Section I, Next Section
Posted on Wednesday, 02-Dec-98
After watching the movie 'Toy Soldiers' last night, in a state of post-exam-result-what-do-I-do-now, gave me an idea on yet another story. Even though the movie was only so-so, the idea just wouldn't go away. This story is set in the same sort-of-perpetual-late-twentieth century like 'Secrets from the Past' and its sequels. The story takes place several years before Alex's appearance. Three guesses who makes a career decision here.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that any time spent at boarding school must be boring. However, those who profess to this truth never attended Netherfield College in the spring of 19--. Netherfield College took some pride in proclaiming itself at the forefront of education. It was the first of the 'old' schools to introduce co-education, laptop computers, edible cafeteria food and many other things.
It was also the year that several governments actually managed to work together with some cohesion to capture Catherine 'Lady Cat' de Bourgh, head of a huge international drug and arms smuggling ring. To the students of Netherfield, her capture would usually have been just another issue they would have had to research. Unfortunately, it was not.
It has been noted that great minds seem to congregate at approximately the same time in place, flowering briefly before departing forever, leaving their work behind for the generations that follow. Such has been the case with the Italian Renaissance, or the scientific advances of the early twentieth century. Such a group, though on a much smaller scale (for now), was then flourishing on the leafy green lawns of Netherfield College.
William Darcy, son of a powerful business magnate was usually thought of as cold, haughty and arrogant. He habitually seemed to put some people on edge and intimidate others to the point of hysterics. However, after one cracked the ice-like shell around him (which was exceedingly difficult), he could be pleasant, even occasionally charming. He had few friends, but for those few he would go to the ends of the earth.
Megan DuBois Carter came from an equally wealthy and powerful family. Due to the early deaths of her parents, she was under the guardianship of her maternal grandfather, who had no idea what to do with such a stubborn and tenacious charge. He was continually packing her off to exclusive resorts, when not packing her off to boarding school. Like William Darcy, she cultivated an air of distance and chill, but underneath feelings of insecurity and a longing to be accepted by her grandfather, her only living relative. She had been offered a scholarship to Netherfield College, but had refused, stating that she could very well afford the fees and she would come anyway, full-fee paying, if they gave the scholarship to somebody just as intelligent, but not so financially well-off.
Elizabeth Bennet, Megan's roommate was the recipient of the scholarship, though she never knew the circumstances. She was from a comfortable middle-class family, but there would have been no chance that she would have been able to afford Netherfield's fees if it were not for the scholarship. As for the rest, she was a marked contrast to the serious, distant Megan and William, a happy personality that seemed to make the very air around her crackle with life.
Charles Bingley was another of those happy-go-lucky people. While his blond curls, baby blue eyes and perpetual smile gave a first impression of a pleasant, but rather dim-witted young man, the exterior hid a shrewd, intelligent, though still slightly tempered with a touch of naiveté and extreme optimism.
Frederick Wentworth often seemed to pale in comparison with his friends. He was a good, but not brilliant, student. He had neither Charles's charm nor William's talent for giving offence. He was such a sensible, down to earth guy that he was usually unnoticeable and seemed to be lumped into the rest of the group as a sort of afterthought. However, his talent lay not in books but rather what he could make. From a block of wood came a pencil box, a bookshelf or models. From ordinary stones came exquisite bracelets and necklaces that every girl simply had to have. Infuriatingly, he would not sell the jewelry at any price. The gave them only to his close friends, which meant that a peak into Meg's jewelry box was just as likely to reveal one of Rick's creations as one of her diamond necklaces.
That morning started just like any other. At the crack of dawn Meg, Lizzy, William and other masochists like them meandered down for a 'wake up' swim in the pool, while others stayed abed.
Breakfast was at a quarter to eight, a sensible enough time, which meant that almost everybody was up and about without too much difficulty, especially when it was a 'pancake morning', which provided a break from the usual cereal and toast.
Morning lessons followed, none of which was particularly noteworthy until the period just before lunch. It was a philosophy lesson, so as had become her habit, Meg listened with one ear while gazing out the window. She had a good view of the front gate, where there was a booth for a single guard who would open it. A large stretch black limousine stopped at the front gate. After a few minutes deliberation with the guard, the door opened.
It was unfortunate that it was then that Miss Bates asked some question, which Megan answered, taking her attention away from the gate. When she returned to looking out the window, the gate was closed, and the limo was gone. It was as though nothing had ever been there, until Meg saw a dark shape lying motionless next to the booth. She had no time to contemplate what it was, as the bell rang for lunch.
The chef was going through one of her quasi-exotic phases again, so lunch was a rather odd mixture of Caesar salad with sushi. It was not just the food that made that particular lunch so interesting. It was burned into Frederick Wentworth's mind forever.
He had just finished making a rude joke about the food to James Benwick and was heading for his own table. The girls and Will were already there, Meg and Will engaged in a passionate discussion of Naomi Wolf's 'The Beauty Myth', with occasional input from Lizzy. Charles was somewhere in the lunch queue, explaining that he couldn't eat wasabi (Japanese horseradish, used to season sushi) because it made his eyes water.
Suddenly, the Neo-Gothic doors of the dining hall were ripped open and the hail of automatic gunfire set everyone diving under the tables. As soon as the firing stopped, there was the sound of heavy boots as students at random were hauled out from under the tables and compared to a photo. Eventually, everyone was assembled at one end of the hall to gaze at their captors. Most were rather scruffy-looking individuals wearing Doc Martens, but three stood out. One was a rather greasy, unpleasant looking man in his late forties, who cast a lascivious eye over several of the girls, who cringed. Another was a young man not very many years older than the students, with an unpleasant smirk on an otherwise handsome face. The last however, the only woman, seemed oddly out of place in such a setting. She was thin and pale, with a look of pinched asceticism in her face, wearing black designer clothing.
"My name," she said, in a thin, raspy voice, "is Anne de Bourgh."
Posted on Sunday, 06-Dec-98
Out of the corner of his eye, Frederick saw Meg stiffen as the woman pronounced her name. He wondered why, for a second, before Anne de Bourgh continued. "We do not intend to do you any harm," her voice, though very soft, was clearly audible in the silent hall. "If you do as we instruct. We are looking for one Edward Phillips." Nothing but silence followed the name. No one was willing to say that he had left early the previous morning in very mysterious circumstances. His father was a leading judge who had just been appointed to oversee the trial of Catherine de Bourgh. It didn't take a genius to work out why these people were here for his only son. Growing impatient, Anne de Bourgh tapped her foot as she nodded to one of the machine-gun wielding people, who poked one of the teachers.
"Edward Phillips left yesterday morning." Mr. Gardiner, one of the boarding-house masters spoke up.
"Indeed." Anne de Bourgh turned to the greasy-looking man "Collins, we were not informed of this." The man opened his mouth and then shut it as she continued. "That is unfortunate. Wickham," she looked at the young man "if you would be so kind as to obtain the student records." The young man left.
Anne de Bourgh studied the records with a small frown. "Well," she said, at length, "we do not need the Phillips boy." A hail of gunfire and then a bright flash of light outside made everyone rush towards the windows, forgetting, for a second about the guns in there with them. On the driveway, there was the smoldering frame of a car, and several figures running towards the gates, which were swarming with more figures, cars, and an ambulance. "It appears that we have made better publicity than we might have with only the Phillips boy," Anne de Bourgh observed. "Now, with all this stress, doubtless you will all want to rest."
All of them were pushed into the girls' boarding house, an impressive Georgian mansion with majestic columns. The reason for that was simple. Not only did it keep them all together, the very structure of the building, with its simple minimalist design made guarding easier than it would be with the boys' mock-Gothic house, with winding and often hidden passages. However, it did lead to some rather uncomfortable arrangements, the silent guards seemingly unconcerned about who they shoved into what rooms. By some measure of fate, though precisely how much was highly negotiable, Will, Charles and Frederick joined the girls in their own room.
"Well," Charles observed, looking at the door, which had been slammed after them. "I had hoped to get into your room in rather different circumstances." He gave a small grin to Lizzy, though they all knew it was hardly serious, Charles being the sort that convinced themselves in love at least once a week, but never with their friends. After the obligatory pillow throwing and other associated abuse, they sat down, more serious, to contemplate their predicament.
The room was large and square, and decorated in such a way as to make it blindingly obvious who occupied each half. Lizzy's part of the room had a comfortable, 'lived in' feel, with dog-eared books and unfinished homework stacked haphazardly on the desk, and a myriad of family photographs. The walls above her bed were filled with prints of the impressionist artists and lists titled 'things to do'. By contrast, Meg's side was almost fastidiously neat, with not a wrinkle on the bedspread, not a single paper on the desk. The desk itself was occupied only by the latest notebook computer, a lamp, a formal portrait of her parents, and a rather expensive-looking crystal ornament that seemed to serve no specific purpose. Her books and work seemed to be neatly stacked in a coherent order on her bookshelves.
They were sitting there, the girls on their beds; William in Meg's desk chair and Frederick in Lizzy's with Charles sprawled on the rug that covered the wooden floor. There were a few moments of silence as they contemplated their situation. It was only early afternoon.
"Odd," Meg's clear voice broke the stillness "Last I heard, Anne de Bourgh could hardly walk. I must say I preferred her that way."
"What?" Lizzy got up "You know her?"
"Not really," Meg admitted, then thought for a second, "she's my grandfather's cousin's daughter. Which makes her some sort of relative, though I don't know what. But that doesn't do much good. What are we going to do?" she asked briskly, not wanting to elaborate further on her family tree. "We can't just sit around and wait for others to do something."
"But what?" Charles asked, getting up. "They have guns."
"So?" Meg shrugged "So do I." Getting up, she reached under her bed and brought out a square box marked 'Drafts for book'. After removing some paper and a false bottom, she revealed two automatic revolvers with ammunition, as well as several knives and other things that the others did not recognize. "I have a license," she defended "But I have to admit that these are no match for those out there." She nodded towards the door. "Much as I would like to rampage down the corridor shooting them, it wouldn't be too convenient. Any other suggestions?"
There were none. William, who until then had been silent, then suggested that they turn on the radio, to hear if their plight had been broadcast. It had, and it didn't sound too good. Anne de Bourgh had exerted herself so much as to deliver an ultimatum - her mother was to be freed, or she would blow up the entire campus.
"That could be a bit messy," Meg remarked as the news finished "At least they know what's going on."
"But they don't know how much is going on." William added "If we could give them, as in people who could get us out, all they needed to know about the people who are keeping us in, we could get out a lot easier." After the rest had translated that into something coherent, they turned to Meg's computer. They had a bit of a false start when the discovered while plugging the modem in that the phone lines to the boarding house had been cut. After a small flurry Meg produced one of those prohibitively expensive (and technically banned by the school) mobile-phones-that-open-up-to-be-a-palmtop-computer and connected it to the computer.
"Now what?" she asked.
Distraught parents began to arrive at nightfall. They swarmed the police, desperate for news, booking out all the nearby hotels. It was in the middle of this that Megan's grandfather arrived. He was a rangy, spare man with the look of a rather irritated wolfhound. He gazed at the chaos with a disgusted look before heading over to two familiar figures.
"Have there been any developments since we spoke last?" He asked the man.
George Darcy turned around in surprise. "Pierre!" he greeted the man, before nodding to the woman at his side. "You remember my wife Anne, don't you?"
Pierre DuBois indicated that he had. "I should never have let that woman marry Louis," he fumed "I told him she wasn't his type. But did he listen? No, no. He was in love he said. Look where that has gotten us." He was silent for a second, then turned back to his old business associate and friend. "Darcy, I need a quiet spot to make a call."
Sleeping arrangements were, as could be predicted, rather interesting. Meg and Lizzy stayed in their beds while Charles and Frederick made themselves comfortable on the floor with the girls' sleeping bags and camping mattresses. Will, ever the masochist, curled up under a blanket at the foot of Lizzy's bed. Despite the drama around them, they spent the first night in deep sleep.
Part 3
The harsh lights of the maximum-security women's prison illuminated the stark, comfortless meeting room. In it, two figures in sober dark suits and dark glasses waited, the taller one, a man, talking in a low voice on a small mobile phone.
"Of course sir," the man was saying as his partner looked on with an expression of mild irritation on her face "Yes…I know…of course sir…yes…" he shut of the phone with a grimace.
"DuBois really wants that girl out and safe," he remarked.
"Undoubtedly," agreed his companion. "He cares about the kid more than you would think. Did you hear what he did to those two who were supposed to be looking after her?"
"Yes." The man shuddered, as the door opened to admit the person they were looking for.
At first glance, it was laughable to think Catherine de Bourgh was the head of such a large smuggling ring. She looked more like someone's rather annoying grandmother, the sort who insisted on telling stories about the 'good old days', or gave frilly pink dresses as birthday gifts (unless you were a boy - then she would be so generous as to bestow upon you a pair of socks). She was of about middling height, with graying hair pulled into a bun, and a face that reminded one of nothing so much as a particularly hungry vulture. Lady Cat, as some called her, was as regal as one could manage in a bright orange prison uniform as she sat down opposite the pair.
"Mrs. de Bourgh," the man began, as he produced a large pile of papers "No doubt you are aware…"
Meanwhile, outside the gates of the school, an army of hysterical parents and siblings continued to arrive. One however, caught everyone's interest.
An initial impression would have betrayed a fairly non-descript station wagon. As soon as it stopped, however, a woman with a beehive hairdo that rivaled Marge Simpson's almost fell out of the car and began to screech at whomever would listen.
"I told you, Thomas," she berated her husband "You should never have let Lizzy take that scholarship or whatever it was. Look at where it's got us. Oh my poor nerves! It's just like that girl to…"
"Mum," one of the two girls who had followed her out of the car shook her arm to gain her attention "I am quite sure that everything will be all right."
"That's all right for you, Jane, dear, but you have not my nerves." The woman flustered about some more. "But I know Lizzy must be all right, if you say so. You are twins." The woman said the last in an almost accusatory tone.
Jane, Elizabeth Bennet's non-identical twin sister, gave a long-suffering sigh and looked around for her younger sister Lydia, who was, as could be predicted, hanging around the news crews in the hope of appearing on camera.
"Mum," she said again "Why don't you and Lyddie go back to the motel? I'm sure this waiting around does nothing for your nerves."
"Well?' George Darcy asked as Pierre DuBois returned with a half-disgusted look on his face.
"My people had a little talk to my cousin-in-law," he informed the other man.
"What did she say?" Anne Darcy asked, almost fearfully. Pierre could understand her anxiety only too well.
"She said that she wanted to talk to her daughter."
"Isn't that good?" George tilted his head.
"I don't know." Pierre was abrupt. George, knowing how hard that admission was remained silent, and gazed at the wrought iron filigree on the fence.
What an idiot I am, Meg thought irritably as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. She had connected up her phone to her computer so that they could send information outside, but had forgotten the phone's primary function. With a muffled curse she leaned over to her desk and picked up the phone, punching in her grandfather's private mobile number, the one that couldn't be traced in either direction.
As she waited, she noticed with a small grin the way Will was sprawled protectively around Lizzy's bed. There was no way anyone could reach the other girl without waking him up. This was a revelation, as previously, Meg had thought they felt only grudging respect. This was interesting.
"The Wolf." The voice at the other end of the line was tired, but unmistakably his.
"Greeneyes." She replied, breathing a sigh of relief.
"Meg!" came her grandfather's voice "You are safe."
"No, not really," she corrected "Where are you?"
"Just outside." Meg looked out the window, towards the front gate, which was ablaze with lights.
"Who are you calling?" Charles's voice was sleepy.
"My grandfather," she replied.
"What's Charles doing in your room?" her grandfather's voice came back.
"They put everyone into the girls's house. Which means that Frederick, Charles and Will are in here with me and Lizzy."
Pierre DuBois made a non-committal sound. "Does Will want to talk to his parents?" he asked. "I'm afraid I don't know the rest of your friends' parents by sight, but George and Anne are right here."
Meg went over and roused the boy, and waited while he spoke to his parents. He finally surrendered the phone back to her with no small amount of reluctance.
"They've been stupid enough not to realize that most of us have mobile phones even though they're banned." Meg confided.
"Not surprising. I can't believe it's little Annie, though" her grandfather sighed "Look, there's little we can do until my people finish negotiating with Lady Cat and find out just how well placed Anne is."
"We can do that. We were going to anyway."
"Good." Her grandfather's voice was approving. "You know how to keep in touch."
Unfortunately, that morning Anne de Bourgh made up for her oversight. Somehow realizing that there were ways of communicating, she had her minions search all the rooms, and destroying anything that so much as resembled a modem or a mobile.
"I hope my insurance covers that," Meg muttered "I'm not forking out for another one if I can help it." The others, sensing that they had lost their easiest way of communicating with the outside world, were not quite so stoical.
"What are we going to do now?" Will moaned "Sit on our backsides and hope for the best?"
Meg gave him a look of the deepest contempt "Haven't you heard of Morse code?"
So that night, they sent out the news of their mild incapacitation by using a torch and a make-up mirror filched from another of the girls' rooms.
The next several days could be described only as monotonous. Anne de Bourgh took up residence in the Headmaster's office, and her two chief minions - the greasy man called Collins and the younger one known as Wickham - generally wandered around making nuisances of themselves. The rest of the group lounged around with their AK-47's looking remarkably calm. Over those days however, the placement and routine of the group had become carefully noted by five individuals, helped by the rest of the student body.
Soon, their information was detailed, thorough, but there was no way it could be smuggled out. The electronic means had been destroyed, it was too far from the main gate to throw, and their guards watched them far to carefully to allow any expedition to the perimeters of the campus.
"What are we going to do?" Lizzy asked. "We have all this information and no way of getting it out. Collins and Wickham are really getting on my nerves."
"Really?" Meg answered. The girls were alone in their room.
"Meg…" Lizzy turned serious "Don't tell me you haven't noticed?"
Actually, she had. Collins and Wickham had been salivating over almost every girl since day one. She wouldn't have been surprised if they had taken advantage of the situation with some terrified teenager. "I'm not blind." She snapped. "But if they've been bothering you…"
"No…not directly" Lizzy admitted "Not in the way they've been bothering poor Fanny or…" she did not continue.
"No…" Meg repeated "But we have to find a way out of this. We have to get this over, and quickly."
"Well?" George asked as Pierre returned from yet another phone call to Catherine de Bourgh.
"She's spoken to her daughter - and promised that none of the kids will be hurt. That's all." Pierre was extremely disgusted. "It's been going on long enough. When is an end going to come?"
The solution for getting the information out seemed perfectly logical in retrospect. However, it was hardly any wonder that no one suggested it at the time, for fear that it might involve them. It had been observed that the greasy man - Collins, would often walk around playing with a revolver, even though he never used it. To Meg, a medallist in the world junior shooting championships (though there really weren't all that many competitors), it was soon apparent that he had no idea how to handle one.
That gave her the idea for a workable, albeit dangerous and rather painful plan.
No one seemed to give it a second thought when she asked for the piles of information one night. Nor, after memorizing it, how she consigned the lot to the fireplace and left the room in the dead of the night. They all knew she was up to something.
Collins was outside on the stairs that led to the dining hall. Being bored, he decided to go and scare some girl witless. It was an amusement that was often used by the other members of the group that seemed to be great fun.
He knew that it could do no harm - after all - his gun was never loaded (because he didn't know how), and sat, waiting for his target. His eyes alighted on a suitable subject. She looked almost fragile, as though she would break at the slightest noise, Collins gave a grin as he approached her.
The piercing scream and the dull sound of bullet hitting flesh sent everyone racing to the shady area at the edge of the courtyard. Will and Frederick took one look at the figure on the ground before pouncing on Collins - who had frozen - icky expression on a pale face.
Blood streamed through Meg's fingers from her left shoulder as she struggled up.
Later - much later - she would tell them how she placed a single blank cartridge into Collins's gun when it lay beside him as he slept. And how most of the blood had come from the kitchen, a mixture of animal blood, raspberry, strawberry tomato and chocolate sauces. But some of it had been hers. There had to be wound somewhere, and she had taken a gamble in hoping that no one would notice the peculiar smell of the 'blood', not the fact that there was really far too much of it, and that it didn't really look like a bullet wound - more like a cut from a penknife.
But the deed was done, and later that afternoon, an ambulance arrived to take Meg away.
Posted on Saturday, 12 December 1998
"I'm fine. Really." The girl insisted as she grabbed the towel from a paramedic as soon as they were safely out of the school gates.
To the onlookers' collective horror, she simply wiped off the copious amounts of blood that dripped down her shirt, to reveal only a small, obviously cut hole in the shirt and a very small wound on her left shoulder, made to appear much more serious through the application of several different shades of 'colour-stay' eyeshadow, blusher and lipstick.
"Meg!" Pierre DuBois pushed his way through the crowd as the girl grinned at him.
"Morse code is such an inefficient means of communication." She said blandly in response to the look on his face "Can I have a Band-Aid, please?"
Charles bent down to retrieve a small metallic object from the ground. It was a blank, rubber-coated cartridge. A streak of thought not usually associated with his rather trusting personality crossed his mind as he dabbed a finger in the red liquid that soaked the grass. He held it up to his nose, and coughed. So that's what she was up to.
Dinner was, as had become customary, a silent affair with the students, as they were keeping a wary eye on their captors. Lizzy, in a state of shock since the hasty removal of her roommate was alone at her table, when a not unfamiliar person approached.
"My name is George Wickham." He introduced himself with a smile as he sat down without being invited.
"It is almost a pleasure, Mr. Wickham." Lizzy's voice was cold as she tried to move as far away from him as possible.
"Well, I would wish the circumstances to be different," he admitted. Lizzy could see him look over at Will Darcy who was staring at them with an unreadable expression on his face.
"Tell me, have you known Will Darcy long?" Wickham, knowing an opportunity when it came up and bit him.
"Only since I came this year," Lizzy answered "There was a mix-up over my scholarship, which meant that I missed the first few weeks. Everyone else has been year since the year dot, and I'm just the new scholarship kid."
"Really?" Wickham knew to feign surprise "But then again…there is something different about you. That strength, spirit, that you don't find in the spoilt brats like William Darcy you usually expect in such places."
"People like Will Darcy give the rest of us a bad name." Lizzy muttered.
"I was sorry about what happened to that dark-haired girl this afternoon," Wickham continued "Megan Carter, was it not?"
Lizzy nodded.
"I wouldn't be surprised if Will put her up to it," Wickham observed, then noticing Lizzy's shocked expression "you see, I've known him all my life. My late father, you see, was his father's right-hand man and so, I used to hang around with Will a lot when we were children. But, things change - but his character obviously hasn't. He's always been proud, haughty, and makes others do the dirty work so long as his ends are achieved." He studied Lizzy for another second or so.
"You see, I know that Miss Carter will tell the police and military everything she knows about us. I would think less of her if she didn't. Did you know that she and Will are expected to get married after they finish here?"
"No…they don't seem to be…well…"
"I would hardly blame them. They've probably had it shoved in their faces since they could talk. It would make a potential business merger very handy, you see. You know, it wouldn't surprise me if Will actually wanted her to get killed so he wouldn't have to go through with it.
"No…"
"Yes. He's someone who never minds what happens, so long as his goals are achieved. I've had first-hand experience in that." Here he gave what could have passed as a long-suffering sigh. "You see, when my father died, George Darcy promised that he would look after me. But Will got in and convinced his dad that I was a no-hoper, and so, Mr. Darcy, believing him (not that I blame him. Will can be very convincing when he wants to be), simply gave me a cash settlement and severed all connections. I must admit that the money was very welcome, and it got me through my final year of high school and my first year of college - but no more. So, here I am." Here Wickham gave another smile. "Obviously, we all want this to be over as soon as possible - even our Mr. Darcy - so, I would say, knowing him, that he probably convinced the poor girl to go and get herself injured just so someone could get out and perhaps speed this whole thing up." Here Wickham got up, leaving Lizzy with some very confused thoughts.
With Meg's absence, there was the extra bed, and Charles and Frederick agreed to alternate. But Will would still spend his nights curled up at the foot of Lizzy's bed.
Lizzy evaluated Will Darcy through narrowed eyes. True, he was cold and rather surly, but could he be as bad as Wickham had stated? Remembering, of course that her informant was a terrorist, it was just as likely that it was completely made up. But why? Surely there had to be a grain of truth if Wickham knew so much about the Darcy family.
It was on the night after Meg's departure that the delicate crystal on her desk began to hum. Lizzy, ever the light sleeper, noticed it first and woke the boys. She watched as Will's face lit up.
"Of course!" he whispered as he approached the desk. Lizzy watched with narrowed eyes as he carefully gripped the top of the fragile ornament, before it separated cleanly into two sections. In a tiny compartment was a small black box and two earpieces. He held them up to his ears, listened for a second, then turned to the others with a delighted smile.
"It's Meg!" he whispered, as they crowded around "She's all right. And she says that…that Lady Cat is dead." He dropped the earpieces as they all looked at each other with the same thought in their heads. What was going to happen now?
As might be imagined, it was not a totally accidental accident. When news of Meg's injury had come out, her grandfather had been suitably irritated, to say the least, and the rest of the parents fell back into hysterics, wondering if their child would be next. Before the ambulance had brought her back, Pierre DuBois had already had his decision and was contacting his 'man' - or in this case, woman in the jail. Walking back from an exercise session, Catherine 'Lady Cat' de Bourgh, leader of the 'Rose' smuggling ring, had the great misfortune to fall over 30 meters to her death, somehow managing to clamber over a 1.8 meter (6 foot) barrier in the process (interesting in light of the fact that she was only 4'11).
So it was with mixed feelings that Pierre DuBois discovered that the majority of his granddaughter's injuries were faked.
"Anne will blow the place up." Meg's voice had a tone of finality "She can't do much else. If we want anyone out alive, we're going to have to go in tonight."
"We?" Pierre asked. "Don't tell me you're going back, Meg,"
"I have to." She stared him down, identical green eyes like dark emeralds. "I'm the only one who knows the place."
"You'll need a guard." His voice was final.
"I can handle a gun," she tilted her chin up.
"You're injured. No. I've organized someone who can help you if you find you're struggling. Show Cadet Fitzwilliam in."
Meg was about to protest as a boy - no, a young man - several years her senior with light brown hair and laughing (obviously not laughing at the moment) hazel eyes came in.
"Richard." He held out his hand.
"Megan."
"How did you know about that, Will?" Lizzy asked, motioning to what had been the crystal ornament "She was working on it all summer break - when I visited her - my father and her grandfather have some business dealings together." He said hastily by way of explanation "And she explained it to me. Unfortunately, she could only fit a one-way transmitter in there." They stopped as the crystal began to hum again.
"Call coming," Will grinned, as he held the earpieces up again. He put them down again with a look that was somewhere between hope and fear.
"They're going to try and get us out tonight."
"I hope they're listening," Meg grumbled. "I knew I should have put a two-way transmitter in there, even it did mean I could shatter the stupid thing. It's only glass, anyway." She muttered as she repeated the short speech again, outlining the plans. After a while, they were rewarded a series of flashes from one of the upstairs which indicated that they agreed with the plan.
An enormous explosion just inside the school grounds brought gunmen spilling out onto the lawn. Meg counted them.
"All - except Anne, Collins and Wickham - come on Rich, in we get." She pushed her half-reluctant companion through a gap in the fence and they both crouched behind the cover afforded by the foliage.
"Do you all know the cellar under the kitchen where the Seniors used to hold their parties?" Will asked. "Charles - will you and Fred show the rest where it is? It's not in the plans, so I doubt theywould know of its existence. Lizzy." He turned to her, serious "I have something to ask of you." He would have said it, but a knock on their door brought their attention to Frederick, who had returned from informing the occupants of all the other rooms of the plans. "They're all gone. Should we start moving?"
Will shut his mouth and dived under Meg's bed, grabbing the box and removing the two revolvers.
Somehow Lizzy was left with Will after the rest of the students descended into the depths of the cellar. Someone would have to stay outside to close the hatch and pull the trolley over it. Suddenly Lizzy knew what he had been about to ask.
He turned to her, coughed, and to her complete surprise, grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to him. Before she could do anything to protest, his lips had descended on hers. Startled beyond words, she found herself responding, before her senses returned and she pushed him away.
He was instantly contrite. "Sorry…I…umm…"
"What was that? A good-luck kiss?" she spat out, trying to ignore the fact that she had in fact, enjoyed it. "Just before you throw me to them like you did to Meg?"
"What?" he appeared shocked "You honestly think I would do that?"
"What else would you want?" Her voice was cold.
He did not answer, but she could see by the pain in his eyes that she had hurt him. Will reached around his neck, ripping off a thin gold chain with a small cross attached. He placed it in her hand.
"I want you to have it."
Lizzy was speechless as he lowered the hatch over her head.
After dragging the kitchen trolley over the hatch, Will hid behind the door, hoping that the kitchen would not merit more than a cursory glance. How could she think that of me, he thought I didn't think that she would've hated me that much. And what was that thing about Meg?
The hail of automatic gunfire and the screams of the dying were more than enough of a distraction to let Meg and Richard sneak closer to the school building. Richard watched as his companion gave a grimace of pain as they hauled themselves through a ground floor window. "Are you all right?" he asked as she rubbed her left shoulder.
"Yes. But if you ever decide to hurt yourself, don't get too carried away," she grinned at him before they picked their way closer to the offices.
"What were you and Will talking about?' Charles Bingley moved closer to Lizzy, who had not spoken since entering the cellar.
"I accused him of wanting to make me the one who stayed out there." She whispered, then looked down at the gold cross in her hand. "I said that he was the one who got Meg injured just so the rest of us could get out."
Charles was alternately shocked and amused. "Meg couldn't have been injured that badly." He told her.
"Are you blind? Did you see how much blood was around? I'm surprised she was still alive after that!"
"Who says it was her blood, Lizzy? You're right. If she had lost that much blood, she'd be dead by now. But as she's still alive and I assume her usual charming self, we can safely guess that she'll pull through. "Do you know why Fred and I cleaned up the grass and concrete so quickly?"
"Why?"
"Because otherwise they might have realized it wasn't blood."
"What?"
"You know how Meg does make-up for the school plays?"
"Yes - but what has that to do with anything?"
"Don't you think she would know how to fake a convincing wound?"
"I feel like an idiot." Lizzy admitted. "I actually believed the guy."
"Who?"
"Wickham."
Lizzy looked up in time to see Charles's sharp intake of breath "I was wondering where I had seen that guy before."
"Oh?"
"You see - his dad used to be Will's dad's assistant - so he used to hang around with Will and Meg a lot. After his dad died - under some very funny circumstances, I can tell you - Mr. Darcy decided to take him under his wing, so to speak. So Will's dad paid for his schooling, everything. Then, a few years ago, it seemed that they had this colossal fight and George Wickham practically vanished off the face of the earth."
"Do you know what the fight was about?"
"No - none of them wanted to talk about it."
Lizzy was silent for a few minutes.
"What's the business with Will and Meg?"
"What business?" Charles seemed confused "Oh! I think I know what you mean. Since his dad and her granddad have so much businessy stuff together, they tend to hang around together a lot during the holidays. I think that once - way before you came - the paparazzi got a snap of them coming out of some movie together and made up some story about them. Considering they were about thirteen or fourteen at the time, everyone thought it was hilarious."
"Oh."
The gunfire stopped. Will let out the breath he'd been holding and inched towards the door. Before he could open it, someone else did, ramming the handle into his chest. He fell heavily, the revolver in his hand skidding across the floor.
"Hello Darcy." Wickham's voice was cool as he picked the dazed Will off the ground. "You can be of use."
"Anne will be in the office," Meg let the black-clad commandos pass. Better to let the professionals do this.
Their leader pushed into the office, finding who they expected. Collins was already a blubbering mass on the ground, pleading for mercy. Anne stood at the back, pale but with a small smile on her face.
"I don't think you want to be rash," she said calmly, as she motioned for the commandos to look behind them.
Even though he was making it as difficult as he could, Will still found himself being dragged along the corridor by George Wickham Where did he get the muscles from ? he thought He was the scrawniest loser I'd ever met
"They have a hostage!" the leader bellowed unnecessarily.
"Indeed," agreed Anne, calm smile and all.
What happened next was still a matter of debate several years later. From eyewitness accounts, it was established that one of the commandos did indeed fire the shot that killed Anne de Bourgh. But who fired the shot that struck George Wickham's hand remained a mystery for over ten years. Perhaps the only one who could have known for certain was William Darcy, but he was already lapsing into unconsciousness, the burning pain caused by George Wickham's bullet that went through his shoulder almost driving him over the edge.
From the cellar, they heard the gunshots, then silence. After that, the sound of approaching footsteps and the trolley being removed.
Tap, tap, tap.
Pause
Tap, tap.
That was the prearranged signal for 'all's clear'. Lizzy was the first out, wanting desperately to apologize, to make it up somehow.
But it wasn't Will who helped them open the hatch.
It was a young man in a commando uniform with light brown hair and serious hazel eyes.
"Richard Fitzwilliam, at your service."
Part 5
Understandably enough, the term finished early that year, and after everyone was in something approaching a coherent state, they all went back to their rooms to pack.
Lizzy numbly folded clothes and stuffed them into her suitcase. She did not look over at the other side of the room, its very neatness, even after Charles and Frederick had occupied it, a reminder of what she had accused Will Darcy of.
What do I do now? ran through her mind. She did not look at the tiny golden cross carefully placed on the bedside table.
A sound at the door caused her to turn around, and Meg walked in as though it was just the end of another term.
"What are you doing here?" Lizzy asked.
"Packing." She seemed to have very little packing to do. It was a matter of sweeping all her books, papers and assorted gadgets into one bag and everything else into another.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm breathing, aren't I?" Meg chuckled, raising an eyebrow, before coming over to Lizzy's side of the bed.
"Charles told me about your talk in the cellar."
Lizzy went red, then white. "I was such an idiot for believing that guy. I mean, I was willing to take his word simply because I didn't like Will."
"Didn't?"
"Well, he was always so cold - I mean, the first time we met he never said a word."
"Did you give him a chance after that?"
"No…" Lizzy admitted, "I convinced myself that he was a nasty piece of work, and that I couldn't see what you and Charles saw in him."
"But you said didn't. Doesn't that imply that your feelings have changed now?"
"Well…but…I did feel really guilty after I accused him of trying to get me to stay out."
"Charles also said something about you getting jealous about me and Will. Are you sure that guilt is all you feel?" Her tone was teasing. "If you're wondering about that, don't bother. If you want him, I'm not your competition." Meg glanced at her watch. "I have to go now. I'll write. You live in Longbourn, Meryton, right?" Meg did not appear to notice Lizzy's nod as she sprinted out the door.
After she left, Lizzy wondered why she hadn't realized at the time that Meg was in a commando uniform, complete with gun.
"You all right?" Meg stretched lazily as the occupant of the bed creaked open one chocolate-coloured eye.
"Considering I had a bullet in my shoulder, I would say that I am in a tolerable state." William Darcy closed his eye and leaned further back into the pillows.
Meg looked around the room. Will's parents had certainly spared no expense in making sure the convalescent was comfortable. Private hospital, a room that looked more like a hotel suite, staff on call twenty-five hours a day (Meg had no idea how they managed that one).
Will was recovering remarkably quickly from the wound, and he would be out of hospital in a few days. Anne de Bourgh's body had gone to autopsy (Meg rather hoped that afterwards first-year anatomy students would be let lose on it) while Collins and Wickham had gone for psychiatric assessment and then to jail until their trials for a list of offenses several pages long.
"Where's your cross?" Meg asked, out of the blue. She hadn't seen him without it since his mother gave it to him about five years ago.
"I gave it to Lizzy?"
Meg's eyebrows shot up, and then she remembered the thin gold chain sitting on her friend's table. It started to fit.
"You like her, don't you?"
Will nodded.
"Have you kissed yet?"
Will opened his eyes to give her a dirty look. "If I could grab this pillow without screaming, I would throw it at you."
"Tried, kinda worked, bad timing?"
She smiled at the look of disbelief on his face. Good thing that Anne and the rest of them never worked out about the security cameras
"Guess what I know!" Lydia shrieked as soon as she entered the house.
"What?" Jane made the desired response.
"You know the big house on the hill - you know, Netherfield?"
"It's a little hard to miss, Lyddie," Lizzy remarked dryly.
Lydia ignored her "Well - Mrs. Lucas has just told mum that it's been bought by some rich guy from the city. I wonder if he's cute…" Lydia mused dreamily.
Jane and Lizzy rolled their eyes at each other. At twelve, Lydia was even more irritating than the very loud baby she'd been.
"Want to know something?" Meg put down the phone.
"What?" Will asked grouchily.
"Charles's dad's just bought a new house."
"Where?"
"Out in the country somewhere - it's near this place called Meryton."
"Probably full of rednecks and hillbillies. But odd…I think I've heard the name before…I can't remember where though…quite…"
Meg smiled, knowing what he was trying to remember. "I think my granddad has a retreat or whatever near there. Do you want to visit Charles and poke fun at the locals?"
Charles's parents had just gone through a very messy divorce several weeks previous. As to the custody arrangements, Charles would live with his father, while Caroline, his younger sister, would live with their mother. Looking for a break after the long legal wrangling and a heavier than normal workload at the practice (he was an orthodontist), Dr. Bingley had decided top buy the mock-Tudor mansion as a sort of getaway.
Any enjoyment he and his son might have had there was tempered by the presence of his daughter. The ex-Mrs. Bingley had decided to celebrate the end of the divorce procedures by going on a holiday in the Caribbean, dumping Caroline with her ex-husband. It was not that he disliked his daughter - it was just that he was much closer to his son - and Caroline was completely her mother's daughter.
"No, it's nothing like that," Meg insisted to her grandfather "I don't go for tall-dark-and-handsome anyway. They clash horribly with my wardrobe. So do the clean-cut blondes, for that matter. I'd like to use the lodge because it's where Lizzy lives. I haven't met her family before."
"But why do you want to take Will with you? And is it any coincidence that it happens to be a half-hour's walk from Charles's father's new house?"
"Partially. You see, having Charles there gives me an excuse to drag Will along. He has this crush on Lizzy, and Lizzy has one on him."
"So you want to get them together. I'm not sure I approve of you interfering in their lives like this."
"But they don't see it. I just want them to meet, get each other out of their systems before next year, otherwise the tension between them is going to drive me insane."
Pierre DuBois smiled thinly "Then I suppose you need a decent excuse for the locals…"
"Mum! Dad! Jane! Lizzy!" came Lydia's voice as she burst into the house. "You'll never guess!"
"What is it? What is it Lyddie dear!" Francine Bennet's voice was only marginally different from her daughter's.
"This big truck's just pulled up outside Purvis Lodge!" Lydia exclaimed "And they're unloading the most beautiful horses you've ever seen. Come on!" To Lydia, only slightly less horse-mad than she was boy-mad, this was just as interesting as the new owners of Netherfield.
"What do you think, Lizzy?" Jane asked as they went outside to have a look at the neighbouring property, already surrounded by others admiring the horses. They were indeed beautiful - delicate Arabs, aristocratic thoroughbreds, and several hunters.
After all the horses had been turned out into the paddocks, one of the grooms who had accompanied them made her way over to Lizzy and Jane, accepting their admiration for the horses with an almost proprietal air.
"Amazing what the rich can do." The young woman sounded somewhere in between awe and contempt "Finest Arab horses from Saudi Arabia and Kuwait, Irish racehorses, some of the best American hunters - all because the Boss's granddaughter and her friends want to do some 'riding'."
When Lizzy returned home to check her e-mail, she found only one message.
To : bennet@meryton.com.
From: megan(friends)@mcarter.com
Subject : Holiday!Hi!
Did you hear that Charles's just moved in right near you? The place is called Netherfield or something. Anyway, he's asked us to come down to help preserve his sanity amongst the onslaught of his sister. We'll be down tomorrow, staying at this place of my grandfather's called Purvis Lodge.
Cya
Meg.
As shut it off, a thought crossed Lizzy's mind. Why would she use 'us' and 'we'? She's not that conceited is she?
"I didn't know you had a car." Will was conversational as they stowed their luggage into the back of the black Saab convertible.
"This is my favourite. The Ferrari is a bit too showy for my taste." Meg quipped as she slid into the drivers seat. "Like it?" she didn't wait for a reply as she started the engine.
"Why are we going to this place anyway?" Will griped as they sped down the driveway.
"To save Charles's sanity." Meg was matter-of-fact as she negotiated a turn.
"What is there to do there? It's probably miles from everywhere, full of uneducated yokels and gun-wielding maniacs."
Meg smiled as she remembered the revolver around her hip. "Oh well," she shrugged "We could always drop in on Lizzy. She lives just down the road from the lodge."
If it hadn't been for the camera installed on the dashboard, Meg would've missed one of her very favorite shots of Will Darcy with a look of incredulous disbelief on his face.
Part 6
"Netherfield." Will Darcy observed "Are we never free from that place?"
"They did take the school's name from this place," Meg replied "Which begs the question 'Did people back then have any imagination whatsoever?'"
They sat in silence for several minutes, watching the monotonous view of farmland and road. The silence became deafening.
"Have you ever met Charles's family?" Meg asked, trying to break the silence.
"Only his father. But I've heard Charles whine about his sister often enough."
"Charles? Whine? I'm not too sure I want to meet her then…"
A while later they pulled up at Purvis Lodge. It was a medium-sized house with the appearance of an Edwardian attempt to remodel the original Georgian structure with only moderate success. Will caught the sight of several horses frolicking in the paddock behind the house as they got out of the car and began to unload the luggage.
They were approached by a tall young woman several years older than they were, with dark hair and blue eyes. Meg greeted the newcomer with a smile and a handshake, and then turned to Will.
"Will, I'd like you to meet Jaime Bond. She's going to help us with the horses. Jai, my school friend William Darcy."
They shook hands and then Jaime helped them move their bags into the house.
They were unaware that they were being watched.
"Lizzy!" Lydia shrieked from the window "Come look!"
Lizzy reluctantly tore herself from her book. "What is it?"
"Look! There're people moving into Purvis Lodge. Don't you think that guy's just droolable?"
Suddenly interested, Lizzy all but shoved Lydia off the window seat and looked out. She saw an expensive-looking black convertible, and the groom they had spoken to the day before. She was not surprised to see a familiar figure in black, but let out a gasp at the 'droolable' guy Lydia had been speaking of.
William Darcy, who was hauling a suitcase up the drive with his good arm.
About five minutes later, a not completely unexpected buzz at the doorbell sent Lizzy racing to the door before anyone else in her family could. It was almost too late, though, as both Lydia and Mrs. Bennet were not far behind.
Meg still had her finger on the doorbell when Lizzy wrenched the door open.
"Hi," Meg looked a little surprised that Lizzy was there so promptly "Did you get my e-mail?"
"Yes." Lizzy replied, and would have stepped out of the house had it not been for her mother and younger sister breathing down her back and insisting on an introduction. Lizzy gave an internal sigh as she opened the door and let Meg in, feeling somewhat disappointed that her friend was alone.
"Megan Carter," Meg held out her hand "I'm very glad to meet you Mrs. Bennet, Lydia." She said, not really meaning it by having to be polite, for Lizzy's sake.
"Lizzy never tells us anything about her friends," Mrs. Bennet huffed "I'm so glad that we can finally meet one of you."
"Well, there's only one of me," Meg replied, slightly amused "But if you wanted to meet more of Lizzy's friends, there are a few of us around. I was coming to ask Lizzy whether she'd like to come with me to visit one of them."
"Oh!" Mrs. Bennet turned to Lizzy "Who else?"
"Charles Bingley will be spending the summer at Netherfield Park up on the hill. It seems he just can't get away from that name."
"Lizzy, why didn't you tell us?" Lydia moaned "We could have met them ages ago!" the younger girl turned to Meg. "That's a like, totally gorgeous boyfriend you have there," she snapped her gum "Are they all like that at that posh school you go to?"
"Boyfriend?" Meg sounded surprised "Oh, you mean Will! He's not my boyfriend. He's one of our - by that I mean Lizzy's and mine - friends from school. He's feeling a bit down so I thought I'd drag him down here."
"Then why hasn't he come with you?" Mrs. Bennet was very interested, and gave a sharp look at Lizzy. Lizzy herself glared at Meg, not wanting her to say what Lizzy feared.
"He doesn't travel too well, so he's having a bit of a lie-down," Meg lied, knowing perfectly well that Will was really simply far too embarrassed to face Lizzy again.
Lizzy declined the invitation to go up to see Charles that day, much to Meg's disappointment and irritation. She had hoped to make sure her horse threw a shoe or something on the way up, so she could leave Lizzy and Will alone together for a considerable period of time so they could sort everything out. Now she would have to think up another 'accidental' meeting before they left to prepare for school. She had more than a month. More than enough time.
That afternoon, they saddled up their horses for the short ride to Netherfield after ringing Charles to tell him of their arrival.
"You have beautiful horses," Will complimented, patting the big bay thoroughbred he rode "I'd almost forgotten how to ride. But why did you bring down - how many was it? Ten? Twelve? - when there's only the three of us?"
"Fourteen. In case you want to change mounts. And in case there were others who wanted to ride, like Charles. How does Captain Nemo there suit you?" Knowing where the conversation would turn, she nodded at his horse.
"He's great," Will answered. "How do you think up all those names?"
"Books mainly. Films. Anything really. Just what suits the horse. Like Cuchullain here," she kneed the aristocratic grey she rode; "Big, Irish and looks like how the stories describe the Grey of Macha. Come on, we'll race you up to the house."
Charles was waiting for them out the front of his house, trying to persuade his two-years-younger sister Caroline to go back in. He definitely did not want to see her fawning all over Will and snubbing Meg all afternoon. However, he was unsuccessful as he saw the two horses leap over the fence and gallop towards them.
The grey and its rider made a perfect stop in front of them, but the bay had to take several mincing steps before it was totally satisfied.
Charles introduced Caroline and Meg, but Caroline wasn't listening. Charles had to nudge her very hard before she took her eyes off Will's …er…legs in the rather close-cut riding breeches.
It's going to be a long afternoon, he thought.
"I don't know why Charlie never told me he had such fantastic friends!' Caroline tittered as she clung to Will's arm. He winced as she nearly cut off the circulation in his sore arm.
"Charlie?" Meg gave a glance at Charles, who glared at her, and then at Caroline, who ignored him.
"It'll be so great to have you here for the summer," Caroline continued to bat her mascara-caked eyelashes at Will, continuing to ignore her brother and Meg. "It's so boring here."
"Is it?" Charles thought that he could just detect a hint of a mischievous smile cross Meg's face. "Then I suppose we'll have to amuse ourselves somehow, won't we?"
"I thought you hated parties," Charles said conversationally several days later at Purvis Lodge. Strains of music filled the air at a sort of informal cocktail party that Meg had invited all the neighbours to, ostensibly to get to know them better.
Meg shrugged. "As a rule, yes. But what better way of knowing the surroundings? Besides…" Meg tilted her head towards the other side of the room.
Charles was about to say that he couldn't see anything, until he saw Jaime at the other end of the room, subtly maneuvering Lizzy over to the huge glass doors that led to the courtyard garden.
"What are you up to?"
"I think you can guess. Do you want to get Will out there, or shall I?"
"I will. Knowing you, you'd probably just drag him out by the scruff of the neck."
"I would not. I'd go for the sore shoulder," Meg answered as Charles chuckled and moved through the crowd.
"I don't know why you don't have alcohol, Gani darling," Caroline came up with a pout on her face, pretending to be sophisticated. "It would be the only way to keep these yokels entertained."
"They seem pretty entertained to me," Meg answered "And you're fifteen Caroline. I don't think the availability of alcohol at a party should make much difference to you. Anyway, how do you suppose we could get it? Will and I are both underage and Jai can't stand the stuff unless it's a vodka martini."
Caroline Bingley huffed and flounced off, probably to try to find Will.
Good thing I opened up all the rooms Meg thought She'll be at least ten minutes looking for him.
Good thing too, that Caroline hadn't seen her brother nudge Will into the garden, only minutes after Jaime had achieved the same thing with Lizzy. With an ease that defied her thoughts, Meg crossed to the doors and closed them, then dragged Jaime and Charles into conversation in front of them in such a way that nobody could get past without throwing them out of the way.
I'm going to have to think up a new strategy soon, Meg thought, This is far too conventional.
Part 7
"Well," Jaime observed the next afternoon; "the locking-them-outside-until-they-come-to-their-senses approach obviously didn't work."
"No." Meg agreed, as she did another sit up.
The previous evening, Lizzy and Will had barely spent more than thirty seconds in the garden before they had burst back into the main room, almost knocking Jaime, Charles and Meg over in their haste to escape.
Jaime and Meg were in Meg's bedroom, on the second story of the house, watching a video while Meg was doing sit-ups on the floor.
"Where's Will?" Meg asked, as she tired of the exercise and came to sit beside her friend.
Jaime shrugged "Said he wanted to go for a ride. He should be back in a bit."
"I invited Lizzy here this afternoon." Meg put in, then looked at the television. "Pity we can't choreograph something like that" she pointed to the screen with the remote control.
Jaime, who hadn't really been paying attention to the movie (she preferred action movies, and the video that was playing was one of Meg's literary-classic-adaptations) gave a glance at the screen.
"How is that going to work?" she asked. The male lead was dripping wet and facing the female lead in an unexpected encounter, but it was nothing serious. He wasn't even undressed, for crying out loud!
"Oh!" Meg sounded exasperated "have you been watching for the past three hours? They've tried to convince themselves they're not interested in each other, and now is the moment of truth! It's perfect! Even their names match!"
"What? Yeah…Lizzy…Elizabeth Bennet…but what's the name of the wet guy? All the people in this film look the same" she complained.
"Darcy." Meg said patiently. "This isn't in the book, by the way, so you can stop eyeing my Jane Austen."
"Oh," Jaime sat down again "So it's a bit like people who insist on saying 'Bond, Jaime Bond' when I introduce myself."
A sound outside the window announced Will's return from his ride.
A grin crossed Meg's face. "Where's that big bucket…"
Will was feeling hot, and slightly irritated with himself. What possessed me to go storming out last night? he fumed, We could have settled things then and there. I need a cold shower!
His last wish was answered when a rush of water…cold water seemed to come out of nowhere. He shook water out of his eyes and then gazed up. The sky was clear. Was it just his imagination, or was one of the upstairs windows slightly ajar?
"Lizzy's just started down the path!" Jaime raced up the stairs to where Meg was standing, bucket in hand. "Did you get him?"
"Yes - judging from the scream - did you put the 'Lizzy can you go 'round the side sign up?"
Jai nodded. "Just one bucket?"
"Why…isn't it enough?"
What is going on?! Will tried to get more water off himself as he thought about how he might look I would wear these breeches today, he grumbled. They were just a little bit tight to begin with - but now… I'm going to have to peel these off. Added to the fact that they were a very pale fawn colour, and that he was wearing a lightweight white T-shirt, it was very obvious to the observer that he was wearing boxers with little smiley faces on them.
As if to compound his embarrassment further, Lizzy chose that moment to come around the corner.
"I…" he stammered, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole.
"Will!" Lizzy was equally surprised, but not so much that she did not take a few steps towards him. Will, seeing that the situation was starting to look promising, also moved closer.
"Hi…" he managed, but before Lizzy could reply, another rush of cold water came from above them. They looked up, again to find clear blue sky and the upstairs windows closed. Now Lizzy's thin top was also drenched and transparent.
"Uh…um…" Will stammered, trying to keep his eyes on her face.
"Will! Are you back yet?" the back door was thrown open to reveal Meg and Jaime, both looking very innocent.
"Oh! I see you are." Meg scrutinized them closely "Odd…there wasn't supposed to be rain today. Come in before you start trekking diseases around. I've got stuff you can use, Lizzy." With that, they were ushered into the house. Afterwards, Lizzy wondered why she never asked Meg about the bucket in her bathroom. Or why the clothes that Meg laid out for her (apparently the first things she found) both fit almost perfectly (Lizzy had more curves) and were the right colour for her (interesting because Meg rarely wore colour, staying to black, grey, white and only occasionally jewel-tones of red, green and blue).
They did ask Lizzy to stay for dinner, but she, already having sampled Will's and Meg's cooking on camp, very wisely declined (never accept a meal from people who can burn two-minute noodles). It didn't matter much. The first step in their relationship had been taken, much to Meg's satisfaction. They sat next to each other on the couch when Meg and Jaime just happened to be occupying the armchairs, laughed at each other's jokes, and, in short, were much more comfortable around each other than at any time Meg had ever seen them before.
It was with some feeling of anticipation that she asked Lizzy back the next day, and also extended the invitation to her sister Jane. Now that Will/Lizzy thing is well on the way, I'll need another diversion. Jane should be the perfect distraction from Caroline for Charles.
Meg was a little irate the next morning that things were not going precisely to plan. The group of six that she had initially planned - herself, Jaime, Will, Lizzy, Charles and Jane - had been extended by two - Lydia and Caroline invited themselves and nobody could think of a good way of telling them to go away. Not to be put out, Meg kept everyone in conversation long enough to ascertain that Caroline knew next to nothing about horses and Lydia far less than she pretended to, before suggesting that they all went for a ride.
After the expected delays - Caroline pouted and insisted that Meg's horses were 'different' and that she couldn't possibly saddle hers, no, Will had to do it. Lydia, to her credit, only forgot to buckle the girth, ensuring that she fell straight off the horse as she put one foot in the stirrup. After these delays, however, they were off.
Losing Lydia was a fairly straightforward affair. Jaime had selected an extremely placid, docile creature that was really far too big far Lydia's small frame. Consequently, Lydia was unable to control the horse, which liked nothing more than to graze and had no intention of moving. About five minutes into the ride, Lydia informed them that she was bored and she would be going home. The delay caused by unsaddling the horse and turning it out was well worth Lydia's absence. Meg made a mental note to thank both Jaime and 'Dona' the horse - named for the wife of the last Kaiser - for their help.
Caroline was a different matter. To both Meg and Jaime's growing irritation, she had insisted on riding a beautiful cream-coloured Arabian mare, selecting it more on the basis looks than anything else. Not only was the horse a favourite of Meg's, she was also planning to let Lizzy ride it, partly so that it matched the cream-coloured stallion that she had thought about assigning to Will. With Caroline's selection, it threw her whole horse-plan into the wind, finally forcing her to surrender the horse she had been about to ride to Will. Even though, afterwards, she realized that the horses Lizzy and Will eventually rode were named 'Romeo' and 'Juliet', that did not stop her from still being annoyed with Caroline (she felt that she had to have some justification).
Caroline proved to be more of an annoyance than any of them had thought. Not only did she have absolutely no idea how to ride (which meant a field day for the horse) she had obviously only come because Will was. Consequently, she was constantly buzzing around, like some annoying insect, whenever Jaime or Meg attempted to cut them off from the rest of the group to give them some privacy. Caroline seemed to care more about how she looked on the horse than anything else. Since neither she nor Charles had riding clothes, it was a case of make-do with both of them. Charles had fitted reasonably well into some of Will's clothes, but since neither Jaime, Lizzy, Jane nor Meg had offered to lend Caroline any of their riding clothes, she presented a rather interesting picture in fuchsia cropped pants, orange velour top and high-heeled platform boots. Even her horse appeared far from impressed.
They continued this way until it was time to stop for a picnic lunch, which was made more enjoyable because Caroline was too bruised and saddle-sore than to do more than moan very occasionally. After lunch, Caroline's horse took matters into her own hooves by refusing to move in any direction other than towards Purvis Lodge (not that her owner or groom made any real effort to dissuade her). Consequently, Meg then suggested that Lizzy and Jane take Charles and Will further (they knew the area better, of course), and return for the others later in the afternoon. After they had gone, Jaime and Meg set themselves another of Hercules' labours by trying to teach Caroline to ride. The horse co-operated so long as they did not leave the clearing, and Caroline was clearly only learning so that she could impress Will (if the batting eyelashes didn't give it away, the questioning she subjected her instructors to was more than ample proof). By the time Jane, Charles, Lizzy and Will returned several hours later, Caroline was sufficiently versed to be able to keep up when they raced each other back to Purvis Lodge.
They never did tell her that her horse was named 'Scarlett'.