There You Were

by ChanceInc

You were there, my love... so why should I retell the story to you now? To myself? Why should I relive the pain?

2. Chapter 2

There You Were

Part I: Hampshire

Chapter II

*1*

It was several days before we spoke again. I did see you, once, walking alone in the woods. When I had begged leave of my uncle and aunt that afternoon to go for a walk, I confess to having hoped for exactly that. Something told me that your previous unaccompanied amble had not been a solitary occurrence and that there was a possibility that I might encounter you again. I was walking for nearly an hour before I saw you. I had been stopped just off the path, by a pebble in my shoe. I had just slipped it back on when I looked up and was obliged to smile...

For there you were.

Your back was to me as you walked away, so you must have walked right past me without either of us noticing. I made move to approach you, but before I could I became aware that you were humming softly to yourself. A familiar tune that I recognized from... from where? I knew it, I was sure. I closed my eyes for a moment as I tried to remember. So familiar, and not just the notes. Soft. Feminine. Warm.

I opened my eyes.

Why were you humming a tune from Ireland, Jane? A favorite of my youngest sister, Anne, I was a bit surprised that I had not known it right away - even if it had been years since I had been home to Limerick. My mother sometimes murmured the melody to her when she was having trouble sleeping. From where had you picked it up? I watched you recede in the distance, feeling a distinct and not all together pleasant tightening of my chest.

I turned slowly in the opposite direction of where ever it was that you were headed, and I walked away.

*2*

I sat comfortably once again in my uncle's arm chair in the library, feeling that the late morning was a much more appropriate time for reading than the late night. While I had pulled your book from the shelves many nights previous I had not had a chance to look through it until this day. Relatively well written, the book lacked charm. It was boring and grey much the same as the land it favoured, but it was easy to see why you would enjoy it. It was also easy to see why I had fallen dead asleep while trying to read it. Pretty words delicately crafted to dull perfection and pieced together to create mind-numbing prose. It might well have been the book you would have written of Selbourne Wood had you ever had the inclination. Talent, if you'll excuse the contradiction, is not always equal to skill.

Ah, but I did come to an interesting scene in the book which you would never have written. A description of the mating habits of a particular bird... Awkward in it's displacement, I had to chuckle when I read over it. I imagined you reading the same passage, blushing over Mr. Wyatt's diction. If you could not find sanctuary even in your tedious books, where could you turn?

A barely discernible creak from the shelves above me alerted me to someone's presence. I looked up and stood. Lucy, no doubt, spying on me again. There was another creak, louder this time, and I made my way around the book shelf in time to witness your, and to my pleasure not Lucy's, attempt at a quiet retreat. It occurred to me briefly to let you go, but seeing the expression on your face when you'd realized you had been caught was so much more important. So it was only a step, maybe two, I had allowed you to gain before I said your name.

Miss Austen.

You spun to face me, feigned delight and surprise at my "sudden" appearance when you and I both knew you had already been aware that I was in the room. Ah, Mr. Lefroy... as though you had been searching for me. As though we were friends. I could not, for many reasons I suppose, hold back a smile as I bowed to you. It must have been hard to see me again after having seen me so compromised at the river. You curtseyed in return and before I was able to speak another word, you commented upon, perhaps, the first safe thing you could. The book in my hand.

Your book.

I could detect a bit of astonishment in your demeanor for an instant. Oh, you had said. Quite probably wondering, as I did, how I had managed to remember the book and why I had elected to read it. The astonishment disappeared, naturally, when you asked and I told you what I thought of it. Disturbing? I give you credit for not rolling your eyes at me as you so obviously wanted to, but yes... disturbing. I chose the word to tease you, of course, and I almost - almost - left it at that. But how could I?

You listened attentively, nervously I would say, as I read the interesting passage I had found aloud to you. You stood before me fidgeting with your fingers, I could see from out of my periphery vision as I approached you slowly. I drew the words out protractedly, letting you cling to them. Allowing you to understand what it was I was reading about. I stopped, though, just as I got to the sentence that would leave no room for confusion. I read it to myself once again. It wasn't appropriate, but you bade me continue. I looked up at you from the book, meeting your eyes. You wanted to hear but perhaps you did not know what was coming. Perhaps you did. I like to think you did.

I looked down at the book and finished the last sentence, meeting your eyes once again as the word ecstasy left my mouth. I wanted to look at you as I said it. I could not have hoped for a better, nor could I have enjoyed more another, reaction from you. You stared in to my eyes saying nothing, breathing just a bit harder than moments before. What must you have been thinking? I believe I would have given most anything to know your thoughts just then. Drawing the moment out a little longer, I inquired as to the frequency of such occurrences in Hampshire - leaving you to infer as to my full meaning.

You sputtered unintelligibly and I had to laugh.

You were ignorant to the ways of the world; my world. My usage of "Ignorance" as a means by which to describe your predicament seemed to break my temporary hold over you. I followed you as you walked away from me, busying yourself with a newly urgent desire to look over the shelves of books. I tried to advise you on your writing, speaking to you the thoughts I had mused over the day of the cricket match. You were in need of experience and until that experience was had you could expect your writing to remain beautiful, but hollow.

What qualified me to offer this advice? You wanted to know. What did you expect me to say? My reputation had preceded me many times with regard to you, so there was nothing I could tell you that you did not already know. Specifics, perhaps, were undisclosed to you as propriety commanded... but a scandalous reputation speaks volumes about a person. You knew I was no virgin. You knew I was no great bastion of morality. All I could say in response to you was, essentially, that I knew more of the world. A great deal more, you commented with a forced laugh. Were you actually trying to offend me? I did get the feeling that an emotion quite near to jealousy had formed those words in your mouth.

I thought back to my conversation with your brother. You did like me, of this I was almost certain... and even if I did not exactly know what it was I felt for you, I knew my interest in your exceeded the limits of aid and advise.

I did not agree aloud that I knew a great deal more than you, but did say that I knew enough. Enough to know that your horizons did need to be... I paused before I finished the statement. A moment to think of a word that was suggestive enough by nature, but perfectly innocuous.

Widened.

The word was so suited to the message I meant to convey, I could not help but smile as I turned from you and went to the other side of the book shelf. It was my turn to recommend a bit of reading to you and when you were standing rather suddenly in front of me again, I had it ready for you. What ever words of reprove you had for me were lost on your tongue as your face came so very near to mine.

I was able to tell you to read it explaining that it would help you understand what I meant. I was even able to bow before I walked away from you. That was all I could manage for, you see, you were not the only one effected by our close proximity. Had I stayed a moment longer, my lips would have found their way to yours and I might have kissed you until one of us could no longer breathe.

Since I was out of the library and away from you before I could examine the desire more closely, I decided it had been only a temporary lapse in judgment. It had been weeks since I had last kissed anyone and that, for me, was quite a long time. I had wanted you because you had been standing in front of me.

Nothing more.

*3*

I stared out at the garden from my window - watching the day fade away to darkness. It had been a week, perhaps longer, since I had seen or spoken to you. My days had been filled with listening to Lucy practice her singing and one or two dinner parties. I had escorted the Lefroy ladies to the market on a Tuesday and then on a walk on a Friday - both in hopes of spotting you. I was curious as to how you were finding Mr. Fielding's history as opposed to Mr. Wyatt's.

Also, for some reason, I missed your company.

Whenever I was not preoccupied with another task, which was often, I thought of you. Your wide brown eyes (still irritatingly innocent) laughing at me or, more often, chiding me. Your perpetually flushed cheeks. Your... mouth. Your lips, so full and red - the way they moved as you spoke. The topics you spoke of. How was it that there was a book written about wretched Selbourne Wood when there was none of you - lovelier and drastically more interesting? How was it that there were no pieces of music meant to sing your praise or works of art meant to capture your beauty?

I put my hand over my face at this thought and rubbed my eyes. These things were very nice to think of someone whom I found annoying, pretentious and ignorant.

Very nice things, indeed.

There was a knock at my door. I furrowed my forehead and looked toward it.

"Come in."

The door opened and in walked a servant with a small silver platter - and on the platter was a letter.

"A letter for you, sir." The woman said with a curtsey. I stood and walked over to her, nodding my head at her briefly as I took the letter - excusing her from my presence. She curtseyed again and was gone. For a moment I had hoped it was from you, but pushed the hope aside immediately. Breaking the wax seal and opening the letter I could recognize right away the handwriting of my uncle.

I sighed, raising my eyes toward the ceiling, and then walked back over to my window where I sat down again. I held the letter in my hand for a minute or two without reading it, knowing instinctually what it said. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath - opening my eyes again I turned my attention toward the words before me.

Thomas,

I do hope that your time in the country has served you well and that this letter

finds you a changed man. I am arranging your transport back to London for

an estimated arrival date of the 6th of July.

Judge Langlois

Quite short and quite to the point... my lesson was over, and I was to return back to London within four days time.

I refolded the letter, feelings of confusion overwhelming me. This was what I wanted - what I had been wanting since the moment I stepped foot here. I was returning to London and back to my life. Back to what I knew. I should have felt ecstatic and overjoyed... But my confusion stemmed from the fact that, for all I wished to, I did not feel these things at all. Instead all I felt was a dull ache in the middle of my chest and a vague sense of... loss.

But what, I asked myself, was I losing?

*4*

I had lost my ability to believe in God at a young age - long holding the belief that God was a luxury of the rich... as so many things seemed to be. I mostly kept this opinion to myself, though on rare occasions would make it known. Once, for instance, I had been sitting next to my mother and siblings at a Sunday morning service and it had suddenly come upon me to stand up and leave. As this was a small chapel and the reverend happened to be in the middle of his homily at the same time, my rather unexpected exodus had escaped the notice of few if any.

Suffice it to say I did receive a rather vigorous reprimand for my behavior.

After that I attended service every Sunday with my family until 1793 when I went to stay with my uncle in London. By the time of our meeting, Jane, I had not been near a church for three years.

*5*

I sat quietly on the last pew in the small chapel, listening to your father speak. Well, I could hear him speak but I do not know how much I was listening. I was distracted by the back of your neck, which was all I could see of you from my vantage point. It was enough... just to know you were there. Enough to make me happy.

Enough to tear me apart.

If I stopped long enough to think about why I was there, I would have thought it strange. I had come to see you. Not to speak with you. Not to interact with you in any way. Only to see you. Whatever it was between us was soon to be at an end and it was, for some reason beyond me, important that I take in the sight of you as much as I could. I wanted to remember you. Beautiful, horrible, wonderful, irritating, lovely, tempestuous, passionate... Jane. My Jane. My... friend Jane.

In just three days time, I would see you once more and then never again.

When the sermon was done and the service over, I did not wait to be excused before leaving. I did not wish to be obliged to converse with anyone just then and so I walked away from the church to the nearby brook. I had grown up near the Shannon River in Ireland had not noticed until my time in Hampshire how serene the sound of water really was. There was nothing like this in London. No trees or streams. Just people and reputations. I had had three years to make myself believe that was the life for me, and it took less than two months for me to realize it was not. That perhaps it had never been.

I stared over the river thinking to myself that this land did have a way of becoming familiar. Indeed, a very peculiar way of feeling like home. I had never expected to become attached to anything here, and was quite dismayed to find that there were very few things to which I had not. I took a deep breath and squinted my eyes against the early morning sun. It was difficult to think that my time here was coming to an end. I had not wanted to come to the country, had wanted it even less when I arrived... but now. Now things were different, and at that moment I made the decision not to tell you I was leaving. If you did not know, then I could imagine as though it were not so. You could help me convince myself for a short while.

Then I heard your voice. You had read the book I had recommended, but what was infinitely more important was that you had sought me out to tell me. It was the first time you had done so. I smiled a small smile to myself and turned around to face you. A bow and an address from me and just a reiteration that you had read my book and subsequently disapproved of it from you. Of course you disapproved, I had not expected you to like it. I must say you surprised me by reading past the first pages. I found that you surprised me quite often.

The conversation over the book lasted for some minutes, but somehow Lucy had found us just as we were speaking of the trouble that my hero had gotten himself in to. She seemed suspicious as she asked us to what sort of trouble we refereed. I shall never forget the mischievous smile on your face as you answered her question but seemed to direct the answer at me. I can remember your face better than the words you spoke. All kinds of trouble, all sorts of trouble. Something to that effect. The words were for her. The smile was for me. Another first. It was enough to make me forget, for a moment, the rather unpleasant reality that faced me.

You walked away, presumably in search of your brother as you ended up in front of him and Eliza, and I followed.

"Henry." I bowed, then to Eliza. "Madame Freullide."

"What do you say, Henry," You started. "Shall we show our friend Mr. Lefroy what he has been missing of the country?"

I looked at Henry with a look of puzzled question. He looked at me, then back to you and cleared his throat.

"I don't know, Jane. Mr. Lefroy has seen a great deal." He paused, looking at me again. "Is that not what you told me our last night in London, Tom?"

I laughed, remembering as he listed things we could have done that night, that I had seen and done all of them at least once. Some of them quite disreputable. His brotherly instinct to protect you from me seemed very easily provoked. I knew he liked me well enough, but that did not mean he approved of me.

"Yes, but that was London." I responded. "I have seen very few things of interest in the country." I meant something different for you than I meant for your brother. While it was true that I had seen very few interesting things in the country it was also true that I had seen very few... interesting things in the country. I am certain he understood.

"The place I have in mind is nearly half a day's walk from here." You said. I smiled.

"Well then it is lucky that we shall not have to walk."

"Tell me, Mr. Lefroy... have you ever been to Laverton?"

"Laverton?" I asked.

"The Laverton fair?" Henry asked you, sounding as though his interest had been piqued. You looked at him and nodded. Henry turned to me with a grin.

"Well, this should be fun. Plenty of trouble to watch you try to stay out of there."

Eliza laughed as she and Henry walked away. You began to follow but I stopped you by placing my hand gently over your arm, bringing you to a halt. You turned to me and the look in your eyes as well as the soft contact caused my heart to beat more rapidly - even you seemed taken aback by my forwardness. I had done it because I was comfortable with you, forgetting that it was against many rules of conduct and propriety. I was not your husband or fiancé, I had not known you since infancy - nor were we of any relation. I had no place to take such a liberty. I swallowed and took my hand away from you.

"I... I'm sorry." I said.

"It's all right." You said, but there was something in your voice that said otherwise. "Was there something you wanted?"

I nodded, my eyes slowly trying to find their way back to yours.

"Where exactly is it that we are going?"

You shrugged just slightly.

"It's a secret, Mr. Lefroy." You said. Were you flirting with me, Jane? I met your eyes with curiosity.

"A secret?"

"Yes, you've heard of those. A circumstance in which I know something that you do not know."

"Is that not the definition of irony?" I asked with a laugh. You were about to say something - perhaps lecture me on my misuse of literary terms - when Lucy again was upon us.

"Can I come, Jane?" She asked. "Mother will allow it if Tom escorts me."

You looked to me.

"Tom?" You asked. You said my name, my forename. It came from your mouth so casually, I was not even sure that you had noticed. But I noticed.

"Er, yes." I looked down at Lucy. "I would honored to escort such a beautiful young lady to..." I looked at you, hoping for a hint as to what this Laverton fair was.

"It's a secret." You said to Lucy. She smiled excitedly.

"I love secrets."

The two of you walked away arm in arm and I stood where I was for just a moment. Perhaps good things could come from attending church after all.

*6*

That night at the fair, to this day, Jane, to this very moment, was the most fun I have ever had in my life. Not because of the fire breathers or the men on stilts or the alcohol or the women. I had seen all these things before - many times before. Many times since. The reason I shall never forget that night is, well, that should be apparent. Even though I escorted Lucy and she clung to me most ardently for the majority of the time we spent at the fair, it was you I was there with. Yet another first for the day; the first time we ever spent any real time together. We had seen each other in passing, at parties, at balls - chance encounters every so often. But this, this was different. You and I outside the confines of Steventon or Ashe and there together of our own choosing. I do not pretend not to have been surprised by your taking me to such a gathering of ostentacious display, but it only made you more interesting.

You had asked me... something. Was there fun enough there for me? Entertainment? Trouble? I am not quite sure which, but since there was an excess of all three, I said yes. Yes there was, and freedom - the kind that almost always only a man could enjoy. Every way you looked there was some one doing something they wanted just because they wanted to do it. Men making salacious spectacles of themselves, surrounded by women whom they must have paid for. Now that, I had also seen many times before. I asked you if you envied this freedom of men, perhaps because I did. While I could make a show of being free and doing as I pleased, I was still very much shackled to others' dependancies and expectations. As, I suppose, were you.

"What will your mother say when you arrive back home?" I asked jokingly as we wove our way through out the crowds.

"Oh, she will not say anything to me, I suspect." You answered. "She will speak of her disapproval to my father as she invariably seems to do, and then he will speak to me."

"About?"

You did not answer right away, which made me wonder if it was not me that he would be speaking to you about.

"My prospects, I suppose."

"You mean Wisley."

You laughed a sound of annoyance.

"Does everyone know of his attentions toward me?" You asked. "I would sooner marry the Biggwither boy before attaching myself to such a spiritless man as Mr. Wisley."

"Such words of disdain, Miss Austen. What has he done to earn them?"

You took a deep breath, seeming to regret speaking so harshly of a man who had not, as far as I knew, done anything ill against you.

"For all I know of him, he is a kind and honorable man - but he thinks that his wealth will buy him anything he pleases, and that has made him... indolent. He could have all the money in the world and could still not hope to buy me with it."

"And what might a man hope to buy you with?" I asked, not knowing why I did so. You looked at me and seemed to have no words of response, I was not sure if I had offended you. I blinked and looked away. "I apologize, I did not mean to--"

"No, I..." You shook your head and seemed to search for an answer. "Honestly, I hope never to be bought - or won. That would imply an ownership of some sort, would it not?"

I smiled a small smile that you may not have even noticed.

"I have always imagined marriage as something more of a partnership." You continued. "My mother and father married for love and that is what I intend to do." You paused. "If I marry at all."

I laughed.

"You would choose to be an old maid?"

"There are worse fates." You answered.

"Well, I suppose opinion would differ in regard to that, depending on who you are speaking with."

You looked at me, growing annoyed I could see.

"Yes? And what is yours?"

I looked at you, the smile fading from my face.

"I have no opinion." I answered gravely, having no desire to delve further in to the subject. The truth was that I had very strong opinions on the matter, but I was not ready nor was I willing to share them with you. My parents had also married for love and so I could see the merit in it, but I could also see the trouble. You had not experienced poverty to the extent which I had - and poverty, Jane, is among one of the worst fates imaginable. Indeed, when there are hungry mouths and greedy land lords depending on you, I can think of no worse. I was not sure if whether that meant I agreed with you or disagreed with you.

"You?" You scoffed. "You who have an opinion of everything have no opinion?"

I pursed my mouth in thought and then stopped, you stopped as well.

"My opinion, Miss Austen, is that you there will be people your whole life through that will be ready to look down at you for not marrying the right man, for not marrying at all, for not having the right name, for not-- you see what I'm getting at?"

"Yes, but why should others dictate how we live?"

"They should not, though it is very difficult to live without approval, for living without approval almost always portends living without means to support yourself."

You said nothing.

"Of course, you could always run away with me." I said, teasing you as I offered you my arm. You took it with a hesitant smile and we continued to walk. "You would have not to worry about such things as approval or marriage, because you would have none of them..."

"But, oh - the literary conversations we would have!" You laughed.

"There would much 'having', Miss Austen, but I do hope that not all of it would be conversation."

You turned your head from me to hide the embarrassment my words had just caused you, but I knew you were amused... and I was glad of it. I can not say for how long we walked together observing the show around us, conversing - laughing even, I only know that I had never enjoyed myself more.

Some time later we found ourselves amongst a crowd of people surrounding a boxing match - if it could have been called that. It is difficult to consider it a match when one opponent is so obviously ahead of the other in terms of skill and experience. I was irritated immediately by the fool who had decided to fight when it was apparent that he did not know how. The professional, though, managed to secure a bit more than my irritation after he offered us a glimpse of the worst form imaginable. A real man would never hit his opponent off guard.

I began taking my gloves and coat off without thought, ignoring your concerned questioning. Goliath was unyielding and David was going to get himself killed if someone did not stop this. I jumped in to take his place, quite confident in my own abilities. It was going quite well at first - I even supposed that I was going to win your brother a good sum of money. He'd seen me do this before and knew I could beat the man and so gambling on me was not a risk. All was going well at first, I missed a jab and was able to duck and get in my own hit right away...

But then, there was dear Lucy, was there not? A person can always count on something he did not count on. She called my name from within the crowd and I had to look. I was responsible for her. It turned out that she was fine, just excited to see me as always. With the slight turn of my head went my consciousness and, I imagine, a great deal of your brother's money.

I awoke, I assume, moments later... to you. You called my name, caressed my face - tried to wake me with such urgency. I had been touched by women, nameless and faceless. I had been kissed, caressed... stroked. But never before had I felt what it was to be loved by a woman. To have her gentle and urgent brushes come from a place other than lust. To have that woman care for me. Yet there you were with no obligation to me, holding my face and calling my name. Caring for me, fearing for me.

I smiled even through the metallic taste of blood in my mouth.

You asked me why I had done what I had done and I lied to you. I muttered some nonsense about not wanting my boxing lessons to go to waste. I could not bring myself to share with you my true reasons... that I could not bare to see a fool taken advantage of. I was unwilling to show that aspect of my nature. To anyone. This was not the type of place and nor did I live the type of life which would allow for such habits of selflessness. Indeed, the he only way to survive was to hide your true emotions and reasoning from the world which would tear them away from you if given the chance. I could never allow anyone to ever really know me.

But it was too late for that, for, somehow, you already did know me. My sense of justice, you had called it was what you believed had spurred me on and in to the fight. You saw right through my lies. You saw right through me. How was it, then, that you did not know I loved you so deeply?

Perhaps it was because it was not until that moment that I knew it myself, though I tried to deny the feeling. I laughed shortly, still trying to keep myself from you... for even if it had been my sense of justice it had also been a lack of judgment (which seemed common of me in your presence). I should have let the man get beat. I had been taught to do just that. Justice plays no part in the law and therefore neither in my life or in this world. You looked almost hurt when you asked me if I truly believed that. I know you believed exactly the opposite or at least wished to believe the opposite. You would never have accepted it the way I did... but I was compelled to accept it. There was no purpose in idealism. I wished to tell you that, no, I did not. But believe it I did. I had to.

You stared in to my eyes with such pain; as though you felt pity for me. I stared back at you for a brief few moments, the constriction in my chest becoming unbearable. I did love you. There was no denying or undoing it. I loved you more than I ever would have believed myself capable of loving anyone. I suddenly wanted to taste your lips, feel your breath. I wanted to make love to you there, right there in the midst of all those people. To make you mine again and again - damn propriety. Damn everything.

I loved you with my whole heart and soul... and the pain was nearly all I could take. For I would never make love to you. I would never kiss you. You would never be mine. You would never even know what it was I felt for you. I was leaving and that would be the end of it.

I begged your leave, unable to stay a moment longer in your presence.

Walking quickly away from you and out of sight, I wiped the blood from my mouth and labored to retrieve my senses. I loved you. I loved you. It kept repeating itself in my mind. I loved you. How long had this been so? I wondered - thought back to our first meeting. To our second. To that day by the river. To the library. Every moment I had spent with you. You who were so different from me, from everyone. You who insulted me before you knew me. You who caressed my bloodied face. You, Jane. You.

It all seemed so obvious now. I had searched for you at the ball, had asked you to be my first dance partner. Indeed you had been the only woman I had wanted to dance with at all. I had gone to the picnic to see you. I had read your book. I had sought you out again and again without understanding why it was that you intrigued me so. But now I knew. Now I understood.

As I said before, I had loved you almost all along.

*7*

The carriage ride back to Steventon was quiet for the most part. Lucy drifted off to sleep early on and I allowed her to rest her head upon my shoulder. It obstructed my view of you who sat next to her, and of that I was grateful. Any sight of you just then would have hurt too much.

"Your uncle will be pleased to find that you've found yourself a wife, Lefroy. Something to settle you down." Henry said teasingly, referring to Lucy. I smiled a bit and looked outside the window.

"A wealthy wife of family." I said. "He would be overjoyed."

"Is that all your uncle is concerned with?" Your voice. I closed my eyes, feeling very unhappy. You were upset with me, I could tell. You did not like what I had said about justice, and had quite probably not liked what that said about me. I had disappointed you, Jane... but it was better that way. After all, I was leaving. And even if I was not, what then? I had nothing for you. "Wealth and lineage?"

"Jane." Henry said, most likely sensing tension.

"What?" You asked. "I am merely curious as to the state of his uncle's priorities. Is money all that matters? Are education and merit held in such small regard these days that--"

"My uncle's priorities are much the same as everyone else's." I interrupted you, keeping my eyes on the passing country - my heart bleeding pain in to every hole it could fill. Please, I pleaded with you silently, end this. Stop your judging. You knew nothing of me.

A pause.

"Are they the same as yours?" You asked.

"Priorities speak little of a person unless you know why it is they are forced to prioritize as they do."

"What reason other than wealth would force a man to prioritize punishment above justice and money above affection?"

Were you speaking of my uncle, Jane... or of me?

"Obligation." I responded without a thought.

"Obligation to what?" You asked with a laugh. "To your pocketbook?"

I swallowed, and looked across from me to Eliza and Henry whose eyes seemed to have been on me all along. A very awkward silence hung in the air for a long moment. I could not show you or anyone in that carriage the extent of my feelings for you. I could not show how I cared or how your words stung.

"And who would you have me marry?" I asked. "A well educated young woman of small fortune? I might be penniless with no means to support myself or her but, oh, we would have great literary conversations."

Now they were looking at you who said nothing.

"We do not do what we desire." I continued, once again looking out from the window. "We do what we must."

"What must we?" Lucy asked groggily as she awoke from her sleep. No one answered her. "Jane?" She asked. "Tom?" More silence. "What must we?"

"Lucy." Eliza spoke. "Why do you not tell us what was your favorite part of the fair?"

And Lucy, never missing an opportunity to speak, did speak.

"Oh, the whole affair was immensely entertaining, was it not?" She asked. "The high walkers, particularly..."

After that I heard no more. I stopped listening, and anyway, I do not believe it was long before she stopped talking. She must have realized that there was an even better opportunity for her, which was pretending to fall back asleep and lay her head back on my shoulder. I did not mind, for I felt sorry for her. She was in love with me as I was in love with you, and neither of us would have what we desired.

I would have wished that pain on no one.

*8*

Henry and I stood at your door before I departed with Lucy back to her home. He had asked to speak with me and, as I stood there, I was certain I would not want to hear what it was he had to say.

"Tom." He started, clearing his throat. I stood rigidly with my hands clasped behind my back, a nod was all I gave him in response. "Allow me to apologize for my sister's behavior. She is given over to fits of strong opinion."

I said nothing. He took a deep breath and clasped me on the shoulder.

"She is in love with you, Tom."

I swallowed. I was not sure if the news was good or bad, for in truth... it was both.

"She's told you this?" I asked.

A pause.

"No." He said, taking his hand from me. "But if tonight was any indication--"

"I am leaving." I interrupted him abruptly, not wanting to hear what it was he was going to say. If you loved me, if he had some proof that it was so - leaving would be unbearable. He furrowed his forehead.

"Your uncle--"

"Has sent for me, yes. I will be gone the day after to-morrow."

Henry looked down and nodded. He seemed almost relieved, but distressed as well.

"Does Jane know?"

"Why would Jane know?" I asked.

"Do you care for my sister?"

"Sir, I find that this conversation has ventured to become rather a bit more familiar than I am willing to allow."

"I assume that means yes." He said with a laugh.

Again, I said nothing. Again he took a deep breath.

"Then do what you must, Lefroy... but do not neglect to remember her feelings."

"I rarely have occasion to remember my own, Austen."

He laughed again shortly, though appeared to be largely not amused.

"I shall come to London some time. Visit for a spell."

I bowed shortly and turned to go, but something compelled me to turn back to your brother.

"I would never conduct myself intentionally in any way as to cause your sister distress." I paused. "I do care for her."

It was dark and it was slight... but I could see that your brother was smiling.

"I know." He said, and his smile widened. "Everyone knows."

I looked down, an ironic smile playing upon my own lips. Henry bowed.

"Lefroy." He said.

I bowed once again, and turned back to the carriage. I stopped short and again, I turned back to your brother.

"When you say everyone..."

"Goodnight, Lefroy." Were the last words I heard from a very amused Henry before the door shut behind him.

*9*

I was unable to sleep that night as I had expected. I had thought that I had been in love before, but realized now that I had never been... and I was finding my first true experience with it to be a bit more unpleasant than books and second hand accounts would have you believe. While there was a vague sense of euphoria that clouded my mind when I thought of you, there was mostly just pain. I wanted to imagine you and wanted to forget you - and I was finding it very difficult to reconcile the two desires.

"Jane..." I whispered your name to myself, just wanting to feel it on my tongue. I fancied you could hear me. That, somehow, as you lay in bed staring up as I did... you heard me whisper to you. Absurd, I know - but it comforted me.

"Tom?" A soft feminine voice crept in to my ears. I sat up abruptly as my room filled with the light of one flickering candle.

"Lucy?" I asked in confusion. I had not even noticed her open my door. She walked completely in and shut the door behind her. "Lucy, what are you doing? Can you imagine the kind of trouble you could get us both in to if--"

"I love you!" She interrupted me.

I was quiet for a moment, any angry words of reproach gone from my mind. I smiled softly, sadly, and stood up. I walked over to my window seat and sat back down. Looking out from the window, I held my hand out to Lucy.

"Come here and sit with me a moment."

I felt her take my hand and sit next to me, but I did not look at her right away. I was not sure of what to say or do and I knew if we were to be caught sitting there in such a compromising way it would hurt Lucy and her family. But she loved me and I... I felt somehow responsible for taking some of that burden away from her. I took a deep breath.

"Lucy," I started and then looked at her. I could see clearly two wet lines drawn vertically down her face. "Do not cry."

"I know you think I'm just a stupid little girl... but you're leaving and I had to tell you."

I paused.

"It..." I stopped, not quite certain of what words were to come from my mouth, but knowing I had to say something. "It honors me that you would hold me in such high regard. If someone so wonderful as you could love me, it makes me feel as though I might have a chance in life."

"Do you think..." She started as she wiped the tears from her face. "Do you think you could ever love me, Tom?"

"I think that the man who is lucky enough to win your heart would be a fool not to return your favor." I squeezed her hand. "But I do not deserve it and therefore could never presume to accept or return..." I trailed off.

She looked down, but I took her chin in my hand - forcing her gently to look at me.

"I care for you a great deal. My only wish for you is your happiness... and you would not find that with me."

"I would." She protested.

I stared in to her eyes and then sighed, realizing my best course of action was not to reason with her, but to frighten her.

"All right then." I said as I stood up. "We had better leave quickly."

"What? Leave?" She stood, confusion knitting her eyebrows. I nodded as I retrieved my luggage from under my bed.

"Well, of course. We'll have to run away together. You don't suspect your mother and father would ever allow us to be married."

"Run away?" She asked, sounding quite unhappy.

"Yes. To Ireland."

"Ireland?"

"Yes, where I'm from. My uncle would not allow us to stay with him." I turned to her. "We'll live with my mother and father and all my brothers and sisters. My mother would be grateful to have your help."

"... How many brothers and sisters?"

"Eleven." I answered off handedly.

"Eleven?"

"Mmm."

She looked to me and then to my luggage, then back to me.

"I think I'll be going back to my room now." She said.

"But I thought--"

"What good would a marriage be if we made everyone around us so unhappy?"

Though I smiled on the inside, I managed a resigned expression of understanding.

"You are right." I said. "You must think me a fool."

"No, Tom." She said with a shake of her head. "I could never think that of you."

I smiled.

"Shall we be friends?"

She smiled as well, as though now I was the one to be pitied. She stood on her toes and placed a soft kiss on my cheek.

"I should like that very much." She said and then turned to go... but before she opened the door, she turned back to me. "Tom?"

"Lucy."

"My mother and father... they will not hear of this, will they?"

I held in a laugh.

"It will be our secret." I said, she smiled with a nod and was gone. How quickly young and foolish love dissolved when tested. Perhaps if you offered to run away with me, my affection for you would evanesce...

But no, I thought as I sat on the edge of my bed. If you proved to love me so much as to wish to run away with me, that might well have been the happiest day of my life.

And it was, Jane - as well as the worst. But... I suppose am getting ahead of myself.

*****