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Beta'd by lastincurableromantic
The arrival of the militia invigorated the town of Meryton, which began to bustle with new life and vigor. Routine affairs were suddenly much more interesting with so many new faces to learn and speculate upon.
This last activity consumed the minds of Lynda and Lucy Tyler, who darted into town at every possible turn. They never failed to return home with either a detailed account of the officers they had met or the latest gossip from their mother's sister, Aunt Philips.
One such afternoon, it all became too much for Pete Tyler to take. While Donna sewed and Joan and Rose were lost in their books, Lucy and Lynda told their mother about their latest favorite, Captain Mitchell. Bouts of giggling interrupted their story, and nothing much was gleaned from the conversation except that the boy had quite a gift for flattery and was rather "pretty."
"Please, can we stop this nonsense; my ears can't take much more," Mr. Tyler exclaimed, irritation creeping into his usually calm voice. "Surely I have two of the silliest daughters in the country."
Lucy gave a careless shrug and continued with her conversation, but Lynda looked a bit hurt, her brow furrowed and lip pouting out slightly.
Jackie glared at her husband. "Why would you say that? About your own children, too?"
"It is the truth, and to deny it would only make me as foolish as they," he declared simply, though he smiled just a little at Lynda to soften his words.
Huffing slightly, Jackie muttered something about "your own kin," then continued more loudly, "They're still young yet. If that doesn't entitle them to a little silliness, I don't know what does. Oh, I remember your aunt and I mooning over the officers when we were your age," she said, smiling at her youngest daughters as she reminisced. "No harm in it. No shame, either, and much more helpful in finding a husband than reading," she declared, raising her voice to ensure that the others in the room, who had wisely remained silent, heard her. She needn't have bothered; few could miss hearing Jackie Tyler, even if they wanted to.
Any further discussion was cut short by the arrival of a note for Donna from Torchwood. "Well, what is it? What does it say? Oh, just give it here," Jackie demanded, snatching the note from Donna's hands, unable to bear the suspense. Donna flushed slightly, looking down.
"Dearest friend," she read aloud, "We would be immensely pleased if you would dine with us today, as on our own my sister and I might despise each other by the day's end. The men are dining with the officers tonight. Please come soon. Yours ever, Reinette Harkness." Jackie paused, frowning slightly. "Well, that's quite fine, though it is a shame Mr. Harkness won't be there."
Donna chose not to acknowledge her last comment. "May I take the carriage?" she asked. She felt honored by the attention and kindness the fine ladies had shown her, and secretly was rather curious and eager to visit the home of the man she, well... the man whose company she so enjoyed.
"No, no, Donna. You will go on horseback. It looks likely to rain, and then you will have to stay the night." Jackie smiled, delighted with her scheme.
Distress crossed Donna's face. Why must mum always be so meddlesome? She quickly chastised herself for the thought, but Rose didn't hesitate to jump to her defense.
"Your plan is quite clever, mum, but won't they just offer to send her home themselves?" she asked. Any hint of the fond amusement she usually felt towards her mother was lost in her concern for Donna's mortified feelings and frustration with her mother's carelessness towards the propriety and safety of such a plan.
"The men will have taken the coach to town. And the carriage horses are needed for the farm." Here all eyes turned to Pete, who spared a sympathetic look for Donna even as he nodded. "See, she must ride, and it will all work out well. You'll see," Jackie affirmed smugly, feeling quite satisfied with the arrangement.
The skies opened up not a quarter of an hour after Donna's departure. Her mother happily proclaimed the brilliance of her idea, despite the concern voiced by Rose and her sisters. Donna would have to remain at Torchwood until morning. Jackie felt hopeful, confident that it was only a matter of time before her eldest daughter obtained a beau, and one who would undoubtedly make her very happy, too. Why couldn't the others see it? She assured them that there was no need to fret. She was only helping things along.
In the morning a note arrived for Rose from her sister. Donna had taken a slight chill from her rather wet journey, and her hosts had insisted that she stay and had sent for the doctor as well. Though she told them not to worry, Rose, who had spent much of the night doing just that, promptly rose to leave.
"Don't be silly," Jackie chided, a bit surprised by Rose's reaction. "She will be well taken care of, I'm sure. Besides, it's almost three miles, and you don't ride."
"I will walk," Rose replied simply.
"You will be a sight! Do talk some sense into the girl," she implored of her husband, whose own eyes showed his concern.
"I daresay if Rosie's made up her mind, we can't stop her," he replied. Rose nodded at him as their eyes met, an unspoken agreement passing between them.
Lucy and Lynda walked with her as far as town, where they hoped to "happen upon" the officers. Rose then continued on alone, following the little tree-lined path out of town. As she cut across the familiar fields that led to the Torchwood estate, she lifted her skirts just a bit and broke into a run, tilting her face to the now clear sky, the wind pulling at her hair, feet flying.
She had loved to run ever since she was a girl. As she got older, however, she rarely had the freedom to do so, and when a chance arose she took it. No one was here to see her and criticize; it was just her and the sun and the sky, and the soft earth beneath her feet. Though she knew she would look quite wild when she arrived, Rose honestly couldn't find it in herself to care. Maybe she was wild. Wild and free and alive, and she would not pretend to be something she wasn't, especially not for them. Plus she would get to see Donna sooner, which was her only concern. She abandoned herself to the feel of the blood coursing through her veins and the way her lungs burned for the crisp clean air as she flew across the meadow, slowing only when the house came into sight.
Rose's arrival caused quite a stir, though after a moment of shock she was received politely by the dignified party. Scanning the room and finding Donna absent, she quickly voiced her desire to see her and was promptly led to the formal yet luxurious room where her sister was resting.
"Oh!" Donna exclaimed as Rose entered, her eyes misting over with joy and relief as she tried unsuccessfully to push herself up in the bed. Rose moved quickly to her side, pulling her into a gentle hug before firmly urging her to lay back down. Masking her concern at her sister's frailty, Rose brushed Donna's hair back from her face, which was more pale than usual.
"'S alright now, sweetheart, I'm here. Just rest," she said, clasping Donna's hands in hers. Their mother's endearments flowed naturally from her lips, linked as they were to moments of sickness and comfort, when her love for them shone brightest. It hurt to see her sister so weak, and she felt confirmed in her decision to visit. Rose knew her sister well. Though Donna tended to downplay her own wants and needs to others', never wanting to impose, she had obviously been delighted to see Rose and taken comfort in her presence. Rose found herself wishing that she did not have to leave in a few short hours.
Several hours later, she reluctantly prepared to head home as the sun began to touch the treetops in the west. Donna would have to remain per the doctor's orders, as she had caught a rather nasty cold; her headache and fever were worsening. With a tender kiss to her cheek, Rose stood to leave, promising to visit again in the morning. Donna trembled, grasping desperately at her sister's hands and pleading softly for her to stay. The ladies of the house, who had been visiting with them quietly, kindly acquiesced, sending a servant to the Tyler home to relate the news and bring back some of Rose's things. For a brief moment Rose's heart warmed to them, and she gratefully accepted their kind hospitality.
At six o'clock Rose was summoned to dinner. She had changed earlier, and Donna was sleeping almost peacefully at the moment. So she tidied herself and went down, feeling it was the proper thing to do. They had been willing enough to let her stay, and she knew that it would please Donna.
However, at dinner the sisters were once again cool and indifferent, showing little concern for their "friend's" health before forgetting her entirely. Their complete attention was soon focused on the clever and handsome Mr. Smith, whom Rose endeavored to ignore entirely. She noted with pleasure the genuine concern with which Mr. Harkness asked about her sister, and spent much of the meal in easy conversation with him. He assured her that whatever she or her sister needed would be attended to immediately, and he hoped for a quick recovery of her health. Rose graced him with a real smile, the first since her arrival there, which he returned. The more she got to know the man, the more she liked him, feeling the beginnings of friendship stirring between them. However, she left after dinner eager to return to her sister and happy to be free of the company of the rest.
Almost as soon as she left the room, Rose became the topic of conversation.
"The girl has no breeding or class whatsoever. She is unrefined and common, which, considering her family, is not surprising, yet astonishingly proud and impertinent, too!" Reinette declared archly, seeming affronted at having been forced to endure her very presence.
"She certainly isn't very pretty," her sister added, hands daintily smoothing her elegant dress. "Though I suppose she is an excellent walker. The sight of her this morning! Why, she looked almost feral!"
"I quite agree, Cassandra! I nearly laughed aloud. It is all quite ridiculous: scampering about the countryside, alone, and arriving in such a state, all because of a little cold?! And did you see her dress?" Reinette continued in a mock whisper, ignoring her brother's glare.
"I find her quite pretty, in fact, and her devotion and care for her sister is natural and admirable," Jack replied.
"Weren't you appalled, though, Mr. Smith? I fear perhaps this escapade has hurt your admiration for her lovely eyes?" she teased.
"No indeed," came John's reply, pleasant but firm. "They were bright and lively from her walk."
Reinette paused a moment, deciding a change of subject might be wise. "Donna is a dear, though. I would so love to see her happily matched, though with such a family I fear it is unlikely," she remarked, her tone tinged with both sympathy and disgust.
Cassandra sniffed. "I heard that one uncle is a lawyer, and that another lives in Cheapside."
"And exactly how does that matter? It certainly does not make them any less lovely or their company less charming," Jack retorted, already feeling quite protective of both the women upstairs.
"No," John replied, regarding Jack with great solemnity and concern. "It will, however, likely keep them from marrying men with any degree of status or importance in the world."
Jack did not reply, though he looked quite unhappy. His sisters, after seconding John's opinion and lamenting the lot of "poor Donna," soon moved on to other, less divisive, conversation.