--

"To be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love."

Pride and Prejudice

--

To Sam, the next week seemed to fly by impossibly quickly. Though little had changed in her meetings with Colonel O'Neill, there was now an awareness that hung heavy in the air—the acknowledgement of what she saw as an unspoken agreement to wait until the eve of her birthday to formalize any sort of association between them.

Often, she found an inexplicable tension vibrating in her limbs and that her stomach could not be calmed by even the cook's blandest broth. Despite all this, she discovered a joy in each day that was not comparable to any feeling she had experienced previously. It seemed so strange to think that after so much trial and indeed, her eventual condemnation of all romantic intrigues, she would find herself anxiously awaiting yet another proposal. Still, she could not bring herself to compare her relationship with Jack O'Neill to any of her previous entanglements. Although she had not known him nearly so long as some of her other suitors, she felt strangely confident that a life spent with him would be more satisfying than any other possible outcome. Perhaps it would not be particularly easy and she certainly would not always be as blissful as she seemed to be now, but at the very least, she would never suffer from boredom.

In the hours directly preceding the ball, Samantha found herself standing in front of her wardrobe, fingering the dress already hung out for the coming event. The frock was new and, she believed, particularly flattering. Although she normally was not the sort of woman to indulge in personal vanity, on this one occasion she thought that perhaps it was acceptable to be particularly mindful of her appearance. She had loved this pattern the moment she had seen it, and the dressmaker had fashioned the silken brocade with an artistry that befitted the circumstance.

When she was finally ready to go downstairs and check on the status of the preparations, she felt confident that for once, there was nothing in her being that could be picked apart and frowned upon—tonight, she was a woman without flaws.

The hallway was bustling with servants and cooks and other assorted hired help, intent on transforming the ballroom from an air of mundane tedium to one of almost magical beauty. Flowers and garlands hung everywhere, and in one corner the musicians were tuning their instruments. The smells of roast pork and fragrant side dishes filled the air, and the shadows of twinkling candlelight danced upon the walls. If there was one thing that could be said about her father's party planning skills, it was that together with Mr. Siler, he certainly left no stone unturned.

Yes, it seemed appropriate that everything be perfect for tonight—it was in fact, the first time Sam had cared enough to be conscious of her surroundings. With the setting so meticulously laid out by her father, it was almost like he had already blessed the proposed union.

Coming to stand next to her father, Sam slipped her arm through his and squeezed it warmly, feeling an overwhelming affection for the him. "This is all lovely."

The praise seemed to mean a lot to him, and for that reason if no other, she was relieved that she had attempted to reach out to him. "I am glad you approve. I was not quite certain that you were pleased with all the fuss."

"Yes, well…I changed my mind."

"A woman's prerogative, I suppose," Jacob joked.

"Oh, so you are finally prepared to admit that I am no longer the girl of twelve with skinned knees that you need to protect at every turn?"

Her question seemed to strike Jacob as particularly meaningful, for he was silent a long time before replying. "A father always wants to protect his daughter. No number of birthdays will change that."

--

For the fourth time, Jack O'Neill grasped the ends of his tie, determined for once to properly fasten it without aid. His movements were mechanical and meticulous, and yet still somehow managed to create a knot that, at first glance appeared correct. Unfortunately, the illusion dissipated under a second inspection, and the colonel let out a frustrated yell, accompanied by a curse that could not be repeated in proper company.

"Do you require aid, O'Neill?" Teal'c asked as the large man entered the room, adorned in what Jack recognized as the robes that he reserved for formal and stately occasions.

"Teal'c," he said tiredly, "am I crazy? Can I really be considering getting married again when I am obviously incapable of performing a simple task like fastening my own tie?"

Large brown hands carefully took hold of both ends of his tie and began looping the garment back and forth into the appropriate formation. "As I understand it, O'Neill, a man's skill in marriage does not directly relate to his skill with formal attire." Finished, the man stepped back and O'Neill was both pleased and a bit annoyed to see that the tie was now fashioned correctly. "You are concerned about your intentions to propose to Samantha Carter tonight."

"Yes. No. I…do not know, exactly. Just nervous in general, I suppose. She is…young."

"I was led to believe that most women in your society are joined at a considerably younger age than Samantha Carter's twenty-five years."

"Well, yes, but she's still twelve years younger than I," Jack pointed out. "She does not have my…history…to contend with."

"It is not uncommon for an age difference to be present between spouses," pointed out Teal'c.

"I know. I just…Teal'c, I actually want this," Jack said, hearing the disbelief in his own voice echo in the room. "I want this to work, I want her to say yes and her father to approve...it matters." It went without saying that it was the first time in very long while that he could recall something mattering so much to him.

"As it should, O'Neill."

That was also true, and it made the rest of his doubts and insecurities fade into the back of his mind. In the end, maybe the fact that he was so nervous was the best sign he could ask for.

--

He arrived late, appearing at the door with Teal'c by his side just when Sam had begun to worry over his absence. The now familiar half-smile on his face as they bowed and curtsied in greeting was a welcome sight, putting to rest the doubts that had swirled in her hyperactive mind. "Colonel O'Neill, sir," she said by way of greeting. "Thank you for coming to my party."

"I would not have missed it," he assured her quietly. "It is, in fact, an event that I have been much anticipating."

Excitement lanced through her. "As have I, I admit." When his dark eyes seemed too serious and too intent on her for a casual meeting in the hallway, she turned her attention to his companion. "And Teal'c. Thank you so much for coming. Those robes are particularly striking."

His grounding presence eased her once again active nerves. "I thank you, Samantha Carter. These are the garments of my people reserved for the most laudable occasions—I thought them appropriate for the celebration of such a noteworthy event as your birth."

She found the explanation strangely flattering, and found herself blushing at such praise from the normally inscrutable man. "I am very touched, Teal'c. You shall have to tell Daniel all about them—I am certain he will want to inquire over the meaning of every stitch and fold."

"I shall be happy to oblige the curiosity of Daniel Jackson. Would you be able to direct me towards his location?"

"Oh, he's in the ballroom with everyone else—I think the music is about to start and he has been roped into dancing with Carolyn Lam Landry."

An inquisitive look came into the foreign man's eyes. "I must admit to some curiosity over your forms of dancing. Do you think that if Janet Fraiser is not previously engaged, she would be so kind as to instruct me in the movements of your culture?"

Tripping over his somewhat strange request, Sam glanced at the Colonel. "He wants to dance with Mrs. Fraiser," Jack clarified helpfully.

"Oh, I see! Well, I am sure she would be more than pleased to oblige you."

O'Neill nodded his agreement. "Yes, but in order to do so, we shall have to join them. Miss Carter?" The question was actually an invitation, and she more than happily took the arm offered to her, enjoying the rarity of being escorted into her party flanked by two men of such fine and agreeable distinction.

When they finally located Daniel and Janet, who were attempting to fade into obscurity by huddling into a far back corner of the room, dancing was about to begin. As their friends took their places on the dance floor, Sam found herself once again contending with nerves. Strange, now that the event she had so long anticipated had arrived, that she felt uncertain how to proceed.

Thankfully, Colonel O'Neill seemed to have more presence of mind than she—at the current moment, anyway. "I do believe those are the first chords in a waltz, Miss Carter."

"So they are, Colonel O'Neill."

"And I seem to recall reserving the honor of a waltz with you this evening. Would you compliment me even further by allowing me the very first dance?"

Relief flooded through her as she found it quite impossible not to smile at him. "By all means, sir."

As he led her onto the floor and the dance began, his hand firm on her back and his eyes warmly looking into her own, Sam thought that perhaps, this evening really would turn out exactly as she had so longed for it to.

--

Jack O'Neill was more surprised than anyone when he realized that he was actually having a more than pleasant time at the evening's festivities. Friends surrounded him, shielding him from the inquisitive and intrusive glances of those persons with whom he was lesser acquainted, and between himself and Samantha there was a pleasant tension he looked forward to resolving as soon as he could find a moment to pull her aside.

Distracted as he was, he failed to notice Jacob Carter approaching until the General was already amidst their crowd. "Everyone having a good time?" Jacob asked.

"It is indeed a most pleasing event, Jacob Carter," Teal'c acknowledged.

"Good! I am glad to hear that Samantha's friends are finding the night entertaining." The small talk looked as though it might continue on extemporaneously and ruin their fun except that Jacob abruptly turned to Jack and asked, "Colonel O'Neill, I was wondering if you would take a turn with me. I have something very particular I would like to discuss with you."

At a request like that, how could he have refused? With his excuses to the party, he joined Jacob on the patio, wondering what in the world all this could be about. "Not that I mind, General Carter, but do you care to explain my extraction from the festivities?"

Underneath the surface of slight annoyance, Jack was actually a bit frantic, trying desperately to recall an incident during which he could have offended the General in any degree. The problem was that nothing immediately came to mind—in fact, he and Jacob had seemed to get along quite well after their first somewhat awkward introduction.

The older man shifted his weight, studying Jack in a particularly thorough manner that he found somewhat unsettling. "I am to return to my post tomorrow, Colonel."

Wondering what in the world this could have to do with him, Jack blinked. "Oh. Well…I know that Miss Carter will be sad to see you leave so soon."

"Not any more than I. I am concerned about her spending so much time here, all alone. A young lady can only afford so much speculation over her character before it is irrevocably tarnished, and I fear that perhaps Samantha is nearing that limit."

Would it be too forward for Jack to assure the General that hopefully, she would soon not be spending so much time alone? Considering the state of his somewhat unique courtship with Samantha, he supposed it probably would be. "I can assure you that Samantha is thought of in the best sense by those whose opinions truly matter," was the best he could come up with.

"Yes, I can see that. But there is further cause for concern. As you probably know, Samantha has somewhat of a…history. As a father, I have overlooked her exploits because I trusted her judgment. However, I worry that with her nearly such an advanced age, she may grow lax in her requirements for the society that surrounds her at a time when that could prove to be most dangerous to her."

The idea of Sam becoming even the least bit lax was a bit ridiculous, and while Jack was sure that Jacob meant well, this conversation was becoming more and more absurd by the moment. Still, the implication that Samantha could somehow be in danger set a bit of tension in his shoulders. "I am afraid I do not understand your concerns."

"Yes, of course not, but I am trying to explain it to you. You see, Samantha's mother came from a very wealthy family and was, coincidentally the only heir to her family's rather substantial fortune—not even a distant relative could be located. Determined that the wealth should be intended only for her direct descendants, the estate is fashioned in such a way that it does not come into the receiver's control until they are of a proper age."

Suddenly, his concern was coming into focus, and Jack felt all of his so carefully laid plans for the evening begin to unravel. "Her twenty-fifth birthday," he said hollowly.

"Yes," Jacob confirmed grimly. "I had hoped she would be married suitably before news of this came out, but circumstances and Samantha being what they are—well, here we are." A heavy sigh escaped him. "My entire marriage was shaded by the public perception that I had married for money. While it was not true, it was a stigma that put great strain on my relationship with my wife. I do not wish that for Samantha, or even worse, for her actually to be seduced into a cad's clutches for the sole intention of gaining control of such a significant amount of wealth."

"No, of course not," O'Neill agreed, perishing the thought. Still, silently he raged against the situation he now found himself in—this new information had contaminated his carefully laid plans. If he proposed to Samantha now, knowing about the money and position that would come with such a union, he would appear to many to be no better than the type of man over whom Jacob was so concerned. In fact, a proposal now would be certain to gain only Jacob's wrath and scorn—it would seem as though he had found out about the money and wasted no time in securing it for himself. The idea of tainting his relationship with Samantha in such a manner was reprehensible. Maybe if he explained everything, if he assured her that he had money enough of his own and no designs—

But it was not to be, for the next words out of Jacob's mouth were, "You and my daughter seem to have a solid friendship. I was wondering if you would be my eyes while I was away, guarding against the sort of man who would seek to take advantage of her situation."

Jack was now put into an impossible position. There was no way to deny such a request and not appear to Jacob that he was a callous brute, and if he undertook the responsibility, then he was bound by duty to drop all designs he had on Miss Carter with regards to himself. Despair spread through his chest, aching and empty where only moments before there had been delight and anticipation. It seemed as though there was no longer a way he could fulfill his deepest wish and marry the woman who he had come to so fervently love and admire.

Swallowing against the bitter taste in his throat, Jack said hollowly, "General Carter…I assure you that I shall be vigilant in your absence."

--

Flushed from the exertion of dancing so many dances and laughing so long, Samantha took a reprieve from the joy of the dance floor to calm herself, sipping some wine and watching the festivities with a smile on her face.

The smile only widened when she saw Colonel O'Neill weaving his way through the crowd towards her. "Where did you disappear to?" she asked when he got within speaking distance. "I go off for one dance with Daniel and you vanish. Is everything all right?"

Although he smiled and assured her, "Yes, of course," the tension she sensed radiating from him was a new and not at all pleasant addition to the man with whom she was so well acquainted. However, when he next said the words she had been waiting to hear all night, the worry was banished from her mind.

"It seems to be a very fine night this evening. Would you come out into the garden with me for a spell?"

Trying not to appear too eager, she nodded and slipped her arm through his once again, following his lead through the doors and into the late spring air.

It was brisk now that the sun had gone down, but not uncomfortable, and the flickering lights of the candles that surrounded the stone porch mixed with the muted music floating out from the ballroom created a romantic atmosphere. While it was all a bit more cliché than she might typically like, for this moment and this man, she did not seem to mind so much. It was hard to make out the specifics of his features in the half-dark, and she did regret that because she should have liked to look him in the eye for this particular eventuality.

When they were far enough away from the commotion inside to apparently suit his liking, he turned and clasped both of her hands, his grip loosening and tightening almost reflexively. "Miss Carter—Samantha—Sam…" he began, voice deep and rarely serious, "I hope you know how much I...value your friendship."

She squeezed his hands back, feeling a sense of peace come over her. "As do I," came her truthful assurance.

"Good, good, that's…I mean, I am glad of that. And I want you to know that I…I do…that I…care for you a great deal. Much more than…." here, his speech began to fail him and he ducked his head, shifting his weight in a fashion she was very familiar with by now.

That was when she realized that somehow, something had gone dreadfully awry. "Something is wrong!" she exclaimed. "Do tell me what it is, please. We can fix it together."

His whole body seemed to wrench at that and he drew her close, tucking her head against his shoulder. Alarm filled her and she clutched at him, wondering what in the world could have caused him to be this distraught.

After gathering himself a little, he pulled away from her, even going so far as to release his hold on her hands. A shaft of light illuminated sad brown eyes and she had the curious awareness of all her hopes for this evening disintegrating before her eyes. "I am sorry," he said in that low, serious tone. "I just can't…"

With great and precious care, he leaned over and placed a single kiss on her forehead, the sensation of his warm lips against her now chilled skin both wonderful and strangely terrible. When he stepped back, she sensed the finality that surrounded him and could not comprehend it. "Make my apologies to everyone. I simply can't…just can't…good night, Miss Carter."

At that, he turned and disappeared down the stone steps and into the dark of the spring night, leaving her standing bewildered in the light of candles and well-wishes.

He did not once look back.