A/N: I'm posting another two chapters today, as I'm hoping to have everything wrapped up by the first week of February at the latest. Thanks for all the support/interest/commentary regarding this story. I apologize in advance to those of you who are going to spend the next few chapters annoyed at me for the lack of Lizzy/Darcy moments-as you'll see, it's just the way the cookie crumbled. There are some final lessons for our characters to learn thanks to this side track.

Disclaimer: I did not write Pride and Prejudice. If I had, it would have been much less fun, mostly because I would have killed off George Wickham in the first thirty pages.

Chapter Ten

Lizzy had just emerged from her room and greeted the Tanners at the breakfast table the next morning when there was an urgent knocking on the door.

Young Mr. Tanner opened it and frowned at the unkempt boy standing on the steps. "Yes, lad?"

"Message, sir, for a Mr. Welton."

Mr. Darcy appeared beside the boy on the stairs, apparently just descending from the upper story. He held his hand out to the boy. "I am he."

The boy shoved a wrinkled slip of paper into Mr. Darcy's hand then held the other out expectantly. Mr. Darcy dropped a coin in the boy's palm and he darted off the steps, disappearing into the early morning.

"What does it say?" Lizzy asked as Mr. Darcy strode inside, closing the door behind him. He removed his hat quickly and hung it himself before crossing to the fireplace and unfolding the dirty sheet of paper.

"Roland says he learned something vital. He is waiting even now at The Iron Ox. He says we must hurry."

"This is a blasted inconvenient time for him to suddenly honor our wishes about keeping away from the house," Old Tanner groused, standing creakily from his half-eaten meal and donning his cap.

Jacob rose as well and crossed silently to his hat and coat. He looked grave.

Lizzy pressed her stomach, her insides curling and twisting. She was unaccountably nervous suddenly. "I wish you did not have to go," she said to all of them, although her eyes lingered longest on Mr. Darcy. "What can he have learned that would be so urgent?"

"Perhaps he has found out the group's next move," Mr. Darcy said, replacing his hat and moving toward the door. "Or he may have intercepted information someone else brought about us. We cannot know until we speak with him."

Lizzy watched the men's preparations, exchanging dismayed glances with Mrs. Tanner, but it was not until they were out the door that she gathered enough courage to speak again. She rushed to the doorway, preventing Mrs. Tanner from finishing closing it. "Mr. Welton!"

Mr. Darcy paused on the stairs, looking back at her. Oh, he was painfully handsome, the pale pre-dawn light accentuating the hard, strong edges of his features. Her new feelings, still so raw and unexamined despite the hours she had spent the previous day and night considering them, rose up in her chest, threatening to steal her breath.

"Miss Beatty?"

"I… I have a terrible feeling about this. Are you certain you must go?"

He climbed the stairs until he stood before her. She wanted to reach out to him, but he stood quite stiffly with his arms straight at his sides. "I promised you that I would be careful, and I will keep that promise. Between the three of us, we will be perfectly safe."

"I know, truly I do. Only I cannot quench the idea that something awful is going to happen."

He frowned at her, his eyes traveling over her face. "Has something in particular upset you?"

She appreciated that he was not ignoring her concerns. "No, there is no overt reason, only what was discussed yesterday." She sighed. "I know I am being ridiculous."

"It is natural that you should be concerned for us, especially given that all you can do is wait here quietly for our return. But, as we have decided already, all will be well." He leaned forward slightly, although his eyes darted to the neighboring stoops and windows, and lowered his voice. "Do you believe that?"

She felt some of her panic lift, although the underlying anxiety remained. "Yes, I do."

"Then you need have no fear for us."

He moved as if to reach out to her, to squeeze her hands, but stopped as he glanced around again at the windows. Lizzy was struck with a sudden realization. He had been so aloof sometimes during the past few days, so controlled and separate, just as he was being now, but the cause was not a lack of affection. His eyes were almost wild with his frustration at being unable to offer her any physical form of comfort. He was, in his own way, still attempting to protect her, to salvage her reputation and treat her with all the honor he could. It had been impossible when they had been with Smythe and his men, but he was proving to her now that he wanted to treat her with respect.

He was proving once again, in the only way he could allow himself, that he still loved her.

She wanted to throw herself into his arms, to laugh and cry and yell with joy, but she knew how such a public display would mortify him, maybe even make him feel guilty. So instead, she did the only thing she could do on a public street, however empty it was.

She caught his gaze and held it hard. "For you."

He frowned, although he did not look away. "What?"

"I need have no fear for you."

"I do not understand."

"As much as I care for and respect both Tanner men, it is you, sir, for whom I fear. It is you whose safety matters most to me. It is you upon whose return my contentment most depends."

His eyes were suddenly so wide and dark that Lizzy thought she might fall into them.

"Truly, Elizabeth?" he breathed.

She nodded, too full of emotion to manage speech.

They stood over a foot apart, his hands still at his sides while hers were wringing her apron. Neither of them moved, yet somehow, she felt as warmed by the force of his gaze as she had that morning she had lain in his arms.

Several seconds later, he finally opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted by a call from the street. "Welton! Come along, man!"

"I shall return as soon as I can," he assured her, sounding almost breathless. He took her hand as she offered it and bowed over it quite formally, but the kiss he left on her fingers was almost reverent. He spun and made his way hastily down the stairs.

Lizzy stood on the stoop to watch them go, one hand pressed to her chest and the other cooling her heated cheeks. Her heart leaped when Mr. Darcy looked back before rounding the corner and tipped his hat to her. She waved in answer, feeling like a foolish young girl but unable to help herself.

"That was adorable," Mrs. Tanner said from behind her.

Lizzy spun and blushed deeply at the smug smile on her friend's face, but she huffed and attempted to look nonchalant as she crossed to the door.

"That truly was adorable," said a sneering voice behind her.

Lizzy's panic was instant and fierce, and she tried to spin, but a strong arm clamped around her body as a hand covered her mouth. She attempted to cry out, as much from the pain of the fingers crushing the still-tender wound on her shoulder as from fear, but the hand pressed her lips closed so hard that she could barely draw in air, let alone make much noise. She struggled, stomping down with both feet, but the man was wearing heavy workman's boots that provided him immunity. He hissed into her ear. "Struggle all you want, lovey, but you'll find no aid here."

Lizzy wanted to keep fighting, despite her ineffectiveness, but his hand on her face made it difficult to catch her breath, so she subsided, hoping to be able to focus her efforts more intelligently. She looked for Mrs. Tanner, but she moaned as she saw that Laura was being similarly held by an alarmingly familiar man.

He smiled when he saw her recognition. "Have you missed me, Miss Bennet?" Reg, Lord Smythe's right-hand man, was holding Mrs. Tanner in an iron grip despite her panicked squirming. "Close the door!"

Someone shut the door behind them, meaning that there were at least three villains present. Was Lord Smythe among them this time? Strangely, Lizzy hoped he was. Somehow, entirely at odds with what she would have said about her experience, she was no longer afraid of Lord Smythe. But Reg? He was entirely unknown.

"Now, now," Reg said into Mrs. Tanner's ear as her movements began to slow. Her eyes were wide and frightened as she stared ahead at Lizzy. "I do not intend to harm you, madam. If you cooperate, no harm will come to you or Miss Bennet. She is simply a means to an end, and if you will agree to do me one simple favor, I promise she will be returned to her family and friends whole and in good time. Can I depend on you?"

It took Mrs. Tanner a moment but she finally nodded.

"Good. I am going to tie you to this chair and gag you, but when your men return here, they will untie you, and you must give our dear Mr. Darcy a message. You must tell him that he is to bring fifty-thousand pounds to room six of The Iron Ox at eleven o'clock Wednesday night. That is approximately three days from now. He is to come alone, to leave the sum in a satchel on top of the bed, then exit quickly and return here. If he complies, and if the amount is discovered to be sufficient, Miss Bennet will be returned to him within the following twenty-four hours. Do you understand?"

Mrs. Tanner nodded again, tears streaming over her cheeks.

"I am going to uncover your mouth so that you can repeat it back to me."

She did so haltingly, very careful to get the details correct. He congratulated her on her excellent memory as he dragged her into the chair, tied down her arms and legs, and gagged her with a dishcloth. He stood then, smiling pleasantly at Lizzy. Oh, how she hated these men and their gentlemanly smiles.

"Let us be off then, Miss Bennet. My friend here is going to release you now, but if you draw any attention to yourself as we move down the front stairs and into the waiting cab, your poor friend here will suffer the consequences. Do you understand?"

A grizzled man in workman's clothing moved into Lizzy's view, probably the one who had been standing guard at the back door, and moved in front of Mrs. Tanner, brandishing a well-sharpened knife.

Lizzy nodded quickly, then drew in a deep gasp of air as the man released her. She tugged away from him and looked back with a glare, noticing his coal-black hair and red nose as well as his intimidating size. She did not recognize either him or the man with the knife from the last time.

The villain grinned impudently back at her but did not speak.

"Follow me, please," Reg requested.

Lizzy turned to face him, although she kept the other two men in her view. "May I at least take a coat and bonnet, Reg?"

Lizzy's hope to return to her room, where she had secreted the dagger stolen from Lord Smythe, was thwarted when Reg took down the coat from the hook and pulled Mrs. Tanner's bonnet from the back corner of a chair. "Any other requests?"

"Might I use the privy?"

Reg laughed. "I am afraid not, dear lady. But do not worry—the first leg of our journey will be short. Now come." His demeanor changed, and she felt fear again at the threat in his expression. "Follow me quietly, Miss Bennet."

She nodded again and followed him from the room, casting a final, reassuring look back at poor Mrs. Tanner, who was sobbing uncontrollably in her chair. She moved through the front door and into the street as casually as possible, even accepting Reg's polite assistance into the carriage. After she was settled beside him, first one man and then the last one joined them and they pulled away.

Every clap of the horses' hooves felt like a crack in her heart. She was afraid for herself, yes, but even more, she was afraid of what Mr. Darcy's reaction would be when he discovered her missing, when he heard the message. He would be so terribly angry, and angry men were not always wise.

"Where are we going?" she asked docilely.

"First to a little tavern in Piccadilly to change our transportation, and then," Reg said, a gleam of what might be excitement in his eye, "home, Miss Bennet. We are going home."

He really must stop all these night rides, Fitzwilliam thought as he tied his tired mount, one he had traded for at a carriage stop just before dawn, to the low iron fence and climbed the back steps to the Tanner's flat. He paused on the stoop, eyeing the newly risen sun. It was quite early still, and he ought to speak to Darcy first. He climbed the next flight and knocked quietly on the door, then more loudly, then descended again, assuming Darcy must be breakfasting with the family.

He knocked on the lower door, but there was no response despite the light he could see flickering in a window several feet to the side. He knocked again more loudly and waited some time, but still no one answered. Perhaps they had all gone out? But no, Darcy had intended to keep Miss Bennet well-hidden in the house at all times. Had they been instructed not to answer the door?

He called through the door as loudly as he dared, "Mr. Tanner? Mrs. Tanner? 'Tis I, Mr. Barker!"

He had just determined that there was truly no one home when he heard a strange sort of tapping noise coming from inside the house. It was arrhythmic yet quite deliberate, certainly enough to catch his attention. A dark feeling swept through him. He tried the door and found it unresisting.

A fair-haired woman, Mrs. Tanner, was seated at the breakfast table with her back to him. He had just begun to apologize profusely for his rude entrance when his eyes adjusted to the low light and he saw the cloth tied around her face. He darted forward, alarm shocking him into movement, and used his fumbling fingers to untie the tear-soaked gag. "My dear madam, what has happened?"

She gasped as the cloth released, her cheeks red from crying and from the gag being tied too tightly. "Oh, sir! She's gone! They've taken her!"

"Miss Bennet?" He drew a short knife from the top of his boot and began sawing at the bindings around her limbs. "When? Who? Where have they taken her?"

"I know not who," she sobbed. "But she recognized one of them, the main one. He had long, dark hair and was dressed as a workman. He called her Miss Bennet—that is her real name?"

"Yes, yes. How long ago?"

She turned her head to see a small clock on the mantel. "Thirty-five minutes or so. Only that long? It felt like hours!"

Fitzwilliam finished releasing her, and she fell into his arms. He patted her back awkwardly as she cried. How he disliked teary women! "Now, now, Mrs. Tanner. We must think. Where are your menfolk? Where is Darcy?"

"They went out. They received a message from Jacob's father and went to The Iron Ox. I… oh!"

She had been interrupted by the door swinging open and four men entering the room. She launched herself away from Fitzwilliam and ran to her young husband, crying his name in relief.

"What's happened?" Darcy asked, surprised and worried at the sight of his cousin. "What are you doing here?"

"What I learned in Kent was too urgent to leave to a courier, so I came to warn you, but it appears…" Fitzwilliam sighed, the shock having worn off enough for concern for Miss Bennet to seep through. "…it appears I arrived too late."

"What do you mean?" Darcy's eyes widened and he spun, searching the room then moving toward the back hallway. "Where is Elizabeth? Miss Bennet! Miss Bennet!"

"They have taken her, Darce. I arrived less than five minutes ago and found Mrs. Tanner tied to that chair and Miss Bennet missing."

Darcy ran down the back hallway, his boots thudding heavily against the floorboards as he checked each room before emerging, his movements wild. "She is not here!"

"There were three men," Mrs. Tanner said through her tears. Her husband was examining the raw rashes on her cheeks and looking fierce. "She recognized one of them—he knew her real name. He… he told me to give you a message, Mr. Darcy."

He crossed to her and tugged her out of her husband's grip, holding her by her shoulders and staring into her eyes as if she were an oracle. "Tell me."

"He said… he said that you are to bring fifty-thousand pounds to room… room six of The Iron Ox at eleven o'clock on Wednesday evening. You are to leave the money in a bag of some kind on the bed then return here. You are to come alone. He says that if the amount is present and satisfactory, Livvy… that is, Miss Bennet, will be returned to you within… within twenty-four hours."

"Fifty-thousand pounds?" Old Mr. Tanner asked gruffly. "That is an astronomical sum of money."

"I had that much money within inches of me only hours ago," Fitzwilliam muttered. "If only I had known we would need it."

"It will take significant effort on the part of my man of business to finish the withdrawal so quickly, but I can get it," Darcy murmured, releasing Mrs. Tanner back into her husband's embrace and dismissing the matter with a wave of his hand. He moved to the fireplace, staring into the low flames. "It is her safety in the meantime that concerns me most. Mrs. Tanner, what did the man look like, the one Elizabeth recognized?"

"He… had dark hair, long. He was of average height though quite strong. He was terribly polite once he had tied me down. His name… she called him something short… I cannot…"

"Reg?"

"Yes! Yes, that was his name!"

Darcy pounded his fist against the hearthstones. "I will kill him. I will find him and murder him. Why could he not have simply left us alone?"

"Reg is taking over the business from Smythe without Smythe's knowledge," Fitzwilliam explained. "Perhaps he is changing the business model—or simply using you to restart operations with a healthy influx of capital."

"How do you know that?" Darcy asked.

"From Parkinson, the man who accosted Miss Bennet on the boardwalk in Dover."

"Scissors? The one in need of a haircut?"

"Possibly, yes. His name is Francis Parkinson. He is to be our cousin soon, although that will not matter overly much given that they shall soon have left for America."

"What?"

Fitzwilliam sighed. "There is much with which to acquaint you."

"Obviously, but I find I care for nothing just now but finding a way to remove Elizabeth from their clutches." He spun suddenly toward the corner of the kitchen, where the fourth man, the one whose presence Fitzwilliam had entirely forgotten, was leaning against the counter and watching them all with bright eyes. "Tanner, tell me again everything you learned from the contact in Covent Garden last night."

The handsome-yet-dilapidated fellow stepped forward, his hat in his hand and a humble expression on his face. "As I told you earlier, sir, I was ushered into a back room, and I informed the man with the long, dark hair that I might have seen the couple he was seeking, that they were posing as a brother and sister who had just taken rooms in a boarding house in Paddington. He seemed interested in my description of you and told me that he would send someone to investigate. If I was correct, he would notify me this evening and pay the reward in full.

"I decided to sample the wares the place had to offer, and as the young woman led me up the stairs, I overheard the same man conversing with two others, mentioning something about their quarry having been discovered in Islington and 'moving forward' this afternoon, at which point they could make their way to Oxford to 'wait him out.' I, of course, had to behave as if I had not heard, so I entered the woman's room and… well, I was not able to escape unsuspiciously until early this morning, at which time I immediately summoned you. Given what I had heard, I thought I had plenty of time left. That is all."

"Then we shall go to Oxford," Darcy said, already moving toward the door, no doubt to pack his things upstairs and rush away.

"Wait, Darcy," Fitzwilliam said slowly, his eyes hard on the man he assumed was Roland Tanner. He stepped forward just as slowly, and his behavior raised some concern on the man's face. "I think perhaps we ought to question Mr. Tanner more thoroughly."

"Why?" Mr. Tanner asked, attempting to look nonchalant. The twitch under his eye, however, betrayed his sudden anxiety. "I have already told you everything I can remember."

"Parkinson told me that yesterday morning, just before he abandoned his post with Reg and left London, a man came to them, a man who claimed to have certain knowledge of their proposed quarry, even knowing your name, Darce. He told them that you and a young lady were hiding in Islington, even gave them the address."

Fitzwilliam felt the three other men in the room come to stand at his sides, all of them facing Roland Tanner with balled fists.

"And you think that was me?" Tanner asked with horrified, exaggerated innocence. "I would never betray you, Mr. Darcy! You are paying me most handsomely, as you pointed out just the other day."

"But accepting even a small share of a fifty-thousand-pound ransom in return for that betrayal, on top of the money Darcy has already paid you would be tempting to many far better men than yourself," Old Tanner said gravely, eyeing his son with such deep distaste that Fitzwilliam expected him to spit on the floor.

"I am innocent!" he repeated as the half-circle around him closed in more tightly. "You have no proof that I have done such a thing beyond wild supposition!"

"He is right," Darcy said, barely containing his fury. "Someone else could have seen and recognized me here."

"The truth of his innocence should be easy enough to discover," Fitzwilliam offered. "We must simply return ask the proprietress of the establishment where he claims to have spent last night, and question his companion regarding with whom he spoke, when he arrived, and what time he left."

"Yes, ask her," Tanner said, shrugging far too casually. Fitzwilliam had spent too many hours of his life, several of them recently, around a gambling table to miss the symptoms of deep anxiety beneath his brash bluff.

"Very well," Fitzwilliam agreed, rising and moving toward the door. "Give me the address, and I will return within the hour with her answers." He paused then, looking back over his shoulder at the man who had shrunken against the kitchen shelf. "But if I discover that the woman's answers differ from yours in any way, Tanner, I will return and strike you down like a bolt of lightning hitting a sparrow. Between myself and Darcy, the handsome, trustworthy visage upon which much of your dishonest living probably relies will never be the same."

"Well, you see," the man squeaked, "now that I think on it, I do not quite remember the exact location of the brothel…" His voice trailed away as Darcy stepped forward, towering over him with a poker from the fireplace ready in his hand. The entire room stared daggers at him as he attempted to swallow. Finally, his voice so thin it was difficult to hear, he murmured, "Reg's men and Miss Bennet are on their way to Buckinghamshire, a manor outside of Amersham."

Darcy raised the poker as if to strike, his features so hard that even Fitzwilliam was a little afraid of him. Tanner held up his hands to fend off the blow and added hastily, "I do not know the manor's name, but it belongs to Lord Smythe. They plan to arrive there tonight, to remain there in hiding for two days, then return to London with Miss Bennet and send her to you as soon as the ransom has been retrieved. Some of the men argued for staying in London, but Reg was insistent about the journey."

"And what was your part in all this?" Darcy rasped, the poker still in the air above his head.

"I was…" Tanner swallowed, so shrunken he seemed more like a child than a man, "I was to lead you on a fruitless search through Paddington with false information in order to keep you occupied, just in case you had managed to learn more of them than they expected. In return I would be paid three thousand pounds from the ransom and…"

"And what?" Darcy roared.

"And I would get to accompany a blindfolded Miss Bennet back here… at whatever time I saw fit within the twenty-four-hour allotment."

They all stood for several seconds, frozen in a miserable tableau. Darcy, with his eyes on fire and the poker high in the air, the oldest Tanner staring in disgust at his miserable offspring, the youngest Tanner watching his father with equal parts fury and shame while gripping the hand of his swollen-eyed wife, whose other hand was hiding only part of her stricken expression. Fitzwilliam's gaze traveled from one to another, finally resting on his cousin.

"None of us would blame you for striking him, Darcy," he said, stepping forward cautiously, "but I fear once you began you might not be able to stop, and I seriously doubt you could convince Miss Bennet to marry you in prison."

Slowly, an inch at a time, Darcy lowered his arm. He dropped the poker with a clatter that drew a cry from Mrs. Tanner. "You are right," he said to Fitzwilliam, although his eyes remained on the man before him. "There are more important things to do."

"Yes," Fitzwilliam said, releasing a relieved breath. "You must visit your solicitor, and then we must ride for Amersham."

"I wish we were at Pemberley," Darcy said fiercely, finally turning to him. "I would feel better riding to Amersham with a group of loyal men at my back."

"We could stop at Darcy House," Fitzwilliam suggested.

"Connors is too old… but John and Matthew, the footmen, could be trusted. I believe Matthew even has some boxing experience. I doubt, however, that they have ever handled pistols, or even dueling swords."

"They will be better than nothing," Fitzwilliam replied. "Write me out a missive for your staff, and you go to see your solicitor while I collect John and Matthew and gather mounts and weapons. We will meet you at the first carriage stop outside the city on the Oxford Road."

"Very good." Darcy looked relieved, hope revived in his countenance. He turned to the Tanners. "I am more grateful than I can say for the haven you provided for myself and Elizabeth these past days. I am only sorry to leave you in such haste and under such circumstances."

"No, sir," young Tanner said, stepping forward and hanging his head. "We are sorry that it is through your reliance on us that Miss Bennet was abducted. If you wish me to accompany you to Buckinghamshire, it would be the least I could do, although I have little experience as a fighter."

Darcy grabbed the young man's hand and shook it heartily. "You have already aided us in every way possible, and your father's perfidy has nothing to do with you. In fact, your having turned out so well speaks immensely well of you, especially considering his influence. Stay here with your family and take good care of them, but be assured, anytime I am in London and in need of a surgeon, I will call on you."

The young man was taken aback but smiled after a moment. "Thank you, sir."

Darcy then bowed to the woman beside him. "My dear Mrs. Tanner, your kindness to Elizabeth has been… I cannot even begin to express…"

She curtsied shyly. "It has been my pleasure to know her, sir. Please keep her safe, whatever happens." She smiled hopefully and added, "I hope that once she is Mrs. Darcy, she will be allowed to write to me."

Darcy smiled at her grimly. "When I have retrieved her, and if I can convince her to accept me, madam, I will send the invitation for you to dine with us at Darcy House myself."

He turned to the older man then, but his words seemed to fail. "Tanner, I…"

The old man clasped Darcy's forearms. "No more farewells, young fool. Your lady awaits. You shall see us again soon enough."

Darcy nodded and moved back just in time to spin to the door at the sound of Mrs. Tanner's cry. Fitzwilliam lunged forward and grabbed Roland Tanner's arms as he attempted to disappear outside, trapping them behind his back, and Darcy followed with a fist aimed right at the man's nose. The crunch was loud enough to make everyone in the room cringe.

Tanner dropped to the ground, bending over and howling with pain, blood pooling on the floorboards beneath his face.

Darcy bent to raise him up, looking sheepish yet satisfied as he shook out his hand.

"Go," Old Tanner said, waving them out the door. "We shall clean him up and keep him here for a few days so he cannot cause more trouble."

The two men nodded and moved outside. Darcy ran up the stairs to retrieve a small bag of personal items (and, Fitzwilliam suspected, leave a very generous rent payment), and then the two men moved down the side street, leading Fitzwilliam's horse.

When they reached High Street, Darcy hailed a cab. "I shall meet you on the Oxford Road, but it may take some time. I thought of someone else we can trust who may be willing to help us, so I shall stop to collect him on my way."

"Who?"

"Bingley."

Fitzwilliam raised his eyebrows. "Charles Bingley? I would not have imagined him as very valuable in a fight."

"Then obviously you have never dueled with him," Darcy chuckled darkly. "He has a strong distaste for violence, but that seems to have no effect on his skill with a blade… or with a pistol, come to think of it. I only hope he has returned from Scarborough."

"Good luck then."

"And to you."

Darcy swung up into the cab, shouting the direction, but Fitzwilliam was already mounting and riding toward Grosvenor Square before the cab had pulled away. He patted his horse on the neck as they trotted forward. "Worry not, old girl. I shall not drag you to Buckinghamshire with me. It will be one thing if I collapse from exhaustion in the saddle but another thing entirely if you collapse on the road. Good thing I had Charlemagne sent to his usual stable here before I left London.

"What I would not give for this to be over. But I am a soldier, eh? And a soldier never falters. Not even when he wishes to."