HEART AND SOUL: A BECOMING JANE FIC
Judge Thomas Lefroy stood at the balcony of his uncle's home in London. His deep blue eyes were slightly dulled, his hair in the unruly combed fashion he usually awarded it. The clouds groaned above him, thick with rain, and filled with desire to pour the water down on the streets of the nation's capital, but none came.
Perhaps even the rain was fearful of the afflicted ground, joining the masses in the urge to escape while it could. Among these people, Lefroy knew his uncle dwelled. The elderly man would have had a complete fit had he known his nephew stood outdoors.
But he had needed the air. All the tension and illness was getting to him, grating at his nerves. There was only so much of his uncle's coughing that he could stand before he called the doctor, and the elder judge had made it perfectly clear he wanted no one to know that he had the symptoms. He did not wish to be known as a judge who succumbed to a fever.
Pride, it seemed to Thomas, would be the judge's downfall long before the fever ever got him. The man had pride in everything, but only recently, pride in his nephew. Since being offered the roll of judge, Lefroy had heard his uncle praising his name before his colleagues. It was near unheard of, becoming a judge at such a young age, still fresh from the student's desk, but eve of the retirement of a former mentor and friend, Judge Tate, the request for him being the replacement had been sent out. Apparently, he had managed to somehow find favor in the late judge's eyes; a fact that did not go unnoticed by his uncle.
It was with this newfound favor, that Thomas Lefroy was able to persuade his uncle he was in no need of a bride. His engagement with Miss Paul had been terminated. Thomas, in the best way he knew how, explained to her that he could never bring himself to marry someone he did not love and believed she too deserved the same right, and the two had parted on good terms.
In the last four months, Judge Lefroy's life had become only too simple. He absorbed himself in his work. He enjoyed it, as well as he could, and accepted that it was all the world had to offer him, but somehow, deep within the corners of his heart, there was a glimmering hope that perhaps, just perhaps, there would be more.
She was still out there, somewhere in a small county of Hampshire. There was a distinct possibility that Jane Austen had not married, if indeed she had decided to stick with her principles and refuse to do so without affection. It was conceivable, that she had managed to do so with affection, but it was an unlikely prospect and one Thomas was not willing to contemplate. That would have been too much to bear.
She loved him. Jane Austen loved him, Thomas Lefroy, and a single year would not, could not change that. This he believed, this he had to tell himself. She was not gone, not forever. She was simply absent, for a time being.
Thomas knew that if he allowed himself to doubt this, if he gave up any hope of ever seeing her again, life itself would come to a complete standstill. There would not be a way for him to keep going, but with his heart still hoping, he could fight on. He could engross himself in his work until either he had enough money to live without the aid of his uncle, or the older judge would no longer have a say.
It seemed morbid, for the death of his uncle to set him free, but it was either that, or accept a world without Jane, which, in his opinion, was a fate worse than death. It simply was not an option that he could accept, and as fate would have it, he found he would not have to.
Of late, a new option had presented itself. Judge Tate, also a man of no children had recently told the judge-in-training that he was putting together a will naming he, Thomas Lefroy, as his successor. Thomas was flattered, and once being told there was no law against being the sole recipient of two household fortunes. Amazingly enough, fate which once seemed to hate him, was finally content it had caused enough damage.
Maybe it had. Perhaps it was too late, too late for him and Jane; too late for their happily ever after. Thomas did not know, but he did not have to know yet, not quite yet.
Within the year, his training as a judge would be complete. Lefroy had traveled to a good amount of courts, in London and elsewhere. He had received many offers from places wishing to take him on as a judge, but nothing quite appealed to him. This was a job he would have for the rest of his life. Thomas at least wanted to be certain it was where he should be.
His uncle seemed pleased with the idea of his nephew starting his own courtroom. The thought was appeasing, but very difficult. The cost would be astronomical, but his uncle would have him do it in a heartbeat. There were a good deal of counties without a court that could benefit from it and many of which allowed him to be away from the constant business of city life.
Thomas had once loved that life, the busying about, constantly in a hurry to get somewhere, but he now found it dull. People became so wrapped up in their own schedule, they forgot what it meant to just stand still, to listen to the rain, or hear the voices of children laughing. They had lost the ability to smile at a passerby, and a friendly "How do you do?" was looked at as odd. Bowing was last decade, and reading, who possibly had the time?
A noise behind him pulled the young judge out of his thoughts. He heard the footsteps of one of the servants approaching before stopping at the edge of the balcony. The man cleared his throat before speaking softly. "Sir? Judge Langlois has called for you, sir."
Thomas smiled and clasped his hands behind his back. He turned and nodded towards the servant waiting before him. "Thank you, Jonathon."
The man bowed and directed Lefroy towards his uncle's study. The old man was at his desk, coughing every minute or so, scribbling away at something. He nodded when Thomas entered but did not look up.
Thomas sighed as he heard Jonathon shut the door behind him. He looked over at his uncle and put up a forced smile. "You wished to see me, uncle?"
"Yes," he uncle responded emotionlessly. He continued to write, a concentrated look on his face.
His nephew pursed his lips and took a few steps further into the room. "What about?"
Finally, the elder judge looked up. "Some of my colleagues and I…" he stopped and let out what he believed to be a comforting chuckle. "Or should I say our colleagues and I have contacted some of the doctors from Ireland, Dublin to be precise." He clicked his pen and paused. "You know where that is, do you not?"
Thomas nodded, hiding his smirk. "It's the capital, uncle."
"Yes, that it is," his uncle nodded. "Well, we have contacted them, since they are more familiar with the illness when it hit Ireland fifteen years ago. You do remember that, don't you Tom? It struck Limerick as well."
"I remember," he replied calmly, his blue eyes watching his uncle closely. "I was one of the sick."
"Yes, you were." The older judge stood and walked towards him slowly, a motion he did when he was about to give a suggestion that was more like an order. "How old were you?"
"Seven."
"Of course." The words were firm, holding a demand in them alone. Thomas braced himself for the attack.
"The doctors will not be able to get to London, my dear boy," his uncle said a matter-of-factly. "They will be setting up a hospital or so to speak nearby: in Hampshire. I'm sure you remember it."
Thomas's eyes widened slightly, and his lips felt suddenly dry. "I do."
"Good!" his uncle turned and walked back towards his desk. "Pack your things; you'll be leaving at once."
Lefroy frowned and cocked his head slightly. "I'm sorry," he let out after a moment, giving a small laugh. "I'm afraid I do not follow you, uncle. How did we get from the discussion of doctors from Dublin coming to a decision on my traveling to Hampshire?"
Judge Langlois put down his quill with a great sigh. "Thomas, you are one of the few who actually had the fever and survived. If your presence helps them in anyway, you should go."
"How will my being there help them tend to the sick?" Lefroy wanted to know. "I am no doctor."
"But you are a judge!" His uncle stood up angrily. "And the presence of a judge in the area will calm the restlessness in the people."
"Uncle, the only ones who ever believe that are the judges themselves," Thomas countered. He lifted his hands up in annoyance. "Why is it my supposed colleagues view themselves as God's gift to mankind?"
"See to your tongue!"
Thomas took a deep breath and fell silent.
"You are going, young man," his uncle declared. "Use whatever reason that will make it easiest on you, but you are going." The anger in his uncle's eyes softened for just a moment. "I will not see my heir killed by a fever he conquered as a child. Prepare yourself to leave."