Author's Note: So we're getting into it, folks. I adore the Jennifer Ehle/Colin Firth mini-series, so you might feel a bit of that in here. Hope you enjoy it! (and please let me know if you do!)
The night of the ball at the Jones' home, the first event since the arrival of the new neighbors, fell crisp and clear. The Tyler family shared in the aura of gaiety and anticipation, with perhaps one exception. The middle child of the family, Joan's quiet manner and general shyness made her uncomfortable and awkward at such events. She much preferred the company of her beloved books, though when called upon she took some pleasure in playing upon their fine piano. The rest of the girls, however, were brimming with delight, decked out in their finest dresses and eager to discover what the evening had in store.
An unnatural hush descended on the assembly as all eyes focused on the entryway. Jack Harkness and his party made quite an entrance with their luxurious clothes and dignified manners. Thankfully, Mr. Harkness quickly sought to dispel the awkward silence, breezing through the room with ease and joy. By the end of the night he had unwittingly captured the hearts of many of the ladies present. He was handsome and charming with dark hair, blue eyes, and a winning smile. His sisters were graceful, almost regal in their bearing, with dresses far richer than any the village had ever seen.
But eventually most eyes lighted on his friend, Mr. Smith, tall and trim with an air of nobility and power, and rumored to possess an even larger fortune. He was impeccably dressed, his brown eyes deep and intense, and his hair... Rose had heard about the new style and giggled at the thought, but the reality inspired an altogether different, slightly unsettling response. The dark brown locks were artfully unruly, and were matched with long, trim sideburns that framed his handsome face. With all these people, perhaps they should open the windows for a bit, Rose thought, as the room suddenly seemed a bit warm.
His admirers quickly fell away, however, as he remained aloof and condescending throughout the evening, refusing to dance despite an obvious lack of partners. Those intelligent eyes held none of his friend's warmth, instead looking about him with disdain.
Rose, on the other hand, enjoyed the evening greatly, dancing and mingling happily with her friends. She wore her finest dress of pale pink muslin, and Hill, their maid, had helped her do her honey blonde hair up in a fancy chignon with tiny pink flowers wound through it. She had danced once with Mr. Harkness and enjoyed his company immensely; he was open, friendly, and amusing, and she thought that they might eventually become good friends. However, she watched with a secret joy as he seemed drawn to Donna, Rose's older sister, asking her to dance repeatedly. Rose detected a bit of her sister's spark shining through her calm demeanor when she talked with him. Being the eldest placed a lot of pressure on Donna; her fiery spirit had been caged and hidden away many years ago, as the weight of expectations and familial duty pulled on her. As her sister and friend, Rose hoped with all her heart that Donna might be fortunate enough to find a husband who would bring her happiness as well as security.
We could use a few more men, Rose mused, though she didn't mind much as she rested her feet for a moment, content to observe the dancers twirling before her. She chatted quietly with Joan, who never danced, about their favorite authors and composers. Her sharp eyes often returned to the dance, though, observing Donna's radiant smile and her younger sisters' capering.
In the midst of her observations, however, she overheard a rather unfortunate conversation between the elegant Mr. Smith, who had been standing nearby, and his friend. "Why aren't you dancing, John?" questioned Mr. Harkness. A reasonable question, thought Rose. "Why on earth are you just standing about? Come on, old man! Enjoy yourself."
Mr. Smith leveled a proud glare at his friend. "Jack, you know I don't dance. Particularly not here," he declared, a slight sneer marring his handsome face. "Besides, your sisters already have partners, and you are dancing with the most attractive girl in the room." An odd look - envy, perhaps? - quickly passed over his face as he took in Donna's brilliant red hair.
"She is amazing, isn't she?" he crowed proudly. "But you are making a fool out of yourself, John! I've never met so many friendly and attractive girls under one roof." Slightly lower, yet not quite low enough, he added, "Miss Tyler's sister sits right over there. She is pretty and intelligent, too. I quite think you would like her."
Despite her discomfort, Rose looked up boldly, only to see him cast a perfunctory glance in her direction before replying. "She is passably pretty, I suppose. But I have no desire to dance with anyone, Mr. Harkness, much less with a wallflower. Now stop hounding me. Go enjoy your frivolity and leave me in peace."
Rose fought the flush that threatened to creep over her face. Perhaps the rich thought it was their right to be insufferably rude. She, however, did not agree, and with her dignity intact (for what did she care what some arrogant blighter thought of her?), she made her way across the room, a secret smile playing across her face. She then proceeded to relate the conversation to her friend, Martha Jones, her eyes sparkling and her voice tinged with laughter. Her animated features and irrepressible joy unknowingly caught the attention of their subject, whose dark eyes watched her with interest and a surprising twinge of shame.
Much to Mr. Tyler's dismay, the ladies returned home bubbling over with excitement and eager to relate the evening's events to those unfortunate enough to have missed it (namely, him). He put aside his book with a sigh.
"Oh, what a night we had, Mr. Tyler! An absolutely lovely ball! Why, you've never seen the like! Donna was greatly admired, of course, and Mr. Harkness seemed very taken with her. Asked her to dance four times! So handsome and gentleman-like, he was, not stuffy at all. Full of smiles and kind words, especially for our Donna!"
Donna, flustered, tried in vain to stop the heat that rose to her face, coloring her cheeks to match her hair. Seeing her distress, Rose reached over and gently squeezed her hand, while Pete endeavored to cut off Jackie's detailed description of the ladies' gowns.
With a small huff, Jackie changed the subject. "That friend of his, though. Mr. Smith. Well, I've never met such an arrogant, disagreeable man! I don't care what he's worth!" Pete started a bit, caught off guard by his wife's vehemence. The man must have been quite rude to merit such an absolute dismissal from Jackie. "He snubbed our Rose, he did! Right in front of her, too. I mean, who does he think he is?"
A frown crossed Pete's face. Meeting Rose's eyes, he was relieved to see her grinning at him, eyes smiling and lips pressed tightly to contain her laughter. Stupid man, he thought to himself. Probably just lost the respect of one of the best women in all of England.
"He is kind and funny, though, and so easy to talk to," Donna confided in Rose that night as the two got ready for bed. "A little flirtatious. Not at all what I expected."
"And quite easy on the eyes, too," Rose replied, her face contemplative.
Donna giggled into her hand, at which Rose quirked an eyebrow and smiled saucily, sending Donna into peals of rather unladylike laughter. Rose grinned. She loved seeing her favorite sister loosen up, as she so rarely did in public. "Honestly, I was a bit surprised at him asking me to dance so often, though."
"And why should you be?" Rose answered, failing to disguise the exasperation in her tone.
Donna looked away. "I'm nothing special. I mean... I'm not..." she trailed off, suddenly fascinated by the pattern in the rug.
Rose grabbed her hands, bending down until she caught her sister's eyes. "You are amazing, Donna Tyler. You just refuse to believe it. You are smart and beautiful and important." Her eyes bored into her sister's, willing her to truly hear her. "I watched you with him tonight, you know. You let your guard down, and he couldn't take his eyes off you. Yes, I think I like him very much. He might be just what you need," she finished, nodding her head decidedly.
Donna shook her head a little, her lips pursed, still unconvinced. However, her eyes were hopeful as she looked at her sister, the person who knew her best and loved her so completely. "Well, we'll see. You always have thought too much of me." Suddenly she pulled Rose into a desperate hug, her voice slightly wobbly. "Thanks."