Posted on Sunday, 4 March 2001

Freddie was amazed. The house actually felt like a home with her there. This was what he wanted. To come home and find her there. It was wonderful to know that she was glad to see him; that she had missed him. And her cooking wasn't bad either. They finished the chicken and salad as Elizabeth told him about her day. He laughed when she told him how addicting BJ's was, and how she wished they had something like it in England. He asked her what she had bought, and she told him. She couldn't remember all the food she had bought, but when they were cleaning up together she showed him the stocked cupboards and refrigerator and freezer. He laughed again and said he could tell she had enjoyed herself. Elizabeth put the kettle on for tea, and as she took out dessert, she suggested he change before they ate it because she wanted him to see a movie. He agreed.

When Freddie came out of his bedroom in drawstring pants and a tee shirt, he noticed that Elizabeth was also in her pajamas. She smiled and handed him a plate with two crepes on it and a huge mug of tea. She led the way into the living room and turned the TV on and put in the movie. As they waited for it to begin, she explained a little about it.

"It's about after the rapture, what it's like for everyone who's left."

"Of course, no one knows what that will be like, but it's supposed to be really good." Freddie nodded, and they watched it with great interest.

When it was over, Freddie said,

"That was really good. Really good." Elizabeth nodded, blown away.

"Yeah. Well, now I'm going to have to read the books. I bought the whole series. You can read them, too, if you want." He accepted with alacrity. As they finished cleaning up, Freddie noticed that she was practically dancing around the kitchen, humming to herself. He supposed that this was a result of her day with Rick, but he wasn't sure he wanted to know. However, he asked anyway.

"You seem happy." She looked at him in surprise.

"I am." He swallowed.

"Any particular reason for that?"

"Well, I'm having fun here already."

"With Rick?"

"Yes, among others."

"Oh." She looked at him suspiciously.

"Why?"

"No reason. I was just wondering if it was because of Rick."

"In part, I guess. It's nice to have friends."

"Friends?" She looked at him, more surprised.

"Yeah. What else?"

"I thought you were interested in him for something else. Or at least, that he was."

"Well, I'm pretty sure he was, but I think I made it very clear that friends is all I'm looking for." Freddie breathed a sigh of relief, and she heard him. "What?"

"Nothing. I'm just glad, that's all."

"Uh huh."

"No, really. Rick is my cousin, my favorite cousin, actually. However, he is also something else. I'm telling you this in strictest confidence, mind you. I know that I can trust you to keep your mouth shut; if I didn't, I wouldn't be saying anything. But I still need you to promise that this won't go any farther."

"Of course, I won't say anything. Wait- I should tell you, though, my policy with secrets. I will never tell a secret unless my keeping it will endanger someone in any way shape or form. If it won't, then go ahead."

"It won't. Rick works for Army Intelligence. He is one of their top agents, and he is not on leave right now." Freddie looked at her, waiting for her to catch on. He didn't wait long. Her eyes widened and she spoke,

"So he's on a job where living here is necessary."

"Right. So anyone he is seen with is liable to be watched by whoever he is tailing. And chances are, they know they are being tailed." Elizabeth nodded her understanding, and said,

"I'll remember that. Thanks." She rose. "I'll be back in a sec." She went up the stairs to the bedrooms, returning a little while later with a smallish box. She sat down again, and opened it. Inside, there were two small pistols that Freddie recognized as Lady Colt's. He looked at her, one eyebrow raised. She caught his disbelieving stare, and smiled.

"My father taught me how to shoot when I was young- I wanted to learn because I thought it was glamorous, and he decided to teach me because he thought it was a good thing to know. My father," she explained, "Was really paranoid about someone coming back to get him. He's much better now that he's been retired for a while, but he's still a little jumpy. He preferred that I know how to defend myself if someone came after me." Freddie was puzzled.

"Why would someone come after him?"

"Have you ever heard of Edward Gardiner?"

"The famous British agent? Of course. Who hasn't? Didn't he disappear about 25 years ago?"

"27. That was when he married my mother." Comprehension rose in Freddie's face.

"You mean your father..."

"Is Edward Gardiner? Yes. His real name is Thomas Bennet, but he changed it in anticipation of going back to it when he married and had children, for their protection. That is why he is so cautious around new people. He's still nervous." Freddie nodded, understanding.

"So why two?"

"Why do I have two or why did I bring both down?"

"Ummmm both I guess."

"I have two because one was Jane's, but she can't shoot to save her life, and my father decided that it was better that she not have an opportunity to hurt herself. So she gave it to me. It's probably just as well, because unless someone else's life was in danger, I doubt Lady J would be able to hurt another person. She is very sensitive about that. I brought two down, because I'm lending you one." Freddie looked up in surprise.

"Me?! Why?"

"Because," Elizabeth explained patiently as though to a small child who thought very slowly, "You have already said that anyone who is seen with Rick will be under observation. I'm not about to let you run around without some form of protection. So take it." Freddie shrugged and chose one of the pistols.

"OK. Thanks." Elizabeth looked at him anxiously.

"Oh- I forgot. You know how to shoot, right?" Freddie looked at her as though she was crazy.

"Of course I do. Every boy in an English aristocratic family knows how to shoot. It's one of those things like riding, bowing, dressing, and seducing courtesans that is expected of a man of leisure." She looked at him, uncertain if he was joking or not. He looked at her perfectly seriously. When she looked closer, though, she saw the light of mischief in his eyes. She swallowed a smile, and nodded in serious understanding.

"Of course. I might have thought of that. A few of those, such as riding and dressing, are not taught to high-born young women. Perhaps you could teach me those arts?" Now it was his turn to look startled. His answer, however, was not what she expected.

"Really? I should be delighted. But maybe you could give me a few tips on the seducing bit. I have been given some good tips, but I've never tried them out."

"Naturally, I should be glad to be of assistance. Perhaps you need a little help in learning how to hold your brandy also?"

"Well, I could use a little practice. I've been blessed with a good head, but not as good as I should prefer."

"Ok, bring out the brandy. We can begin now." Nodding his acquiescence, Freddie rose and went to a cupboard. He brought out a bottle and two brandy glasses. He poured a little into each, and passed one to Elizabeth. He sat down opposite her, and they stared at each other over the brandy. Her eyes were twinkling, and her mouth was twitching. His answered hers, and they burst out laughing so hard that the brandy in the glasses swayed.

"You know," Freddie said, "I'm going to have quite a chat with your father the next time I see him." They were sitting at breakfast the next morning. Elizabeth laughed.

"Yes, he is very interesting when he gets onto the subject of his cases. They're quite fascinating. I'm not sure he should tell me all he does- I'm sure at least some of it's classified- but I'm the only one who's interested. But it really is....well, fascinating."

"Does Rick know?"

"No. I'll have to tell him now, I guess. I mean, if anything does go wrong he's likely to be thrown off his stride by his companion pulling a gun. What do you think?"

"Well, I think that Rick would be thrilled to hear some stories about your father. He is Army Intelligence, so I doubt they could lock you up if you spill."

"Don't you want to hear it, too?"

"Of course. But I'm not a government employee or anything, so I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"What, think you'll blab?"

"Course not, silly. But your father is not naturally paranoid- there must be a reason why he is so scared for all your lives. Going on that supposition, the fewer people who know, the better."

" Oh. Well, he never said I couldn't tell anyone, and I trust you. For Heaven's sake, I was going to marry you. I'd have to trust you a whole lot to even think of marrying you." Freddie nodded vaguely, looking at her with an intensity that made her uncomfortable.

"Elizabeth..." He had just started when the phone rang. "Hello? Frederic Fanshaw." Elizabeth watched as the color slowly leached out of his face leaving it a greenish white. "What?" His voice was anguished. Suddenly the color rushed back and his face turned red. His eyes flashed fiercely, and he barked out instructions. "Call the four best Detective Agencies you can find. Call the police, call the Feds. Let the government agents know. I want every rock overturned until that bastard is found!" He slammed down the phone and dropped on the couch with his head in his hands. Elizabeth rushed over, burning with curiosity and concern.

She sat down close to him and put her arm around his shoulders, stroking his hair. She didn't speak, just held him. He turned to her and buried his head in her shoulder. She made vague murmuring noises that seemed to help. She could feel him sobbing. It disconcerted her somewhat; she had never seen a man cry. This man was stronger even than she was, and if he was crying.... She didn't want to think about what might affect him this much. All sorts of horrible 'supposes' were running through her head. Who was that close to him? Charlie? Rick? His sister? An icy qualm came over her- what if it was Charlie and Jane? What if something had happened to her sister? Elizabeth waited in horrible suspense as he raised his head. There was hell in his face.

"Freddie, what is it?" He heard the terrified note of desperation in her voice and responded to it.

"Nothing has happened to anyone you know." Elizabeth sighed in relief, and then said,

"What is it?" Freddie groaned and put his face back in her shoulder.

"Marianne has been kidnapped." Elizabeth gasped.

"Oh! Do they know who did it?"

"He left a note."

""Freddie....who was it?" He first mumbled something indistinguishable into her shoulder. "What?" He raised his head slightly.

"George Wickham." Elizabeth gasped again, one hand going to her throat like the heroines in cheesy romance novels. She realized this, and removed her hand with a wry smile.

"Freddie, why would he do something like that? I didn't even know you knew each other." He shook his head.

"I don't know, I don't....wait." He sat up. "That bastard. If that's why- grrrrrr" He didn't say this last, but it emerged from his throat.

"What?" He was pacing now. His hands were clenched, and growls were emerging periodically from his clenched teeth. Elizabeth stood and slipped away to put the kettle on. She was back in two minutes. He was staring out the window with unseeing eyes. She moved over to him softly and slid her hand into his. He turned his head slightly and smiled a little. She was shocked at how much older he looked. She smiled back, and turned him to face her.

"Do you want to talk now? If you don't that's fine." Freddie shook his head.

"Not now, Beth. Thank you. I'm still working it all out. When I know, I'll let you know." She nodded her understanding.

"I'll call Rick and tell him not to come get me. I'll call your office, too, and tell them you're not coming in today." Freddie didn't reply, but he gave her such a look of gratitude that she understood completely. She made the calls, made the tea, brought him in a cup, made some bread, and made Chicken Marsala for dinner. She tidied up, and did some laundry. Finally, there was nothing left to do. Reluctantly, she went back to the kitchen, made some fresh tea, and brought the pot into the living room. Freddie was lying on the couch, fast asleep. She smiled softly, and sat down next to him. She stroked his cheek and his hair. He stirred and murmured slightly. She bent and brushed his lips lightly with her own. To her intense embarrassment, his eyes opened when her head was only a few inches from his. He smiled a sleepy smile of delight. She blushed and pulled away.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't decide whether to wake you or not, but dinner's ready." Neither of them were sure exactly which offense she was apologizing about. Elizabeth thought both.

"Oh, great. But you've made dinner two days in a row- that's not fair. I'll cook tomorrow." Elizabeth smiled mischievously. "You mean it's not fair to you? Or it's not fair to me?"

"To you, of course."

"Well, thanks for the offer, but it'll take forever. I mean, you come home at about 6:30, and we want to eat soon after that. We wouldn't be able to eat until about 8 or so if you cook. It's good practice for me, so I'll do it." Freddie protested again, but she said, "You have my permission to bring me breakfast in bed any time you feel called." Freddie chuckled.

"I'll remember that. Don't get up tomorrow morning." As they were laughing, a knock came on the door. Elizabeth went to answer it. It was Rick. She had forgotten the dinner invitation. She invited him in, and waited for him to notice Freddie. She didn't wait long.

"Fred, old man, what is the matter with you?" Freddie and Elizabeth exchanged an expressive look. She explained,

"Ricky, Georgiana was kidnapped by George Wickham." Rick drew in a swift breath and looked at Freddie again.

"He did it to get back at you, didn't he." Freddie nodded dumbly. Elizabeth looked from one to the other, puzzled. Rick continued,

"The bastard. I knew he was a snake when we were in university, but this! I can hardly believe he would stoop this low. What are we going to do?" Freddie shrugged, a casual gesture that was totally belied by the stiffness of his shoulders and the firmness of his expression. No, not firm. Implacable.

Posted on Sunday, 4 March 2001

"I've called the Feds and the four best Detective agencies; do you know anyone else who might take on the job?" Rick thought.

"I might take it myself." Freddie sat up.

"You would?" Rick nodded.

"Yes. My job here is almost done; the part that needs wrapping up, I think George Wickham can help us with." Elizabeth and Freddie stared at him in bewilderment. There were faint glimmerings of understanding on their faces, but they were faint. Rick declined to explain, and looked around for something to change the conversation to. His eye was caught by the box of Lady Colt's. "What... Who's..." He looked at Elizabeth. "These aren't yours, are they?" She nodded, and laughed at his dumbfounded expression.

"Yes. One has always been mine, and one was my sister Jane's. She gave it to me because she won't ever be capable of shooting it." Rick still looked confused.

"So...why do you have them?" Elizabeth looked at Freddie, who nodded imperceptibly.

"Well, my father had reason to think that one of his criminals might come after him if they ever got out of jail. He changed his name back to the original one, but he still insisted that I learn to shoot, and then gave me my Lady Colt when I was eighteen."

"Aha. Who's your father? And why would he have criminals that came after him?"

"Well, my father is Thomas Bennet. However, the name under which you would know him is Edward Gardiner." Understanding flooded over Rick's face like the sun coming into a room when the curtains are swept away.

"Oh. I see." His calm reply was belied by the fiddling of his fingers. "Umm, I don't suppose you could..."

"You want to hear some of his stories?" Rick nodded.

"Please. Would you?" Elizabeth nodded. Freddie got up to leave, but Elizabeth said,

"No, don't go. I want you to hear them, too. We can talk over dinner." That was agreeable to everyone, and they walked slowly to the dining room.

They sat down. Elizabeth served them all, put water on for tea with dessert, and they sat down to eat. The men exclaimed over the deliciousness of the recipe and the tenderness of the chicken. Elizabeth laughed, and teased Rick about his just liking it because it was his choice. He just as quickly denied it, and attributed it all to her astuteness in choosing good meat. Freddie agreed,

"You should have tasted the chicken she made last night: absolutely delicious! She never has a bad day." Rick agreed,

"My dear, you will be a blessing to your husband in more ways than one." This might have made for a rather awkward moment, but Elizabeth smoothed over it easily.

"Well. Is there anything in particular you would like to hear about?" Freddie looked at Rick, who looked back at Freddie. They both shook their heads slightly, and Rick said,

"How much do you know?" Elizabeth laughed.

"Everything!"

"Then start at the beginning and go on until you come to the end. Please." She agreed.

"All right. Well, once upon a time, there was a young man named Thomas Bennet. He had, all his life, wanted to be an undercover agent. He was a little young to be an operative in the Second World War, but his father was the head of Army Intelligence during that time." She looked inquiringly at Rick, who thought for a minute, and nodded.

"J. Bennet."

"That's right."

"I always wondered- what did the 'J' stand for?" Elizabeth chuckled.

"Jehosephat. Can you blame the poor man?" The men laughed, and admitted that they could not. "Well, my father grew up with all that around him. When he was a young man, his father gave him an opportunity of going to France with our ambassador and an older operative to protect the ambassador from an assassination attempt by those who still had faint hopes of the old animosity coming to life. As it turned out, the older operative was killed in action, but my father was able to apprehend the assassin single-handed. That was the first step. Then, in the early 60's, when The Cold War was at one of it's peaks, he was sent as an operative to Poland. Or anyway, what used to be Poland, as an attempt to rescue one of our agents there. During that time, he was beaten, imprisoned, almost executed at least twice as a spy, and finally had to swim six miles across a lake to escape. Really," she broke off, "You'll have to ask Daddy to tell you them fully; I'm not really sure exactly how to wring the last drop of suspense out of them."

The stories went on for hours. The men, in spite of the low suspense level, were absolutely fascinated; and not only by the stories. When the party finally broke up, it was after midnight. They realized that four six hours, they had enjoyed themselves and completely forgotten the worries that beset them.

The next day, Elizabeth and the Colonel went for a stroll in Central Park. They had an interesting conversation as they took in the zoo, the fountains, the leafless trees, and the people, all bundled up as though they were going for an expedition in the North Pole. Elizabeth and Rick, dressed similarly, laughed at both the other people and the realization that they must look the same. It was Rick who began the conversation,

"Ollie, how much do you know about George Wickham?" Elizabeth was a little taken back by the question, but she answered.

"Pretty well. We went out for a few months, I'm sorry to say." Rick was surprised to say the least.

"Really. Well, why did you stop?" She sighed.

"Various reasons. For starters, I never really had any kind of romantic feelings for him. He seemed nice, he treated me right, and he paid when we went out. It's every girl's dream. He wasn't tall, dark, and handsome, nor was he fantastically funny or romantic. But he was OK. The thing that made me give him up entirely was that he kept pressuring me for sex. I'm a Christian, you know, and therefore I have several strong reasons other than common sense for keeping it for marriage. I explained all of that to him at the beginning of the relationship, like I do with every one, and he seemed OK with it. He agreed, didn't want to take back his offer of a date, and was a perfect gentleman for two months.

The third month, he started being not so nice. He almost hit me a couple times; he did, eventually, but I walloped him so hard he had bruises for several weeks when he tried that. Basically, I kicked his ass. Guys who not only don't respect my decisions and pressure me to do something I don't want to, but also think they can hit me I'm not about to keep around. It really felt pretty good. Anyway, when I told him I was breaking up with him, he was pretty upset. That's when he hit me. After I whipped his butt, I didn't see him again."

"Is there any reason for you to think he might hold a grudge?"

"Apart from my messing up his pretty face and ruining his reputation as a Casanova? Nah. Well, actually, my friend Anne Elliot says that she heard him complaining to someone he called

'Big Julie' over the phone about my being engaged to Freddie. She says he wanted 'Big Julie' to do something to Freddie." As she finished this sentence, she gasped and put her hand to her mouth. Whirling to face him, she said, "You don't think...that's why? Oh, Gosh! Then it's my fault Georgiana... Oh, Lord!" She was clearly overcome, so Rick quickly disabused her of several mistaken notions.

"No, no. George has had it in for Freddie ever since Freddie had him kicked out of Oxford for cheating. You see, Freddie and George used to be best friends. Well, in a manner of speaking. Alex's father worked for Mr. Fanshaw, my uncle Jasper, and was his close friend. George was Mr. Fanshaw's godson. Mr. Fanshaw thought him an angel, basically, and treated him like his own son. When Mr. Wickham died, Mr. Fanshaw sent George to Oxford with Fred and myself. Naturally, George roomed with us.

Rather early in our Oxford career, it became clear that George was bad news. He did drugs, didn't write his papers, brought girls back to our rooms, and basically did everything that is deadly at university. Fred and I put up with him for Mr. Fanshaw's sake, and even helped him write the papers he did trouble himself with. However, at the end of our first year, at our exam, Fred saw him take several papers out of his Ricket pocket. He pointed it out to me. Naturally, we assumed that they were cheat sheets, and our suspicions were confirmed later on when we found them discarded in a wastepaper basket.

Naturally, we brought them right away to our professor, and both vouched for them being the same as the ones he had used at the test. The professor examined the sheets, and they were, in fact, photo copies of her answer keys. There was nothing to do but call him in, rip up his test, and send him down. He repeated the offense, and this time was caught by the professor herself. After that, he was expelled. He tried to get into other universities, but was, I understand, rejected. For some twisted reason, he must have decided to make good his threat to get even with Fred. I don't know why he has decided to do so through Georgiana; possibly because he knows it will hurt Fred more than if it happened to him personally. All I can say is that George Wickham is a seriously sick man, and I'm very glad you got rid of him." Elizabeth drew in a deep breath at the conclusion of this monologue, and said,

"Whew! So am I! I can't believe I kissed him! Ewww! I've tried to forget it- heck, I even tried to forget it while it was happening, but still!" She wiped her mouth as though to wipe away the memory. Rick looked on in sympathetic understanding.

"I have some idea of your sentiments. One day, I kissed this pretty girl that I'd never met before on a dare. She was a pretty good kisser, and normally I would have liked to get to know her. However, just as we finished, Fred showed up, and she went berserk. That was when I learned she was Caroline Bingley. Ughhh!" he shook his head in disgust at the memory. "I don't know if you've met her..."

"I haven't," Elizabeth inserted,

"But I would seriously advise you not to. She is a gold-digging, cold-hearted, manipulative little b****, and has made poor Fred's life a misery for years. I understand she broke poor Charlie's eardrum when he told her over the phone that Fred was marrying you. She has cherished the hope for years that someday he will ask her. He has never given her any encouragement, indeed- he is scarcely polite, but she just won't take the hint." Elizabeth laughed.

"Yes, that sounds like the description that my sister Jane gave me. She is marrying Charlie, you know."

"Oh, is Jane your sister? Oh, of course. Hartley and Hartley. I never drew the connection. Man, and I thought I was passably intelligent!"

"Well, my father would say that that was the army's influence!" Rick laughed.

"Yes, well, I have always believed that the phrase 'Military Intelligence' is as large an oxymoron as you can have." They laughed merrily at his joke, and walked home companionably.