Author's Note: Dear lovely readers - please review! They really mean a lot to me, and I truly appreciate the feedback.
Thanks to my beta, lastincurableromantic.
With the exception of Jack Harkness, the new residents of Torchwood left the ball with a distinct feeling of dissatisfaction and superiority. Jack had enjoyed the evening immensely, feeling a freedom in the relaxed and friendly atmosphere that stood in stark contrast to the formal, stuffy affairs they usually attended. His sisters and his friend, however, had declared the evening a waste, finding little beauty or entertainment amongst such "inferior" company. As the families became acquainted over the weeks that followed, they all agreed that the eldest Tyler girls were quite pleasant and worth knowing better, to Jack's immense relief. The rest of the Tyler family, particularly the mother and youngest sisters, were lamented as a lost cause.
As friends went, Jack Harkness and John Smith could hardly be more different. Jack was easy-going and affable, quick to to make a joke or a new friend. While John valued the easy temper of his friend, he did not share it or seek to emulate it. Their friendship was built on mutual respect, their opposite natures balancing each other. Jack, while intelligent, acknowledged his friend's brilliance and often deferred to his opinions and advice. However, though he was greatly admired and respected, John's reserved and haughty demeanor did little to endear him to others. Jack held the honor of being his closest and truest friend.
During their visits, Mr. Harkness' sisters showed a considerable regard for Donna and a smiling civility towards Rose. Though she tried, Rose could not like them, unable to ignore the polite condescension with which they treated everyone, even her sister. However, whenever they met, the teasing words and smiles that passed between her sister and Mr. Harkness gave Rose great joy. Her sister was quite obviously (in Rose's eyes, at least) falling for him, and the look of adoration in his eyes was unmistakeable.
Several weeks later saw the families once again gathered for a ball, though this time with the welcome addition of many officers from the military regiment newly arrived in Meryton. Partners were no longer in short supply, and Lucy and Lynda (among others) were positively giddy at the prospect.
Rose and Martha stood to one side in quiet conversation, happy for a chance to talk together. They had been friends for years, since the days of learning letters, scraped knees, and scampering like wild things about the countryside, and still kept each other's confidences.
"Mr. Harkness seems quite smitten with your sister," Martha observed, nodding at the couple across the room. Jack appeared to be regaling her with a story quite animatedly, and Rose could tell that Donna was struggling to maintain her composure. She looked both amused and enthralled, and neither one seemed aware of anything but each other.
A fond smile lit Rose's face. "I think she is well on her way to being in love," she confided.
"Really?" Martha asked, surprised. "I mean, she seems happy, yeah. But... do you think he knows? I mean, really knows? Men can be so insecure and fickle. Sometimes it's up to us to help them make up their minds."
Rose looked at her friend with a mixture of surprise and amusement. "I'm sure he can tell. There's no hurry, Martha. They've only known each other for a few weeks, after all. She might not even know herself, yet."
"I would just hate for her to lose him, is all," Martha replied, sighing. "He obviously cares for her. She should leave no doubt in his mind of her affection. Happiness in marriage is such a matter a chance. He can offer her everything she needs, plus a better chance at a happy union than most."
"Perhaps," Rose laughed, "but I know that I could never pretend to feel more than I do. And I'm sure you couldn't, either."
Martha knew that, though neither of them would budge, their failure to agree would not harm their friendship. Friends that have been together so long are bound to disagree and often, especially when both were clever and stubborn, but it was the deeper things that bound them together. The memories, promises, and secrets; the quarrels, the scrapes, and the laughter. And between her and Rose there had always been a rare openness and honesty: about their families, about their frustrations with the world and their place in it, about their desire to see more and do more than what was expected of them.
With a slight shrug, Martha changed the subject. "I've noticed Mr. Smith watching you a fair bit this evening," Martha said, with (to her credit) only a hint of jealousy in her voice. Arrogant he might be, but there was no denying that the man was gorgeous.
"Oh, good. Thought I was just being paranoid." Rose glanced at the man in question, who hastily averted his gaze. "I can't understand it, though. I mean, I was hardly worthy of his highness' notice before, right?" she remarked dryly, earning a chuckle from Martha. "Now he stares, all broody and forbidding? A bit rude, that." Her gaze flitted across the dance floor to where Lynda and Lucy were beginning to draw a bit too much attention to themselves. "I'd better go save what's left of our dignity. Back in a moment."
As the evening wore on, John Smith found his attention frequently (albeit reluctantly) drawn to the young woman whose company he had so recently spurned. He had been so uncomfortable that night, and yes, somewhat repulsed by their new situation, that he had dismissed her out-of-hand. However, he was certainly aware of her now. The way her eyes sparked with intelligence and mirth as she talked, the unpracticed lightness with which she moved and danced, the playfulness and ease of her manner. At that moment she looked up, her eyes curious and defiant. Caught between an intense longing to know her better and embarrassment at being found staring, he looked away, only to find himself face-to-face with their host, Mr. Jones.
"Lovely way to pass an evening, isn't it?" he blustered, pleased with the gaiety he saw around him. "Dancing truly is a high and noble art. Will you not join in, Mr. Smith?"
"I'm afraid not, sir. I do not dance as a rule, except under the direst of circumstances," he replied. "And I think you will find that all manner of people, rogues and thieves as well as lords and ladies, can dance."
"That's true, I suppose," Mr. Jones admitted good-naturedly. At that moment Rose was making her way past them, hoping to mitigate the antics of her sisters. Mr. Jones seized the opportunity to test their new neighbor's somewhat ridiculous principles.
"Miss Rose! You look lovely, my dear," he exclaimed, catching her hand as she passed by. Rose couldn't help smiling at her friend's slightly eccentric father, despite his present company. "Here, Mr. Smith, you have one of the prettiest darlings of our town. Can you truly refuse such a tempting partner?"
Rose blushed at the all-too-familiar predicament, and John found himself even more captivated as a glow worthy of her name crept across her cheeks. Before his mind could catch up, he found himself requesting her hand for the next dance, though he noticed as he did that she was gently removing her hand from Mr. Jones'.
"Thank you kindly, but I am not inclined to dance, and I certainly wasn't seeking an invitation," Rose declared firmly.
"But you are such a joy to watch, Miss Rose, that even Mr. Smith, who I hear generally refuses to dance, could not resist you," he persisted.
John felt an odd twinge in his stomach again as Rose met his gaze, arching one dark eyebrow in disbelief. "Mr. Smith is all politeness," she replied with a small smile before turning away.
As he watched her go, he was surprised at himself. He had almost stood up to dance, in this place full of strangers, his inferiors no less, and had only been saved from such an exhibition by the refusal of this perplexing creature. He felt intrigued rather than injured. Lost in contemplation, he hardly noticed when Jack's sister appeared at his side.
"I can imagine what you must be thinking. How awful it will be to have to spend much time in society such as this. I find them simple, uncouth, and far too boisterous, completely lacking in taste or refinement. Not that I expected much more from a small country village. I can't wait to hear your opinion of the evening," she murmured, quite sure of his sympathy.
"Indeed, you are quite mistaken," he drawled, his eyes still fixed on Rose. "I have been lost in much happier thoughts. Namely, the considerable joy which a pair of lovely eyes in the face of a beautiful woman can bestow."
"And whose eyes have wrought such admiration?" she purred, her face a mixture of surprise and hopeful confidence.
"Miss Rose Tyler's," he replied, his voice trying out the name, wrapping around the syllables almost reverently.
"Miss Rose Tyler! I am properly stunned!" Here she paused for a moment before collecting herself, shock still evident in her beautiful features. "And from such a charming family! Do let us know when you've set a date," she quipped, her cultured voice laced with sarcasm. Receiving no response to her taunts, Reinette turned gracefully on her heel and swept out to the room.