Jump to new as of May 23, 2001
Jump to new as of June 4, 2001
Jump to new as of July 2, 2001
And so it begins...
Cinderella had a fairy godmother. I have 4.It all started the day Elizabeth Bennet rejected my offer of marriage...
I paced the room, my fists clenched by my sides. "How could she? How dare she even dare to reject me? ME! Fitzwilliam Darcy, the man wanted by indulgent mothers all over the ton for their daughters! HOW DARE SHE?" I was positively fuming.
"Who? Who rejected you?" I turned around, startled at the interruption of my soliloquy. My cousin, Richard stood at the door, staring at me in puzzlement.
"Elizabeth Bennet," I answered him. Oh, how my heart hurt just saying that name. I turned away before Richard could see my tears.
That night, I sat by my window staring out at the gardens She used to frequent. "Help me, anybody!" I cried out in a fit of pain. I did not expect to be answered, but to my surprise, I was.
"Oh, finally! We have been waiting for 28 years for you to ask us for help, but, well, better late than never, yah?" I whipped around at the unfamiliar voice. To my absolute shock, I saw 4 men, wearing the most absurd clothing. I didn't know that I was staring until one of them, who had a decidedly very bad hair cut waved his hand in front of my eyes. "Hello? Fitzwilliam? Are you on earth?"
I blinked hastily at the sound of my name. "Who are you and where have you come from?" I asked, stiffly and sternly.
"Well, we're your fairy godmothers...or rather, fairy godfathers. We heard your heart cry out for help, so here we are!" The one with white, I repeat WHITE hair answered me. (He wasn't old or anything) I was astounded.
"There are no such things as fairy godfathers, and even if there was, why four?" I asked incredulously.
" Well, the people up there decided that you need more help than the ordinary person, I suppose", White hair answered. I gawked at him.
"Okay... fine. Then help me. But first, tell me your names."
One of them looked annoyed as he said, "We are your fairy godfathers, not your servants. Ask politely. How are you to win her heart if you don't overcome your pride first?" I swallowed, and then forced myself to ask politely.
"If I may be so rude as to inquire your names, gentlemen?" The annoyed one nodded, and then said satisfactorily,
"Much better, Fitzy, and I am Christian. He (pointing to Bad Hair) is Ben, He (White Hair) is Paul, and he is Mark. Collectively, the People up There know us as a1."
I almost fainted when I heard him call me Fitzy. FITZY!!!! Can you imagine? The gall!!!! "My name is MR. DARCY not 'Fitzy'," I said stiffly, my face contorted with anger.
Mark laughed. "Ok, MR DARCY." He said it so loud, my ears almost dropped off. "Tell you what. Let us compromise. We'll call you William. Isn't that what Georgie calls you?" I nodded reluctantly. And that was how I met my fairy godfathers.
"What should I do then? Apparently I'm the last man on earth she would ever marry," I said, sadly, thinking of what had happened that night. "I...I don't know what to do!!!!"
"No fear, a1's here!!!!" Mark said. Then he walked over to me, and said sternly, "First things first. You will write her a letter detailing everything that happened with Wickham and Charles. You will make her your apologies in the letter, and after you give it to her, we will return to London."
"What?!? You want ME to apologize? I've never apologized for anything...I've never had any need to, and I don't see why I have to start now!" I objected. "And how can I leave? I thought that I have to stay here to show her my love for her?"
Paul flared his considerably large nostrils and snapped, "You asked us for help, and we have come to help. You WILL listen to us, you understand, young man? We know better than you do, after all" He looked remarkably like my childhood governess as he said this.
I shrank back, (for I always was in awe of my governess, whose name was Miss Rock, and it suited her personality as well) and shrugged noncommittally, muttering, "Oh very well then", and then I sat down at the table and started to write the letter. Curiously, it wasn't as hard as I had thought, because once I had started, I continued for 4 pages. The next morning, I sneaked out of the house, and waited for her in the garden.
" What if she doesn't come? Maybe she didn't feel like coming today? Maybe..."
"Oh shut up, William, she will come, trust us"
I sneered, but did not say anything more, but that did not mean that my mind was not torturing my heart with 'what if's' just as I was to give up hope, godfathers or no, I heard her light step approaching. My breath quickened as I saw her turn around the corner...to face me. Her smile disappeared, and she glared at me fiercely. I almost gave up, but when I turned around to run away, there were my godfathers looking at me threateningly. I chose the lesser of the two evils, and swallowed hard, and turned to face her again.
"Here. This will explain all." I told her, hoarsely, for her presence had taken my breath away, as it always does. Immediately after giving her the letter, I turned on my heel and left abruptly.
“Oh William! Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” he asked, his face wrinkled in a concerned frown.
“I…I just didn’t, okay? And Richard, whatever you do, you are not to tell Georgie. You know how she will worry and then she will start getting her little ideas…”
Richard smiled cynically, and nodded, “I know…” Suddenly, his face contorted into a grimace. “ Oh Will! I have something to confess. I think that it was what I said about you helping Bingley out with a lady that made her so angry with you. I’m so sorry…”
“Richard, I doubt that even if you didn’t tell her she would have accepted me.” As I said this, I felt tears welling up in my eyes, I turned so that Richard would not see, but as I did so, I got a shock, as who was sitting beside me than Ben. “What are you doing here? You mean he can’t see you?” I said to Ben as I motioned towards Richard.
“What?!? Did you say something William?” Richard looked puzzledly at my outburst.
“Erm… nothing, Richard,.” I said to cover up my blunder. I turned to face my Godfather again.
“Hmm…doesn’t quite live up to a limo, now does it? I don’t know how you people live with these…. contraptions.” He prodded the seats disdainfully. “And obviously your dear cousin cannot see me, silly. I’m here to… observe your behavior. If you wish to speak to me, just think, because I can read your thoughts. We all can. It’s no use cursing at me, my dear boy”
Angrily, I thought, “ WHAT??????????? What do you mean observe my behavior? It needs no observing!!! And are you people going to observe me for the rest of my life?”
“Now now, aren’t we in a bad temper?” he said indulgently.
I sputtered at that, and Richard looked at me again, and I could see that he was thinking that heartbreak was causing me to act funny.
“We are not going to observe you for your whole life, just until you learn to behave and win her heart. Until then, we will follow you everywhere, and be the torment of your life.” He said this cheerfully, even smiling like he thought it was great fun to torture me like that.
“ Urgh!!!!!! I can’t believe your audacity! What right have you to disrupt my life like this? And it’s no use! She’ll never love me, no matter what you do. So give up, okay? Just leave me alone!”
He sighed and gave me a look akin to pity. “Will, Will. I know how you feel, but believe me, if you let us help you, she will come to love you. At this very moment, she is already starting to have doubts, as a result of what you wrote in the letter.”
“And how am I supposed to believe you? You could just be lying,.” I thought, despite a faint rise in hopes at his words.
He thought for a moment, and then gave me a very conspiritational look. “This is a great taboo up there, but since you are hurting so, I will do it. I will show you.” As he said this, his face seemed to dissolve, and change into a moving painting. I saw her sitting in her room, clad in a simple white dress, looking heartbreakingly like an angel. She was reading something, and I saw that it was the letter.
“Could it be? No! But… if it is false, then why? It makes sense, but can George Wickham really be so despicable? But whatever he is, I know that Mr. Darcy would never lie. On the other hand, I can easily imagine Mr. Wickham lying about such a thing. Oh! How I have wronged Mr. Darcy!” She paced around the room, her face creased into a frown, and I saw a tear fall onto the sheets of paper.
I felt my heart leap with joy at the thought of her crying because she wronged me. However, her next words brought me crashing back to earth. “ But even if I wronged him, I could never love him! I feel sorry for him, for the way I treated him, I see how despicable I was, but I cannot forgive him what he did to Jane. NEVER!” At that, Ben’s face hastily reverted back to it’s original form.
“See what I told you? Have hope!” He told me kindly.
“She said that she would never love me. NEVER! No hope, no love, no life.” I closed my eyes with the pain in my heart as my insides twisted into a round little knot.
“She may say that, but feelings change, Fitzwilliam, and I assure you that if you try hard enough, her feelings will.”
I still wasn’t convinced, but by that time, we had reached London.
I got out of the carriage and walked to the door of my townhouse. I sighed, and opened the door. As soon as I got in, a whirlwind hit me.
"WILLIAM!!!!!!!!!!! How are you? How was your trip? Did you eat well? How was Anne? (a grimace here) and her mother? How was Rich- Oh! Richard!!! I didn't know that you were coming with William!!!"
I couldn't help but smile. "Georgie!!!" I greeted my sister and gave her a hug.
Let me digress. Georgiana is my younger sister, she is almost 10 years younger than myself, and I, with the help of Richard have brought her up ever since my parents died. Naturally, we are close, but I believe myself to be more like a father to her than a brother. Georgiana's shyness in public is her greatest weakness and her tenderness and exuberance in the privacy of our small family circle, her strongest trait. Back to our story.
After greeting, me, she greeted Richard, and then we went into the dining room for supper, as the two of us were famished.
I walked into the dining room, talking with Georgiana and hearing all her news, when I looked up and saw my godfathers draped over the furniture in a most undignified manner. Paul looked up, and flashed me a smile before they disappeared. I had grown used to their sudden comings and goings, so I did not really regard it.
That night, as I was standing by my window looking out on the city, thinking of Her, as usual, I heard a bunch of voices go "Ooooooooo" in perfect harmony. I whirled around to be greeted by my godfathers, this time in suits with their hair unnaturally plastered down on their heads. I know it was rude, but I couldn't stop staring at them. I never thought that people 'up there' had such bad fashion senses.
Ben stepped up and sang, "I can still remember the time you were there when I needed to hold you... feel you..." and then they started to sing a song. Personally, it wasn't such a great song, but of course I did not tell them that. They would probably have bitten my head off. " ...The same old brand new youuuuuuuuuuu." I did not quite see the relevance of the song, but hey, I could tell they did. When they finally finished, they looked at me soulfully, and I smiled awkwardly. After all, I had never really been in the position where I was serenaded by a bunch of men.
I nodded my head, and stood there. Ben stood up and tried to shake his hair, but he couldn't, for it was 'pasted' onto his head. He said, "So, do you see?"
"Erm, uh..." I scratched my chin and tried to look intelligent. "Er... yes, of course. It means... well..." I looked at their expectant faces and gave up. "All right, fine. I do not see. Enlighten me."
Mark scratched his head, and looked at me as if I was an idiot. "It means, that you have to change, so that to her, you can become..." He signaled to his fellow godfather types and they leaned in and droned, "A same old brand new youuuuuu."
I snorted but tried to hide it. "Of course, yes, same old brand new me. Now why didn't I see it earlier? BECAUSE IT DOES NOT MAKE ANY SENSE, THAT'S WHY!!!!!!" I was pretty agitated, as you can tell.
They took a step back, and then, as if it was premeditated, they frowned in unison. I was faced with four very unhappy looking scrunched up godfather faces.
Paul glared at me, and then he said, "Gfuidsbfhk afjbi!"
The next thing I knew, I was on a chair, and I had this awful tasting sack, I think, in my mouth. My arms felt like lead, and I could not blink, much less move.
They gathered around me, and I looked up, and everywhere I looked, I saw a face. I have to admit, other than when my parents died and when Elizabeth rejected me, I had never felt so terrified in my life.
"NOW!" Christian's voice boomed out. "We will have NO rudeness from you, ESPECIALLY, and I mean it, about our songs. We have enough from all the anti-a1 web sites, and the irate talk show hosts, and from all our unworthy critics. We will take no nonsense from you, young man. I HOPE THAT IS CLEAR???????" He was glaring so hard, his eyes almost dropped out.
If I did not have that sack in my mouth, I probably would have laughed. Instead, I very wisely decided to nod meekly.
"Good. Now, we have been watching you, and it has appeared to us that when you are in your family, you are a very different Fitzwilliam Darcy. We allow for the fact that you are naturally shy, and may be afraid to be too much with people you don't know too well. However, we cannot allow for the fact that you alienate everyone out of your family circle, except for your very few friends. Also, your pride needs to be rectified. Do you hear?"
I was most offended. How dare they? Call me proud? Far from it! Afraid? I am never afraid! Most of all, I do not 'alienate', I just... well, some people are not fit to mix with anyway.
"Are you arguing with us?" That was Ben. I had forgotten that they could read my thoughts. "No arguing. We may seem hard to you, but believe me, when you are in Pemberley with your dear Elizabeth by your side, you will thank us."
Suddenly, I heard a knock on my door, and my door open slightly. My godfathers disappeared. Richard's head popped out. He looked at me in a most curious manner, and I could not make it out until I tried to talk and remembered I had a sack in my mouth. "William? Are you quite all right? Maybe you should take a rest a go to Pemberley for a while, to erm, clear your thoughts." He looked very concerned for my mental health.
I assured him that I was fine, just that I had sudden craving for sacks. He didn't seem to believe me, though. (I wonder why?) However, I thought his suggestion a most good one. After all, Georgiana and the rest (namely, Bingley, his unnecessary baggage and Richard) were going to Pemberley soon anyway. So, the next day, I set out on Whisper, my faithful black stallion for my ancestral home, Pemberley.
The queer thing is, as I was walking out of the house after I had taken my leave of my family, I heard quite distinctively a voice go, "Yes!"
When I travel alone, I prefer to travel by horseback and camp out in the open. The first day of my three-day journey, I rode hard with breaks for lunch and the call of nature, until nightfall. I then decided to take a rest, so I tied Whisper to a nearby tree and made camp. I lay down on my blanket, and looked at the sky, sprinkled with bright sparks and stars of various light intensities. I sighed, and looking at the beauty around me, my mind wandered to the beauty I longed to possess as my own.
I thought of the way she smiled, her face as radiant as the brightest star, and her laughter like a brook gurgling and rushing. The thought of her smile made me smile likewise. I thought of the way she played the pianoforte, with her eyes closed and the tip of her pink tongue sticking out of her beautiful mouth, the soft swaying of her slender frame along with the music she played. I closed my eyes, and remembered every single word she had said to me. And then, I remembered. She would and could never love me, not the way I love her, not ever. My heart broke all over again. A tear couldn't help but escape from my eye.
Suddenly, I heard a crash, and the wail of a little child as well as the frantic call of a woman. "Help!!!"
I started, got up and walked towards the noise. "What happened? Where are you?" I called out.
"Here! Behind the bush! Hurry!"
I pushed aside a bush and saw a young woman, her face dirty and her clothes torn and ragged. She was carrying a wailing baby in one arm and clutching a young girl's hand with the other. The children looked just as dirty as their mother. They definitely smelt dirty too.
I wrinkled my nose, but before I could say or do anything, Christian's face floated before me and said, "What if it was Her needing your help? Go! What are you hesitating for?" He then disappeared, and I felt an invisible hand shove me toward the woman and her children.
Her thin face was streaked with tears. She grabbed my sleeve, and pulled it, pointing at the carriage at the same time. "My-My husband is there! Under the carriage! Oh, mister, please help us! He is all we have!"
I looked at her again, and I almost thought I could see a little of Elizabeth in them. I remembered Christian's words, and I knew what I had to do. I moved toward the carriage, and I saw a man's limp form lying face down on the ground. His leg was under the back wheel of the small carriage, and his head was bleeding, the result of having hit it against a rock.
"Move back!" I called out to the little family before pushing at the carriage. After a few minutes of strenuous pushing and shoving, I managed to push the carriage off him. I turned the man over. His hair was matted down with blood, and his face distorted into a look of extreme pain. However, I knew who he was. Nothing could ever prevent me from recognizing my childhood friend and adult nemesis, George Wickham.
I stood stock still with shock as I looked upon his bloodied form. With a groan, he opened his eyes, and with blood dribbling out of his mouth, he looked at me, and his face crumpled (even more than it was already) as he recognized me. I stood up, and with a sneer made to walk off, but the woman, Mrs. Wickham, threw herself at me, and screamed, "No! Don't walk away! What about my husband?" I looked in disgust at her dirty fingers tugging at my great jacket, and extricated myself from her grasp. Her baby wailed even louder. The little girl clutching her mother's hand, however, made not a sound as she peered up at me with her big eyes brimming with frightened tears. She was thin, and small, about 4-5 years old. I tried to look away from her gaze, but I was unable to. Finally, I heaved a resigned sigh and turned back to help this wretched family.
I spent the night on Whisper with Wickham's still form lying face down in front of me. I had left the woman and her children among the bushes in a deep and exhausted sleep. I rode hard, all the way berating me for being so stupid as to save the man I hated most in the world. "Stupid, stupid! I can't believe how stupid I am! I am becoming soft!" However, I knew that the only reason I was doing this for the man who had scarred my sister was because of his daughter, whose eyes reminded me of Elizabeth's. Suddenly, I felt a whoosh next to me, as a huge black... thing approached. Surprisingly, Whisper, who is a very sensitive creature, did not turn a hair. Part of the object moved downwards, like a moving window, and Mark's head stuck out. I should have guessed. My godfathers had arrived. "We are proud of you, William!" He shouted, his hair flying in the wind. I shouted back, "What is that thing you are in?"
"It's a limousine! This is what I call traveling in comfort!" he grinned at me "anyway, we just popped by to say that what you are doing is the right thing! We're always right, you'll see!" With that, the object disappeared with another whoosh, and I was left to wonder what he was talking about. Finally, after about three hours of hard riding, I approached the village of Lambton. I thundered into the village, coming to a stop outside the only inn in the village, the white swan. I lifted George off Whisper, and he groaned, but his eyes were still closed. I ran into the inn. I burst into the inn, which was empty at such an unearthly hour, and called for the innkeeper, Mr. Iverson. He entered a few minutes later, rubbing his sleep filled eyes.
I could see he was about to kick me out of the inn for waking him, but the moment he recognized who I was, he became all buttery. "Mr. Darcy! How lovely to see you again! Will Miss. Darcy be accompanying you?" I stopped him with a wave, and told him to get Dr. Kensington immediately, he of course complied, and he ran out the inn, as his wife, who had also arisen led us to a room. I put Wickham down on the bed, sat down on a chair, and before I knew it, had fallen into a deep, troubled sleep, filled with eyes, tears, blood and big black vehicles.
The next morning, I woke up with a crick in my back as a result of spending the night on the rather uncomfortable chair. I stretched and got out of the chair, and turned to look at Wickham. Even his name fills me with disgust. Reminds me of waxed ham. (Yuk) I cast a rather malevolent look at his sweetly slumbering form, and noticed that his cuts and bruises had been treated and bandaged. With a grim satisfaction, I noted that both his legs were broken, and that his head was so heavily bandaged, he greatly resembled a mummy.
I went down, and remembering the woman and her children still the bushes, I hired a carriage and left to collect them after I had partaken of my breakfast. Of course, the journey took longer with the carriage than with just Wickham and I on Whisper, and so I arrived there in the late afternoon. The miserable trio was exactly where I had left them, huddled together for warmth I suppose. I suddenly felt pity for them fill me. PITY! For these pathetic excuses of mankind? I was very confused at this new feeling. I approached them cautiously, and when I was near enough for them to hear me, the woman turned around, and in the brightness of day, I could see that she used to be a great beauty, but years or pain had paid their toll, and she was now pale and shrunken, but her eyes were still clear and bright. I would have placed her at about 30 on her looks alone, but I knew that Wickham went for much younger women, so I figured she was about 23. Her toddler was asleep in her thin arms, and her daughter was leaning against her mother's leg, her eyes closed. I beckoned to the woman to go into the carriage. With much difficulty, she tried to gather her meager possessions without waking her children. I was watching her with some impatience, when I felt somebody-or something push me from my horse. As I am a rather agile man, I landed easily, and looked up to the sky furiously, and as I expected, Paul's face grinned at me from the clouds. While I stood there, looking up, I felt someone else pushing me toward the hapless woman. I swiveled around, and saw Christian with his arms crossed and his eyebrows raised. I got the message and bent down to help the woman. I lifted the little girl, who was miraculously still asleep, into the carriage effortlessly. Then, I just as easily carried the woman, toddler and all in next to her daughter. After all this, I climbed into the seat next to the driver, and signaled that we make a move back to Lambton.
Before we could even reach the outskirts of Lambton, we were forced to stop by the approach of nightfall. I made camp quietly, and the seemingly ever-slumbering children slumped against their mother as she sat next to the fire, motionless.
"Psst!" I looked up toward the direction of the sound, and saw Ben perched on a branch. "Talk to her! She will tell you things you will be glad to hear!"
"What?" I hissed. "Talk to her? But..."
"No but's just do it. Or else..."
He did not have to complete his sentence. I had long given up trying to argue with any of my godfathers. Hesitatingly, I walked up to the woman and sat down next to her. We sat in silence for a while, before she said, "To whom do my children and I owe our lives to?"
"My name is Fitwilliam Darcy, Mrs. Wickham."
She started violently at that, and then sighed. "I can and will keep this up any longer. George Wickham is not my husband, nor is he the father to my children."
I was stunned at her statement. "Not your husband? But you said..."
"I know what I said. We were pretending to be married so as to travel unquestioned. I am the Duchess Aspen Cornwall, daughter of Earl Richworth, of Oxford and the wife of the Duke of Sussex, Daniel Cornwall."
"WHAT?" I almost fainted as she said this calmly. I had heard of the sensational disappearance of the Duchess of Sussex and her two children, (who hasn't?) but never had I thought that the quiet, mousy woman sitting next to me could be that great woman whom many had hailed as the most beautiful and gentle of all women.
"Yes. George Wickham fed me with lies about my husband, who I now realize that I have greatly wronged, and persuaded me to run away with him. I did so, convinced that my husband loved me no longer. But now I know that that is not true. After we had run away with a great number of my jewels, he sold them, and reduced me and my children to this state..." At this, she broke down, and cried soundlessly. I did not know what to do, so I put my arm around her, and patted her arm as I had seen Georgie do many times to people who were crying. After a short while, she regained her composure and continued. "I am sorry, Mr. Darcy, that you had to see that. But you are my only hope to getting back to my husband. Oh Daniel!" She started blinking furiously, and then she closed her eyes in pain. She resumed talking again. "I cannot, must not see George Wickham ever again or I might kill him for everything he has done to my family. I have heard rumours that Daniel has been ill with grief, and I must go to him!"
She looked at me so pleadingly that I could not refuse. "Very well. But my horse is at Lambton. Maybe if you stay with me at my home first while I prepare for the journey? After all, my Lady, Sussex is a good distance from here. And I will make sure that that scoundrel shall not pass into Pemberley."
"Mr. Darcy," She said softly as she put her cold hand on my arm. "You sir, are my and my family's saviour from this odious man, and I will have you call me Aspen."
"Very well then," I bowed my head in acquiescence. "But only if you call me Fitwilliam."
She nodded, and smiled. "Best to have some sleep now, Aspen, for the journey is not over yet." I advised. She nodded, and pulled her rough coat over herself and her two children, and closed her tired eyes. After a while, I moved away, and joined my driver by the carriage. For the second time in two days, I found my dreams filled with eyes, but this time they were sharp, blue, tired, eyes.
"My name is Mister Fitzwilliam Darcy. You may call me Mr. Darcy. And we are going to the bad man, but you don't have to see him if you don't want to. Yes, I have a younger sister, but she is much bigger than you are. My horse's name is Whisper and the name of my estate is Pemberley."
"Oh. Wow! You talk a lot for a growner upper!" She marveled, before she asked, "Don't you have a middle name? Everybody has a middle name. Mama says I talk so much I need four."
"Erm... well, I do have a middle name, but it's too embarrassing to tell anybody." I flushed at the thought of my hated middle name. She looked at me with the exact same pleading look her mother gave me last night, but it was worse, as her eyes reminded me so much of Elizabeth. "Oh.... Fine. Very well then, but you must never tell anybody, all right?" She nodded eagerly, then I bent down and whispered IT in her ear.
After I had told her my middle name, she said, "Oh that's even worse than Diamond Necklace!" Believe me that was not reassuring at all from someone with a name like hers. "But, I think I like it! I will call you Botty from now on. That's not the name, so no one will know!" I spent the rest of the trip trying fruitlessly to beg her not to.
Surprisingly, I found the trip pass quickly with the companionship of Din. I had never expected that I might enjoy the company of a grubby six-year-old who talked too much and called me... BOTTY!!! (That's even worse than Fitzy!!!) I think it's because I've always had a weakness for brown-eyed females...
Before we knew it, we had arrived in Lambton. I left the three of them in the warm dining room of the inn before reluctantly ascending the stairs to the room where Wickham was in. I had already heard from the proprietor that he had regained consciousness soon after I had left.
I rapped on the door once before opening it. Wickham was in his bed rubbing his head. When he heard me enter, he whipped his head around to face me. Not a smart move for a man who had just sprained his neck. "Oh, G--!" he swore. I sat down next to him, then in my sternest voice, I informed him curtly that I knew who Aspen and her children were and that I was going to take them back to the Duke of Sussex. I also told him (this time with relish) that the Doctor had told me that he had to remain in bed for at least four more months if not more, and that I had charged all his medical fees to his bank account. At that, he swore even more. After our brief-as-possible exchange, I rose and left the room, his colourful curses ringing in my ears. It made me smile.