Section I,Next Section

This story follows Flo's "Secrets From The Past".

Part 1

Posted on Sunday, 27-Sep-98

he last rays of sunshine slowly faded in the spacious, rather unbelievably neat dorm room (I mean, it's rare enough seeing one or the other - but both? Well, this is a story). The sole occupant looked up, with rather irritated expression, as though he had not noticed the room become gradually darker until this moment, and turned the lights on.

He was a handsome lad of maybe eighteen or nineteen, with dark chestnut hair that curled whenever it got a little too long (like it did now), and warm chocolate-coloured eyes framed by long velvety lashes. One got the impression that he had resembled a Victorian cherub as a child and was now rapidly becoming 'Mr. Tall-dark-and-handsome'.

He was frowning in concentration at the screen of his laptop computer, occasionally stopping to flip through books with such titles as 'War, Peace and Profit', 'The Causes and Effects of Recession', 'Human Rights - just whose rights?' and 'The Complete Works of Jane Austen'.

As the sun finally retreated behind the distant hills the boy stood and stretched his six-foot-one frame, slowly working out the stiffness from an afternoon of work. He was just about to open the door when it was flung open in his face and a young man about two years his senior with light brown hair and amber-coloured eyes stormed in, radiating fury.

"Chris! What's the matter?" the dark-haired boy asked his roommate, concerned.

"Alex!" the second boy seemed almost surprised that his roommate was standing in front of him. "Sorry, I didn't see you. We've found my stepsister."

"Great!" Alex breathed. Chris's stepsister had gone missing some months before, and Chris's anxiety had been wearing hard on Alex's nerves.

"No…well, not that we've found her…but something else." Chris sat down on his bed, head in hands. "She's in a coma from a drug overdose, she's been raped - and she's pregnant."

Even the usually articulate Alex could say nothing.

"And…the…organism…responsible for all three…is John Willoughby."

Alex gave a sharp intake of breath. Willoughby was the University 'big man' - captain of the rugby team, big, macho and had, for the first few months, bullied Alex about his 'pretty' looks and interest in the arts before Alex had lost his temper and had given him a drubbing he'd never forget.

"How…how is Beth?" Alex remembered to ask.

"If she pulls through…we don't know. We don't know if she's an addict…or if the baby will be affected - she's in her seventh month - we just don't know."

Alex could only pat his friend's shoulder awkwardly, trying to offer comfort.

Alexander Felix Bennet Darcy and Christopher Brandon had known each other for less than a year. The met during a roommate-swap, because both had found their previous roommates 'immature and annoying', while their roommates had thought of them as 'too damned serious'. The slight age disparity had been no problem, and both parties had worked out for the better, Chris and Alex doing their work in companionable silence, while their ex-roommates concentrated on getting drunk and attempting to 'do' every girl on campus.

They had many things in common - both sons of proud old families with weighty expectations, with younger siblings they felt very protective of. Chris had felt personally responsible for his sixteen-year-old stepsister's disappearance and, while Alex had not yet got to that stage with his brother Tom, his sister Megan and cousin Emma (all of whom were between the ages of four and five), he was still protective of them, hovering around whenever he was home, to the point where his parents would order him to go out and ride his horse or something to get him over his obsession. Had Alex decided to study psychology he might have connected his over-protectiveness with his near death at the hands of a drunk gunman some years ago…but that is another story, and, in Alex's words 'shrinks? They just tell you it's your own fault and charge you for it. I'd rather be a lawyer -you do the same thing but you get to insult other people too'

Now Willoughby. Neither of them had liked him to begin with, but now, they had a reason not to. What to do? Had his godmother been alive, Alex would have gone straight to the phone or to the computer, but she had been gone for over four years, and as sensitive as Alex was, even he could not talk to the dead.

"I could kill him," Chris was saying, his eyes like daggers. At that moment, Alex did not doubt him, and was relieved that he had never told Chris about the small arsenal he kept hidden with his things. What Chris would have done with the revolver and collection of knives and daggers (most of them antiques or collectibles - but still functional. It was more unusual than collecting stamps, and much more fun sneaking them through airports), Alex did not want to think about.

Then his godmother's influence kicked into Alex. With the precision that would have had an Army major jealous, he got Chris fed, changed and into bed before his roommate noticed. Alex looked out of the window at the stars, wondering what to do. His godmother always seemed to, and Alex liked to think she was still watching over him (not all the time, obviously). Megan Carter had half-raised Alex during her own University days, baby-sitting, changing his nappies and bottle-feeding him when his mother, her roommate, was busy studying for her own law degree. It was times like this he wished that she had not gone, and almost resented his little cousin Emma, for her involvement in her mother's death, before remembering that she had no-one but Alex and his family (and her family's not inconsiderable fortune, but you know what I mean), and that she had lost not only mother but her father (Alex's father's cousin) less than a week later.

He watched his roommate in his troubled sleep, tossing and turning, and wondered what either of them could do. Alex wondered how he would react if a tragedy like that hit his family.

Alex began to feel psychic less than three weeks later, as he packed his things to return home for the summer break. He smiled in remembrance of another summer break, some six or seven years ago, which was the most eventful of his short life. But then his countenance faded. Both his grandfathers had died in quick succession, Thomas Bennet after a short struggle with a brain tumor, George Darcy of a heart attack. Another, rather bitter smile appeared on Alex's face as he recalled George Darcy's last heart attack - one that he had been present at, and had offered first aid. As he zipped his bags shut, Alex was feeling as if he was some sort of curse. People that he liked and were dramatic influences in his life had a habit of dropping like flies. First his godmother, then her husband, and now both grandfathers. It's not fair, he fumed, I know the world isn't fair, but why granddad? Why both of them? he turned and went to the window, as though he were addressing the sky. Chris glanced up from his packing to glance at his roommate, a worried look on his face, and then returned to packing.

Why not Great-Aunt Catherine? Alex was asking no one in particular. Why not grandma? Why not Aunt Lydia, or that annoying Frank Churchill? Why not WILLOUGHBY? Why the people I love and care for? Why?

Alex realized that he was banging his head against the glass and that Chris was looking very worried.

"Are you all right, Alex?" he asked. His roommate didn't usually just decide to bang his head against windows.

"Will you come to Pemberley?" Alex asked, returning to his bags.

"Of course. But only on the condition that you come to Delaford."

Alex nodded as they both hoisted their bags and walked out the door.

Part 2

Posted on Monday, 28-Sep-98

Alex stretched his long limbs and yawned. It was still a good hour-and-a-bit drive to Pemberley, where his parents and siblings had already returned. Alex had chosen to stay another day at his maternal family's estate of Longbourn to help his grandmother pack her things, and settle her affairs, as she was moving to a house by the seaside, the estate entailed away to a distant relation. Mrs. Bennet had required all the help she could get.

Now he walked slowly up and down the main street, attracting the attention of most of the young ladies, not simply for his looks but his choice of dramatic-film-star black with sunglasses and air of mystery. He had not known George Darcy for very long, but he had already impacted heavily on Alex's life, and had a great fondness for his eldest grandchild, though occasionally complaining that Alex made him feel old, Alex being only six years younger than his aunt, Georgiana. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he did not notice the man pounding up behind him before a man of about forty caught him up in a bear-like embrace.

"William Darcy!" the man was shouting, "You haven't changed a bit! You still look twenty! How do you do? What have you been doing to yourself?"

Alex's expression must have betrayed his confusion as the man released him.

"Don't you remember me? For shame - "

"Please," Alex interrupted "I think you have mistaken me for…"

"How?" the man wanted to know "Then what are you doing wearing that ring you've worn since you were eighteen? And why do you have the Darcy coat of arms tattooed around your arm?"

Startled, Alex looked down at his little finger, where he wore a copy of the family signet ring, one of the traditional gifts to the Darcy children when they turned eighteen, then at the tattoo around his arm, just visible below his tight black T-shirt, the Darcy coat of arms in minute detail repeated in a narrow band. It had hurt, but the result was worth it.

The man was looking at him oddly.

"I think you have me confused with my father." Alex informed him quietly. "It's a common occurrence. I'm told I resemble him. Might I know who I have the honour of addressing?"

The man blanched and stammered something before slinking off into the crowd. Alex shook his head, confused. His father had some very odd friends.

Alex's parents came to meet him as soon as the BMW drew up in front of the house and exchanged a few quiet words with him before his younger siblings and cousin came pelting down the stairs, each demanding his attention. George Darcy's funeral was due to take place the next day, and the house was in uproar. As Alex looked up at the majestic Palladian structure, he was glad that, no matter who came and went, Pemberley would always be there.

Alex stood, head bowed as he listened to the priest, an air of polite respect while inwardly he was seething. Of the vast numbers of people who had come to 'pay their respects', the majority were there only to toady to his father (or to Alex himself, if they were extremely confused. The resemblance was striking) and to trample the flowerbeds.

Tom and Megan threw their handfuls of soil into the grave as though it were a game. Emma was serious, watching the whole affair with a little frown. Whoever was in charge of everything had obviously thought to compensate her for the loss of her parents by giving her their best qualities, as had been the case with Alex. She was as intelligent and perceptive as her mother, with her father's sense of ethics and sense of humor. She was almost too articulate for a five-year-old. As far as looks went, she was as angelic as Alex had been as a child, looking as though she had just stepped off an old Valentine's card, hair like dark honey and her mother's startling green eyes with the warmth of her father's. Tom and Megan were perfectly normal four-year-olds, adorable little poppets with the huge dark eyes and curls that identified most of the Darcy offspring.

Alex had been driven almost to screaming point by all the people cooing "Ohhh. Aren't they adorable," about Emma and the twins while looking at him oddly. It wasn't his fault that his parents were barely nineteen when he was born, nor was it his fault that he was twelve before his father knew of his existence and his parents married. So why did people treat him as if it was? He remembered his Great-Aunt Catherine looking down her nose at him in disdain when they had first met, as though he was a huge blotch on the Darcy family Bible (though he couldn't see why. It wasn't as if she was a Darcy.)

Finally, the hordes dissipated much to everybody's relief. After helping his parents put the younger children to bed, he sat through a late supper with them and his Aunt Georgiana, who had recently finished her Masters degree in music.

He walked through the darkened halls of Pemberley that night, thinking of all who had occupied it before him and wondering what they thought of their young descendant.

Chris arrived a week later, giving the twins and Emma a new person to crawl over and tell stories to. Alex knew that his parents were pleased about his choice of friend, though Alex was hardly the sort who would go to parties until three in the morning, and come home drunk and stoned, even if they did not say anything. Chris was the perfect gentleman, only letting out his carefully disguised rage on their frequent rides around the estate.

"We don't have enough evidence to charge him," Chris had informed his friend.

"But…" Alex began "What about the DNA, and the other…evidence?"

"All that proves," Chris sounded dangerous "Is that the baby is his. There wasn't any…medical…evidence of…damage" Chris's hands tightened involuntarily on the reins, causing his horse to shy, and then upsetting Alex's horse.

They were riding a pair of young thoroughbred stallions, as full of energy and life as their riders, which meant that it was several minutes before they could get their horses sufficiently under control to resume their conversation.

"Of course, if we take it to court it will be all over the tabloids - even more than it is already." Here Chris sighed. "It's not even a question of what's right and fair anymore - but what is the most prudent." He seemed utterly crestfallen, and fixed his eyes to his horse's mane.

"So what's to be done?" Alex asked.

"I don't know. My stepmother wants the works - every single avenue possible to have Willoughby's head on a plate--and my father wants to keep the whole thing as quiet as possible. Sweep it under the carpet, if you like."

"What about you…and Beth?"

"As much as I would like to throttle Willoughby with my bare hands, I must admit I don't want Beth to have to relive her experience through court, to hear Willoughby try to counter it. I don't want to see her break down when he tries to foist the blame on her. As for Beth…well, I think that she just wants to have the baby, adopt it out and forget this whole thing happened. " He stopped. "But then again, we have to wait for her to wake up first." He turned to Alex, eyes filled with pain.

"Oh."

They rode in silence for some minutes.

"My father and stepmother plan to take Beth overseas for the birth, and after that she will go to boarding school somewhere far away and strict. That is, if she ever wakes up." Chris announced. "And after that, they will separate, and get a divorce in a few years."

"What will you do?"

"Stay at Uni, I suppose. Go home during the holidays or just come up to Derbyshire to annoy you." Here Chris forced a laugh and spurred his horse into a gallop. Alex followed, their troubles momentarily forgotten in the thrill of the wild ride.

The two departed for Delaford after Chris had stayed for two weeks. Tom, Megan and Emma had given their new friend as affectionate and teary a farewell as they had Alex. Alex hugged them all, then got into his car to enjoy the long drive down to Devonshire.

"They've already taken Beth." Chris was utterly without emotion as he read the small note in the foyer. Delaford was just a beautiful as Pemberley, but it lacked something - something that made a house a home. There was not that lived-in, loved, comforting feel of Pemberley.

The ringing of the telephone broke Chris out of his daze. Alex watched him answer the phone, and look extremely irritated as he spoke to the person on the other end on the phone, promising to come over.

"Neighbour." He told Alex by way of explanation "Dinner party. Tonight. Girls. You're coming. Do you want to get changed?"

Alex sighed as he pulled his BMW up before yet another imposing manor house. Chris had warned him about the occupants, a Sir John Middleton and his mother-in-law, Mrs. Jennings, who, from the description, sounded like his grandmother on a caffeine high. He glanced down at his clothing - oddly nondescript yet unmistakably the work of an expensive designer and then across at his friend.

"Look," Chris was saying, indicating a window, "they're keeping a lookout. Just as well we took your car." Here they stopped to laugh. Chris might have had a top-of-the-range, just-as-expensive Volvo - but it was still a Volvo. "Now they'll be falling over themselves the work out who you are." Chris chuckled. "Come on. In to meet our doom."

Mrs. Jennings was indeed Mrs. Bennet's mirror image. Accustomed to satisfying such people he told her what she wanted to know without revealing what he didn't want her to know. Sir John Middleton was marginally more bearable, but that was only because his voice wasn't quite so near Alex's pain barrier.

However, they were more than amply compensated by the presence of some new neighbours, distant relatives of Sir John.

Mrs. Dashwood was a handsome woman in her forties, with three daughters, the elder two which Mrs. Jennings was not-all-that-subtly pushing towards Chris and Alex.

Elinor, the eldest, was twenty; a pretty, serious-looking girl studying economics. She looked rather uncomfortable at the dinner table, but Alex passed it off as shock from encountering her new relatives.

Marianne, the second daughter, was eighteen, gloriously beautiful while not appearing false, and full of life. More than once Alex caught his friend staring at her with an expression very near complete adoration.

The youngest, Margaret, was eleven and enthralled with Alex's tales of his travels. She was almost jumping out of her chair with excitement as Alex told her about trekking in Nepal, safaris in Africa, expeditions to the Antarctic…

"Well," Alex remarked after a few minutes silence as they drove back to Delaford, "You've certainly found a distraction."

"Hmmm?" Chris asked, dreamy-eyed as he turned to face his friend. Alex rolled his eyes as he saw that his friend had been tracing the word 'Marianne' on the window.

"She's pretty." Alex nodded his approval. "You have good taste."

"Uhh…Alex…could you…I mean…they always…"

"I am not romantically inclined towards Marianne Dashwood, Chris," Alex answered his friend's botched question. "Nor do I intend to be - I try not to fall in love just to give you some company."

"Thanks," Chris was relieved. Even though he was by no means ugly, the girls around him always seemed to disappear whenever Alex arrived. Alex chuckled.

"I shall refrain from displaying my gorgeous body," he joked, "but…they always seem to go for the tattoo…the pain perhaps…"

Their laughter filled the still country night as they continued on their way back to Delaford.

Part3

Posted on Wednesday, 30-Sep-98

"A great match." Mrs. Jennings was whispering loudly to Elinor, well within Alex's hearing range "He's heir to a great fortune, they say, second only to…" here she gave a furtive look at Alex before dropping her voice "…one of the Darcys."

Alex sighed and pulled off his sunglasses to glance at his watch. They had been at Barton Park for over five hours and all they had done was sit around the pool (not that he had any objections. True, Marianne did look very nice in a bikini, but he had promised Chris…) and talk about absolutely nothing. He had managed to get a half-intelligent conversation about University out of Sir John, but other than that all he heard was Mrs. Jennings trying to get Chris and Marianne together.

Not that he objected. But, he did have his misgivings on the match - Chris was so serious, and almost too overprotective. Marianne was not going to take kindly to any potential boyfriend who would shadow her like Chris would. Marianne seemed so…so…immature, so young compared to Chris. Alex wondered if it would work out.

Margaret had been fascinated with his tattoo, declaring that she wanted one too, until Alex had scared her witless (he hadn't meant to. He was just making sure she was well-informed) about the pain, the numbness and immobility of his arm, and his near brush with blood poisoning (oh, all right, the last one was made up…but it was a possibility.)

Mrs. Jennings was winking at Elinor now, causing her to blush. Alex instinctively put his sunglasses back on and appeared to be engrossed in his book - 'The Satanic Verses', wondering what all the controversy was about, and tried to ignore Mrs. Jennings. Which was about as difficult as ignoring his grandmother.

"Christopher!" she was saying "we have not heard you play for us lately!"

Chris was a moderately talented piano player, not as brilliant as Marianne or Alex himself, but still, very competent.

"I would not like to torture you all when you have a far better musician than me." Alex knew that the 'far better musician' Chris was referring to was not him.

"Oh!" Mrs. Jennings continued, unfazed, "Then you must play us some duets!"

Alex closed his eyes and thanked whatever deities existed that he had not yet demonstrated his own musical abilities

"I do not know any," Marianne was uncharacteristically blunt. She moved to shrug her shirt on, effectively ending the conversation between herself and Chris at the poolside.

Both Alex and Chris froze in the doorway as soon as they heard the word "Willoughby."

"Nice chap." Sir John was saying "His father just left him the Combe Magna properties and he is here visiting his aunt, Lady Allen, as she is to leave him her estate."

Chris looked shell-shocked.

Yesterday, after the party, Marianne Dashwood had fallen down a nearby hill and twisted her ankle badly. From what Mrs. Jennings had told them, she might have been stuck out in the rain for a long time had not someone rescued her.

That 'someone' appeared to be Willoughby.

Alex glanced sidelong at his friend, who was taking a deep, calming breath before knocking on the door.

"Hello Mr. Will…Oh…Hi Chris, Hi Alex," Margaret sounded disappointed, and let herself out of the small house as the boys entered.

Chris presented Marianne with the bouquet of flowers that had taken them all morning to assemble. Alex noticed his friend's rather hurt expression when Marianne rather absently handed them to her mother.

The rather painful silence was interrupted by Margaret's dramatic entrance, screaming, "He's here! He's here!" at the top of her voice.

Alex tugged at his friend's sleeve, and after a hasty good-bye to Sir John and the Dashwoods, all but pushing Chris out the door and down the path, where they met John Willoughby.

"Hello." He made it sound like a sneer.

"Good Day," Alex replied evenly, then attempted to drag Chris away before his friend decided to pummel Willoughby into the ground.

They gazed in silence at each other for some minutes, before resuming their respective paths.

"Chris. Isn't this over-reacting just a bit?" Alex wanted to know, as he wired the tree.

"I just don't want another girl to end up like Beth," his friend replied stubbornly, listening in on the headphone attached to the small black box.

"But putting mics and surveillance equipment all over your place isn't going to help."

"Yes it will. The only routes to the places even half-romantic have to go through the Delaford grounds. That way, if he takes her…"

Whatever Alex was about to say was drowned out by the approach of a red convertible, driven at well above the speed limit. With practiced ease, Alex pulled Chris onto the ground and produced two books and waterbottles. It looked as though they had been reading there all afternoon.

He caught a glimpse of the occupants - John Willoughby, and beside him, in a halter-top, was Marianne Dashwood. Alex could almost taste Chris's indignation.

"That…that…" he was saying.

The simultaneous ringing of both their mobile phones immediately cut him off. When they finished, both looked at each other.

"I've got to leave."

Packing was mayhem, but they were both out of the house in thirty minutes. Chris apologized for the lack of warning, but he was to go to the airport and take a fight out. Beth was not doing well. As for Alex, all he got was a semi-cryptic, rather confused message from his parents telling him to go to the family mansion in town.

It was with mixed feelings as he drew into the imposing gates. The mansion was almost a palace, the 'business' home of the Darcys, where they stayed for most of the week, returning to Pemberley for weekends and holidays. Knowing his luck, he half expected his entire family tree to be completely uprooted, or the family fortunes had gone down the drain in some economic crisis or…someone had died…no…it couldn't…could it?

He was met by his rather shocked-looking, but not distressed parents in the foyer. The younger children were nowhere to be seen. He was swiftly ushered into a nearby sitting room.

"Alex." His mother coughed, as his father sat down on a chair.

"Do you remember when you were six, and your pet hamster died?"

"Yes." What is going on? They wouldn't be so worried about Gaheris, would they? Gaheris was the family wolfhound.

"Do you remember how I was explaining how Sooty wouldn't come back?"

"Yes. What is going on!" he almost screamed. He just had the oddest feeling…

"Yes. Ummm…" his mother trailed off.

"The point is, Alex," his father leaned forward "…is how…"

"…we're going to do the opposite."

"Huh?" No…they couldn't mean…

"How are we going to tell Emma that her Mummy and Daddy aren't not coming back?"

Alex was still speechless when a small child burst through the room and out the doors at the other side, which lead to another room.

A room that contained two people - an aristocratic dark-haired, green-eyed woman sitting in an armchair, and a man with red-blond hair and hazel eyes and an arm in a sling who was pacing anxiously. They both turned in the direction of the door and the small girl who burst through it, screaming "Mummy! Daddy! You're real! You're not see-through anymore!" before launching herself into their arms.

"Oh, Emma," the woman almost cried as she cradled the little girl. "How you've grown…I was so afraid…that you wouldn't know us…that you wouldn't…" here she stopped simply hugged the child.

Alex simply looked bewildered until he met the woman's eyes over the girl's head.

Meg was back.

Part 4

Posted on Thursday, 01-Oct-98

"Cover-up." Meg stated simply over dinner, "I…I…didn't think that Emma would survive, personally," she admitted, reaching out to pat the little girls' head. Emma, completely elated at having her parents rise from the dead, did not seem to mind.

"When I saw our DNA matchup…well…it isn't the best…they said I probably wouldn't be able to carry a child to term. Then Emma came, premature, but very enthusiastic." Here she stopped to smile at her daughter. "They panicked, and overdosed me. I came pretty damned close." She sighed.

"Meg and I…we were on an international ring of…well…assorted bad guys, for want a better term. Drugs, weapons, slaves, you name it, they trafficked it. Six and a half years, that was how long it took to see it through, and now it's over. We can go back to a normal life," Richard smiled at his daughter.

"So that was why we got a call saying that you had risen from the dead," Lizzy nodded, "…but why for so long? You've been away for five years, for crying out loud!"

"Mummy and Daddy came sometimes," Emma put in. "They'd come when I was in bed and tell me stories. Except they couldn't hug me. I could put my hand through them. Like this!" Emma made to move her hand, but instead connected with her father's very solid, very bruised arm.

Richard winced slightly, before moving away.

"Unlike this, I…we are both very solid now."

Whatever questions Alex might have asked were silenced by his godmother's piercing gaze. He waited impatiently until the younger children were taken upstairs to bed, and the door closed firmly.

"Thank you for looking after her all these years," Meg was saying.

"It was the least we could do," Will replied, before getting out of his chair, "but why? Why did you let everyone think that the two of you were dead? Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"In case anyone else was hurt. We were prepared. We knew the risks when we joined…but we wouldn't risk anybody else if we had a choice," Richard was sombre. "Five years ago, they came uncomfortably near to uncovering our real identities. Prior to that, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Commander Carter were in no way connected to the couple who went to the opera and mixed with the rich and famous. Then they began to get suspicious. So, to ally their suspicions, Meg and Rich died, so Colonel Fitzwilliam and Commander Carter could continue their activities, so they would not think they had guessed correctly. Also so that the people close to Megan Carter and Richard Fitzwilliam would not be hurt in the way." Richard sighed and looked at his good hand.

"For five years?" Lizzy was still incredulous. "Didn't you think of Emma?"

"We made our promises long before we even thought about her," Meg's voice was level and stubborn, "and we don't break our oaths. Anyway, Emma knew the truth."

"Of course!" Alex finally made the connection. "But what did she mean when she said that you were 'see-through' and she could put her hand through you?"

Meg and Richard exchanged a smile.

"We can't tell you that."

Alex sat back in his chair, a little annoyed.

"So why now?"

Richard chuckled "Because our work is done now. The last of them has just been caught, and we've both been assigned to desk jobs." He fingered his sling meditatively "Which is just as well. I'm starting to get too old for the James Bond escapades." He ran his fingers through his hair, and Alex noticed that he had some grey. "At least I'll get some respect and a decent office now. I need to be coddled in my old age."

Will gave a snort before motioning to the sling with his glass, "Where did you get that?" he asked.

"I ran into a door."

Lizzy shook her head in disbelief as she came nearer and inspected it. Alex could see that even through the heavy bandaging there was still blood, and what looked a splint. It was serious.

"It was a very large door," Richard repeated.

Will, Lizzy and Alex knew not to question it.

So his godmother was back. So he wasn't quite as cursed as he thought he was. Over the next few weeks he went to a variety of 'Welcome Back From the Dead' parties. Caroline Bingley's was the worst. Still chasing every wealthy male of anything approaching legal age (Alex was worried that he'd be next. Even if the woman was as old as mother, or even older, she was still flirting with men only two or three years his senior). She had a theme party with the waiters dressed up as corpses. Understandably, the guests of honour took one look at the décor and left.

Emma left the Darcy household to live with her parents at their mansion (looking back now, Alex understood why there had been all those odd requests in the will. Everything held in trust for Emma, except for a few grants that were to be left for ten years. Evidently, Meg and Rich knew that if their work wasn't finished in ten years they would definitely be dead.) Megan was a little unhappy at the loss of her almost-sister, but as she came by nearly every day, it was hardly noticeable. The summer wore on. Alex went with Meg, Rich and Emma up to Meg's Cheshire estate, and then back to Pemberley. Chris was still abroad, and even though Alex sent countless e-mails, none were returned.

It was with a mixture of trepidation and anticipation that Alex returned back to University.

"Beth died." Chris was blunt as he sorted out his things. He waved off Alex's condolences with a shrug. "There was nothing we could do. My stepmother has bought a house of the French Riviera. She will be content there. My father is moving to New York. Delaford, for all practical purposes, is mine." He seemed rather bitter that his family home was his only under such circumstances.

Alex could say nothing.

"I heard your godmother came back. You must be happy." Chris sounded almost forced. Alex nodded.

"I am happy for you." Chris choked out. Then, wiping his eyes he turned to Alex.

"Have you heard from Marianne?"

Alex shook his head. "I sent them an e-mail apologizing for our hasty departure, but all I got was a polite reply from Elinor and a request from Margaret to tell her the name of my tattooist. Nothing from Marianne."

Chris nodded. "Is Willoughby back this year?" he asked carefully.

"No." Alex was glad to give him this piece of news. "His name's no longer on the lists, at least." He looked up in time to see Chris give a small smile.

"He has managed to bankrupt his father's company far faster that anyone had thought possible." Combe Magna Properties was a small, but profitable real estate firm. They had done exceptionally well for several years. "And Lady Allen has also disinherited him." Chris's smile turned to one of satisfaction as he gave his friend this information.

"Really?" Alex had not heard this.

"Lady Allen is a very close friend of my stepmother. And when my stepmother had a talk to her…well…" Chris shrugged.

"So…"

"He is practically penniless. And with his…er…intellectual capabilities, he is not going to get that fortune back in a hurry. I doubt even a rugby team would take him. No tactical sense. All he had was bulk, and lots of guys have that." Chris was almost happy.

"Come on then," Alex stood up from his bed "Let's go get something to eat."

"Alex…who's that?" Chris nudged his friend as they walked in an exclusive shopping district. It would be the twins' fifth birthday soon, and Alex wanted to buy them something special. Alex looked up from the stuffed toy he was inspecting to see an aristocratic, cold-looking girl his own age in Armani looking at her Rolex with a small frown on her face.

"Sophia Grey," he whispered to Chris. "No, she doesn't go to Uni." He replied to Chris's unspoken question. "I met her at one of Caroline Bingley's parties a while ago. Snob. Looked down her nose at me the entire party until she worked out who I was, then she was all over me. Her father was a banker - he died a long time ago, and left her with a huge fortune…she's the third richest person under twenty-five in the country, I think. She's just managed to get it out of her trustee's hands. Why? Do you like her?"

Chris gave him a withering look. "No. That." He pointed with his chin. John Willoughby went up to the girl with a bunch of roses, apologized profusely, before offering her his arm into a jewelry store.

"Interesting," Alex observed.

"Yes, very interesting," his friend agreed.

"May I sit here?"

"Oh yes, of course," Alex moved his books on Commercial Law so that the newcomer could sit down. He was a shy-looking man about Chris's age, and holding some well-worn books on education and some new-looking books on Law.

"Edward Ferrars," he held out his hand awkwardly. "I've just transferred here."

"Alex Darcy. Are you studying Law?" Alex indicated Edward's textbooks.

Edward ducked his head, "Officially, at least, that's what my mother thinks it is. But I don't want to be a lawyer…I would much rather be a teacher."

"Oh," Alex was a little surprised. Not many people wanted to do that now. Evidently Edward did.

"I've never been really comfortable speaking in front of large crowds of people," Edward admitted "Children are better. They notice what you say, rather than how you say it."

Alex gave it some thought.

The traditional Season had been going on in town for as long as anyone cared to remember. Every year, the requisite balls, parties and other social gatherings swept through 'society'. Alex, like his parents, did not particularly care for these gatherings, but saw them as a necessary part of networking and establishing contacts. Occasionally Chris would also go, and sometimes Meg and Richard, but, on the whole, there were few of their friends, and too many of people they found…less pleasant.

It was at a particularly large and snob-filled party that Alex bumped into Sophia Grey.

"Alexander, darling," she had tottered up on her stilettos and given him a peck on the cheek. Idly, he wondered if she had been taking lessons from Caroline Bingley. "How are you?"

"Very well, thank you," Alex was wondering how he could escape without it being too obvious.

"Have you met my fiancé, John?" she asked him, batting her eyelashes and gesturing to someone.

Willoughby came over, looking comfortable in an Armani tux. He exchanged guarded greetings with Alex before taking Miss Grey's arm and escorting her to the refreshment room. Alex breathed a sigh of relief as he turned around…

"Ah! Mr. Darcy! How pleasant to find you here!" Mrs. Jennings, he thought. Alex forced a smile, which then became genuine as he noticed Elinor and Marianne behind her, together with a girl he did not know.

"Alex, this is my niece, Lucy Steele." Mrs. Jennings introduced her. Lucy was pretty, but there was something about her that seemed…artificial somehow. Alex couldn't place his finger on it. It was then that he noticed the couple behind them, the man wearing a conservative suit, the woman in this Season's offering of pink and grey.

The man was Elinor and Marianne's half-brother, John, and the woman was his wife, Fanny Ferrars Dashwood.

"Do you, by any chance have a brother named Edward?" Alex asked, shaking Fanny's hand.

"Yes. He is studying Law. Do you know him, Mr. Darcy?" Fanny was no different to other brown-nosing social climbers. Alex breathed a sigh of relief that his mother's cousin Colin was not here. He was the ultimate in brown-nosers.

"Edward and I often work together."

Fanny immediately launched into a speech about both her brothers, how Edward could not be here tonight, but Robert, the elder was. Alex made a half-hearted promise to meet Robert before escaping to the drinks room. His parents had decided to spend the evening with the younger children, Meg and Richard, and had sent him out to 'network'. He was halfway through his drink (remember, he's been of legal drinking age barely more than a year. It's a novelty still,) when he heard in a rare moment of quiet a young woman's voice.

"John!" Marianne was walking towards Willoughby with a smile on her face. Willoughby turned white. Alex could not hear them from this distance, but after a strained conversation Willoughby walked back to Sophia Grey and Marianne all but collapsed.

Alex, working instinctively, walked over to the party.

"Might I offer my services to escort you home?" Alex could already hear the crowd start to gossip about Marianne. Hopefully his interference would insure that it didn't get too out of hand - no one wanted to insult Elizabeth Bennet's and William Darcy's eldest son, after all.

Lucy had wanted to stay later at the party, so Mrs. Jennings would drive her home later. Meanwhile, after mentally calculating the number of drinks he had consumed and deciding he was sober, Alex drove them to Mrs. Jennings's townhouse.

Marianne was silence, in a state of shock. Elinor said little except to thank Alex for the ride. Alex himself had a sneaking suspicion of the nature of the conversation and of Marianne and Willoughby's relationship. He thought for a moment, This is going to hurt her, but it must be done.

"Did Mr. Willoughby introduce you to his fiancée?" Alex asked cautiously. He felt two pairs of eyes on him.

"Who?" Marianne's voice was a strangled gasp.

"Her name is Sophia Grey. She's recently come into a sizable inheritance."

Marianne began to howl into the seats.

"When did you know?" Elinor was strangely emotionless.

"Miss Grey informed me only this evening," Alex admitted, "I gather that they are to marry quite soon."

This prompted another round of crying from Marianne. By this time they had pulled up outside the townhouse, and Alex, doing the gentlemanly-but-not-politically-correct-thing went to open the doors for the girls, and ended up carrying Marianne into the house.

He watched them go upstairs with a mixture of sympathy and …what was the other feeling? He could not describe it, but he knew that he would have to call Chris very soon.

Part 5

Posted on Thursday, 08-Oct-98

After he had left a message on his friend's answering machine, Alex had no more communication with Chris until his friend came barging into his study the next day, barely waiting until the butler closed the door.

"I can't believe Willoughby did that," he fumed as he sat down and refused Alex's offer of a drink.

Alex shrugged "He needs to pay his debts. From what I've heard his gambling debts were starting to creep into the eight-figure range. Sophia Grey has more than enough to cover it."

Chris gave a low whistle "Do you know when they're getting married?"

"If I know Willoughby, as soon as possible, even if she's only just past legal age." Alex leant over to a pile of papers and thumbed through it. "Here it is," he held up a cream-coloured card with elegant gold and silver lettering. "End of the month," he told Chris, "Should I go?"

Chris gave him a meaningful look, then coughed, "I wonder how Marianne's doing…" The expression on his face told it all. Alex laughed and reached for his car keys.

"Let's take my car."

Marianne was still in her room, but Elinor made them welcome. After inquiries after Marianne, an uncomfortable silence settled over them.

Chris took a deep breath. "Miss Dashwood," both Alex and Elinor looked up with surprise at Chris's use of the formal address. "Do you think that your sister would feel better, if I informed her of my…previous dealings with John Willoughby?"

Alex could tell his friend was very close to tears as he told Elinor about Beth, and her death from the drug-induced coma. As Chris related the ending about Beth's final few minutes before they turned off the life support, they heard a gasp from the doorway.

Marianne stood there, pale and crying. Alex guessed that she had been listening for some time. She met Chris's eyes with an expression Alex thought was compassion. They all stood there, before the doorbell rang. Lucy Steele burst in, wearing what appeared to be a pink-and-green bath towel and too much makeup.

"Oh. Darling Marianne!" she came straight over and held Marianne's hands with an expression of false sympathy. "I simply had to come. I would not know how to feel if someone had treated me like this!" Here she went on for some minutes insincerely fluttering around, while batting her eyelashes at Chris and Alex.

As Alex and Chris started to think about leaving, there was yet another ring of the doorbell, and Edward Ferrars was introduced. He seemed ill at ease to find so many in the room, and positively blanched as soon as he saw Lucy. Chris and Alex exchanged a look, wondering what was behind the strained conversation. After about thirty seconds, Edward remembered that he had to run an errand for his sister. Lucy then attached herself to his arm like a barnacle and they both left, Lucy triumphant, Edward uncomfortable. In the moments of silence after their departure, Alex and Chris decided to leave.

Alex was putting his things in order for his return to University when Chris barged in.

"Did you know that…that…Lucy Steele is pregnant?"

Alex slowly straightened up and looked his friend in the eye. "Well, I do now."

Chris glared at him. "Do you know who they're saying the father is?"

"Santa Claus?" Alex shrugged, "What's the big deal? It's not so uncommon - I'm sure you know how these things work, Chris. I didn't know who my father was until I was eleven." Alex turned back to his packing.

"Rumor has it that the father is Edward Ferrars."

Alex stopped packing. "You mean…"

"Yes, your 'I-hate-law-but-I'm-scared-of-my-mother' fellow law student," Chris affirmed.

Alex shrugged again, "Like I said before, what's the big deal? I'm pretty sure I'm the only guy on campus who still hasn't…" here, Alex suddenly stopped, and Chris thought he could see his friend's cheeks redden slightly. "Yeah…umm…"

"Lucy is threatening if he doesn't marry her, she'll sell her story to the tabloids - after all, since your family hasn't done anything anywhere approaching gossip since your parents married - the Ferrars are close enough to being gossip-worthy. Edward's mother is insisting that he doesn't marry her - family pride and all that. She's threatened to disinherit him"

"Can she do that?"

"You're the lawyer, not me," Chris took a seat on the floor. "So what are we going to do about it?"

"Do?" Alex was surprised "What can we do?"

Chris shrugged, "I thought you might have some ideas. I do know that Lucy Steele is Caroline-Bingley-in-training, that Edward hasn't been seen in her company since the last Ice Age, and lastly, and perhaps most importantly - have you noticed the way he and Elinor Dashwood look at each other?"

"Not really. The only time I saw them in the same room I was too busy fending off Lucy Steele."

"Mad in love." Chris's smile was mildly envious. "Reciprocated love. That's why I want your help. If Edward marries Lucy Steele, we're going to have two heartbroken people on our hands."

An idea was beginning to form in Alex's mind, but it was cut off by Chris's mobile.

"Oh…I'll be right over." Chris put the phone away and looked at his friend. "I'm going to drive Elinor and Marianne home. Keep in touch." Alex nodded as his friend went out the door and ran down the hall and grand staircase.

"Commander Carter will see you now." Alex pushed himself off the unusually comfortable chair in the waiting room and was shown into a well-furnished office dominated by oak and walnut furniture, huge windows, and some electronic gadgetry he'd never seen before. In style and design, a perfect melding of classic, antique and modern, simplicity and sophistication, elegance and drama - like its occupant.

"Nice of you to drop in Alex," his godmother nodded, motioning him to take a seat. If one discounted the added experience in her eyes, she looked no different from when she had gone five years previous.

Alex cleared his throat. "Is there any way to determine paternity of an unborn child of say, less than four months?"

"I suppose so," Meg answered. "My majors were in law and politics, not medicine or science. Why?"

"You have heard about Lucy Steele…"

"Unfortunately. She's uncannily like Caroline Bingley at that age - though I see that she has sunk to depths not even Caroline did."

"That's what I'd like to talk to you about. She claims Edward Ferrars as the father, yet from my observation, he's been avoiding her rather pointedly…"

"Wouldn't that strengthen her case?"

"But before that, Edward was at University with me. We were working together every day. Lucy was staying with her relatives in Devonshire and in town at the time. There was no way they could have managed to be in contact with each other physically."

Meg leant back on the chair, "So you're saying that she's got herself pregnant to marry into the Ferrars family. But wouldn't it be more logical for her to try a family with a bit more to lose if she drags this into the light - yours for example?"

"Because, according to Chris, she and Edward dated about two years ago. His parents know, half of our 'set' know. Not to mention the tabloids. And you know my habits…"

"Like your parents between you and getting married. So…you're 'monking' it. Not a bad choice. I did too. Saves a lot of hassle, even if it does get frustrating. "

"Is there any way we can force her to take some kind of test to prove that the kid, if it even exists, is Edward's?" Alex brought the conversation back to the original topic, unwilling to delve further into his own affairs.

"Usually, they only test children already born in divorce cases, to determine whether a man needs to pay maintenance. And rape. Like with your friend's stepsister…" Alex was not going to ask how Meg knew about that. "I suppose…with a few nudges here and there, it could be done." Meg tapped her desk with a pen. "It is about time I had a diversion--though Alex, I think that maybe you could handle most of this. Or maybe not," she reconsidered as she tapped the desk with a finger. Alex almost fell off his chair in shock as a section of the desk pulled back and a computer screen popped up. Meg pressed the screen a few times, then sat back, looking thoughtful.

"I think," she observed after a short silence, "that this incident could prove very interesting." She reached for a small card and jotted something down onto it, before carefully imprinting what looked like an antique seal onto the bottom, before handing it to Alex.

"Take this to the basement and tell them you're the work experience kid."

Alex dragged himself into his bathroom and poured what appeared to be a vast amount of liquid from a bottle labeled 'Relaxation.' He sat back into the hot spa with a sigh, letting the bubbles and streams of hot scented water ease away the stiffness and ache in his muscles.

The physically unimpressive, but commanding elderly man in the basement had taken a long look at the card, then at Alex before nodding and motioning for Alex to follow him into what appeared to be a laboratory.

In it, Alex saw many versions of the various objects he had seen around his godmother - pens, make-up, books, car parts - but he had more than a sneaking suspicion that they were more than they seemed. The old man had fed the card into a slit in the wall, and nodded when some data Alex could not decipher.

He reclaimed the card and again motioned that Alex was to follow. Over the next few hours, Alex realised that the old man, was, in fact, much quicker and fitter than he seemed. He acted as though he did this every day, yet Alex was exhausted. Finally, the man had returned the card, dismissed him like a schoolboy, and sent him back to Meg, who promptly sent him home, indicating that she would contact him if anything came up.

When he returned to his dorm room, he found a message from Chris informing him that he would be late in returning, as Marianne had fallen sick and needed care. Alex smiled as he listened to the short message again. Maybe, this time he'll have a chance. Please, whoever's up there, just give him a chance. He's suffered enough.

There were no messages from his godmother. He wondered if anything could be done.

He had been too hasty. Several days later, he received an e-mail from his godmother with some very interesting information. With some persuasion, Lucy had taken series of pre-natal tests. The fetus was about two months old - but Edward had been at University at the time, and Alex had seen him every day. There was no way he could have visited Lucy and come back within something like twelve hours, as she had then been staying in town with Mrs. Jennings, Elinor and Marianne.

What followed was more interesting. While the tests on the fetus had confirmed that it was possible that the child could be a relative of Edward's, it could not be his, due to his possessing a certain minor mutation in one of his chromosomes that was almost certain to pass onto any of his offspring.

Alex replied to the e-mail, thanking his godmother for her time. He had barely shut the computer off when both Chris and Edward came in the door. Chris jubilant and carrying his bags as though they were weightless, and Edward looking rather despondent.

"Marianne's better!" Chris beamed as he unpacked. "And she is going to transfer here next year to study design!" Alex was happy for him, but Edward's misery did not go unnoticed.

"Lucy is bugging me - still," he sighed. "It is physically impossible for the child to be mine - unless she drugged me and then had artificial insemination - but try convincing anyone of that." He sat down on the floor, head in his hands. "I should've become a volunteer teacher or an aid worker somewhere far, far away. Maybe I should have been a garbologist. Life would be so much easier."

Alex stood there, wondering if he should tell him about the e-mail.

The wedding of John Willoughby and Sophia Grey was touted as the event of the year. Certainly it had all the ingredients that make a wedding the society columns would drool over for months to come - the bride's gown by Dior, the bridesmaids in Chanel, the guests dressed in Armani and Gucci, dripping with Tiffany and Cartier gems, sipping champagne and privately mulling over how to discredit each other while chatting politely about the weather.

Alex stopped himself from fidgeting as he adjusted his gloves and shared a look with his companion. Elinor Dashwood was practically the only girl he could invite without giving her unintentional hints about his interests. He knew that she loved Edward, as much as he could see, who had gone into hiding. No one had seen him for several weeks. It was worrying all of them. Alex was determined to ring his godmother if Edward did not show up soon. Alex's parents were involved in an animated conversation with some business acquaintances some distance away when a familiar, but unwelcome voice made both of them turn around.

"Alex! Elinor! I simply had to drop by to say hello. Lovely party!" Here she air-kissed both of them before taking Elinor's hands, "What a pretty dress. So…plain…and simple…but it suits you!" Here she tittered, while holding on to the millenary disaster on her head. As she waved her hands in the air, Alex saw Elinor turn pale. Looking at Lucy's left hand, he saw a heavy, ostentatious (even vulgar) engagement ring. Seeing that Elinor was speechless, Alex asked the question.

"I see you are engaged, Miss Steele. Might I inquire as to the identity of the lucky gentleman?"

"You need not be so polite, Alex," she replied, with a patently false Oxford accent, "I'm going to marry Mr. Ferrars after the baby is born. He's not here today. Said he had to do some business. I don't want to show in the photos, but I don't want my child to grow up in a single-parent family." She gave Alex a look, and he only just managed to restrain himself from strangling her. "Oh! There is my future sister-in-law. I must go, I simply must talk to her, you know."

With that, Lucy left, and Alex was left to make his excuses to the hosts and to his parents, before offering to take Elinor home.

Part 6

Posted on Friday, 09-Oct-98

Elinor was silent for about the first half-hour. As the silence became deafening, Alex forced himself to speak.

"I'm sorry I dragged you into all this. I did not think that…"

"It's all right Alex." Her voice was quiet, but Alex, with his musician's ear could hear that she was choking back tears. "I would have found out sooner or later…I know, that whatever his feelings, Edward is doing the right thing by Lucy. It was better, in a way. I knew it would probably happen, but finding out like this would be better than getting an…an…invitation in the mail." Here she sobbed quietly, before composing herself, "At least Edward is being a lot more responsible than other men who have gotten women into such a situation…"

Alex could stand it no longer. He pulled over into a quiet street. Elinor looked at him in alarm.

"Elinor…the baby can't be Edward's."

Her mouth hung open "How…"

"I did some calculations. She's about two-and-a-half months along, yet Edward was working with me at University for a month-and-a-half before and after that. I saw him every morning at about five thirty at the swimming pool." Here he stopped to grin, "Chris thought we were insane. And I would see him at around ten, one, and four to work or study, then at dinner; and we usually had late-night cramming which ended at about twelve. Now, unless he is even more weird than I am, there is no way that he could have managed to have physical contact with Lucy, even if he wanted to. He even spent weekends with me and Chris."

Elinor's mouth formed a perfect O.

"Then, when this whole Lucy business came out, I did a little probing. The child she is carrying doesn't have a certain genetic mutation that would identify it as Edward's. However…" now he thought. Lucy had said Mr. Ferrars, not Edward there was a brother, wasn't there? "However, there is some evidence that the child is a relative. Which could mean that Lucy's 'Mr. Ferrars' could be…"

"Robert," Elinor breathed. "I hope so. But what if it's not true?"

Alex shrugged as he started the car again. "I don't know. All I have is copies of the pre-natal tests and my own theories."

"How did you get the tests? Why did you go to all that trouble for us?"

He looked at her seriously before taking the steering wheel. "Because Edward and you are my friends. And I have connections which would help you." He smiled at her, the one that caught most girls' hearts - but not Elinor's. Hers was already taken. Alex wondered if he could ever have someone who would catch his heart as much as Elinor had caught Edward's.

Edward was already back at the University by the time Alex returned, sitting in his accustomed place in the library as though he had never been away.

"Where have you been?" Alex hissed quietly, earning a glare from the librarian.

Edward shrugged, "Away. By myself. I needed some time alone."

Alex decided to bite the bullet, "Are you engaged to Lucy?"

"Lucy? No…she's going to marry my brother. The kid is his, apparently," Edward could not fake disappointment, but, rather threatened to break into a grin.

"Have you told Elinor?" Alex wanted to know, "We went to Willoughby and Sophia Grey's wedding where…"

"Good grief. Lucy wasn't there was she?"

Alex nodded, "Engagement ring and all. Minus 'Mr. Ferrars'"

Edward turned pale, "Then she might think…" he looked at Alex, who nodded.

"What are you waiting for?" he threw a set of car keys, "My spare. Tell her in person."

Edward gave a grateful look at his friend before gathering his books and all but running out the door, much to the consternation of the irate librarian, who looked as though she were about to throttle him.

Alex waved good-bye to his friend as he drove off in Alex's 'low-key' VW Golf. That's another job well done, he thought, as he added it to all the other romances he had 'helped' - his parents, his mother's twin Jane and Charles Bingley, his father's best friend, his mother's secretary Charlotte Lucas and his odious cousin Mr. Collins (oh, all right, that one was unintended. He had wanted to get Mr. Collins with Caroline Bingley, but somehow that didn't work and Charlotte insisted on getting in the way of the mess that ensured. So it was her fault.) To the list he added Elinor and Edward, and after a minute's hesitation, Chris and Marianne, I must find our how they're going…

"Willoughby, what are you doing?" Alex was amused despite himself as he saw the larger man jump several feet into the air.

"What business is it of yours?" Willoughby asked haughtily as he drew himself up to his full height - several inches taller than Alex, yet somehow he was not in control.

"Plenty, I think," Alex answered, absently stroking the large (extremely so) Great Dane/German Shepherd/Siberian Husky/ Wolf mixture at his side. Sadist (also answers to 'Boofhead') belonged to the Carter/Fitzwilliam family who had now gone overseas on holiday. Sadist (Boofhead) was placed in the care of the Darcys, especially Alex, who was charged with the monster dog, the only one he had met that rivaled Gaheris for size. (The Darcy/Fitzwilliam family had a thing for large dogs). Alex had decided to take the dog with him when visiting Chris in Devonshire - Chris had dogs himself (though much smaller ones) and it would give Gaheris some time to recover from the shock of discovering that there was a dog larger than himself.

They were outside the Dashwood house, and Willoughby had been placing a bunch of flowers with a note on the hedge.

"I'm waiting, Willoughby."

Willoughby took one look a Sadist (Boofhead), who was now salivating (Alex did not tell him that the reason behind that was that the dog was merely quiet hot), before yelping an unintelligible reply before running to the Mercedes parked some distance away.

After he left, Alex picked the card up.

Marianne,

Fate has tied me to another against my will, my heart. You are my heart, my soul, the entirety of my being, and no worldly vows can part us. We are bound by more than the petty ties that chain me to another. We are above that.

John

P.S. Meet me at 10pm tonight in the grove

The flowers were wildflowers, native to the area. At a nod from Alex, Sadist (Boofhead) picked the flowers up gently in his mouth. After Alex saw that no one could see them, he gave another nod. Sadist (Boofhead) walked some distance away, dropping a few flowers here and there, and burying them, making it look as though they had been growing there and had simply wilted. Alex was not going to inquire into who had trained the dog, or how. Some things are better left as mysteries. Alex read the card again "What a…." He muttered, before tearing the card up into small pieces and burning it in the (until-then-unused) ashtray-cigarette-lighter-thingy in his car.

He whistled to the dog, and both of them walked up the drive to the house.

"Packed sunscreen?"

"Yes"

"Passport?"

"Yes"

"First Aid Kit?"

"Yes"

"Water purification tablets?"

"Yes"

"Gun?"

"Alex!" Edward looked shocked as he stared at his friend.

Alex shrugged, "Well, if I was in your position, I'd carry one."

"I'm not fighting in World War III, I'm just going to teach for a year or so." Edward chuckled as he zipped his smaller bag. Edward was much more relaxed now. Elinor, upon graduating, had secured a job as an accountant with a prominent charity. Edward had decided to go with her overseas and teach for a year before returning to study education. His mother, so displeased that his brother was married to Lucy Steele and basically squandering his wealth, had given her reluctant approval. At least he was doing something she could boast about - after all, he was working for charity, not for career or money, doing some good.

After exchanging farewells with Alex, Chris and Marianne, Elinor and Edward disappeared into the departure lounge. Somehow, Alex had a sneaking suspicion that their romance would go all the more smoothly away from family and friends.

It had been a whole year since the whole saga had begun, and yet, so little time had passed. It was summer again, and again Alex packed his bags, wondering what the fates had in mind for him over this break. He'd had two e-mails from Elinor and Edward since they had left a few days ago, informing him that they had arrived safely in some place Alex wasn't sure had electricity, much less an airport or the Internet, and that they were on their way to Outer-Woop-Woop. Alex couldn't envisage that. As much as he loved open expanses of country and the solitude of the outdoors, the monotonous view of the same scene again and again, for endless days, without a great number or variety of other people, would have driven him quietly insane.

Chris had departed a few hours earlier, as soon as possible after his last exam. He was to take a Masters degree the next year, and would be moving out of the dorms. As for Alex, he wasn't sure whether he would get his own apartment (he had the money to, but the dorms were more convenient, if not as luxurious), or whether he would take his chances with a new roommate.

Parties, parties. I hate parties. Especially Caroline Bingley parties. For the past ten or fifteen years, Caroline Bingley had thrown The parties. They were the places where the so-called elite mingled and collected to gossip about each other. Alex had a sort of tacit agreement with his parents as well as Meg and Rich to alternate attendance - so they could keep an eye and ear out for gossip, while yet avoiding more parties than they had to. The turnout was typical--middle-to-highish-ranking civil servants and business people, socialites and so-called celebrities. Alex was now twenty, old enough to be considered more than fair game for the numerous gold-diggers (mostly female, but the odd male) who looked at the wealthy, handsome young man with a bit more than simple lust or profit in mind. Caroline Bingley's parties gave him more than ample practice in fending them off.

The entrance of his godmother with her husband made him raise his eyebrows. He had been quite certain that it was his turn - if he had been mistaken he would have been very annoyed with himself. He was just about to make his way to the hostess to bid his farewells, when he saw Meg mouthing 'no.' Alex reluctantly helped himself to an orange juice (it was a personal policy to avoid alcohol at Caroline Bingely's parties - one never knew what was in it).

Whatever curiosity he had was quashed when he saw Mr. and Mrs. Willoughby make their way towards him. Alex noticed that Willoughby was wearing a very similar suit to the one Alex had worn to the wedding and received many complements on. Alex, though far from vain, could not help thinking how much better he looked in it.

Alex braced himself for the inevitable ordeal of conversation, when the huge French windows crashed inwards, scattering glass all over the floor as what appeared to be a horde of black-clad, balaclavaed commandos burst in with machine guns.

Caroline Bingley screamed and dived under the refreshment table, followed by most of the guests. The gunmen advanced on Alex and the Willoughbys. Sophia stood, proud and stubborn, head held high, defiant. Alex simply stood, unwilling to make any move that could bring a hail of automatic gunfire in his direction. He cursed inwardly that he was unable to reach his revolver without bringing attention to himself.

It was eerily like his other experience with guns and other people, except, this time, it was more difficult - this time, they were organized, sober, numerous, and, he was willing to bet, had full ammunition. Again, he noticed himself taking note of little things - how the gunmen were largely silent and well organized, as though following strict instructions. They simply stood there in silence. Oddly, neither Meg or Rich did anything. They simply stood, expressionless. Alex would have expected they make some heroic act, but on further thought, they could not really do much. In that dress, his godmother would have found it suitably challenging to conceal her customary knife and revolver, much less more powerful weapons.

Willoughby blanched at the sight of the gunmen, turning such a shade of white that for a minute, Alex had thought he was about to faint. When he recovered, he cast a terrified glance on the slowly approaching gunmen before running towards to door.

Alex had been about to shout after him, when the gunfire started. If he had not been otherwise occupied in throwing himself onto the floor and pulling Sophia Grey Willoughby to join him, he would have noticed that extreme care was being made not to hit anyone, not even Willoughby. As Willoughby got to the door, he was barred by Rich and Meg. After trying unsuccessfully to pass and panicking when he failed, Rich, with a rather resigned expression on his face, brought back his fist and knocked John Willoughby into unconsciousness.

The gunfire stopped. Everyone was silent for a minute, watching as Meg and Rich handcuffed him. Slowly, everyone stood up, wary of the gunmen, but all eyes were on Megan Carter Fitzwilliam.

She gave the commandos with a withering look.

"I thought I told you to be subtle"

Continued In Next Section