Mrs Darcy vs The Aliens

Sir Humphry Davy’s ghost detection engine chugged away happily with occasional puffs of smoke and the odd chirpy whistle. The woman in front of them shimmered in and out of sound and vision as he and Wickham attempted to stabilise the signal, a process which appeared to involved flicking switches at random, remembering to duck in case anything happened to dislodge itself.

“… tentacles … Mr Collins … Mission … position … Mr Darcy – ”

“Hold on, H, did she say ‘Darcy’?” said Wickham.

“Sounded like it, old man,” said H. “Is he … Mrs Darcy’s – ?”

“That’s the one,” said Wickham, shaking his head. “But what’s he got to do with this ghost?”

“… lousy food … bedsores … chest bursting open – ”

“Look H, can you try and get the sound sorted out? She really isn’t making much sense.”

“One moment,” said H, passing the detector handset to Wickham and disappearing behind the engine. There was a sound like someone kicking the back of the machine hard, followed by a yelp. As he emerged again, Wickham noticed that H now had a pronounced limp.

“ … anyway, then ’e says to me – ”

“That’s it!” said Wickham.

“Good,” said H with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm. He sat down and began to massage his foot.

“ … so I says to ’im, where’s you going to put that thing anyway? An’ ’e says – ”

“Excuse me, miss, but – ”

“Hoo – bloody – ray! So you can ’ear me, now, can you, Mr Wickham? Bleedin’ ’ell, you’re ’ard work. Thought you was ignoring me.”

“Great heavens, no, Miss … Miss – ?”

“Mary Ann Nicholls at your service, sir.” The ghost bowed slightly. “I found Annie’s card. Told me to come ’ere, it did.”

“Annie?” Wickham racked his brains. Then he felt in his pocket and unconsciously took out Annie Chapman’s card. “This Annie?” he said, with a sinking feeling.

“Yeah, that’s the one. ’Fraid she ain’t in good shape now ’erself. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if ’er spectre wasn’t followin’ on behind. You could ’ave a whole load of us to deal with soon.”

Wickham sighed. “So tell me what happened at the Mission, Mary Ann,” he said.

“Well, first I was afraid. I was petrified, I was. Then I thought to myself, I’ve got all my life to live, so whatever ’appens, I will survive.” She paused. “Only I didn’t.”

“Yes, but what actually happened?”

Mary Ann told him. Her story was punctuated by grunts of disbelief from both Wickham and H, who was now sitting up and paying attention. When she had finished her story, they both looked at each other.

“If this is true – ” said Wickham.

“ – we’ll have to rewrite half the laws of science!” said H, rubbing his hands together.

Wickham shook his head. “I was thinking in terms of more immediate concerns. What this means is that Mrs Darcy is in grave danger.”

H smacked his temple. “Ah, silly me. Of course you are right. You must go to Pemberley at once.”

“But I have been taken off that case, H. It would be a gross dereliction of duty.”

H winked. “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time, would it, old man?” He stood up and pressed the red button on the top of the ghost detection engine once more. There was a hiss of steam, then the regulator gently stopped spinning and all was quiet. He gathered up the hose to the ghost detection handset and packed it away. No-one noticed the ghost of Mary Ann Nicholls frantically waving at them as she disappeared from view.

“Come on, then, Mr W,” he said. “We need to find you some kit.”

Wickham blanched. “No rough cottaging this time, though.”

“As you wish.” He tapped the side of his nose. “Might have one or two new trinkets for you to play with.”

The two men left the room, speaking to each other in furtive whispers. As they did so, they were both completely oblivious to Mary Ann’s gesticulations towards the cage on the desk, as well as her cry of “Oi! You two! What about my baby?”