Disclaimer: I own the way Jack is portrayed, Helena, Margaret, Robert, and any other minor characters that may appear in this small prologue. The rest belongs to the wonderful genius, Joss Whedon.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a prologue to one of my stories that will be featured later. Please read and review! Enjoy!
London, England, December 1880
Giggling as her husband spun her around and the music died, Margaret Spennings glanced to the edge of the dance floor, where, to her dismay, her young friend still sat, a wine glass in hand. Started, as Robert pulled her back to him, she raised an eyebrow then nodded towards Helena.
"She is still sitting, Robert."
"That does not mean a thing. If she wishes to be miserable, she will be."
Slapping his arm, playfully, she giggled as he stuck out his bottom lip, and let go of her hand, unwillingly. He knew that anything she could possibly say to cheer up the startling beauty would have no effect. Helena Ambruzzi was a stubborn girl, something his wife seemed to forget every time they brought her along to one of the many English dinner dances they attended.
Rolling his eyes, he soon fell back in with the crowd as a violin stuck up a reel, and his wife exited the dance floor, approaching their young house guest, and falling into the chair next to her.
"Ah, my gracious, that man still can dance like he could when we were first courting."
Accepting a glass of wine from one of the many attendants drifting through the nobles and socialites of London, Margaret took a small sip, eyeing Lena over her wine glass. The girl seemed uncomfortable in her setting, as was normal for her when attending a party or in a large social setting, her large brown eyes scanning the many men and women, all of whom were enjoying themselves.
"You know, dear, a stunning young woman, such as yourself, could easily attract the eye of one of these gentlemen if you left this dark corner."
"Oh, believe me, there is no need to leave this corner to attract said gentlemen. They have been bothering me all evening."
"Bothering, child?"
"Yes, quite annoying they are. Asking if I'd like to dance or talk, mostly about their money, mind you."
"Ah, I see. Another crowd of unappealing suitors at this party, as well."
Scowling, slightly, at her mother's long-time friend, Lena leaned back in her seat, no longer willing to talk about suitors and marriage. The topic had been over exhausted ever since she was eighteen, of the appropriate age to be married, according to her father.
"Well, I can see nothing I say will encourage you to stop your sulking, so I'll be with Robert, if you need anything, my dear, do not hesitate to find me."
Standing, and knowing quite well that Lena would not need anything as long as it meant she had to venture into the mass of people she hated most, Margaret rejoined her husband across the great hall, linking her arm in his, while Lena looked on, grateful for her departure, though instantly feeling her dread return as yet another young duke or earl caught her eye, and looked as if he may make his way to her any moment.
Deciding not to allow this to happen, Lena hastened to the nearest exit, the doors that led to the deserted gallery, outside. Though, she instantly felt the consequence of this decision as the cold, December air nipped at her exposed arms.
"Curses to evening gowns."
Sitting down on a stone bench that faced the massive park area, Lena pulled her wrap tight around her body, but still could not ward off the shivers. Of course, to her, it was better to freeze than have men look at you like a piece of meat, and compete to see who could bed you first.
Suddenly, a noise from behind started her, and upon turning she found a tall, strikingly handsome young man with dark brown hair and a mustache, looking back at her. Realizing, he must be one of the hopeful young men from inside, seeing the chance to be alone with her, and seduce her, a wave of rage consumed her.
Standing, she approached him with a raging fire in her eyes, ready to tell him off, which she proceeded to do with much flare, the complete opposite from her usually calm and quiet self.
"Urgh! You followed me out here, as well! Let me spell it out for you, I am not interested in sleeping with you or your friends, so just leave me alone, please! Is that too much to ask for! I mean, can I not just find my own husband, and settle down? Does everyone have to try and speed up the process?"
Rage gone, she removed her finger from the startled man's chest, and collapsed onto the bench, a little warmer. Though, she was quite aware that the stranger had not retreated from her, but rather come close, standing now at her side, and looking down at her.
"I. . .no, that is not too much to ask for."
"What?"
Looking up at him, and this time started not by his presence but his eyes, which were a dazzling blue, Lena realized what he was saying.
"It is not too much for you to ask to be left alone. . .and choose your husband. I, too, was trying to escape, but I guess I'll have to be alone somewhere else."
Laughing, and burying her face in her hands, completely embarrassed, Lena grabbed the man's hand as he made to walk away.
"Wait. Please. Let me apologize to you. I thought. . .I thought you were one of those pathetic, rich earls, who has been bothering me all evening. Though, you are not, and I apologize for. . ."
"Attacking me."
Offering this statement with a smile, the young gentleman sat next to the girl as she made room for him and smiled back, though shivered a little.
"Are you cold?"
"Just a little. I must admit my. . .escape was not well thought out."
Using his word, she was surprised when he removed his evening jacket and draped it around her shoulders, then, held out his hand.
"My name is Jack."
"Jack. My name is Helena. Well, Lena, as I am called by those who are willing to forgive me after I have attacked them."
As another smiled crossed his face and he kissed the hand she offered, Lena couldn't help but feel the cold retreating, he was incredibly handsome from afar, but close up, he was almost unbearably good-looking. Much better than any man she had seen inside.
"So, Jack, will you tell me, for I do not think you were trying to escape men that want to bed you, why did you leave the richest company in all of London?"
"Well, they may be rich, but they are not good company at all, with their talk of money and lands they've visited. Do not get me wrong, it is wonderful to explore and expand your horizons, but most of them have never seen more of India than the brothels."
"And most wonder why I despise them."
"Oh. You are not English?"
"Oh, no, do not let this accent fool you, Jack. I may have lived in England since I was very young, but I was born in Italy, and raised there until I was four."
"Really? Italy? I did not think your beauty was from this land. Excuse me for sounding like one of those pathetic, rich earls."
Smiling, she acted boldly, again uncharacteristic, and took Jack's warm hand in her own.
"They are none so kind or genuine. I am glad I am not alone."
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What seemed like hours later, the two sat wrapped in one another's arms, still on the same, old stone bench, still content with each other's company.
"Jack."
"Yes, Lena?"
"What do you do? What is your profession?"
"I'm a physician. I have my own practice in Whitechapel."
"Whitechapel?"
Shrugging, Jack pulled her closer to him, unwilling to fully explain why Whitechapel was so important to him.
"They need me most there."
"So, you are a kind, introspective, doctor who likes wine from Italy and being alone. Have I forgotten anything, Jack?"
"Yes, I'm afraid you have. I have quite an interest in you, Helena Ambruzzi, kind, introspective, yet stubborn woman from Italy, who does not like men to chase after her, but is quite willing to attack them in the darkness of night."
Smiling, and playfully slapping his arm, Lena turned her head, unaware that Jack had just leaned in, and found herself looking into his deep blue eyes, their faces inches apart.
"Jack."
Tracing his lips with her fingers, Lena slowly inched closer, and met him with a soft, chaste kiss, that was broken moments later by the sound of an all-to-familiar, annoying voice.
"Helena, are you out here?"
Standing up, but not letting go of Jack's hand, she turned to find Margaret, followed by a highly intoxicated Robert.
"Oh, there you are, dear, I was just. . ."
Cutting off as she caught sight of Jack, Margaret forced back a smile.
"I did not realize you were not alone, I'm sorry, dear."
"No, no, it is getting late, and I'm sure you have work, tomorrow, Jack, do you not?"
"I do, actually, I should. . .return home and get some rest before morning. Though, it was an exquisite pleasure meeting you, Miss Ambruzzi. I hope we meet, again, soon."
Slipping a slip of paper into her hand as he kissed it, Jack was off with a nod to Margaret, though, moment later Lena realized his jacket was still around her shoulders and ran after him, catching him in the hallway.
"Jack!"
Turning, he smiled and appeared baffled, then realized she was holding out his evening jacket.
"You forgot. . ."
Realizing they were alone, she wrapped her arms around his neck, taking advantage of the moment, and kissed him, less chastely than in the garden.
"Again. Soon."
Nodding, and smiling, he was off with a bow, and a moment later, Margaret materialized at her side, with Robert fumbling and trying to remain upright.
"Dear, me, is that a smile, Helena Ambruzzi?"
"It feels like one."
"Well, I should hope to see many more. If the lord makes you happy, I should hope to see a wedding gown on you, as well."
"Lord?"
"You did not know, my dear?"
"Know what?"
"That man, the one you appear to have spent much of the evening with, is Lord Wyndam-Pryce."
"Lord Wyndam-Pryce. He was. . ."
"I think. . .we should. . .go before the French come."
Turning, and taking her dear Robert's hand, Margaret raised an eyebrow to Lena, and was out the door to their carriage. Staying behind a moment, in awe, Lena smiled, again. She was in love with a lord.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hm. . .I wonder what will happen. Jack. . .lord. . .physician. . .Whitechapel. Where am I going with this?