Page 105 of Pride, Prejudice, & Pretense

"I don't think Charlotte did," Lizzy responded, partly to provoke a reaction.

Kellynch's eyes shifted to his closed office door. "No, I suppose not." Annoyance laced his tone.

"Did MI-6 have any news about Darcy?" Lizzy asked as Kellynch signed a form and closed the file.

He glanced up at her, the glance sharp, suspicious. "AgentDarcy? No, I've not heard anything. MI-6 has told me nothing. I asked again recently. Whatever he's doing, it's not sanctioned by the Company."

"But MI-6 is involved? He has their resources? Access to help?"

"I don't know. MI-6 has been tight-lipped about Agent Darcy since he went dark. I don'tthinkhe's classified as rogue, but I'm not sure what his relationship is with his own Agency. I'm not sure they know."

It wasn't the news Lizzy wanted to hear, but it was news. Her heart thumped in her chest, anxious for Fitzwilliam. She stood, needing to move, and extended her hand. "Thank you, sir."

Kellynch stood too. He took her hand and shook it, the gesture ceremonial and solemn.

"I hate losing you, Agent Bennet.Hate it. Let me know if I can somehow be of help to you."

He led her to the door of the office and opened it. She walked out, and he closed the door.

Charlotte was watching. "So, you're doing it, quitting us? Quitting him?"

Lizzy nodded once. "Yes."

Charlotte smiled happily. "Best of luck, Elizabeth Bennet."

Lizzy thought about Charlotte's new clothes and new hairstyle, and she thought of Jane, misquoting Thoreau after dying Lizzy's hair.Beware of all enterprises that require new hair.

"Good luck to you too, Charlotte."

***

Tuesday, November 17

The next day, as Lizzy drove to Rochester in bright, cold November sunshine, she noticed that time seemed to be passing differently. She had noticed it before, but only in passing, in odd moments where the minutes or hours or days seemed altered. It was as though present time itself were thickening, becoming elastic. The present seemed as if it could be stretched backward indefinitely, stretched forward to infinity. Time seemed continuous, deeper.

On missions, time had been reduced to dust, to particles, not continuous but hard, discreet moments, the past to be forgotten and the future beyond the mission meaningless. She had been experiencing time as subservient to her mission, to her agent habits, experiencing time to facilitate action and mission necessities.

She was discovering that the world she had been living in?the Company world, the world the Farm gave to her senses and her consciousness?was no more than a shadow of itself. And it was as cold as death. All was arranged for maximum agent efficiency. Everything was in a present that seemed constantly to be starting again, discontinuous with the past and with the future.

She sighed as the miles passed by, letting her time stretch itself like a lazy cat in the sun.

***

That evening, Lizzy was stretched out on the bed in her old bedroom, having gotten to Rochester in late afternoon. Her mother, who had sent her upstairs to rest, was downstairs cleaning up after dinner. The bedroom had been freshly dusted and cleaned and the bedding changed, although it had not been used in a long time. The room looked the way it always had. Herposters from high school were still on the walls. Her bookcase was filled with her favorite books.

Instead of feeling that her life was moving backwards, she felt as if she were reclaiming herself, tugging the elasticized present backward to recover who she had once been and what she had once wanted and hoped for. The woman was being reintroduced to the girl.

It was not that she wanted to revivify all her childhood dreams, many of which now made her blush for or smile indulgently at her past self. It was rather that she wanted to revivify herself, to recover some of the youth the Company had cost her. Langley aged agents quickly, and Lizzy was weary of the world-weariness her job had taught her. She wanted to breathe free. She wanted a life, one life, hers, not a succession of lives, covers. One, not many.

"Lizzy!" Mrs. Bennet shouted up the stairs. "Your aunt is here, and she has something for you."

Lizzy had been lost in thought, as she had been all day. She’d lost track of the household noises, the doorbell. Getting up, she hurried downstairs.

Her Aunt Christine stood near the front door, a box in her hands. She looked well and greeted Lizzy with a smile of deep affection. After handing the box to Mrs. Bennet, she threw out her arms, and Lizzy rushed into a hug. They held each other for a long time until Mrs. Bennet began clearing her throat.

"What's this?" she asked, shaking the box.

"I don't know," her aunt said, ending the hug. "It arrived at the bridal shop this afternoon. It was shipped to the store, but it’s addressed to Lizzy."

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