Disclaimer: I don't own Pride and Prejudice, or any of the associated characters

Summary: See Previous Chapters

Chapter Seven

Normally, Miss Lydia informed him, a visit to London by the Bennet sisters would mean seeing their Aunt and Uncle Gardiner. Mrs Darcy, who was their Aunt Gardiner's most regular correspondent, said that they were currently in Portsmouth on business, and were due to return the following week.

The travelling party arrived late in the evening, and took a cold supper after refreshing themselves, before meeting in Mrs Darcy's sitting room. It was a little crowded, with all of them, but, as Lydia - Miss Lydia - informed him, no more so than when they had been trying to fit five girls into one of Longborn's bedrooms. Mr Bingley covered a yawn. "I'm surprised you are not at the war office now, Colonel."

Jasper, leaning against the mantlepiece and probably looking a touch torpid himself, shook his head. "I sent a messenger from our last stop with my report, letting them know to expect me first thing in the morning. This will not be a short conference, and we will all face it better for a full night of rest."

There were understanding nods around the room. "Will you need us to write up our accounts, too?"

He hesitated a moment, glancing at Darcy, who looked caught between resignation and a desire to refuse. Women were not unknown at the Home Office, between servants and informants, but it was not a place that a gently-bred young lady would normally be seen. "I rather hoped you would come with me. It's not precisely regular, but exceptions are made for Gifted ladies, and we really do need to get Bingley classed as a Civilian Consultant or some such thing."

Mr Bingley stifled another yawn as he nodded his agreement, and Georgiana covered her mouth as it proved contagious. "We'll be rising at Country hours, then?"

Jasper gave her an affectionate look; it was not as though any of them were familiar with Army habits. "Harvest hours, cousin. We will break fast at the General Headquarters, so the servants need not worry about that, at least."

Miss Mary frowned, "Will the maids be able to press our gowns in time? We packed in a hurry, and I would not be surprised if all of our clothing was wrinkled. We would hardly make a good impression like that."

Miss Kitty waved away her concern. "We can always go transformed, as long as we hide our weapons. Lizzy is the only one who might have trouble there, and our brother Darcy can carry her sword with less comment, if there is a need."

Miss Lydia clasped her hands over her heart, and showed great restraint in not commenting on the trust involved in allowing another to carry one's weapon, as she so clearly wanted to. Darcy got flustered when someone drew attention to such things, and was lucky that those most likely to do so were restrained by sisterly consideration.

How fortunate for Jasper's cousin that they were too worn from travel to dwell upon the subject.

From hints dropped in conversations with Georgiana, and Lydia's own experience as a young lady newly out in Society, Lydia chose to operate on the assumption that those at the War Office would look down upon for her age and gender, and that she would likely be required to prove herself. As such, she put on her nicest morning dress, and transformed, making sure her dagger was hidden.

Hopefully, no one would need to be stabbed in order to prove a point, but if a demonstration became necessary, at least she was prepared.

The Ministry of (Super)Natural Defence was located near the General Headquarters, a crowded half-hour away by carriage. but far enough away that each was distinct from the other, with little chance of anyone wandering in by accident.

Even at the wretchedly early hour of just past dawn, lanterns swinging from the carriage roof, the Ministry was filled with the bustle of people. Likely it would become even busier as the day went on. Lydia supposed that Army Life was likely far more bearable if one was what Mama termed (usually in tones of great distain) a 'Morning Person'.

Colonel Fitzwilliam's superior, General Mayhew, was a man of around Papa's vintage, with an eye-patch and a number of shrapnel scars. There were several medals pinned to his uniform jacket, and he was mostly managing to hide a displeased scowl.

Whether the scowl was meant for them or the young man in the middle of delivering a very passionate argument was up for debate.

The General waved them in, "As I have told you before, Crawley, we simply do not have the members or the funds for chapter-houses! The security risk alone is too great. Now, if you have any new arguments, you may wait until I have finished hearing Colonel Fitzwilliam's report."

The young man, presumably Mr Crawley, deflated somewhat. "May I remain to listen? I would like to have a point to start researching what will be needed, rather than waiting for someone to appear and demand something obscure."

Off to the side, Mary's stern expression softened into something almost sympathetic. As their resident scholar, she had often found herself in a similar position. The larger sort of library had directories, but the majority of officers Lydia had encountered never struck her as particularly bookish, but more inclined to demand answers from others.

Colonel Fitzwilliam shifted into a more formal posture, drawing their attention back to the point. "May I introduce Mr Matthew Crawley, youngest son of the Baron Carrickfergus? He is the head of Research here in London."

Mary looked even more interested. "At such an age? That is impressive."

Mr Crawley brightened. "You may be the first to think so, but I am flattered to hear it."

Colonel Fitzwilliam cleared his throat, a trifle pointedly. "Mr Crawley, General Mayhew, this is the Hertfordshire team I reported recently, Sir: the new Mrs Darcy and Mrs Bingley, Miss Mary Bennet, Miss Catherine, and Miss Lydia, who was instrumental in gathering the information we extracted from Wickham about his plans."

Lydia tried not to squirm under the scrutinising gaze of the two men. There was no need to be quite so obvious in their disbelief! The Colonel continued, as if he hadn't noticed, or was politely ignoring their reactions. "My cousins, of course, you already know, and finally Mr Bingley, a civilian who has been instrumental in the cleansing of several cursed or haunted locations."

That was a politer way of phrasing Mr Bingley's tendency to attract supernatural trouble than Lydia would have managed. She tried to imitate Colonel Fitzwilliam's bearing. "What do you wish to know first?"

General Mayhew sighed. "I suppose we shall start with Mr Bingley, and why an ungifted Civilian is here."

Jane spoke up, a suggestion on steel in her soft voice. "Firstly, because he is my husband, and I do not desire to keep secrets from him, even if he had not more than proved his worth."

Mr Bingley took her hand and squeezed it gently. Jane smiled, but never wavered in her firm stare. "Secondly, because he has been involved in this world for years, even before he knew it existed, and a great deal of trouble might have been saved if he had been informed sooner."

The General did not dismiss them out of hand, at least, and inclined his head thoughtfully. "We have used academic experts as civilian consultants before, however irregular it was. I will consider the matter with the rest of the council. Now, Wickham. I hope the blighter is in a secure cell somewhere?"

Colonel Fitzwilliam cleared his throat, rather more awkwardly than last time. "Dead, in fact, which is part of why we came in such haste. We know everything he knew… including plans to be implemented should he fail to arrive at a pre-determined time and place."

The General ran an agitated hand through his greying hair. "Let's hear it, then. The scoundrel's plans, and then whatever you're scheming up to stop them."

Repeating the essence of what Mr Wickham had planned - he was running out of places to hide from his past misdeeds in England, and hoped to set himself up on the Continent - took very little time. Even the number of suspicious pauses, as though Colonel Fitzwilliam and General Mayhew regretted the presence of young ladies that prevented the catharsis of barracks language, added only a few minutes.

The continuous divergences when they turned to ideas for countering Mr Wickham's plans took somewhat longer.

Standing quietly in a corner and taking notes in a little commonplace book of his own, Mr Crawley blended into the furniture so well that Mr Bingley jumped a little when he spoke. "Truthfully, I'm surprised that knowledge of a single Milita's movements was enough to buy Wickham's acceptance."

Colonel Fitzwilliam shrugged, "There is every possibility that he's being taken for a ride, and those grand promises will vanish like dust in the wind when the time comes to pay the piper."

That did sound a lot more realistic than Mr Wickham's claims of being made a Duke, especially given Napoleon's track record with people more impressive and publicly well-liked than him. "Or? Or should that be a 'but'?"

The Colonel smiled fondly at her, "But, the Corsican already faces unrest in his own territory, and from his own people. He needs a victory, and desperation is a strong motivator. Knowing when to take a single regiment by surprise might be enough to give him a foothold, however briefly he holds it."

General Mayhew nodded. "Raising a sea monster would certainly give the blockade trouble, and damage morale and recruitment once any survivors began babbling about krakens and sea serpents, however many or few believed them."

Mr Crawley consulted his notebook, "There are eyewitness accounts of such beasts, if one knows how to read between the lines, but they live deep, too deep to be disturbed by navy battles, unless a ship were to sink directly on top of them. There are accounts of pearl-divers that say water gets heavier as you dive, and some scientists have speculated that deep-dwellers grow large to survive the pressure."

Georgiana hummed in thought, "Wickham had a talent for drawing people to him, and for stirring up supernatural trouble. Perhaps his associates had some knowledge of how to summon it, we only know how Wickham planned to placate it."

General Mayhew looked up from his own notes, "How was that, again? You skimmed over it somewhat."

Lydia hadn't thought it particularly relevant, since no-one Gifted could resort to unwilling human sacrifice and still claim to be against the Darkness. "He wanted me to play Andromeda, like in the Classical Myths, to the Sea Serpent, but intimated that he might substitute some other poor wretch, if I helped him. That was when I stopped playing along."

Colonel Fitzwilliam cleared his throat, pointedly changing the subject. "This is an unprecedented opportunity to gain intelligence on Napoleon, and root out some of our own problems."

The General raised a greying eyebrow, "I know what I think, but what were your ideas?"

Colonel Fitzwilliam didn't quite stand to attention, but certainly straightened his posture. "I believe our best bet is to send another, trusted, officer to the meeting point in Wickham's stead, and have them push the scheme as far as they dare. We may never have a chance like this again."

A glaring flaw in that idea instantly became apparent, at least to Lydia. Also, apparently, to Georgiana. "Would they not recognise him?"

Colonel Fitzwilliam shook his head. "It is unlikely that Wickham had many opportunities to meet in person with his contacts, Colonel Forster kept a close eye on his men, so much of it was likely done through intermediaries. Spies trusted enough to have Boney's ear are too valuable to be left languishing in dockyards and wharf-side taverns."

Mary hummed thoughtfully. "Scrying the past is easier than searching the present or future. If we can find someone good at sketching faces, we can at least narrow down the people Mr Wickham met with before enlisting."

Mr Crawley, half forgotten in a corner, gave Mary an appreciative look behind her back. "I'll reach out to the Watch. I'm sure they'll be able to match some names to faces."

They could have launched into planning then and there, but General Mayhew cut in. "I will have to meet with the other commanders to draft new troop movements. It should not take more than a few hours. You are welcome to wait in one of the sitting rooms, or assist Crawley with research, until then."

The married couples opted for the sitting room, while Mary barely waited for Mr Crawley to lead the way before she was striding for the library.

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A/N: I've finished the story, so I'll be posting the final chapters here over the next few days.

Much like "Every Possibility of Earthly Happiness", there's an additional 6000 or so words of extra chapters and bonus scenes that won't be posted here, but you can find them at the links in my profile.

Comments and questions are always appreciated.

Thanks

Nat