emma, who was rolling her eyes. The words seemed incongruous coming from that hardened Minnesotan, to complain at D.C. weather after weathering hundreds of blizzards and electrical storms.
"Well I hope she feels better now." Knightley responded gravely, and got a dirty look for his pains.
"Well I think she should spend tomorrow home from work as well, but she is determined to go." Mr Woodhouse looked almost sorrowfully at Emma, who was manfully resisting the temptation to throw her mug at Knightley.
"Why decide now, why not wait until tomorrow morning?" Knightley had little doubt of who would win this discussion if it was discussed.
"That is a good idea. Have you heard from your brother?"
"No, John has spoken to me twice since he got back and on both occasions it concerned arrangements for going to England. It seems they're to sail on the Cunard Liner Laconia in February."
"You should come into the Senate, we spend four hours straight discussing that same Irish Question, and for no other reason than because three boats smuggling arms and funds for the IRA were sunk by German U-Boats."
"Surely we won't go to war over such paltry issue?"
"Highly unlikely, and it's even less likely for anything to happen until late december anyway since Wilson has to satisfy himself with the country internally before he looks externally. After all he did not even touch Foreign Politics in his campaign. But whether we like it or not war looks nearly inevitable now, unless they settle things over there within six months."
"What do you think Wilson will do?" Emma twisted around in her seat, having first checked that her father had indeed drifted off into a doze.
"Well general opinion is that he'll continue his efforts to initiate a peace, though I suspect that the House-Grey memorandum will have to go first."
"House-Grey?" Emma had heard reference to the memorandum more than once, and she was also pretty certain she had had it explained before, but for the current moment she couldn't remember a thing about it.
"February of this year, Colonel House went over and made an agreement with Britain's Foreign Secretary, Sir Edward Grey, the rough outline is that we may enter the war if Germany does not accept our mediation and a reasonable settlement. but Grey has also reserved the right to initiate our mediatory activities."
"But what's a reasonable settlement? What for us is a reasonable settlement is very likely going to be unreasonable for Germany since it is almost guaranteed that they'll lose territory they have already taken."
"Which is why the memorandum is going to have to go. Certain sure, Grey will decide to let us mediate, but the terms won't be satisfactory to either side and as a result we'll be at war before halfway through next year. Hence we dispose of the memorandum and mediate on our own accord and try to reach a settlement satisfactory to both sides."
"Why didn't you run for President?"
"Against Wilson?" The look was humorous. "Emma sweetheart I knew you thought I had a big opinion of myself, but really I have no interest at all in trying to run America on the verge of war.....even after war doesn't sound too exciting."
"I thought you were interested in running." Emma wrinkled her nose up.
"That is not at all attractive Emma. But frankly it is the inopportune decision on the part of my parents to travel which is why I have not taken a run for it, and the fact that I can't garner a thread of interest in Foreign Policy."
"Do you ever say anything to me other than that something looks unattractive?" Emma gave Knightley an annoyed look.
"Quite frequently, I believe I even managed to compliment you on your dress the day before when we last met." Knightley grinned back at her.
"Oh no, you followed that up immediately after by calling me nosey."
"Well you are." Knightley responded simply. "You are one of the nosiest people I have met."
"Just because I'm interested about what people are doing....."
"In Emma, in. You are interested in what people are doing, there is nothing you like doing more than sticking that little finger of yours into any and every pie and giving a stir."
"And frequently it is for the best that I do." Emma gave Knightley another annoyed look. "John would never have got around to proposing if I hadn't decided I needed to go shopping that day, I'd been carefully priming him the whole way to Minnesota. Neither would Miss Ann have married Mr Weston if I hadn't given a helping hand."
"As I said, nosey."
"Nosey is an ugly word." Mr Woodhouse had finally stirred again. "And it certainly doesn't apply to Emma."
"Yes Mr Woodhouse." Knightley placed his tea cup on the tray as he spoke, and then stretched. "And if you'll permit me, I'll charge off."
"I had heard that the Hatherways had a promise from you to turn up. Most unwise of you Mr Knightley, you should never promise anything to the Hatherways." Emma had followed Knightley to the front door.
"I will bear that warning in mind for the future." Knightley shrugged into his heavy coat and took a cautious look out the door, though it was snowing it was not more than a light misting and as a result Knightley had no concerns for walking home in it. "Well good evening to you Emma, I shall hope to see you before the end of the year."
"In otherwords you might drop in on us again, but we shouldn't hold our breaths." Emma responded with a light laugh. "Good evening Mr Knightley, we too will hope to see you before the end of the year."
"Well...." Knightley got part way down the steps and then turned back to where Emma was still standing by the open door. "I heard you'd left the paper, why?" It was with concern that he looked back up at her.
"How you manage to hear everything I don't know." Emma gave a sigh. "I'm freelancing and trying to get a book published, but mostly I didn't like leaving father alone all day. We certainly didn't need to work and I think I'm more useful paying full attention to all the various boards and societies I'm attached to."
"You probably speak truth there." Except for Emma herself no one knew better than George Knightley exactly how many boards she was attached to, and societies she was a member of. "Well you'd best get back inside or you'll have a real chill. Good night Emma and take care......and leave my secretary to manage his own affairs."
"Hmmph!" It was an inelegant snort that Emma emitted as she firmly closed the front door after him.
Elizabeth shambled along kicking her feet through the snow and feeling destinctly homesick and annoyed with herself. The sky was heavily overcast, the weather was freezing and she had been insane enough to come out walking in it. Elizabeth turned around abruptly and headed back to the hospital, walking wasn't going to cure her homesickness and she wasn't useful to anyone this far from the hospital.
"Sister Bennet, you are rather a long way from the hospital." Elizabeth stopped abruptly when she heard the voice and looked up. What she saw had her sprinting down the road.
"Colonel Darcy!" Elizabeth ran straight into his arms and gave him a hug.
"Well that's the nicest reception I've had in a while." Darcy swung her around to cope with the speed and then quite willingly hugged her back.
"Oh." Elizabeth flushed self-consciously and hurriedly backed away. "Sorry, I don't know what came over me."
"Don't be sorry." Darcy offered her an elbow. "At a guess I'd say that what came over you was homesickness. Mind if I escort you back to the hospital?"
"Thankyou." Elizabeth took the proffered elbow. "It is a lamentably accurate statement that, I have been miserably homesick."
"Poor Miss Elizabeth." Darcy gave a slight grin. "How do you find nursing in France?"
"A lot more tiring. I'm officially off front-door rosters, which puts me either in surgery all the time or doing absolutely nothing. How do you fare?"
"Well enough." Darcy buried his hands in his pockets and Elizabeth suddenly realised that he was only in his uniform.
"Aren't you freezing?" Elizabeth was buried beneath a coat and several layers and still felt chilled.
"No." Darcy gave another slight grin. "Annoys the others rather a lot because I only use a coat once in a blue moon."
"I could believe that, you make me feel like a polar bear."
"You don't look like one." Darcy gave her a brief and analytical glance which caused her to glance away in embarrassment.
"That isn't nice."
"Why on earth not, I just said you didn't look like a polar bear." Darcy watched as Elizabeth shifted her hands uncertainly. They had nearly completed the return to the hospital, filling the time with flippant conversation, when a very noisy motorcycle came roaring up. Darcy responded by yanking Elizabeth off the road and covering her. The motorcycle pulled up in a sea of mud and snow and the nervous looking Lieutenant came piling off.
"Colonel Darcy, sir."
"Yes Carrigan?"
"Um, Miles wants you back at base, he seems to think there's a problem."
"Major Holloway. I see." Darcy frowned briefly. "Carrie, see Sister Bennet here safely back to the hospital and hand me the bike."
"Yes sir." Carrigan handed over the helmet then stopped. "Bennet?"
"Yes, she's Bennie's sister, move it." Darcy shoved the helmet in his pocket and with a roar and a splutter he was gone.
"Shall we Miss?" Carrigan offered his elbow.
"It really isn't necessary." Elizabeth hesitated nervously.
"Major's orders Miss, I'm to escort you, so escort you I will whether you want me to or not."
"Oh." Elizabeth took the offered elbow. "Is the problem serious?"
"I wouldn't know." Carrigan gave a chuckle. "I'm only a lowly Lieutenant, I just get sent to deliver the message."
"Oh." Elizabeth couldn't think of anything else to say, but she had more then enough to think about. Why had Colonel Darcy been there? It wasn't half obivous that it was known where he was going, which had Elizabeth wondering where they had come from. Obviously they were back from the front, but were they just back, or were they on the point of moving out again? Which also brought the question of whether there really was a problem.....and whether she'd see him again.
"Well I think this is called a safe arrival. Cheerio sister and I hope you didn't find my company too obnoxious." Carrigan doffed his hat as he departed, leaving Elizabeth standing on the doorstep.
November 15th 1916-London, England
The best thing about the future is that it comes only one day at a time. - Abraham Lincoln
November 16th 1916-Longbourn, England
When I eat Jello I feel better,
don't ask me to reduce it to a science. - Ally McBeal
November 18th 1916 - Squadron 284, France
Peace is not something you wish for;
it's something you make,
something you do,
something you are,
and something you give away! - Robert Fulghum
November 24th 1916-Washington D.C., U.S.A.
Pleasure in the job puts perfection in the work. - Aristotle
December 3rd 1916-Base Hospital 23, France
The gods too are fond of a joke. - Aristotle
© 1999, 2000, 2001 Copyright held by the author.