by C. P. Odom
***
At length the meal was complete, though with little conversation given Darcy’s unspoken decree that serious subjects should be held in abeyance. Actually, that was quite agreeable to McDunn since it allowed him to concentrate on eating, which quickly became a near full-time occupation diverted only slightly by the many questions running through his mind. He had heard English food described as bland and relatively simple, but the fare at Darcy’s table, even though centered on meat and potatoes, was exactly what he wanted.
And needed. The regiment had been on half-rations for a couple of months before the last battle. All their provisions were long gone, and they’d barely been able to purchase enough to keep the regiment going. It wasn’t that the populace was unwilling, even though they were terribly submissive and lacking in any sort of fighting spirit, but food supplies were dangerously short, and winter was coming. All the disasters had resurrected an adversity that had almost disappeared in modern times: famine.
At length, Darcy said, “It appears you approve of the efforts of our cook, Major McDunn.” His face was composed, but McDunn was pretty sure he was being teased. After all, he had eaten an amazing amount of food!
“It was quite excellent, sir,” he said, “and I was even hungrier than I’d realized. But I do apologize for extending the meal for everyone else.”
Darcy nodded in agreement, but he now showed the ghost of a smile, confirming McDunn’s guess at being teased. McDunn also saw something else—the mingling of curiosity and determination on Miss Darcy’s face.
That girl is going to want some answers to her questions, he thought. This isn’t Austen’s shy, submissive young lady, at least not now, though perhaps Ramsgate might shatter her confidence. If we don’t include her in our after-dinner discussions, she’s going to start seeking some answers on her own—maybe listening at keyholes. I’d best ask Darcy if she can be relied on to keep confidences. I don’t want to be fitted into one of those shirts with the long sleeves and buckles. Uh, that’s if straitjackets have been invented. I could check the history database on my tablet.
His last thought caused him to wonder whether his twenty-first century electronics would work in this universe. Hopefully so, but it needed to be checked. In any event, he would try to bring up the query about Miss Darcy before the question-and-answer session started.
Chapter 3
Be not astonished at new ideas; for it is well known to you that a thing does not therefore cease to be true because it is not accepted by many.
— Baruch Spinoza, Dutch philosopher,
exponent of Rationalism
Tuesday, October 10, 1809
Pemberley, Derbyshire
After dinner, Darcy led the way to his comfortable study, but before anyone else could speak, Fitzwilliam said, “Before we get started, Darcy, have you considered whether Georgiana should remain? She is but thirteen, after all.”
“I would like to see you try to send me to my room with a nanny to tuck me into bed, Richard!” Georgiana said furiously.
“Hush, sweetling,” Darcy said soothingly. “Richard was only trying to do his duty as one of your guardians. We would be failing in our responsibility if we did not at least consider whether we ought to put you into a situation with unknown dangers.”
“But—”
Darcy held up his hand. “Please be patient, Georgiana. I can see Major McDunn wishes to say something.”
McDunn picked his words carefully. “I realize I have no part in deciding this matter, but I thought I ought to mention that I have—or rather, had—three very inquisitive sisters of my own. I think it’s likely Miss Darcy will have to learn how I came to be here sometime, so perhaps now would be better. The question of whether I’m a lunatic and should be confined to Bedlam will have to be answered. I don’t think there’s any danger to anyone but me, so my thought is, if she can keep a confidence, you might consider swearing her to secrecy now rather than keeping her in the dark.”
“Although I raised the topic, I find myself inclined to agree with the major,” Fitzwilliam said, looking at Darcy. “It might be best to take his suggestion and include Georgiana.”
After a moment’s reflection, Darcy reluctantly nodded. “I trust you understand the seriousness of these matters, Georgiana. Everything we discuss tonight has to be considered a family secret between us and Major McDunn.”
“I understand, William,” she said in a voice much smaller than she had used previously.
Darcy nodded and said to McDunn, “With that settled, might I offer you something to drink, Major? Wine or brandy? Perhaps ale?”
McDunn frowned slightly. “I’m not too familiar with wine or brandy. Actually, I have no idea what types of spirits are even available.”
“I have a number of different types of wine, though French wines are scarce these days and only available from smugglers.”
“The war, you see, Major,” Fitzwilliam said.
“Ah! That explains it!” McDunn said wryly.
“But, though the coast of France is supposed to be completely blockaded by our navy,” Darcy replied with equal dryness, “it somehow seems most smugglers find their way through. So, French wines are scarce but still available. For something stronger, there is brandy, and though the French brandies also are smuggled, I have a number of bottles.”
“Do you have any Scotch?” Seeing the confused look on the faces of both cousins, McDunn explained. “You might call it Scotch whiskey rather than simply Scotch.”
Darcy nodded his head. “I see. I have a bottle of whisky distilled in Scotland that may be the drink of which you are speaking. It is almost full. I sampled it once but found it too harsh for my taste.”
“Well, it sounds like it’s worth a try. Thank you.”
“Just to assuage your curiosity,” Darcy said, locating the bottle in question and holding it up, “this bottle was smuggled out of Scotland. It is a little misshapen. I think the size and shape of each bottle depends on the power of the glassblower’s lungs. In any case, all whiskey available in England is smuggled from either Scotland or Ireland. The taxes are so high, there is no legal trade in whisky.”
“Interesting,” McDunn said, accepting the glass of dark-colored liquid while Darcy and Fitzwilliam selected brandy and Georgiana contented herself with a glass of watered wine. After a moment’s somber introspection, McDunn held up his glass.
“If I may, I would like to propose a toast. It comes from my world. On occasions when we raised a glass together, my comrades and I would toast friends who were no longer with us. Thus, I give you, gentlemen and Miss Darcy—absent friends.”
“To absent friends,” Darcy replied though he looked somewhat confused.
“Absent friends,” echoed Fitzwilliam with more understanding though his eyes seemed focused on something far away. Georgiana said nothing but took a small sip of her wine.
McDunn tasted the dark liquid and closed his eyes as the fiery stuff burned its way down his throat and warmed his stomach.
“Oh my, that is raw, just as you said. But after a long abstinence, it tastes mighty good. It’s certainly much better than no whiskey at all, even if it’s not like the Scotch I’m used to.”
McDunn put his glass down after a single sip, and his eyes met those of the other three in turn. He had no intention of imbibing a full glass of courage. This conversation would be difficult enough without endangering its success with a strange beverage of unknown potency.
“I promised to be forthright about how I came to be in your meadow, and I intend to do so,” McDunn said. “But I’ll warn you all that what I have to say will be exceedingly strange to your ears. Almost inconceivable, in fact. I won’t take it amiss if you have difficulty accepting the truth of my words. I wouldn’t even try to explain if I couldn’t provide certain pieces of what I hope will be incontrovertible ev
idence to bolster my account.”
He paused for another sip of Scotch—a small one—before continuing. “I’ll keep what I’m going to say tonight as simple as possible. We can discuss the details later if you don’t decide to bundle me off directly to Bedlam.
“So, let’s start with what we do know. You discovered me on your property, a stranger with an even stranger appearance, and you likely expect my story will also be strange. I can guarantee you that. Many parts of my story will be difficult to reconcile with what you know about the world—your world of Great Britain today. Clearly, I come from somewhere else. And…well, there’s no other way to say this than to just say it. I come from another time than yours.” He looked directly at the men. “I’m sure you thought it odd when I asked you the date.”
It was a statement of fact, but McDunn waited for the two men’s nod before continuing.
“Then I’ll start by telling you of my time, the time I come from—the future. I was wounded while a member of a United States military force sent to repel an invasion of your country in the year of our Lord 2045.”
McDunn leaned forward, looking at each of the three intently before he said softly, “More than two hundred years in your future.”
McDunn thought Darcy did an admirable job of controlling his expression, but his eyes did widen slightly and his eyebrows twitched. Fitzwilliam was not as successful at disguise, and his expression was frankly incredulous. Georgiana simply nodded, perhaps because she had not lived as long as the others and had not developed the skepticism that might make her instantly dismiss his words. In any event, none of them jumped up to exclaim they were being lied to, so McDunn continued.
“As partial evidence that I’m not blatantly fabricating my facts, let me first show you these as part of the evidence I mentioned just a while ago.”
He reached into one of the interior pockets of his frock coat, extracted a number of coins, and laid them on Darcy’s desk. All three family members leaned forward to get a better look.
“These are some gold coins our regiment was given before we were sent to the England of our time,” McDunn said. “They were meant to be used in case of emergencies, such as buying supplies when our own ran out. These are called Krugerrands, and they were coined in the country of South Africa, which lies at the tip of the African continent.”
When the three others looked at him blankly, McDunn said, “The country doesn’t exist at the moment and won’t for a while.”
“Actually, I think you refer to what we call the Cape of Good Hope, which we annexed some years ago to keep it out of French hands,” Fitzwilliam said.
“It was an independent country in my day, and the Krugerrand was the most popular gold coin in the world. Everyone accepted it, no matter what type of currency or coinage they used.”
Which made it the obvious choice to take with us since we already knew Britain was even more chaotic than the US, he thought.
“Note the date of minting,” he said, indicating the coin Darcy was examining, and Darcy gave a visible start of surprise.
“It says 2039,” Darcy said with wonder in his voice as he passed the coin to Fitzwilliam. “And it has the name you mentioned—Krugerrand.”
“Here are some coins and some paper currency we used in my time and in my country,” he said, taking money from another pocket and placing everything on the desk. “You can see the dates on the coins as well as the dates on the paper money showing when they were printed.”
While Georgiana was still examining the currency intently, McDunn reached inside his frock coat and withdrew his pistol from his waistband, and keeping the muzzle pointed away from everyone, carefully laid it on the desk. Both Darcy and Fitzwilliam looked at it with even greater interest than they had the coins and bills.
“This is a Heckler-Koch-Colt semi-automatic pistol, caliber 13 millimeters, with an internal magazine holding nineteen cartridges,” McDunn intoned in the monotone of an oration repeated innumerable times. He hit the magazine release and caught it as it dropped free, handing it to Fitzwilliam. He then worked the slide, letting the long, fat cartridge fall onto the desk before handing it to Georgiana and handing the newly unloaded pistol to Darcy. Fitzwilliam stood on one side of Darcy to look more closely while Georgiana did the same on the other side.
“Since I normally carry my pistol with a round in the chamber and with nineteen in the magazine, I can fire twenty rounds as fast as I pull the trigger. Then I can eject the magazine as I just did, load another with nineteen rounds, and fire nineteen more times. I can repeat this until I run out of ammo. It’s a powerful pistol, and it kicks like a mule. It’s no fun whatsoever to fire, but it’s guaranteed to knock an enemy combatant off his feet and put a hole as big as your fist through him. It’ll even punch through the kind of body armor I was wearing in my harness. It was a gift from my parents at the recommendation of my grandpa during my enlistment. That was, what?—yeah, seven years ago. He wanted me to have some serious protection if I had to use it. And I bought another when I was called back into the Corps before being sent over to England.”
The eyes of all three of the Darcy family had grown wider during his brisk, matter-of-fact explanation.
Darcy looked at the black pistol in his hand in wonder. “What you have said is almost unimaginable, yet I have the evidence of these coins and this almost magical pistol in my hands. I have never seen anything like it.”
“There is nothing like it, Darcy, nothing at all,” Fitzwilliam said. “I would dearly love to see you demonstrate your pistol, Major. Not that I disbelieve you, for I do not. What you have shown us is indeed, in the words you used, incontrovertible evidence. It is just that as a soldier, as a cavalryman, such a pistol in battle would be unbelievably useful, and I would dearly like to see it fired—and to fire it myself if it might be possible.”
“I believe it can be arranged,” McDunn said with an understanding smile. As military men, they had the same affinity for weapons that seemed to puzzle civilians, but he and Fitzwilliam understood each other.
“We need to conserve my meager supply of ammunition, so any test firings will be short.”
Darcy gave a nod of acknowledgement, and McDunn continued. “I also have my two rifles upstairs as well as a number of other items in my pack you’ll find just as strange and, as you say, magical. In fact, it’s interesting you chose that specific word, Mr. Darcy. I remember reading one of our…ah, speculative fiction writers who made the statement that any sufficiently advanced technology will seem like magic when shown to an indigenous native. The steam engines of your Mr. Watt, newly invented as they are, as well as your military cannon and muskets, would be just as magical if demonstrated to Julius Caesar. I assure you the items I’m speaking of are in common use in my time and aren’t reserved for some kind of upper class or priesthood.”
“I believe you, Major,” Darcy said. “Any trouble I am having in accepting what you have related is only because it is so new. I assure you, I do not doubt either your veracity or your sanity. Who could with such examples as these?”
“So, with that out of the way, let me begin my story. I was born in the state of South Carolina in the year 2022. My parents were schoolteachers in Beaufort, and my earliest memories were of intense social turmoil and economic hard times. Our country had been basically hijacked from the legitimate government by a political faction that hated our Constitution, our economic system, and much of our population. Once they were firmly established in power, they attempted to institute a complete redesign of our country along radical, extremist lines into their vision of political utopia. Of course, it didn’t work, and as the economy crashed, the population grew more and more rebellious. Finally, the citizens of the country had had a gutful. There was a near rebellion and the subsequent election of a new president and a new Congress that set out to try to unravel the unbelievable clusterfu—”
McDunn stopped suddenly and looked at Georgiana in embarrassment. “I apologize, Miss Darcy, but the language of marines in my day was laced with profanity, and as I said, I’m no gentleman. Anyway, everything in my country was truly messed up, and the new government set about trying to fix what was broken. The process was only partway complete when a disastrous war broke out in the area I believe you refer to as Judea and Egypt. It started with…”
***
“And this stone, this Siege Perilous, is supposed to send a man to the world where his mind and soul are intended?” Darcy asked.
“That’s one of those areas where I hate to speculate, but it’s what the man Kaswallon told me, and now I find myself in your world. Those are simple facts. Whether this Siege Perilous was actually a seat at Arthur’s Round Table or a man named Arthur Pendragon even existed are questions I can’t answer. But what else makes any sense? I was mortally wounded, and today I woke up in your meadow with a torn and bloody uniform and unmarked skin. In fact, I’m not even certain the Siege sends a man to the world he’s meant for. I can’t remember having any particular interest in the Britain of your time other than some casual reading. Considering my background as a marine, I would have thought I’d be sent to fight in some kind of war, like the Civil War or World War II. I had an interest in history, and I read about those events in my grandfather’s books.”
“Civil War? Do you mean the Wars of the Three Kingdoms? Cromwell and the Parliamentarians against the Royalists? I thought you knew little of English history.”
“Actually, I may have been a little imprecise when I said I didn’t have a particular interest in your England,” McDunn said. “I actually was interested in the Napoleonic Wars, but my reading focused on the battles on the continent and at sea rather than England itself. I was speaking of the American Civil War. It won’t take place until the years 1861 to 1865 to be specific, and it was primarily fought over slavery.”
