The coach ride to Longbourn provided Rukia further contemplation in regards to her course of action. Her decision was indeed rash, to her standards; but it was not without proper thought or consideration. Her faith in the notion of a prosperous match with Mr. Kurosaki increased the longer her thoughts were filled with it; and more than once had she indulged in the imagined reactions of their immediate friends and family. How shocked they would be, surely. But it would not be long before the advantages and prosperity of it were fully realized. She was prepared to endure what ramifications were in store of marrying so far below her status; but she had every confidence that the fulfillment of her feelings, and Mr. Kurosaki's, would alleviate any discomfort. So she continued her thoughts and rationalizations until the house at Longbourn came into view, and despite her confident deductions on the matter, felt herself grow anxious at the sight.
It appeared that much of the household had elected to receive her along the drive, and stood excitedly as Rukia's coach drew near. This she found exceedingly strange. There was no known reason for them to do so, or to await her arrival with such familiarity. Only when Rukia's identity was revealed did disappointment overcome them.
The twins peered at her in confusion. "Miss Rotwood? What brings you to Longbourn?"
After stepping out of the coach and providing a curtsey, she asked if she may have an audience with Mr. Kurosaki. With reluctance, the family acknowledged her, the cousin Mr. Ishida leading her into the house to wait while the rest of the family scurried to fetch the eldest son. They regarded her without particular affection or warmth. It did nothing for Rukia's nerves, which had become increasingly frayed.
Mr. Ishida led her to a sitting room and offered her a seat. One of the twins joined them, and the three of them sat, in utter silence, waiting for a terribly long amount of time. Rukia knew not where to direct her gaze; for Mr. Ishida appeared irritated and displeased, and the younger sister eyed her suspiciously. After some length of time Rukia's nerves had little strength remaining, for the daunting nature of the task at hand had truly made itself known to her, and was no longer confined to the realm of idle dreams. The uncomfortable affair ended when Mr. Kurosaki finally appeared, and Mr. Ishida and young Karin quickly excused themselves.
"You asked to speak with me?" Mr. Kurosaki asked.
Rukia offered a curtsey before sitting stiffly in a chair. She found herself feeling particularly foolish, and unusually nervous, her normally steadfast confidence all but out of reach. With effort she informed him that her visit was for the sole purpose of allowing him to ask her a question.
Her meaning was lost on him. Confused, he asked what question she could mean.
She huffed in her own frustration, and told him it should be evident enough.
"How am I to know what you mean? Speak plainly."
"I am here so you may ask-" she paused to take another calming breath, "-so that you may ask for my hand."
"...What?"
"Need I repeat myself?" Rukia avoided his gaze, warmth washing over her cheeks despite her loud and agitated tone of voice, which portrayed her frustration at his blindness to the obvious. "So- so you may ask for my hand in marriage."
He was silent for a painful length of time. "You are not funny."
It was then she looked up at him with a sharp gaze, almost taking offense to his question. "You believe I speak in jest?"
"Naturally, for you speak absurdities. I regret I do not have time for it; Please enlighten me as to your true purpose in visiting."
His lack of amusement was plain enough, fueling indignation within her; but it was eclipsed by embarrassment. She drew another breath, striving for what semblance of calm confidence she could muster. Quietly, she affirmed she was sincere in her aims. "I speak plainly and truthfully. I have come today in earnest, with the hope of engagement."
His disbelief and annoyance were immediately apparent. His surprised state transformed into dawned realization and shock of the utmost kind. He asked again to confirm her intent.
"Have you not noticed my attentions towards you? I fear my affections have been hidden, if for propriety's sake, and for the reassurances of others who would object to the engagement. However, I am most sincere in this regard. I… I have come to care for you, deeply. My feelings have only grown over time despite my efforts to the contrary, and to the differences in our positions. But that has no bearing on the fact that I have come to love you; irrevocably so."
He continued to stare in open disbelief; audibly scoffing in the most undignified way, and his eyes narrowed as he watched her. It was several moments later before he found the words to reply. Only then did Rukia first note the signs of poor reception to her words; but she dismissed the feeling nonetheless.
"Miss Rotwood, I am not asking for your hand; nor am I interested in the act. If I ever gave the idea of any inclinations or feelings towards you, then I apologize. I have none, and have no desires to harbor them in the future. I will make that clear now." His eyes bore into hers, a fierce stare that spoke of more than disinterest; a detestment lingered there, as well.
Rukia stared back helplessly, her mouth agape at the content and intensity of his rejection. "You… You will reject me so easily?" It was then she spoke incredulously of his situation and his family's precarious future, and that their match would greatly them with the Rotwood name and fortune, while putting Rukia's own status and reputation at risk.
"My family bears nothing on my feelings and how I choose to marry," he spoke in a lower tone than before.
When she looked to him something had darkened within his expression, but so great was her shock and frustration that her own feelings were difficult to manage, and overcame all sense of clearheadedness. "You will disregard them completely? You are a fool! How can you ignore their situation when you claim to care for them?"
"My love for my family is unquestionable, and I will not allow you to insult me towards the contrary within my own home. Likewise, my family are not pieces to be used for barter so that you may get what you want."
"I did not mean-"
"How dare you? How dare you insult me and my affections? I will hear nothing of it from one such as yourself. I have become well aware of your true character, having seen it plainly. My opinion of you, of your pretentiousness and selfishness, has only been reinforced by the observations of others. Mr. Abarai is no exception."
"That was not-"
"Damn you and your aims," he said with a venomous stare, "How dare you?"
His stubbornness sparked her own, and she continued to reprimand him, for it was no insult to speak realistically of his family's plight, and to remind him of the advantages their union would bring, for they would want for nothing. She accused him of clinging to petty emotions in the face of logic, and cited him as a fool for doing so.
"There is more to marriage than convenience and wealth," he said evenly. "I will not debase myself by marrying for any reason other than love. And I will do no such thing with the likes of you. I have no such inclinations towards you; now, or in the future."
The words struck her with the intensity of a physical blow; and her pride was wounded almost as severely as her spirit.
She swallowed, and looked for a retort, the indignation still hot within her; yet she found her breathing unsteady and her eyes threatening to water. With the practice of years in high station, her disbelief vanished into a mask of strained indifference. A dullness came to her look; an emptiness which served to conceal all but the barest of turmoil. "I see."
Rukia turned so he was no longer within her sight. A polite apology was lightly uttered, accompanied by a stiff curtsey, during which she could not meet his eyes. She took her leave swiftly and spoke to no one even as she returned to the coach and began the ride back to Netherfield.
There, alone with only the countryside and her tattered heart, she scolded herself for the tears that managed to fall despite her best efforts, and for her careless words. She clasped a hand to her mouth with a shake of her head. She thought herself such a fool, and in the worst of ways.
His words continued to haunt her, unrelenting, over the days since her visit to Longbourn.
She could not discredit them, for there was truth in how the ugly nature of her own words became plain. His feelings were quite clear, ruining any chance of friendship between them. No, she could not count on cordial relations any longer, even amongst polite company. The ferocity of his expression scarcely left her memory for even a moment; so often bothering her that even Orihime and Mrs. Fairfax had remarked upon her vacantness within recent days.
"I am well," she assured them with a small smile that was ill-managed; enough to lend pause to their concern, but convincing neither of them.
What excuse did she have for her behavior? To make such a grievous error of judgment, both in her own words and in his perception of her? It was not befitting of a Rotwood. Her sense of logic had always been a strength of hers, but she had failed utterly in every regard. What she perceived as his attraction to her was instead forced civility; his intense stare one of revulsion instead of passion. How foolish she was to be so blind!
And yet her frustration towards him did not fully abide itself to blame, for she recounted his callousness of reply and his easy dismissal of her. His stubbornness rivaled that of the highest gentry; yet his station and poorly regarded family did nothing to absolve him of the assuredness in his words.
In her attempts to rid his piercing words from her thoughts, Rukia was driven to behaviors not seen since her days as an untamed child; when the grasp of society had yet to fully embrace her into its mold.
"I saw her-" Mr. Fairfax stated uncomfortably in the drawing-room, collecting himself and striving for serenity in the face of the barbaric scene he had just witnessed, "I saw her…"
"Saw her… What?" Mrs. Fairfax asked curiously over her tea.
"I saw her…" Mr. Fairfax swallowed. "Climbing a tree."
Mrs. Fairfax and Miss Orihime exchanged shocked stares.
"Climbing… a tree?" Mrs. Fairfax asked.
"Yes."
"You suppose to mean that she took hand and foot to the branches with the intent to… to scale them?"
"Indeed. Employing both her hands and her feet."
Mrs. Fairfax gasped and fanned herself with desperate vigor.
Mr. Kurosaki had given many reasons in his refusal of her affections. As she continued to endlessly ponder it, Rukia's frustration dimmed in favor of acceptance. She supposed his reasoning was lacking in practicality. Yet, she could not ignore the key reason supplied for the rejection, in that he cited a desire to marry for love, even at the consequence of his family's situation. Rukia could not think of any man within the county, or perhaps even London, who could reject such an eligible woman such as herself without some form of madness.
Yet, she knew it was done with sincerity. For him to reject her proposal spoke of a firm loyalty to marrying for a love that was unmarred by wealth or status, and she could not fault him for it. For what else had she learned through her brother's marriage, if for the worth of marrying for true love? Had Rukia not sworn to follow in their stead in regards to her own future? How truly hypocritical of her. She began to see her behavior as insulting to the Rotwood name and a betrayal of her own character, a shameful display of ill judgment which did not reflect her heartfelt beliefs.
The guilt only grew as time passed. The moral and justified thing to do was to apologize directly for her behavior. She could not abide knowing he hated her with such intense passion; for despite it, her heart regarded him warmly, affectionately, contrary to all efforts at rational thinking. What traitors her mind and heart were.
She could not endure seeing him again, of that she was certain. No longer did she attend visits to town with Orihime. Encountering him would be out of the question, for she had not the strength to look upon him without drowning in guilt and shame.
The matter of one Renji Abarai, and his serious defects in character, lingered amongst her other woes. His appearance with the Kurosaki family at Meryton showed a familiarity that disturbed Rukia greatly. It was the thought of the two young Kurosaki sisters, so innocent and young to the world, that drove her to action, and to succeed her own hesitations in communicating with Mr. Kurosaki. The prospect of calling upon Longbourn once again was too daunting to bear, so egregious was her past behavior. A letter would have to suffice.
Wasting not a moment more, with the utmost of effort, she took to the privacy of a quiet corner and penned a letter. She would absolve her debt, and she hoped it would allow her heart to finally be free of its burden. The letter said:
Mr. Kurosaki, I humbly ask that you consider this letter in full; for it is not conveyed for the sake of feelings, but of a practical and urgent nature. It is simple cowardice that delayed this letter, for which I have no excuse. I write to you now out of nothing more than the desire to protect the honor of your most innocent sisters; and by association your family's station and happiness. It has come to my attention that your household considers Mr. Abarai Renji as a friendly acquaintance. I feel compelled to warn you of your connection with that man, for only ill may come of it. I cannot lay claim to what he has said in regards to his past with me or of my character. I care not how it may have shaped your perception of me; but I must warn you that his true nature is far more nefarious than he will allow you to believe.
My time with Mr. Abarai began during childhood. There, his impoverished state caused him to be cared for by the Rotwood family. He enjoyed the benefits of the Rotwood fortune in the most comfortable sense, and he acted as a brother during that time; so was he treated by my father. Our friendship continued into adulthood. It was then his true character was made known to me, for so quickly after my father's passing, he acted in the most undignified manner. His conduct was fit for no gentleman and attempted to corrupt our friendship in the most inappropriate of ways. I rejected him outright; and, so disturbed was I by his betrayal and lack of virtue, vowed never to allow him within my company again. In doing so, he was denied further support from the Rotwood estate.
I have no doubt of his skill in weaving his tale of woe and misfortune to attract sympathy and advantage. Nor do I doubt his careful distortion of the truth, portraying himself with innocence; unfairly cast down by malice. I urge you most ardently to regard his true nature despite his presentation towards the contrary. You may feel for me however you wish, so long as you take action before he may jeopardize the happiness of your sisters and family.
I regret that the nature of his betrayal makes it so proof cannot be kept nor provided. Of others who can support my claim, I can only cite Miss Orihime Inoue, who became aware of these events many years ago, although she did not witness them. I extend trust to you in reciting them now and committing them to paper. These particulars have been shared with no one else, for it is out of concern for my brother's respectable name that I cannot allow these events to be known. I will not allow harm to come to him due to my own misjudgment in character. My role within society is limited by my sex; my voice lacking any means to defend myself or family would these facts to become known.
Trustingly, I have related these facts out of my own knowledge of your integrity. For despite your revulsion of me, and of my behavior, I know you not to be the sort of man to indulge in vengeance out of meager spite. Your honor outweighs such pettiness, and far outshines my conduct as of late. As such, I must express my regret at my careless actions and words. I seek no forgiveness, nor do I expect sympathy. I merely wish to convey that no insult upon yourself, or your family, was intended. As to the future, I can assure you that your feelings were quite understood. You have my assurances that my presence will no longer hinder you in any form.
Yours,
Rukia Rotwood
The next morning Rukia entrusted the letter to Orihime, who knew of the importance of its delivery as well as its sensitive contents; although she was unaware of any confrontation regarding marriage and love. Her friend accepted the task with the utmost soberness. She left for Meryton in the hope of seeing Mr. Kurosaki there and delivering the letter.
Rukia expected no form of reply. The matter was resolved, as far as she could concern herself with it. She strove to content her mind with needlepoint, which she struggled with, and in listening to Mr. Fairfax as he recounted his latest hunting efforts. She wrote to her brother and informed him all was well.
"She has been driven mad," Mrs. Fairfax said with a sad sigh. She lounged in front of the fire and peered into it with a most disappointed stare.
"This cannot continue," Mr. Fairfax said, harking of the utmost urgency. "I cannot bear any more singing,"
"And you are certain you have no idea as to who might draw her affections?" Mrs. Fairfax asked dutifully as she peered at Rukia across the room, though expecting nothing from the answer.
Rukia asserted that she had not, and her own disappointment was evident.
Mr. Fairfax leaned thoughtfully against the mantle. "Perhaps if we were to give her music lessons-"
"Of tutoring in music, she has had plenty, I assure you," Mrs. Fairfax said. "Even so, it would address the symptom, but not the disease."
"I had not thought of love in such a way," he said with a chuckle.
Rukia snorted despite herself. "If only love could be cured by cups of tea and fresh air."
"Indeed," Mrs. Fairfax said most thoughtfully.
Mrs. Fairfax's concern for her younger sister grew much like Orihime's love of song in recent weeks. Both had grown so undeniably that all within the household were painfully aware of it. The matter, as a whole, was most suspicious, and Rukia could not help her own concern over her friend's mysterious aims. Such a secret could easily mean the worst of theories were reality, and there were no shortage of options which threatened to leave her disowned, penniless, and lost to respectable society. Rukia suspected a secret engagement may have taken place, well aware the reasons for such arrangements rarely came from wholesome intentions.
It was later discussed in quiet conversation, while Orihime was otherwise engaged in haphazard humming outside, that action must be taken for the sake of her future and wellbeing. There was also the matter of sanity, for Rukia and the Fairfaxs were in danger of losing theirs the longer Orihime continued her serenades.
It was over dinner that Mrs. Fairfax announced they would all go to London for the rest of the season. Orihime met the unexpected news with a dejected spirit. She asked Mrs. Fairfax to repeat herself in case she was mistaken. Too readily did Mrs. Fairfax confirm the idea, and emphasize her desire to leave tomorrow, citing the timing of the season and pleasant spring weather.
"I believe it would be for the better," Rukia replied. "I have missed London, and my brother will be there, amongst other acquaintances in desire of our company."
The rest of the table easily agreed. Orihime nodded with a pleasant smile which Rukia knew to be forced, and far from the disappointment her friend truly felt, but could not show. Orihime hardly touched her food for the rest of the meal. Ever mindful of her friend's pain and dejection, Rukia tried to engage her with positive chatter and encouraging ideas for London. Despite it, by the evening's end Orihime's heartbreak was apparent, and Rukia swore to do all she could to shake her of it. For she had become well acquainted with the feeling and all of its symptoms manifest, and was eager to rid both of them of it by any means of distraction. This she would do even by replacing her affections towards one man for another; an idea wholly plausible in the socially active world of London. This remedy would avail itself to Orihime, as well.
Upon their departure the next day, Orihime meekly inquired how long their visit may last, and when they may return back to Netherfield, but her hopes in the matter were dashed upon Mrs. Fairfax's instructions to the servants to prepare the house for a long absence. Her melancholy was apparent enough during the long drive to London. Rukia offered to read aloud some of Orihime's favorite stories to raise her spirits, but she was only partially successful in the endeavor.
London provided myriad of distractions in the favor of young ladies seeking to mend broken hearts. It was there Rukia joined her elder brother, who received her warmly in his own taciturn manner. He greeted Orihime in kind. For Mr. And Mrs. Fairfax he could only spare a subtle acknowledgment of their existence.
No time was wasted upon their union. Rukia recounted eagerly the events of their time at Netherfield, although the details of her affections and subsequent heartbreak were absent. She saw no need to dwell on such things, nor to share them with her brother or Orihime, for by then she considered the matter closed and irrelevant. Why bother them with such morose details to cause them concern on her behalf, for events in the past that are beyond altering? No, she would direct their attentions to happier matters. She made every effort to conceal the dejection which weighed on her. Of her success, Rukia was uncertain, for on more than one occasion did her brother gently ask her, in his own manner, if anything troubled her. To which, she assured him fervently to the contrary.
For the summer months they enjoyed what London had to offer. Very quickly did Mr. Fairfax introduce them about and garner invitations to balls, for which Orihime's depression was not strong enough to absolve her from. Rukia, in kind, attempted to lose herself in a wholly different set of company, and even agreed to dance on more than one occasion. Their handsomeness did them credit; but every suitor remained a poor comparison to the effect of Mr. Kurosaki and his powerful chestnut-hued eyes, which she could not help but recall. Each dance ended in disappointment, for she could find no satisfaction from it.
Such activities could not account for every moment of the day, and left her with numerous opportunities for her mind to wander at memories in Meyerton and Netherfield. How easily her mind resorted to memories of him. How foolish she was!
Rukia sought numerous ways to avoid this unfortunate habit. To keep such thoughts at bay, she took to all manner of study accessible to her. Her brother was subject to no shortage of musical instruments and songs, portraiture, needlework, poetry recitals, and Shakespearean performances. Orihime became the picture of encouragement in such matters.
The Fairfaxes, provided with a far greater amount of musical performances within their residence than was anticipated, struggled to adapt. It was Mr. Rotwood's simple suggestion that they consider lodgings that were less enriched by musical pursuits. To this, they agreed, and found accommodations elsewhere; to which Mr. Rotwood had no difficulty in masking his immense disappointment.
Mr. Rotwood, meanwhile, who often took to reading quietly, for he preferred the silence to that of company and idle chatter, found himself the subject of Rukia and Orihime's attentions as they paraded through the room with the latest result of their studies. He was powerless to refuse them.
As the summer wore on, so did Rukia's condition plague her, unabated despite her attempts to remedy it. She had grown tired of the repetitive days, for she had finally realized what little effect they had on thoughts of Mr. Kurosaki and his intensive stare. The company of London was a poor substitute for the desires of her heart. Of this, she allowed herself to admit; for she quickly came to the conclusion after a mere four months of denial.
The Rotwoods were to return to their home at Pemberley in Derbyshire near the end of summer. Despite this, Rukia could no longer abide London. She longed for time alone from even friends and family; and elected to leave early to return to Pemberley ahead of her brother.
The trip to Pemberley was uneventful. Her coach passed through the boastful woods and continued down the winding road which cut through the trees. Happily, she watched as the forest gave way, quickly and brilliantly, for the expansive view of the home in all its splendor. So great was her relief that she could not wait to travel the rest of the curved road up the hill to the house, and she called for the coach to stop where they were. She offered a reassurance to the coachman that she would cross the rest of the way on foot, and that he was to proceed up the drive without her. His befuddled protests were soundly ignored. Rukia had every determination to enjoy the walk across the lawn, free from company and expectation of any sort. She cared not for how her dress gathered dirt along the hem or how the wind dislodged her pinned hat and hair; nor did she care for the mud gathering on her shoes. To make her comfort complete, she crossed to her favorite tree from childhood, which had offered familiar limbs for her to easily climb. Perched there, high above the ground, she sought a more comfortable position as to appreciate the view. It was then she looked down and noticed the very subject of her affections was standing right below her, staring upon her in shock.
Their eyes met, for their proximity made it impossible to pretend anything to the contrary. So great was Rukia's embarrassment and surprise, which only slightly eclipsed that of Mr. Kurosaki, that she let out a cry in alarm, quickly lost all sense of balance, and fell promptly to the ground.
The action prompted Mr. Kurosaki overcome his disbelief. He rushed forwards with every sense of urgency, inquiring about her condition. She muttered about, making no secret of her frustration, and refused his help with heavy indignance. So, too, did she accuse him of surprising her needlessly, as if his actions were the result of prior study. His denials fell on deaf ears. Only when Rukia found it difficult to stand did his countenance change, for her ankle appeared to give her difficulty. Despite this, she continued to openly question him as to his appearance there, and his disregard for her nerves. In response, he easily stated he was touring with relatives and had visited out of mere curiosity, and that they were assured she would not be home for another day yet.
"You are not able to stand," he said upon her second attempt, which had resulted in winces of pain.
"I am able to manage perfectly well," she said, and attempted it again with the aim of hiding her discomfort. She did not succeed.
He scowled softly under his breath. Then, he looked down to her ankle which was covered by her dress. A blush overcame both of them upon the realization of his gaze. "May I… Inspect your injury?" he asked. Rukia nodded despite her embarrassment. She lifted her dress just enough to expose the ankle to his scrutiny. A careful, yet gentle hand, felt along the ankle there.
"I doubt it is broken. Perhaps merely a sprain. You should not walk for the time being. I do not care for your stubbornness; it will not allow you the ability to walk," he said and cleared his throat in a way which only portrayed awkwardness. "...Do I have permission to carry you?"
Rukia refused to provide him the benefit of her gaze, for fear that he would fully realize her embarrassment. "Y-Yes. You may."
He lifted her with the greatest of care and drew upon a strength she had not suspected within him. As she was held against him, and her head against his shoulder and neck, she was grateful that her own face was out of his view, for it disguised her deep blush and utmost embarrassment. From her position, she could not ascertain his own expression. However, she could not help but note the severe redness seen in his ear, and wondered if the rest of his complexion was in a similar state.
- To be Continued -
