Mrs Darcy vs The Aliens

Once Wickham, bringing up the rear, was aboard, H fired up the burners and the dirigible soared upwards into the night sky. Fiddling constantly with the controls, he held her steady – or as close to steady as he could manage, which wasn’t in fact remotely close – as they told him everything that had happened to them inside the Mission. Or at least three of them managed to recount their respective tales, as Darcy was looking distinctly unwell again and was only capable of groans from where he lay in the bowels of the gondola.

“So what do we do now?” said Sutherland. “We seem to be once more without a plan.”

“Surely our aim remains the same as it ever has been – to get into Rosings?” said Wickham.

“Yes, but our means to achieve that aim was vaporised not half an hour ago. Extraordinary business. To think that he was there in front of us one moment and then – ”

“That’s as maybe, my good sirs,” said Elizabeth. “But for the moment my main concern is closer to home. I am exceedingly vexed about my husband. All this excitement and adventure is too much for him in his present frail state.”

“I agree,” said Sutherland. “The man needs a rest cure.”

There was silence for a minute or so.

“How about Bath?” said Wickham.

“What an extraordinary suggestion!” said Elizabeth. “I hardly think that sitting in a tub for half an hour is likely to do him any good, and besides, he already – ”

“No, I meant the City of Bath.”

“Oh, I see.” She thought for a moment. “He does not view that place with much pleasure, I fear. But ’tis also true that the waters may revive his spirits.”

“So ’tis agreed, then,” said Sutherland. “We shall go to Bath. And once Mr Darcy is placed in the care of the healing springs, we may resume our quest to steal our way into Rosings unnoticed and put an end to this hideous alien intrusion into our English way of life.”

“But how are we to do that?” said Wickham.

“What was it that Mr Collins said before he – as you say – vanished?” said H.

“I think he said that we should ask his wife for the key to the potting shed,” said Wickham. “Perhaps ’tis a clue.”

“Great heavens!” said Sutherland. “’Tis indeed a clue! What if the potting shed were Mrs Collins’ nickname for Rosings?”

“She must have a secret key!” said Wickham. “Collins must have needed to enter the great house without having to knock on the front door, so to speak, so he would have a key to some other entrance.”

“Brilliant!” said Sutherland. There was a slight pause.

“That is indeed an exceptionally astute piece of deduction, gentlemen,” said H. “But I yet perceive a problem.”

“Why so?” said Sutherland.

“We have no idea how to locate Mrs Collins, of course.”

Elizabeth coughed. “I think I may be able to help you there. I have lately had communication from Charlotte Collins. She is staying in Glastonbury, in a commune for artistic people.”

“Artists? Pah.” said Sutherland. “Is she of the artistic persuasion herself?”

“Thankfully not,” said Elizabeth.

Wickham suddenly clicked his fingers as if something extraordinarily important had just occurred to him. “Is not Glastonbury only a few miles from Bath?”

“’Tis true,” said H. “It seems that our twin paths do indeed run parallel. I shall set a course for Bath immediately. Once Mr Darcy has disembarked, we shall proceed thenceforth to Glastonbury.”

“I love it when a plan comes to – ” said Sutherland.

“I hate Bath,” said Darcy with a groan.

“Nonsense, Fitzy dear,” said Elizabeth. “’Tis for your own good. Now lie down again and get some sleep.” As she bent down to tuck a blanket around her husband’s supine form, she shuddered. For a moment, she was convinced that she heard the rustle of another woman’s skirts.