--

"Next to being married, a girl likes to be crossed in love a little now and then."

Pride and Prejudice

--

Coming away from her most recent swindle, Vala Maldoran had to admit that there was more than a little to worry about. She was running low on money—she'd have to resort to pick-pocketing if she wanted some kind of meal today—and she was running out of people who would partner with her, even for a sort time. Of course, that may have had something to do with the way she had systematically cheated nearly every gypsy in the British Isles.

It wasn't that she was incapable of running a successful scheme alone—there was no one better at sweet-talking witless aristocrats than Miss Maldoran. It was just that a partnered job was so much more profitable. Not to mention, at least if you had a partner, you had some company. As it stood, Vala had no one with which to banter and no one to annoy—a woeful state of affairs indeed.

Luckily, she happened to be in a town where one of her mailing addresses was located, and she could bet on a letter waiting for her from Daniel. Daniel's letters always held a refreshing dose of sarcasm and sweetness—and, despite his many and varied reproaches in the text of his correspondence, there would almost always be some small bit of cash accompanying it. No matter how much he protested, it was proof that he actually did care, which was a nice feeling for someone who often felt that no one ever had.

Walking into the post office, she greeted the man behind the desk with a friendly (and surprisingly genuine) smile. "Good morning, Mr. Smith. How have you been?"

"Miss Maldoran! How do y'do?" the man's accent was thick, but his demeanor was charming. "I was figurin' on seein' ye soon, seein' as I got a nice stack'o mail for ye."

A 'nice stack'o mail' translated to three letters, each written in Daniel's precise hand. Perhaps she would not have to resort to petty thievery today after all.

A shame, that.

One cordial goodbye to Mr. Smith, three letters, and ten pounds later, Vala could do nothing but stare at the last piece of correspondence in abject horror. Cameron was engaged? To Samantha Carter? The mind boggled at such a thought.

Not that she disliked Miss Carter—in fact, she was one of the few people in Gateshire who seemed to have a brain as well as a sense of humor, a rare combination indeed. But the idea of Miss Carter marrying Cameron Mitchell, who had spent so many hours last summer assuring Vala that this very event would never come to pass, was very disconcerting for her. Granted, it had been her choice to walk away from Cameron and all the various…complications…he presented, but that did not give him the right to just…get over her!

…Did it?

No. It simply was not possible that Cameron had completely put aside the emotions that had run so deeply within him less than twelve months past. And if he had not, then he was using Miss Carter abominably ill, something that Vala could not abide.

She would simply have to go back to Gateshire and tell him so.

--

Vala appeared on scene even more promptly than Cameron could have dreamed, and with her quick arrival he finally knew the answer to the questions he had so long held about the nature of her heart. While she might never admit it, she cared for him too—perhaps even more than cared. Now he just had to make sure not to show his hand too soon.

Situating himself most advantageously on the front lawn, he had a wonderful view of her arrival. "Why, Miss Maldoran," he said by way of greeting as she led her horse into the drive. "What a pleasant surprise."

Dismounting her horse with haste, she glared at him. "Cameron, do stop the ridiculous act. You know full well why I've come."

Feigning innocence was a skill Cameron had perfected as a young boy with a nose for trouble. "Indeed, I do not, though the pleasure of your company is always appreciated."

Frustrated, she waved a newspaper clipping in front of his face. "This! This is why I'm here!"

"Ah, so you've heard. Come to extend your well-wishes, then?" he asked pleasantly.

"Bullocks. I've come to box your ears! How dare you do this?"

"Last time I checked, getting married was no serious crime."

"Well, that's certainly up for debate, but it is a very serious matter indeed when you are marrying one woman less than a year after swearing undying devotion to another!"

He frowned at that. "I certainly never said such a ridiculous thing."

"I recall it with perfect clarity."

"You must be mistaken," he dismissed easily. "And even if I had made such a proclamation, what would it matter? You rejected my every advance last summer."

A sultry look flashed in her dark eyes. "Not every advance."

Heat flushed through him, but he held his composure. "Near enough. What difference does it make to you that I've transferred my affections on a more…agreeable…lady?"

The idea of Samantha being agreeable to his advances was laughable, but there was no need for Vala to know such a thing. "I find it objectionable because it is not possible! No one falls out of love so readily, especially not a man such as you. You're simply using Miss Carter, a fact that I find despicable in the extreme."

"Is it so difficult to believe that I was perhaps not as enamored with you as we once both believed?" he asked, extremely diverted by this turn of conversation and her so-called righteous indignation.

"Yes!"

Playing at boredom with the subject, he glanced at the quickly clouding sky, heaving a sigh. "If you insist on continuing further with this line of argument, we'd best proceed inside. It is going to rain."

She followed him in, lecturing all the way.

This was working out better than he had hoped.

--

Due to being a costal town, Gateshire often experienced a few weeks during the summer where they were subjected to a remarkable number of severe thunderstorms. No one really minded too much—after all, too much water was certainly preferable to not having enough. Everyone simply adjusted their schedules to get all outdoor chores finished before noon, because during these few weeks it was anyone's guess if after that would be clear or fraught with turmoil.

As such, Samantha Carter was trying to hurry back to the shelter of the house, eyeing the storm clouds rolling in with a challenging sort of air. She had ventured out to a far property line to survey the damage a flooded creek had wreaked upon a small storage shed there. Pleased to see that it was not as dire as she had feared, she had resolved to fix it tomorrow—there was obviously little more time today. The niggling and persistent cough she had been dealing with the past few weeks scratched at her throat in the cooling air, and she had the passing fancy that she might even take a bit of a nap when arriving home.

Her path back to the house followed the roiling water for a good bit, and while this normally would not have been anything of note, today she could not help but notice a particularly mournful sound coming from amidst the angry waters. Scanning the expanse before her, she was startled to locate a little bundle of shivering greyhound puppy huddled on a tiny island of leaves and other debris. Sure enough, at a second glance, it was definitely Thor, looking more distraught than she had ever seen the poor creature.

Glancing at the sky, she knew that he could not be left there—if the storm was as vicious as it promised to be, his little sanctuary would be washed out in no time. With that resolved, she began to strip down to her undergarments, eyeing the distance between her and the dog with uncertainty. "Oh, boy," she muttered before wading in.

It took all of her strength to struggle against the violent current towards Thor, and several times as her feet slipped against the slick bottom of the stream she wondered if she would make it. But finally, she grasped onto a branch near Thor's tail. Upon seeing her, the young animal had stopped howling, simply watching her progress with large eyes and a wagging tail. Now that she was nearer, she could see the fine shiver that had overcome the animal, and felt for him. "Poor dear," she crooned, reaching for him. "I do wonder how you got here at all."

He offered no explanation, but did lick her cheek by way of greeting. "Let's get out of this mess, shall we?"

Thor seemed to agree, and nestled under her arm with no struggle at all. The journey back to shore seemed worse somehow, and by the time she was on solid land once again, she had to admit to feeling a bit light-headed. "Well, that was certainly an adventure," she remarked to Thor, now cradled in her arms. "At least we're out of the wet."

That was when it began to rain in great, heavy sheets.

--

The rain did not deter Jack O'Neill, who stubbornly remained on horseback as he searched frantically for his beloved pet. He admittedly spoiled the creature and did not allow him outside without supervision, especially in weather such as this. Unfortunately, one of his butlers, a man of rather sour disposition ironically named Makepeace, had let Thor loose sometime that morning, and the puppy had not been seen or heard from since.

Teal'c, ever obliging and knowing how much the animal meant to his friend, had gone off in one direction, while O'Neill had been faithfully searching the other. But he had reached the far property line some time ago and was now resorting to riding along it, scanning the horizon as best as he could through the severe weather. Despite all this, he refused to give up—Thor was such a small creature that he feared for his safety, and O'Neill could not abide it if something grievous happened to his small companion.

His eyes caught on a blurred figure in the distance, over the fence onto the Carter property. It was certainly too big to be Thor, and seemed, in fact, to be a person—but what would someone be doing walking through these horrible conditions? Determined to help, O'Neill led his horse to jump the fence and gallop towards the slow-moving silhouette.

As he came closer, he was startled to realize that it was Miss Carter herself, drenched through to the skin and shivering violently. It was no wonder, either, as besides being drenched, she appeared to be wearing very little. "Miss Carter!" he called over the pounding of the rain. "What in heaven's name are you doing out in this?"

A pale face with blue-tinged lips peered up at him. "I was saving your dog, if you must know." Now he could see Thor cuddled in her arms, shivering nearly as violently as his rescuer. "I would have been home in plenty of time, but he was stranded in the middle of the stream. I was forced to fish him out."

Taking the dog from her, he cuddled Thor into a somewhat dry saddlebag. "I am in your debt. Allow me to take you home."

"Oh, no, it's all right. Not that far now," she insisted, though her glazed expression was more than a little alarming.

"Miss Carter, I fear that I must insist. Come now, up."

After no small amount of struggle, she was situated in front of him on the saddle, teeth chattering and body unconsciously huddling closer to him, searching out whatever warmth he might have to offer.

Five minutes into the ride, he realized that it was in fact she who was providing all the warmth—she was burning with fever. Alarmed, he pressed a hand to her cheek. "Miss Carter, how are you feeling?"

When he received no reply, he repeated stubbornly, "Miss Carter?"

Finally twisting her a bit in the saddle so as to ascertain her condition, he realized that she had passed into unconsciousness.

It was a grave sign, and it was with no small amount of dread in his heart that he spurred his horse into action. As soon as he caught sight of the Vorash Hall stables, he dismounted. His steed would find its way into the barn by itself, where the stable hands could look after him. He could spare no time. Situating Samantha in his arms (and, at the last moment, remembering to pull Thor out of the saddlebag to trot at his side), he made a dash for the main house.

His arrival was dramatic in the extreme, a loud clamor of the door being pushed in that drew Cameron Mitchell and a woman he did not recognize to the foyer. With his gaze fixed on Samantha's too pale face, Jack said the only thing he could.

"She needs a doctor."