I turned away from the man with a shudder. Something about him just rubbed me the wrong way. I know… I know… I know… Lizzy and Jane would chide me about tarring the entire army that was off fighting and dying to protect us with the same brush, but I just could not. Something about the man hit me wrong, in addition to all the things I had said to dissuade him. The mere fact that I had to bludgeon him with a setdown bad enough that even Lizzy would have been appalled was bad enough. I could not recall once in my life treating someone so badly; and yet wishing I could have done even worse… well, actually there was one time I wished I could have done worse; but nothing I imagined would have measured up to what Colonel Miller did anyway, so perhaps that one worked out for the best.

I was thinking furiously as I walked toward Becky, because I do not like it when I act irrationally, or for reasons I don't understand. Lizzy took an outright public insult from Mr. Darcy yet remained cordial to him for six weeks; but I could not even take polite conversation for five minutes. Perhaps my aversion to soldiers in general was much more pronounced than I thought, or perhaps my manners were just gone forever.

There was something about the man that reminded me of something foul. It was a visceral, almost instinctive reaction. It was something to do with the way he walked; when he could be bothered to do so; or something about the way he talked, when I was not chastising him. He reminded me of something, and not just with his words, since I had allowed him less than a couple dozen; which I assumed was a nearly crippling deficit for a man like him. I suspected he usually said that many in his opening sentence. It was something in his manner, beyond the usual unpleasantness of a military man.

Young Simon had at least been a good idea as he had our trunks ready to go as soon as we got to his cart, and then it hit me! I actually stopped walking, swayed a bit dizzily, and gasped loudly enough that Simon said, "Are you all right, ma'am? May I help you in any way?"

It was all so clear. It was all so obvious. His walk, his dress, his manner of speaking, even particular words he used were now pointing directly at a conclusion that explained everything. I was not happy, but at least satisfied to understand my reaction, although less sanguine that he was still standing a dozen paces from me.

This man had a much more than passing connection to George Wickham. I would bet my fortune on it. Whether he was brother, cousin or just of similar disposition I hoped to never know, but I was now certain that was what had set my hackles on end; and had me ready to scratch his eyes out from the moment he appeared. That blinding rage had apparently prevented me from seeing the severity of injury to his leg, which made me think he appeared more tap-hackled than he actually was. How long had he been injured?

I had to think hard for a moment before I came to the embarrassing conclusion that he had not actually done anything quite so reprehensible, aside from his forwardness and inability to take direction. However, the idea of apologizing or frankly talking to him ever again made me shudder. He was hobbling off down the street, so I put him out of my mind… yesterday's problem.

With my mind cleared somewhat, I asked young Simon, "Do you know where the parsonage is? I am told it is not far."

That all seemed simple enough, but I heard the man I thought I was done with gasp, much like I had, and he once again nearly toppled in the mud as he turned around too abruptly for his injured leg.

Much to my displeasure, he spoke again, "I beg your pardon Madam, and please do not think me interfering in your private affairs… again, but I could not help overhearing. Did you say the parsonage?"

I had another setdown for the ages on the tip of my tongue, but then remembered my remorse for my actions a few minutes prior, and calmed myself… barely. I would not scream at him… yet. I simply replied, "Yes", because any more words were too much for me.

I looked at him, and he seemed to have sobered up a bit. I had no earthly idea what kind of connection a man like this colonel could possibly have with the parsonage. Perhaps he was related to Elizabeth's patron that her cousin had blathered on about endlessly.

He said quite possibly the last thing I expected, "Are you looking for Elizabeth? She's not there. She is now at Rosings with her sisters, and she is… unwell."

Now he had my complete and undivided attention. I stared at him and asked, "How do you know this?"

He nodded his head, and looked almost… defeated; although I know not why. I was certainly not the first woman to give him a setdown, and was very unlikely to be the last.

He glanced at me with a look of something like… pain, and said, "She was… badly injured, and has been abed since the fourth of December. I am told her fever has abated, and we are just waiting and hoping for her recovery. There is quite a long story to tell, but it's not my place to tell it. I must leave that to either Jane or my cousin Darcy."

Now he went from truly terrifyingly annoying to frightening immediately. Did this mean he was in company with Jane and her sisters? If that were the case, and Lizzy was indisposed; it seemed my scheme had failed before it even started. It was a good thing I still had Scotland as an alternative, as I could not abide being in this man's company very much longer, and I doubted very much that an unwed yet increasing woman would be welcomed in Rosings even once; should I be inclined to go, which I was not.

He had walked a few paces closer so our business was not being shouted to the whole village. I took a moment to gather my thoughts and just spit out the first incongruity I could, "Elizabeth? Jane?"

Having arrived a pace or two away, he was wise enough to come no closer.

He said, "I apologize. That must seem terribly forward and unexpected, but we are all on a given name basis. It started with Darcy when he noticed Elizabeth did not like her new surname, and she invited him to simply use her given name. Once that was done, all six sisters simply adopted the same convention; and gave me leave to follow it as well."

The man made less and less sense as he went along, and he now had his hat in his hands, although I was uncertain it would ever fit back on his head if he did not quit wringing it.

I finally said, "Six sisters, you say!"

He looked even more nervous, and said, "My apologies, madam. We started so badly that I am quite nervous now. You must be from Hertfordshire, and I presume if you are friends with Elizabeth, you knew my cousin Darcy last winter?"

I gave him a very cold, "I did."

He said, "Did you share Elizabeth's bad opinion of him?"

This conversation was becoming more confusing by the moment, but I answered candidly; although I have no idea why, "She could barely stand the sight of him. I did not think quite so badly of him… until he and his friend Bingley abandoned Jane without a word, and his other friend…."

I stopped abruptly. I was not going to bring Wickham up at this point.

He nodded, and said the oddest thing.

"I was amusing myself before you came planning a symposium on stupidity. Darcy and Bingley were to be my prime exhibits, although I'm not certain if I should be third on the list or first."

That actually brought a chuckle to my mouth before I even realized it, but I was serious again in an instant.

I asked, "So, Jane is there… but what do you mean six sisters."

He just shook himself a bit and said, "I'm afraid I keep confusing matters. Of course, all of Elizabeth's sisters are here: Jane, Marry, Kitty and Lydia. I believe they are much altered since you saw them last. Darcy quite treats them like sisters, and they afford me the same privilege. Then my cousin Georgiana… Georgiana Darcy and my other cousin Anne de Bourgh have latched onto them in the same way. Everyone is very agreeable about the whole affair."

It sounded like I had misdirected myself to Bedlam. I asked, "And why are they not at the parsonage?"

He just chuckled, and said, "They were at the parsonage, but they recently moved to the estate. You seem to be made of stern stuff, so you might argue my aunt against it, but you will have to have more fortitude than Darcy or I. Aunt Catherine wants the lot at Rosings, so at Rosings they are. She considerers them quite under her protection."

Stranger and stranger.

The colonel looked, what was it… nervous? To be honest, he looked like a schoolboy either preparing to ask for his first dance, or staring at his father waiting for a thrashing.

At length, he said, "May I… that is… do I presume too much… that is…"

Now he was getting on my nerves, so I just said, "Out with it Colonel. I will not bite your head off… again."

He said somewhat sheepishly, "I know we started badly, but I would like to be of service. If you will agree, it would be my privilege to escort you to Rosings. I can engage a maid from the inn for propriety's sake. If that is not to your liking, would you consider waiting at the inn for perhaps an hour, and I will go fetch Jane or Lydia, or even Darcy if you like, to come for you. I am at your disposal, and it is no trouble as I am returning to my sisters even now. Any friend of the Bennets will be welcomed with open arms, and your charge as well."

I had to admit, much as I hated to do so, that the offer was very gentlemanly; though I could still not abide riding in a coach with him.

He noticed my indecision, and said, "It is but a mile. Would you be satisfied if I rode on top with the coachman or on the pony cart with young Simon while you and your young charge take the coach? It's Darcy's coach, so you are not importuning me in the least, and my offer to go fetch Jane or Lydia, or all the sisters for that matter still stands."

I looked at my own boots for a few moments, while he awaited my decision patiently, although I could see his leg would be bothering him. I finally thought I might broach my last objection, although my own inclinations were to win regardless.

"Colonel, I saw the way you looked at me, and yes you are correct in your surmise. I am with child but without husband. I shall not be attending Rosings, today or ever. However, I would appreciate it if you could send Jane or one of the other Bennets to tell me the story before I leave."

Now he looked alarmed, although I knew not why, and said, "Leave! No!"

I had no idea why that idea distressed him, and I said, "Yes, I was on my way to relatives in Scotland, but hoped that Lizzy could help me with… certain matters. If I cannot see Lizzy, Becky and I will be on our way, but I would like to get the full story from Jane before we leave."

Now his hat had not the slightest chance of ever fitting his head again, because he was even more nervous and said, "Miss Lucas… I apologize; we have not actually been introduced."

I realized if we had been talking for a half‑hour while Becky had been standing open mouthed, so I remembered my civility. I even managed to curtsey without grimacing; barely; and said, "Miss Charlotte Lucas. Miss Betsy Clymer. Please do not bow, Colonel. I have not the strength to pick you up again."

He looked like he found amusement in that, but wisely desisted from laughing or smiling, and said, "Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam. Your servant, ma'am!"

I knew the name from father's endless prattling about the gentry, and asked, "Second son, I see."

He looked surprised by that, and I said, "Earl of Matlock. I know more about the gentry than I care to Colonel. Your brother has a… reputation, but I only know your name. My father obsesses about that sort of thing."

He surprised me by saying, "Old habits die hard, Miss Lucas, but perhaps we could… that is… could you call me Mister instead of Colonel, and I promise you this uniform will be burned and never seen again before the sun goes down. I know I started badly, but I would ever so much like to earn your friendship."

That was a surprisingly gentlemanly offer, and perhaps I relented a bit; as long as I kept my eyes off his red coat, so I said, "Very well, Mister Fitzwilliam."

I blew out a deep breath and said, "If your offer still stands, Col… Mr. Fitzwilliam, Becky and I will take a room in the inn, and wait for Jane. We cannot leave before morning anyway."

Looking more nervous than the occasion warranted, the man said something quite strange, "Do you know what I fear more than battle with the French, Miss Lucas?"

That seemed an odd question, but I decided to just play along to get this conversation over with. I was distressed by the whole impossible situation, and just wanted to lay down to sleep, and then get on with my life.

"I have no idea Col…. Er."

He said, "There are four things I fear more than battle", and then started ticking them off on his fingers.

He said, "Jane Bennet in a murderous rage. Lydia Bennet in a murderous rage. Kitty Bennet looking at me in sympathy over my ineptitude and patting me on the back like an errant and particularly stupid child. Mary Bennet explaining to me in detail what a lunkhead I am and precisely how many ways I have failed her."

Surprisingly, that recitation brought a bit of a laugh, complete with perhaps the beginning of a smile. Oh, he had the charm all right… just like Wickham. That thought put my mood back to the black side.

He continued, "If I cannot play on your sympathy for me, think of my poor cousin Anne. She is bedridden at the moment and will miss your acquaintance if you leave now. Please say you will stay!"

I still had not the slightest desire to accost Lady Catherine in her own home. I had quite enough censure from people who thought themselves better than me because I was in a bad way, and Mr. Collins had made her sound like a real dragon lady, and my father's obsession mostly confirmed it.

I said, "I appreciate her plight Mr. Fitzwilliam, but I cannot and will not go to Rosings. Not today! Not ever!"

He looked at me carefully, and said, "Do not say I failed to warn you, my lady. Desperate measures are called for, and I shall employ them.

I was somewhat amused and asked, "Which measures?"

He said, "You can easily stand up to me, being a mere man. I can see you are made of stern stuff, and I admire that. However, I doubt that you will survive the combined might of Jane Bennet and Lady Catherine de Bourgh, so I shall do as you ask. Let me arrange you a room, then I will go fetch them."

I replied, "I can arrange my own room, if you please."

He said, "Please Miss Lucas! I will be in enough brown books for offending you as it is. Please, allow me this one small indulgence."

I wondered if everyone in this county was as implacably stubborn as he was, but finally acquiesced. It was not as if I had unlimited funds.

"Very well Col… Mr. Fitzwilliam. Becky and I shall await Jane at the inn. Only Jane, please! Not Mr. Darcy. Not your aunt. Only Jane, and we shall not trouble you after today."