Disaster at Rosings...

Posted on Tuesday, 21 July 1998

June 12, 1942
London, England

Lizzie was standing in the middle of London shocked at the devastation of the big city. But also more taken back how normal the routine of work and life was. People just picked themselves around debris and destruction, going off to their jobs as if this was the regular course of things. Fear could only hold on for so long before she loses her luster. Children had to be fed, clothes had to be bought and money must be made. So the Londoners and others who were devastated by the Blitz continued their lives in spite of everything. Long after the war was over this extraordinary attitude of life and unspoken courage would live in the minds of England's many foreign reporters and newsmen.

Charlotte whispered, "Now remember you promised to be nice to Collins, you hear? I know he's not a catch but at least he's available and eligible." Lizzie winced; Collins was eligible and available because no one else would have him. He wasn't in the military simply because he would probably wipe out his platoon before the enemy does. Sometimes even the military recognized a totally hopeless cause...

The three women, Lizzie, Charlotte and Maria (Charlotte's sister) took their bags and hailed a cab. Within minutes they were in Rosings Palace located in the outskirts of the city. The imperial Lady Catherine de Bourgh owned this posh hotel. Her husband was some Lord or other who died bravely in the fields of France during WWI. This would have guaranteed his sons some military rank and favor, but all the family had in the way of an heir had been Anne de Bourgh.

The whole hotel was designed during the Art Deco era and was, to say the least, sumptuous in design and service. Lizzie couldn't hear the sound of her brand-new heels as they sank in a decadent manner into the red carpet. Oh my, those are real orchids, and do I smell coffee? Suddenly her stomach began to growl for the lovely meals that must still be served in posh places like this. "Ladies! Dear Charlotte! Welcome to Rosings!" Lizzie winced a bit as she heard the grating voice that belonged to William Collins, better known to his intimates as Willy. He was the manager for this establishment and dressed to announce that fact to the world. He was a bit short, a bit round and suffered from the constant desire to ingratiate himself to everyone. Lizzie never knew how Charlotte met this man but she regretted the day with all her heart.

"Come, come ladies. Let me show you to your rooms. Dear Charlotte how was your trip? Was it horrible? The trains nowadays are so awful with their smoke and space..." He grabbed Charlotte's arm and led her away with Maria and Lizzie smiling from behind. Their rooms were on the fifth floor and were indeed grand. Everything was either mahogany, silk or satin. Lizzie plopped on her bed tossing her shoes aside and moaned. She was only here because Charlotte asked her to accompany her for this trip. Wickham was unfortunately away in Switzerland or something, trying to help an ambassador make some sense into the latest mess by the Foreign Bureau.

She smiled a little as she remembered his face again. How sweet the man was, she hummed to herself. So attentive and kind to her for all these months, though they never met after last winter. When her sisters Lydia, Kitty and Mary were to visit their aunt Mrs. Gardiner in London the man offered to escort the youthful bunch from the train station and drop them off at their aunt's place. He insisted on doing so because as a member of Whitehall he had no problem with petrol for his car. Lizzie sighed in frustration; it would have been so nice...

"Lizzie wake up! You must get ready for dinner!" Cried out Charlotte as she shook her friend awake. Lizzie snapped from her dreams and realized that she had fallen asleep. She quickly took a bath and dressed in her finest evening gown, a green silk affair with the simple jeweled clasp. The women were ushered quickly into an elevator and it rose all the way to the top of the building where Lady Catherine de Bourgh and her daughter resided. The elevator slid open noiselessly and the party entered into what felt like an Italian villa. There was a fountain in the corner bubbling and the whole place was scented deeply with blooming flowers.

Maria's mouth hung open, how did this place survive the Blitz? Suddenly an imposing voice ricocheted off the walls of the hallway. "I presume William that you brought your guests. Please show them to me before I die of old age." The three women were ushered into a parlor the size of Biggin's landing field. Lizzie was trying to calculate the value of the antiques and artwork around the place and overloaded within a minute. This place looked like it was furnished from the London Museum and the Louvre. Or, more likely, the London Museum and the Louvre was furnished from this place!

"Well I see that they are indeed women William. Perhaps they have names or shall I call them the Three Sisters?" William flushed and introduced the uncomfortable women standing behind him. "This is Miss Charlotte Lucas, her sister Maria and this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet, Charlotte's friend, Lady de Bourgh." The woman's long aristocratic visage got longer as she lifted her face to examine them all. Lizzie began to feel rudely treated under such scrutiny. Shall I start the bid at 100 pounds? She wanted to state out loud but held her tongue.

"Well the green one, the one named Elizabeth definitely has the looks in the lot. Good evening ladies, and welcome to Rosings. Please join us for dinner. Henry!" The butler scrambled to open the door as she, her daughter and her entourage were led to a dining hall worthy of King Ludwig of Bavaria. Charlotte was incredibly ill at ease with Lady Catherine and Maria was at a total loss in regard to all the silverware laid out in front of her. How many spoons can one need for a meal?

However Willy had no problem dining here, for it seemed he had done so often. And to please his hostess he gave excessive praises regarding the food, the napkins and anything else that caught his eye. Lizzie decided to enjoy the beautifully presented dinner and ate heartedly, paying scant attention to her host and hostess. Anne de Bourgh was a small slip of a girl wasting away under her mother's autocratic rule. Lizzie felt sorry for her and even sorrier that she was destined to be Darcy's future bride. Trading in one dragon for another, she thought. Charlotte found out that juicy bit of gossip about two weeks ago when Willy told her of the family connection between Lady de Bourgh and Darcy. It seems that the woman was Darcy's aunt and Lizzie could immediately see the connection between their attitudes and bearing. Her sympathy for Anne just grew as the night dragged on.

"And I am glad to say my nephew will be joining us tomorrow. He's coming from somewhere to visit me. The dear boy misses his family so much!" Announced Lady Catherine and Lizzie's head rose involuntarily. Around early January Darcy and his squadron mysteriously disappeared from Biggins. Elizabeth and Jane were in shock as they both realized that Bingley was gone too. Both were expecting a letter or a phone call explaining what happened but there was no news from either of the fighter pilots. Even Pyro vanished off the face of the earth.

It took Jane weeks to realize that Bingley either could not or did not wish to contact her. Lizzie witnessed all her silent pain and suffering and damned the fickle wingman for his unforgivable behavior. Then Lizzie heard some news that Darcy and his men were involved in some covert RAF operations in the African campaign. She told the news to Jane hoping to improve her spirits, but it did little to cheer her beloved sister. Lizzie was now more determined than ever to discover what happened to Charles, and how he could treat Jane so callously.

Finally the evening ended and Lizzie returned to her room grateful for her privacy. To face the facts Lizzie didn't know whether she could confront Darcy or not. If the RAF really did sink his squadron under a cloak of secrecy then the Squadron Leader could hardly be blamed for the separation between Jane and Bingley. It would be easier, she thought, to play by ear than to jump on the man's back.

They were invited to dine with the de Bourghs yet again and the three were ushered in, with Willy frantically telling them how to behave in front of Darcy. I'll behave as I want to, thought Lizzie becoming more annoyed by the minute with Willy's demeanor. So by the time Lizzie reached the de Bourgh's private suite she was fairly put out. Suddenly a sight took her breath away totally making her forget about her companions for a moment.

Darcy was waiting for them in the foyer wearing a black tuxedo. She had never seen him outside his uniform in all their time together and the man was like some g-d in the clothing. He did indeed look like the lord that he was and Lizzie blushed remembering all those times she teased him about his title and social status. Well, at least he wears it well, she moaned to herself and stepped forward.

"Good evening Lord Darcy. We at Biggins were worried about your hurried exit. Is everything well?"

"As well as it can be Miss Bennet. How are your sisters and the rest of your family? Are they well? And everyone at base?" The man clearly did not want to answer her question but she noticed the genuine concern he had for her family's and the base's welfare. Something was definitely amiss mused Lizzie.

"Yes they are, and Bingley and Pyro?"

"They are all doing well as can be under the circumstances."

That ended any discussion Lizzie could summon regarding Jane's absent boyfriend and the youthful fighter pilot.

"Darcy is this the Elizabeth you told me so much of?" Both turned to face a man whose resemblance to Darcy was too similar to ignore. However the physical resemblance was the only thing the two shared, for this man had an open countenance and a broad grin that Darcy would never dare to show.

"This is my cousin Colonel FitzWilliam. What he does is a total mystery to me, but I'm sure it is important, at least to his mind." Lizzie smiled at the jib and the Colonel responded beautifully. Lovely girl, he thought, and intelligent too. No wonder Darcy kept going on about her as he did.

"I jump out of airplanes." He added and was rewarded with a shocked look from all the women.

"Out of perfectly good ones mind you," added Darcy determined to not let his cousin monopolize all the conversation. "So it stands to reason the RAF would never have him."

"The RAF is too much of a fuddy duddy for me. So it's perfect for Darcy here." Retorted FitzWilliam. Lizzie smiled even more; the camaraderie between the two was obvious. And in spite of all the stiff formality that was displayed, the two gentlemen made the dinner more enjoyable than the previous one.

Lizzie was entertaining herself in the music room with the ever-charming Colonel sitting next to her, goading her to play more modern pieces that would have been guaranteed to infuriate Lady de Bourgh. Lizzie however maintained her composure and stuck to Chopin. Suddenly from the corner of her eye Darcy sauntered over and joined the couple. He was not going to leave his cousin alone with Lizzie. He knew the man all too well.

"As you can see, Lord Ace here disapproves of my playing and is trying to frighten me off the piano. After all, Rubenstein deserves this Busendorfer and not this humble girl." FitzWilliam laughed out loud and Darcy had the grace to blush but he didn't miss a beat with a comeback.

"And Miss Bennet is notorious in Biggin for speaking out opinions. Not only her own but also that of others. Unfortunately sometimes she makes grave errors. I'm not here to frighten you off this lovely piece of instrument Miss Bennet."

"It's very uncharitable for you to paint a bad picture of me, is it not Colonel FitzWilliam? But I can retaliate in kind. Do you want to know how he behaved around Biggin Hill and its social life?"

"Please do tell Miss Bennet. I'm all ears." She turned to Darcy and only saw an inviting smile upon those lips.

"Well the first time I saw him, it was at Hart's Tavern. A very well respected and loved establishment not far from base. And the crowd, being its usual cheerful self, cleared the floor and was soon dancing. You had to be there; it was so much fun! But this Lord Ace here never danced. Not one. Ignored all the women around him and just stood there! Why, we never saw anything like it. And we still talk about it you know." Fitzwilliam laughed out loud, that was definitely like Darcy.

The man in discussion smiled sadly, "In spite of everything, Miss Bennet, I am not the kind to introduce myself to strangers. I am very awkward at it and at times very clumsy."

She stared at him surprised at his confession but asked spiritedly, "Why is that Lord Ace? You had the finest education and probably traveled around the world at least twice. So, Colonel, why should a man like Darcy who has everything in life be inhibited in such a manner?"

"Because Darcy doesn't care to go through the trouble." Fitzwilliam replied and there was more truth in that opinion than Darcy would care for.

"No Fitz, that's not why. Some people, like my cousin here, could charm himself into any conversation and soon master it. I cannot do the same and often fail miserably."

"Lord Ace, you can hardly blame anyone else for that failure. The only reason I play these etudes and not the harder pieces is because I did not practice enough – a fault all my own."

FitzWilliam held his breath to see his cousin's response, and when Darcy smiled gently, he knew that his solitary and aristocratic cousin had it bad for this woman. What a delightful situation!

"You're right Miss Bennet. But at least even in your 'lacking' qualities you play the piano very well, while all I can do is sit in the corner and scowl." Once again the disarming and candid humor from Darcy did much to amuse and befuddle Lizzie.

However that charming party of three was broken apart by the loud voice of Lady de Bourgh who demanded that her nephew pay some attention to her and Anne. Darcy obeyed, but did it with his usual cold civility and not the honest warmth he revealed to his cousin and Lizzie.

She met up with him many times during the next few days all over the place. They even ended up having tea once, with her doing all the talking while he listened. His contributions to their conversations seemed to be limited to monosyllabic responses, but she felt curiously enough relaxed around the man. However this uneasy peace between the two were shattered by a conversation Lizzie had with the Colonel.

She bumped into him by chance outside the hotel and the two decided to take a walk around the near-by park, as it was a lovely day. "So where are you in the social hierarchy of the Darcy family, Colonel Fitzwilliam?"

"Not very high, I'm afraid. I am the second son of an earl, so I do not matter as much as a first-and-only son like Darcy. However I'm content with my lot in life and determined to make it better."

She gave an approving nod, "May I assume that Darcy requested you to join him because he can? Somehow I don't think Rosings is the place you want to take your R&R."

"No indeed, but Darcy asked me to accompany him for this visit. He is not only my cousin, but also my friend. When he asks for my help, it's usually because he needs it. Besides he isn't the kind to practice his power over those close to him."

"Not even his sister or his friends? I was under the impression that the Lord Ace believed himself in the right every single time."

"Well in some cases he is in the wrong but that is rare indeed. He did however recently practice some of his powers to rescue a friend of his from an unwanted relationship."

Lizzie felt her heart stop for a second. "Was there an objection against the woman?"

"Yes, there was, and the family also. Darcy asked the War Department to remove his squadron to another base. Anyway they're going to be transferred to another arena altogether so…"

"Why did he do this? Did he have so little faith in his friend's judgment to interfere so? Pardon me, perhaps there was something else involved in the scenario we're not aware of."

FitzWilliam felt warning bells go off in his head; something was wrong, terribly so.

Lizzie excused herself from dining upstairs again; she was too shaken and too upset to face Darcy calmly. How dare he? How dare he do this to Jane? Sweet and loving Jane whose heart was breaking even now? And what a sap Bingley is! She detested them all for hurting her sister so. Suddenly she felt the great desire to leave this hideous place and in a great fit of emotion began to pack. There was a knock on the door and she gave a gruff reply, "Come in!"

Darcy entered and saw her bag with her clothes thrown carelessly inside it. "Where are you going Elizabeth? Willy told me you were ill, and I came down to see if you needed a doctor."

She whirled around in shock, her face was white with anger and her eyes were feverish but she managed to control her voice. "I have to leave Lord Ace. My family needs me, and I need to be elsewhere, anywhere but here. Excuse me but I must finish packing."

"You can't be serious, the trains have all shut down for the night. It's dangerous to travel by night anyway, please calm down. I'll have my driver see to wherever you need to be in the morning. Please Elizabeth, you're frightening me with all this. What has happened?"

She finally sat on the deep chair and sighed, trying to catch up with her temper. "Nothing Darcy. But I really must leave soon. London isn't to my taste, I'm afraid, and neither is town society. I shouldn't have come; I should have visited Longbourn instead. My folly, I suppose."

Darcy felt the unbearable sadness in her voice and flinched, he couldn't help himself anymore. Things must be said now while he had the chance, before he was shipped off to Africa. "I, for one, am glad you came so I could see you again, Elizabeth. I missed you all these months while we were apart and felt every day the lack of your presence in my life. I have tried, and heaven knows I've tried, but it seems that fate is determined to make me a fool. I am in love with you, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, in spite of all my will and control. I have tried to remember my family's name and honor. The questions our union will undoubtedly cause will be great, but the arguments I made for myself were of no use when I thought about you. I was hoping to ask you this question later this week, but now seems a good a time as any. Will you do the honor of being my wife?"

Lizzie sat there shocked, she disliked Darcy intensely and never suspected that he felt anything but the same for her. But this! She was at a loss for words.

"Elizabeth, please answer me."

She blinked twice and gathered her shattered wits for protection, "I'm honored by your proposal Lord Darcy, but I must refuse your offer of marriage. Too much has been said and discussed for me to ever feel anything akin to love for you. I hope you will find happiness someday, Darcy, as I hope every person does. But no, I must refuse."

"Said, discussed? I don't understand what has happened? Did someone say something against me, Elizabeth, and damaged your good opinion of myself? Was it that Wickham?" He ended that question with a biting tone and Lizzie lost what little control she had on her temper.

"In fact Wickham was not the only one who spoke of your character Darcy. It seems that many have opinions of you and few are ever expressed in friendly terms." He did pale underneath that assault and she was glad. She wanted her pound of flesh. "Can you deny that you separated Jane and Bingley from each other? Using your influence, no less guaranteeing Jane a broken heart, and Bingley the reputation of a philanderer? Can you not tell me you made sure that Wickham was driven from the University and forced to seek education outside not only of Oxford but also of England? Could you deny your part in any of this?"

"Your interest in Wickham's affair seems rather overeager, Elizabeth. Let me assure you that man is like a cat, he will always land on his feet. As for Bingley, yes I have interfered and I am glad to have done it. To him I practiced better judgment than I did for myself. May I ask why I am being treated in this manner? If I were to lie and pamper you with pretty words, would I be receiving the same reply as I am getting now? You cannot honestly believe I would rejoice in having your family connected to Georgiana and myself?" He saw her eyes turn cold and dead on her face and knew that he lost all, everything.

"I see, well then I shall toast you on your successful destruction of all that is dear and loved by me. But then Lord Ace after all Jane Bennet is my sister and not yours. We are indeed too low in your esteemed society to ever deserve a genuine act of kindness from you. Which leads me to believe this proposal of yours was a farce from the start. A cruel capricious act that a man of your caliber would practice on a mere milkmaid…I believe that was your word in describing me? If you are so cruel to the woman you are suppose to adore, admire and love, I fear for everyone around you who do not even have that regard. Wickham is a dear friend who did right by me from the moment our friendship began. And Jane, dear, kind Jane never harmed a soul, and that included you. She held you in her good opinion and thought well of you. And even at times when you were on the receiving end of all our gossips and talks, she defended your name and actions. She never faltered Darcy, she never faltered in her love for that weak-willed wingman of yours, and for that sin you broke her heart. I toast to your actions Darcy and may someone someday do the same to you. Get out of my room."

Darcy stood there and for the first time felt absolute dread. He didn't want to leave, not like this, it can't all end like this…his hopes, his dreams, his future were shattered all around him as Elizabeth took his heart and ripped it apart. Trying to say good-bye he failed miserably and dashed out of her room unable to breathe and feeling his chest cave in. A cruel and capricious man…I toast to your actions…she never faltered in her love…and for that sin you broke her heart. What have I done? Oh dear G-d what have I done? He collided with his cousin as he entered the Suite and the Colonel was alarmed, "Fitz, my G-d, your face what happened? Cousin!" But Darcy wouldn't answer and dashed into his room slamming the door shut.

FitzWilliam didn't bother trying to talk to Darcy and ran downstairs to Elizabeth's room. He knew that Darcy was visiting the pretty WAAF officer to ask her if she was indeed ill. When FitzWilliam reached the door he heard her sobbing and crying. Suddenly everything came into painful clarity for the Colonel. She was in Biggin with Darcy and Bingley, oh Christ, was she related to that girl Bingley was supposed to be in love with? Oh damn and hell! What did he do?

Where is Anne?

Posted Thursday, 23-Jul-98

August 12, 1942
Bletchley Park and London, England

Anne was literally digging herself out of her office so she could make the dinner appointment with Lady Russell. The filing cabinet besides her door held a precarious stack of files that managed to fall down and block her exit from her desk, as she was rushing out to catch the train to London. Muttering to herself, Anne cleared the floor of the paper debris and discovered a picture frame that she thought she lost when she moved north. It was a picture taken last Christmas, when they were still all together in Oxford. And in spite of all the stress and the war, the group posing for the camera was genuinely happy.

Colonel Elliot had his arms around both Mary and Henrietta, grinning mischievously from his position between the two women. Anne smiled in return; he was the one source of consolation for her nowadays. She was not allowed to discuss her work with anyone anymore unless Bletchley Park expressly cleared the person. If her work was in secrecy before, her current position demanded absolute silence. The War Department picked up her mail in London and forwarded it to Bletchley Park. And she knew more than once that an envelope was opened before it reached her mailbox in Bletchley.

But Colonel Elliot knew about her job and had the same level of clearance as she did. Even though he could not understand the nature of her work at Bletchley, he could appreciate the necessity for it, and that went a long way in helping Anne deal with her isolation. He was also very deft at helping her cover her movements with her family and more than once saved her from answering embarrassing questions from them. Only Lady Russell seemed to suspect more than what was being told but she had the tact to keep silent.

Lady Russell saw the close attachment between her Anne and this Colonel Elliot and was delighted. The man was the male heir to Kellynch and was by all accounts very well off and respected. She now spent her time traveling between Bath, Oxford and London from which she was able to transport the most necessary thing for the English society - gossip. She was always the center of news and never stayed long enough to wear out her welcome. Which meant she was one of the most sought-out social butterflies in all of Southern England. And in each of these cities she was guaranteed a glorious welcome and a flattering farewell. A situation perfectly suited for someone like Lady Russell.

She was now in London and was expecting to see Anne for dinner at the Paramount. As usual the girl came through the door like clockwork. Lady Russell waved at her, and the woman's face lit up gloriously, making those beautiful eyes shine. So much was the transformation that the maitre d'hôte stumbled a step leading Anne to the table. The two women began to chat almost instantaneously.

"So is the wedding set for Benwick and Louisa?"

"Oh heavens yes! You promise you will be there?"

"Of course, Sabine, I will be there. I cannot wait to see this. I must admit I was surprised, as you were when I heard the news, but I only hope for the best. I will come down a week before the wedding and help out as much as I can. Which could also mean that I stay far away and let the bride have her ways!"

Lady Russell smiled sagely, "I have a favor to ask of you. Could you come with me to pick up the bridesmaid dresses at Beatrice's? It's just around the corner and they are open late today. We could do the errand after dinner."

"Of course, come let's eat, and you must tell me the latest from Bath and Oxford."

The two women made a quiet but elegant pair amongst the guests at the Paramount. After two hours of talk and a fine meal the two ladies marched off to the dress shop, whose owner was a beaming Scot with a booming voice and loud steps. However the whole shop itself was an elegant and classy tribute to lace and delicate dresses. Anne marveled at the wedding gowns that were still available in spite of all the fabric shortages. Lady Russell smiled wisely; there was another reason to bring Anne into a wedding shop. A very sweet and tactful hint might be necessary for Anne to start thinking about her own wedding gown and trousseau.

"That dress is indeed gorgeous Anne, look at the lacework. It must have been made before the war because the lace is definitely from Belgium." Anne looked up from the dress and gave a nod of admiration and agreement.

"Why, is this lady also looking for a dress?"

"No, certainly not." Cried out Anne blushing, "I have no..."

"Not yet Madame Beatrice but the lady has a beau, and if my estimation is correct we should be visiting you again before the year is out." Corrected Lady Russell.

"Sabine!" Anne cried out now painfully red, "That is not true! Colonel Elliot and I are just good friends. Please don't tell me you've spread that rumor about!"

"I? I did no such thing Anne dear. I just know from what Colonel Elliot has told me the few times we've met. He's the heir to Kellynch and the legacy not to mention the title. He is also well-off financially and he has the respect and admiration of his fellow peers. And not to say the least the man was educated abroad...definite bonus in my eyes. Anyway Madame Beatrice this particular gentleman speaks of nothing but Anne, Anne, Anne. Anne this and Anne that. I get more information about you from him than yourself."

Anne could not but help laugh at this bit of news from Sabine. Lady Russell had a sharp eye and an uncanny ear for gossip, so what she was saying must be true but this...Beatrice smiled like a cat, "Perhaps I can show you more dresses in the back room. It does not hurt to be prepared you know. Come Miss Anne, and let's see if we could find something to fit your wishes..." And between the two women they managed to sweep Anne away into a dream of wedding plans and celebration to a certain colonel.

Anne knew if she married Colonel Elliot she would take the position that her mother once had in Kellynch, which meant bringing the hall into its former glory and good name before her father squandered both. It was indeed an intoxicating dream for Anne. All those Christmas parties and the Harvest Fairs that used to be the social center for the whole neighborhood will once again come about. For the rest of the visit Anne did let herself go and remember the happy times, when her mother was alive and there was economy and joy about the place. If she could achieve the same thing, there would be so much happiness!

About five blocks from the dress shop Wentworth was sharing a drink with his now two faithful companions Lij and Harville. When Wentworth visited London last March, determined to find Anne, he was thwarted not only by bureaucracy, but what seemed to him the whole damn War Department. He was absolutely befuddled, and so were his compatriots who in their own way tried to help the poor sailor locate Anne.

During the visit in March Frederick found out to his total embarrassment that being a Commodore in the Royal Navy meant diddle on land. He wasn't allowed into the Research Lab that she was supposed to be in; not without a certain level of clearance, and after nearly an hour of arguing with everybody at the Administrative Office, he stormed out trying to get this 'clearance' thing sorted out. To his chagrin he discovered he couldn't get it. The Royal Navy had nothing to do with her department, though 'officially' she was working for the Royal Navy.

He immediately dispatched a letter to Whitehall and was given a response over a month later when he was on HMS Laconia.

Dear Commodore Wentworth,

Unfortunately your request for locating Miss Anne Elliot was denied. Though we cannot discuss the reasons behind this refusal. We can say that she no longer resides in London. Perhaps you can try the Oxford Branch.

Best of luck.

Yours Truly,
Lieutenant Johnston

Frederick almost shredded the letter in sheer frustration. He already tried the Oxford Branch and all he received for his pains were blank looks and shallow apologies. He could not understand where in G-d's earth she could have disappeared to?

"Well at least she'll be at the wedding," mumbled Harville who was once again in the Royal Navy. In spite of his physical handicap the man was a good captain and regained his reputation with hard work and fearless courage. Frederick really took a risk, reinstating his friend back, but there wasn't a moment where he doubted the man's prowess on the seas. Harville was a born sailor with or without a limb.

"And that is only weeks away Commodore," volunteered Lij hopefully. He saw his commanding officer become consumed with locating Anne Elliot and pitied the man. Wherever Anne was she was protected by a wall of bureaucracy 27 feet thick. Lij was undecided as if to inform Wentworth of some gossip he heard once over at Dover, but made up his mind to tell the Commodore what he picked up.

"I heard something but you must promise me to never repeat it again." Both of his companions nodded in unison. And the three men hunkered down to talk without being heard by strangers.

"Well, there is suppose to be this group, a secret group located around here, London somewhere, that is suppose to be working on top secret government project including the German cipher system. And I mean the whole Wehrmacht code and not just Enigma. If Anne was recruited into this group, she might have very well disappeared."

Harville gave a deprecating look, "That rumor has been circulating around for years even during WWI they said the same damn thing. But no one ever proved that organization ever existed. And it stands to reason that unless they have Anne chained to her desk, at least her family should know where she is."

"But if it is real? And no one knew about it because everyone who was involved with this bureau was strictly forbidden to discuss it?" Lij asked quietly.

"But for nearly quarter of a century?" Mused Frederick out loud.

"And because of another reason," added Lij with even more serious demeanor, "Dr. Hanson's recent demise."

Wentworth's face lost some of its color and even Harville paused to digest that bit of offering. Frederick now began to follow the Lieutenant's train of thought.

"Think about it Harville. The man was murdered in his car, shot in the back of his head. Execution style, if I remember correctly, and he wasn't robbed. There was nothing taken, no money, even the cane with the silver handle was left behind. Now whatever the motive was it couldn't have been robbery."

"But the man was deeply involved with the Intelligence community and knew a lot of things. If Canaris or the SS have spies in England, I would imagine that these Boffins as you call them would be the prime targets. They're the brains behind the War Department and without them the Allies would be paralyzed." Lij's reasoning out was terrifying for the other two.

"So if the War Department sank Anne into anonymity it's a good thing Frederick. Think about it, we can't find her and we have wide resources. So whoever this spy, if he exists, would have even less of a chance. And if he tries to dig deeper, I would think MI would be alerted immediately." Harville finished and then gave a loud sigh, "And I thought chasing subs was dangerous work."

"But she is surfacing, in a month she will be coming to Oxford. And unless this man, if he's real, is caught before then, Anne is in real danger." Lij nodded realizing what the Commodore meant. Anne would become a walking target for those two weeks, that is, if this 'spy' was real…

August 13, 1942
Corning, England

Anne slept over at Lady Russell's flat for the night and returned to Corning, a small village right outside of Bletchley, the next morning. It was run by a woman Anne met when she was young girl in Kellynch. Her name was Mrs. Smith and she was running a decent and clean boarding house of which Anne was currently the only boarder. The woman was unfailingly cheerful though at times Anne witnessed her silent melancholy regarding her lost husband. However, her two children kept the woman busy enough not to mourn her loss too much.

Mrs. Smith found that between the pension and the money being earned by renting out her rooms she could make a decent life for her family. She wanted to forget all about Austria and what happened to her husband there. She was the sole provider for her children now and knew better than to risk the wrath of the War Department, and moreover her late husband's commanding officer by asking uncomfortable questions.

She was sorting out the mail and nearly had a heart attack when she saw an envelope addressed to Anne Elliot by no other than Colonel Elliot. She wondered if they were related and was determined to find out about the relationship. So when Anne returned from London Mrs. Smith was all ears and questions. Inviting the unsuspecting woman for morning tea the lady handed her the letter.

"This one came for you earlier today. Colonel Elliot, is he a brother?"

"Oh no, he is a distant cousin of mine and a dear friend. I met him after the war began. Do you know him Mrs. Smith?" Mrs. Smith phrased her reply cautiously; she must not let anything slip! "Yes, my husband was serving underneath him in Austria when he was killed. It was the same time when the man lost his family."

Anne's face reflected her sympathy, "I am so sorry. I do remember him telling me something about that, but I didn't know the officer's name."

"Oh don't fret yourself Miss Elliot. I was just surprised to see the Colonel's name that's all. Come finish your tea and let me take the bag to your room."

Anne smiled sadly after the brisk woman, grateful for the lie, even Anne could see that Mrs. Smith was distressed from the conversation. Mrs. Smith was distressed but not from the conversation. How could a sweet and gentle creature like Anne be related in any way to that monster?

August 20, 1942
Somewhere near Calais, France

Both Marie and Marguerite finally met. This was their first meeting face to face and both were surprised for neither fit each other's imagination. However, long-time standing of faith and good-will bound the two women into an unlikely duo as the two plotted the demise of their hated dictator in France. There was also another necessity for this meeting. Marguerite's cover was blown by a collaborator, who informed the SS about her deep involvement with the Resistance.

However before abandoning her home, she was able to burn her house down, leaving no clues and no pictures behind. She also called her daughter, Leah, and the girl immediately went underground in Paris. Lisa-Michelle was summarily arrested and taken to the Gestapo, where after a week of isolation treatment and threats she was released. She had no idea where her friend disappeared to and was damn glad Leah had enough sense to not tell her. The treatment meant nothing to her as she witnessed the regular round-up of the 'Unwanted' who were carted, bused and trucked off to heaven knows where. At least her best friend wasn't in some train bound for Germany because of her, and Lisa-Michelle could live with the bruises if that was the trade-off.

Leah dyed her hair blond and cut it real short, making it look fashionable and donned on older woman's clothing and mannerisms aging her ten years. She got a job as a hostess for a posh restaurant and was in full view of German officers day and night, making acquaintances with many of them. Hiding in plain sight worked like magic for the young woman.

Tragic and Erroneous Message

Posted on Friday, 24-Jul-98

September 10, 1942
Southeast England, facing the Channel

Elizabeth raised her upturned face even more towards the dying sun of a cool September day. The sea gave off waves of tangy metallic scent, wiping away traces of petrol and chemicals that filled Biggin's air. She pushed herself into the front seat and gave resounding kisses to both her aunt and uncle. The Gardiners promised her this holiday at Lambton by the sea, and she was indeed very glad they kept their word. They were originally planning to go visit the Lake country, but Mr. Gardiner's obligations in London made that trip impossible. So, they decided to visit the ocean instead, since there was a lull from across the Channel.

"I am so glad we're here! It's wonderful." Exclaimed Lizzie, once again snuggling up at the back seat.

"Even if Pemberley is but five miles away?" Teased her aunt but Lizzie just kept smiling. Silently she fingered the letter Darcy sent her no less than a week after their disastrous time at Rosings. The paper was worn smooth and dog-eared from much reading, but she kept it still close to her person. Once again she unfurled the pages and read the elegant spidery handwriting.

Dear Miss Bennet,

Please do not fear, for this will not be a redeclaration of my love, which you found so distasteful in London. However, I must briefly explain the reasons of my behavior that you stated in your accusations. The first subject is that of George Wickham, a man I trust as far I as I trust Himmler himself. His father was indeed a credit to mankind. There was never a kinder and gentler soul that I've met, save my own father, and he did my family great service. Wickham grew with every privilege his doting father could bestow on the man, and perhaps this was the ruination of the son, but I can only speculate upon this matter.

We were in Oxford together, but Wickham was only bent on wasting his time and my father's money there. However, the man was brilliant and charming. Both characteristics more than made up for his lack of work ethics, until his third year. Then he met professor Barbery who was, even in my memory, quite cruel. And this man had no patience with George, none at all. Wickham was going to fail that class and in panic decided to cheat. So he made some crib notes, took it to the Rhetoric exam and used it. Only I knew that he had those notes, because I saw him make them the very morning of the exam. I was disgusted, but in memory of his father I kept my silence. However, the fool lost one of those sheets, and Professor Barbery found it.

The whole class was held back, and the professor narrowed down the guilty party to two students, one was Wickham, the other Seth Jacobson, a Jew. You can imagine where the prejudices lay, for this might be a great Democratic society, but hatred, especially anti-Semitism lay deep within our foundation, and Oxford has deep roots in that poisonous soil. Barbery gave the two an hour to confess or he would fail the whole class for the entire semester. While this precious time was passing, Wickham somehow managed to convince the whole class it was Seth. The accusation was preposterous; Seth had an exemplary academic record and a flawless reputation. He was only sixteen, a genius who graduated from all his classes with honors. But people's ignorance ran deeper than the truth.

I marched into Wickham's room, grabbed his notebook and went off to see Barbery. The professor immediately saw the similar handwriting, not to mention exact data copied from Wickham's notes to the crib sheets, and recalled the class. There he made the accusation, and denounced George for what he was - a cheater, a liar and most of all a coward. But we couldn't find Seth, for he didn't answer the summons. His roommate went to their rooms and found Seth; the boy, in sheer distress and shame, hung himself from the ceiling. I could have killed Wickham then, I think, and in fact there were times when I wish I did. George was dismissed from school in utter shame and Seth's body was sent back to his parents in London. There were six of us from his class who tried to attend the funeral. But his family drove us out of their house, and who can blame them? Seth is buried in Moses' Ground, Row 9, Plot 6. His headstone is black marble with 12 rocks balanced on top of it.

It was almost six years after that Wickham reintroduced himself into my world. Mrs. Younge, a woman whose reputation was flawless, was left to care for my one remaining true family member, Georgiana. As you love your Jane, so I feel the same for my only beloved sister. She was but seventeen when Wickham, in some scheme with Mrs. Younge, managed to meet with her and seduce her into loving him. I believe to this day that he did this not only out of the monetary gain he would have gotten should he have married her, but in order to inflict the heaviest pain upon myself. Should he have triumphed in his plot, I would have indeed suffered greatly. But I was fortunate and discovered their schemes. Wickham was once again dismissed in disgrace, and I never heard from him again until now. How he came about his present position I cannot even begin to fathom, and I have too much to deal with as is, so I rather not.

This is all I can bear to discuss about Wickham's influence in my life. As much as you think ill of me, believe me when I say that this man is not fit to be in your presence or any decent company. He will cause you endless grief and suffering. Please believe me in that.

In regard to Jane and Bingley's affair, all I can say is that while Bingley's affection to your sister seemed genuine, I could not discern any great emotion from Jane herself. She was always so amiable, contented and serene, no matter what was happening around her. I found her indifferent to Charles' feelings, which even the blindest and the thickest of men could see. This was my primary fear, my second being your family. I am sorry to say that the impropriety of your mother's and your younger sisters' behavior was indeed distressing to witness. I know this gives you displeasure, but know that whatever censure I may bestow upon their behavior, I cannot ever inflict upon yours and Jane's. Bingley was persuaded by me and his sisters of this opinion, and I in turn used my influence to have my squadron relocated elsewhere.

Now it seems that we are about to be shipped off to Africa soon, and only by heaven's mercy will we all touch English soil again. This is my faithful narrative of all the dealings that you have accused me of. Though I have no doubt that you will continue to hold me culpable of your sister's broken heart, do not hold me in contempt regarding Wickham, dear Elizabeth. Do not. If all this is still doubtful to you, write to FitzWilliam. He has no fear of me and knows all that has happened regarding these affairs. He will tell you the truth, and you know him to be an honest and good man.

G-d bless you and keep you safe.

FitzWilliam Darcy

Elizabeth felt peace when she read the letter again. She was indeed upset in regard to his accusations, but as harsh as they were they were not unjust. Her mother's and her younger sisters' behaviors did leave much to be desired, and did she not at times wanted to disown them herself? How could she lay faults on Darcy's doorstep without inviting them into her own hearth first? But her heart ached for Jane still, who, though still courageous and diligent in her work, lost a certain sparkle in her whole person. When the letter arrived, she discussed with Jane regarding Wickham's character and both decided to keep it mum, since it would do no one any good talking about such a tragic affair. Jane also sided with Darcy, for the man risked too much of his own reputation and honor telling such a story to lie about it. Poor Georgiana, to be taken in like that! What the poor girl must have suffered! But Lizzie never told her about the other subject of the letter. She had no desire to let Jane know about that part!

It was too much for Lizzie, and she closed her eyes to rest her head. Let it all go, she whispered to herself, let it go for there is a war on and people are dying. She was jarred awake when they reached their inn at Lambton and made a sleepy guest for the rest of the evening. The next morning she found herself motoring to Pemberley with her aunt and uncle. Since Darcy was in all likelihood on the other side of the Mediterranean, she could safely look at the house and finally see what she refused!

When the estate came into view, Lizzie's jaw dropped open. Mrs. Gardiner smiled, "Why it's as exactly as I remembered as a little girl."

The lane leading to the main house was lined with tall thin Aspen trees rustling beautifully in this faultless weather. The grass was neatly kept and she could see sheep roaming in the hills behind the estate. The whole place screamed of money, prestige and aristocratic blood. Lizzie parked the car and began walking with her aunt and uncle towards the front entrance. They stood there and admired the whole architecture. Lizzie asked to no one in particular, "Look at this place, where in heaven's name did someone dream up this house?"

"It was a drawing in an old Venetian novel written by a courtesan. The architect fell in love with the novel and the drawings and reproduced it here. This is the third house that stands at this spot, the other two burned to the ground. Good afternoon Miss Bennet." Lizzie whirled around and confronted the owner of the voice - it was Darcy.

Mrs. Gardiner choked back her laughter. She called the night before to see if the house was available for public viewing, and somehow this handsome young man answered the phone. One sentence led to another, and the man even offered to send his car to pick them up. Realizing something was up, she refused and told him that they would come on their own. She wisely refrained from informing her lovely young niece about this little exchange and was rather glad. She might be old but she wasn't deaf. She heard how this young Lord pronounced Lizzie's name over the phone, and it was positively shocking, and delightful.

"Lord Darcy, what are you doing here?"

"I live here Miss Bennet." He replied vastly amused at her shocked countenance.

"No, I mean I thought you were going to be…" Lizzie stopped blathering. She looked foolish enough, no need to compound the embarrassing image with more errors.

"We were held back and given some reprieve about six days ago. Please come in. Charles is looking forward to talking to you."

Will wonders never cease Lizzie pondered as they were led into the marble foyer.

Charles stood there looking disreputably rumpled in tweed of all things. He gave a broad grin. "Hello Lizzie! How are you? And everyone? And Biggin and Jane?"

She tried not to stare at him, Charles Bingley you have to do better than that if you want to pump me for information about Jane. But she pitied the obviously frustrated wingman and gave him just enough answers to make him stop walking right behind her heels.

"Caroline is shopping right now, but I want to introduce you to Georgiana." Darcy asked, and Lizzie gave a friendly smile,

"Of course, we would be delighted to see her."

The three guests were led to the music room, where Georgiana waited with great anticipation. She was wondering who this Elizabeth Bennet was and hardly slept a wink the night before. And from what she heard outside her bedroom door, neither did anyone else in the house! Her brother was marching back and forth in his room, and Bingley was sitting on his balcony having long philosophical talks with himself. Caroline, oh that frustrating conniving cat, was positively spitting venom when she heard of this visit. All in all, if Georgiana could thank Lizzie for one thing, it is that she livened up Pemberley before even getting here! And when she saw the woman, Georgiana instinctively brightened - not too tall, not too skinny and angly like Caroline. But kind looking and, heavens, did she have beautiful hair…

The group sat amongst the musical instruments and paintings and had a lovely afternoon. Darcy was impressed with the Gardiners. They were a hard working, intelligent couple who did the institution of marriage great justice. And with them Lizzie was obviously very comfortable and unguarded, so her natural goodness and impish humor shone fully. She was also kind to Bingley and humored his wingman as the man pestered her about information regarding Jane. Darcy sighed; he is going to have to correct that mistake as much as he could. At least one of them should marry a Bennet!

Since the sun was still hanging about at four, the group toured the grounds as Darcy led them through the chestnut trees, apple trees, and a lovely old trout stream. He strolled behind Lizzie as she linked arms with Georgiana and started a conversation with his shy sister. And Georgiana was indeed very shy, but she was glad of Elizabeth's kindness and told funny stories about her life in Pemberley. The two young women made a pretty pair, and Darcy felt very happy watching them walk ahead of him. Perhaps nothing is impossible…

Caroline joined them for dinner and the mood was much tempered by her presence, but even then, Lizzie was in great show of wit and humor, and not even Caroline could defeat that. After their departure Caroline wasted no time in her diatribe against Elizabeth.

"Why, I swear, I never saw a coarser woman than that Bennet girl. But then of course she is just like her mother, and so we can't totally blame her for her disgraceful behavior. It is a total mystery to me Darcy why you invited her."

"Perhaps because she's witty." Volunteered Bingley with some asperity in his voice.

"And she plays the piano so well…" Added Georgiana bravely. This is her house and not Caroline's. The cat wasn't going to bully her away and insult her guests!

"Not to mention her company is one that a person can always depend on to have not only the correct but the right attitude towards her fellow persons." Ended Darcy.

Caroline was staring out the window feeling her defeat come in blows. But Darcy ended it all with his damnation. She didn't shed one tear though, she had too much pride. Let him have his country girl then! Let him suffer her mother's company and her shrieking sisters. He deserves that hell if he's so set upon it.

September 11, 1942
The Channel

Elizabeth was guiding her boat around her sector. A convoy was torpedoed around these waters last night and rescuers were swiping the whole area. There was a plane from Coastal Command, but the sky was too dark for them to have clear visibility. And the Germans usually let alone these one-man boats. They were too small to make any great targets. Lizzie woke up earlier that morning to the sound of the search parties being created at the inn's restaurant. She volunteered, as did Mr. Gardiner, and they took the single boats cruising the waves for any survivors.

She turned around and saw a bigger ship. Thinking it was a search party, she waved her arms signaling to them. Suddenly her arms froze in mid-air. The boat wasn't British, it was German.

She wasted no time and immediately gunned her tiny craft towards the English coast praying fervently. A warning shot came across her bow, but she crunched down and kept going. But the bigger cruiser caught up with her and she found herself face to face with Germans.

Captain Schyler boarded the craft and saw the small woman glaring up at him. He blinked, for a second he thought he saw his daughter. With gruff English he told her she was a prisoner of war, but a civilian. "What are you doing here alone?"

"I was searching for any survivors from the convoy you sank last night."

He was startled at the force of her voice; fear was a stranger to this small Brit.

"Come, sit there. We will not harm you. We follow the Geneva Convention and the Treaty." She gave an inelegant snort and sat in the corner he pointed out. He wanted to make sure his men weren't tempted.

He turned around and gave orders to blow up her craft. His second-in-command frowned.

"Why waste the ammo?" He asked.

"It would be kinder Tomas, if her family thought her dead than alive. They would wonder, then and what kind of hell would that be? With these currents the mess will float to their shores and they will think her a casualty of war. Trust me, it's a kinder fate than not knowing." His junior officer nodded in agreement and hurled a grenade into the boat. It blew apart and was on its way to deliver the tragic and erroneous message to the British shores.

The captain managed to not look at the woman as they headed back to Calais. She reminded him of his young Lucille too much - the same dark hair and the dark jewel-like eyes. Please don't let them be there, he prayed as he docked his boat, let me not be a liar to this young woman. He turned to Lizzie and was surprised. The girl was soaked in her tears, but she cried so silently that no one noticed it.

Lizzie was properly handcuffed and led off the ship, when she saw the greeting party. And so did Captain Schyler. Lizzie turned to him her eyes wide with shock and angry with accusation. The black uniforms heading towards them were unmistakable. It was the SS. Schyler couldn't face her, damn, damn, damn. He was hoping they wouldn't appear, he was praying, but he knew that if the SS overheard his report on the radio, they would come and take her.

Marguerite adjusted her binoculars. "They've got another one. Damn that's 5 in three days."

Marie snorted with some ire. "Don't those idiots know that the Germans are picking them up?"

"Oh Christ, look Marie, it's a woman and those are the SS." Marie took the binoculars and made a closer examination.

"You're right. Hmmm, I wonder why this particular one has such a waiting party. Hah! Did you see that?" Marguerite howled in glee too.

"Where do you think she is?" Asked Marie not believing what she just saw.

Marguerite quickly calculated, "Come on we haven't got much time and that girl's handcuffed. She couldn't have swam very far, and there is only one place around here where she could come up safely!"

What they witnessed was sheer suicidal bravery. As Lizzie was being led, she noticed a slim gap between the docked ship and the dock itself. Without thinking, she veered right then plop, fell into the gap. The guards couldn't fire properly without hitting the boat, so they immediately fanned out looking for her coming up for air. And since she was handcuffed, she couldn't swim…

Out of sheer desperation and fear Lizzie did swim even with the handcuffs. She was able to surface with just her mouth above the water and took a breath of oxygen before diving again. She was cold, the Channel was freezing, but her fear drove her to go far. She saw the craggy rocks of a small cove and used them to surface onto the shore.

Marie saw her come out of the water and pulled her onto the rocks. "Bravo English, well done. Come we have no time. Do not step on the sands or you'll leave prints for the German hounds." Lizzie was too stunned to not obey and was hustled into the bushes, where Marguerite waited with a triumphant smile. The woman picked the handcuff lock open and Lizzie was ushered into the forest bordering the lapping waves.

Pemberley, England

Darcy was playing chess with Bingley when the butler introduced the Gardiners. They were led in and the whole party immediately became alarmed. Mrs. Gardiner was crying still, and Mr. Gardiner looked like he aged 25 years in the last 16 hours.

"Sir, what happened?" Asked Darcy in alarm.

"What am I going to tell them?" The man asked shocked, "How in G-d's name am I going to tell them I lost their daughter?"

Darcy slowly felt the world slow down around him and suddenly his hearing began to fade.

"What do you mean?" Asked Charles still uncomprehending.

"Lizzie's dead." Whispered Mrs. Gardiner. And Darcy did feel the world slip from him and the strength of his legs fell away. He couldn't stand anymore and went to his knees.

Continued In Next Section