Posted on Tuesday, 16 July 2002, at 9:38 a.m.

"Pooky! Dinner's ready!" a voice called from the kitchen.

Lydia Wickham skipped down the stairs and slid into her seat at the dining room table. "Oh good, I'm famished. What have you cooked for us today, dear?"

Her dashing husband, made only slightly less so by the apron around his waste, whisked into the room and set before her a tray with two partridges, roasted to perfection, surrounded by carrots and potatoes.

"Game hens, my love. I poached them myself from the estate up the road." He filled both their plates while she poured the wine. Her husband looked expectantly at her as she took her first bite.

With her mouth still full and in the process of chewing, she exclaimed, "Mmmmm, delicious!" She finished her mouthful and said, "George, you've outdone yourself."

"Thank you, my love. You don't think it's too spicy?"

"No, it's just right. You missed your calling, you should have been a chef."

"Well, it's not the first calling I've missed," he said ruefully. "Besides, it's not usually an occupation that springs into a gentleman's mind, although I had considered taking that 3,000 pounds Darcy gave me and studying cuisine in Paris."

"Really? What stopped you?"

"Lost it at dice, then the #$%# miser refused to give me more."

"He is such a pinch-penny, and so mean!"

"No, Darcy is just Darcy. True to all, fair to a fault. Heaven forbid he give me more than he thought was my due."

"He is such a hypocrite! I'm sick to death of his Holier-Than-Thou attitude. When I think what he put you and poor Georgiana through!" Lydia then added in a slightly softer voice, "Although, I should be grateful to him, for we never would have met nor married without his interference."

Wickham sighed and turned his head away.

"I'm sorry for opening up old wounds, sweetheart. I know Georgiana was the love of your life."

"It's so good of you not to be jealous, Lydia. Most woman would be, you know."

"Most woman have a higher I.Q., too dear, but I am not most women. Besides, she doesn't have freckles, so I'm not worried. It was for the best, anyway. You would have been miserable if you had succeeded in marrying her, her brother would have controlled your life. You wouldn't have been able to make a move without his say so."

"Perhaps, but I've long come to terms with losing her. What still hurts, though, is that he can come between me and a woman I love and be called a hero, then, when I finally recover enough to find a new love," he paused to squeeze Lydia's hand affectionately, "I am called a villain."

"It is so unfair!"

"I hate being the villain."

"I know, Sweet-cheeks," sympathized his wife, "And you're no good at it, either. Two advantageous marriages thwarted in less than a year, then when you finally do get married, it is to a silly, penniless chit."

"I wouldn't call you that, Pooky."

"No, but others would have you call me that, and a lot worse! No one knows how good you are but me."

"It's gotten worse over the years, too. The world thinks I'm evil."

"Well, I know you are just inept, and I wouldn't have you any other way. If it makes you feel better, think about the times you were allowed to be nice, I mean sincerely nice."

"Useful even, especially to them! But sadly, we aren't a couple in those storylines, Pooky, so how could that make me happy?"

"See George? You are sweet!"

He gave her a winning smile, and another scoop of carrots and potatoes.

"Thank you dear. Now let's talk about something more pleasant. You are due for some leave time soon so I thought that in the summer we could rent a cottage on the Isle of White."

"If it's not too dear."

"Nonsense, it's not like we have to scrimp and save to pay the rent. If my sister Lizzy won't cover it for us, Jane surely will."

"I hate leaving debts all over, I wasn't raised that way you know."

"No, but you were written that way, so I see no reason to change." George shrugged as Lydia continued. "We should stop in and see Momma, either on the way down or on the way back."

"Must we? Her nerves get on my nerves. Can't we just take a boat from here and avoid the relatives completely."

"Too dangerous with the war and all, besides I thought you loved my mother?"

"Like a rock. Fine, we shall make a stop in Hertfordshire. But as long as we are so close, why don't we attend that annual mixer in London?"

"I don't think that's a good idea. Last year all you did was faun over Mrs. Clay."

"I couldn't help myself. Did you see her freckles? They are very becoming. Besides, I thought you didn't get jealous."

"Only of women with freckles, I am well aware of your weaknesses. You think I've forgotten Mary King??"

"That was long before you and me, Pooky. You know I wouldn't really let another woman come between us, no matter how many lovely, random, red freckles adorned her fair...white...skin." Although he had started out sincere, by the end of his sentence even he had doubts.

"Thus we will skip the mixer," she said. "Do you have any other travel ideas?"

"I guess Pemberley is out of the question?"

"Get real, dear."

"Pity, I'd love to see the old homestead again, maybe say hi to Georgiana..."

"Don't go there, George." Lydia warned.

"One little peak, how could that hurt?"

She just stared at him in disbelief.

"So maybe I haven't come to terms with it. Does that mean I have to be banished for life from my beloved birthplace?"

"Yes. That was part of the agreement - I can go, you can't - not ever. Besides, they are all such fastidious bores when I'm there, I don't see why you would want to go! No one has any fun or can even take a joke. Judging by the way she is when I visit, I don't know how anyone can described Lizzy as lively. She is just as disagreeable as her husband, and an even bigger busybody, giving hints on running a household, talking about moderation, asking about our finances and suggesting budget plans - like that will ever happen!"

"They always have acted like they needed a reality check. And they are supposed to be living happily ever after by most accounts!"

"Oh please! Maybe for a while once they get married, but usually not. Given all the trouble they always go through before they get to that point, it's a wonder that he doesn't just marry Miss Bingley and she marry Mr. Collins in the first chapter and save the rest of us a lot of grief! They would each know exactly what to expect from their spouse and not have to worry about misinterpreting each facial expression the other makes or every word the other speaks!"

"I think we are infinitely happier than those two will ever be!" he declared, "Even if they are rich."

"And have better connections."

"And don't have to make a living in the military."

"And he doesn't waste their money gambling."

"And she doesn't flirt with every redcoat she sees like she's a..."

"And he doesn't sneak around with half the barmaids in town," Lydia interrupted, standing up to make her point.

George grabbed her and pulled her into his lap to make his point, kissing her mercilessly. Much mutual panting, groping, and grabbing ensued before they broke off to breath.

"We understand each other so well, don't we Pooky?" he asked.

"You know it, Sweet-cheeks!"

The End