Author's Note: Two postings in one week! Woohoo! I'm not usually that fast, but I kinda wrote these together, and my awesome beta got it back to me quickly! Hope you all enjoy it. :)
I don't own Doctor Who or Pride and Prejudice; all recognizable quotes come from one or the other.
When Rose entered the drawing room that evening to find the others engaged in various activities, she once again snuggled up near the fire with the precious volume she'd found the previous night. However, she found quiet amusement in observing Mr. Smith, who was attempting to write a letter while a watchful Reinette provided a running commentary of his efforts.
"You are such an attentive brother. Miss Smith must be so happy to receive your letters," Reinette cooed, to which John made no reply.
"You write so quickly," she persisted, seeming undaunted by his silence.
"Actually, no, I am rather slow about it," John replied politely, though it seemed a bit forced.
"Please tell her how eager I am to see her again."
"I believe you've already had me mention it."
A pause. "How do you manage to write so neatly?" Reinette asked, tilting her head.
Again Mr. Smith remained silent, and Rose wondered at her persistence when it so obviously annoyed him.
"Do you always write her such long, charming letters?" she continued. Perhaps she just likes to hear herself talk, Rose mused, with only a touch of guilt at the rather uncharitable thought.
"They do tend to be long, though I could hardly judge whether she finds them entertaining."
"Surely they are, when you can write so much so easily," she declared. "My brother's writing, on the other hand, is quite awful. He leaves off in the middle of a thought, and often writes so messily that it is almost incoherent."
"That's only because my thoughts are so fast I can't catch them all," Jack explained with a bright grin. "I suppose they might end up sounding a bit like nonsense. I'm rather useless at expressing myself in writing. I do much better in person." Here he aimed an exaggerated wink at Rose.
Rose laughed outright before replying. "I'm sure you do. And you admit your faults so humbly and readily that I cannot criticize you for them."
"Ha!" John scoffed. "The pretense of humility can easily hide the fact that you really just don't care what others think, or that you are secretly proud of something, even though you pretend not to be."
"Oh ho, now, friend!" Jack chortled. "And of which deceit do you accuse me?"
"The latter," John said, smiling fondly even as he chastised his friend. "Because you are secretly proud of your shoddy letters, believing they are the result of a quick mind and a distaste for the task. You think it makes you interesting, if not admirable. Though really, placing such value upon the speed with which you do something over the end result, sacrificing quality for swiftness, is quite ridiculous if you ask me. Can you imagine the result if such a mindset was generally accepted? I shudder to think of it," he concluded with fervor. Though the others seemed only slightly surprised by his outburst, Rose found herself quite baffled. It was the most she had ever heard from him at once, and for a moment he had lost nearly all of his haughty reserve, caught up as he was in his own thoughts. And then, to her shock, he continued.
"For example, just this morning you proudly proclaimed to Mrs. Tyler of the speed with which you would quit Torchwood once you decided to. But what is admirable about such needless haste and thoughtlessness?"
"Now, that's quite unfair, that was so long ago!" Jack exclaimed, mock horror crossing his face at the thought of such accountability. "Regardless, I believe I spoke the truth."
"I don't doubt your honesty, Jack," his friend avowed, "only your commitment. If, at that pivotal moment, a friend had asked you to stay another week, you probably would have agreed on the spot without hesitation."
"Why, that only serves to show the goodness of his character more truly than he did himself," Rose interjected, unable to hold her tongue any longer.
"You are sweet to turn my friend's words into a compliment," Jack said, "but I'm sure that was not his intent. He finds me fickle, and would respect me more if I remained firm and unyielding."
"We are speaking only of hypotheticals, so it is hard to make any firm declarations," John replied. "However, in the proposed situation, the friend merely expressed a wish for him to stay without giving any reason. To be so easily swayed is surely not a desirable trait."
"I believe one might easily yield, merely out of affection and regard for a friend, without demanding a reason in the moment," Rose declared firmly, holding Mr. Smith's intense gaze.
"Perhaps. It is hard to say without more particulars."
"Oh yes. Let us have all the details, please. Height and hair color can make a big difference. I believe, Miss Tyler, that I wouldn't respect Mr. Smith nearly so much if he wasn't so very tall," Jack replied jokingly. "He can be quite intimidating when he wants to be, especially when he gets restless or bored."
A tight smile crossed John's face in response, and Rose, thinking he looked a bit hurt, refrained from laughing. Talk soon turned to other subjects, easing some of the tension that had been building in the room.
Soon Mr. Smith asked if Reinette or Rose might play for them. Reinette swiftly settled herself at the piano, her sister joining her to sing after Rose politely declined. As Rose listened, glancing casually at the music books on the piano, she would occasionally look up to find Mr. Smith's keen gaze fixed upon her, and would almost swear that she had felt it. It had become almost familiar, and that in itself struck her as odd. Rose could hardly fathom his intent in studying her so. The possibility of such an important man admiring her seemed a bit far-fetched; and really, he'd made it quite clear from the start that he didn't, hadn't he? Though to closely observe someone you disliked made no sense either. Therefore, she decided that something about her must offend him so deeply that he couldn't look away, like the twisted pull one sometimes feels at the scene of an accident. Rose shrugged slightly, once again dismissing the man from her mind. It mattered little to her what he thought, after all.
However, minutes later he startled her, appearing silently at her side. "Are you not suddenly seized by the desire to dance, Miss Tyler?" he questioned lightly as a lilting Scotch melody filled the room.
Rose smiled but did not reply. He quirked an eyebrow in surprise and repeated his question.
"I heard you before, Mr. Smith, but didn't know what to say. I'm sure you expected me to say yes, and then you would enjoy ridiculing my choice. But instead, you see, I am determined to foil your plan and dash all your expectations. So I say that I do not wish to dance at all," she stated, eyes flashing with a fire that drew him in rather than chased him away. "Now mock me if you dare."
"Indeed I do not dare," he replied softly. Rose, surprised at his gallant answer, looked up into warm brown eyes and felt the room shift just slightly.
John sensed her surprise; obviously she had expected him to be offended by her reply. Yet his response was far from it. He regarded her with curiosity, this petite woman who awoke such powerful, and at times unwelcome, feelings in him. She was both sweet and bold, graceful yet untamed, radiating a joy that cast its light wherever she went, and she captivated him. Had it not been for her poor connections and the daunting impossibility of such a match, John knew that he might have truly been in danger of falling for Rose Tyler.
Reinette Harkness knew what she wanted and had set her sights on John Smith long ago. No simple country girl would be permitted to interfere. She had seen enough of their interactions, and particularly of John's attentiveness, to become quite jealous of Rose. He had never in all the years she had known him shown such a preference before, not even for her, and she had tried. Her hopes for Donna's quick recovery were now magnified.
Hoping to make him see sense, Reinette teased him mercilessly, conveying her best wishes for their marital bliss and suggestions for how best to manage his peculiar "in-laws." John refused to be baited, however, making cool, often witty replies and remaining annoyingly undeterred in his odd admiration of this impertinent, unrefined girl.
Rose practically beamed with joy. The illness had finally run its course, and Donna's color and energy seemed to return with each passing hour. Soon they could go home.
Donna joined them for dinner the following evening, though she did not eat much. Afterwards the ladies enjoyed a lively, pleasant conversation amongst themselves. Rose had never seen Reinette and Cassandra so amiable; they doted lovingly on Donna, told stories and jokes, and were in general rather charming.
However, as soon as the men arrived, such niceties were forgotten. The gentlemen kindly asked about Donna's health, though Jack by far was the most engaging. He busied himself with stoking the fire, and then escorted Donna to a chair much closer to it so that she would stay warm. He then happily stationed himself at her side for the rest of the evening, plying her with stories and trying to make her laugh. Rose, when not lost in her book, observed all this with quiet delight.
As the others did not feel like playing a game, Cassandra amused herself with admiring her jewelry as her husband lazed about on the sofa. John and Reinette were both reading, though Reinette was more focused on John than her book, reading over his shoulder and asking him questions. When her efforts to divert his attention failed, she yawned prettily, which Rose considered to be an accomplishment in itself.
"Oh, what a lovely way to pass the evening. One can never grow tired of reading," she proclaimed to the quiet room. With another dainty yawn she tossed her book aside, looking about for other amusement. Turning to her brother, who had been discussing the upcoming ball with Donna, she said, "Jack, do you really mean to have a ball at Torchwood? I know some of us would much rather you didn't."
Jack laughed. "Certainly I do. And good ol' John can just retire early if he likes. Since he doesn't dance," he added, not noticing the slight discomfort his words caused amongst two of the room's occupants.
"I would like balls much better if they were more sensible affairs," Reinette declared. "More conversation and less dancing."
Jack shot her a funny look, wondering what she was up to, as he hardly believed that to be her opinion. "Why then it could hardly be called a ball, could it, sister?"
Reinette didn't answer, instead standing to walk across the room. She made a fine picture, graceful in her elegant golden gown, but the object of her endeavor remained frustratingly oblivious, seemingly engrossed in his book. In a desperate move she invited Rose to join her in her wanderings, to which Rose agreed willingly, though with some surprise.
John glanced up in astonishment, momentarily forgetting his book. Reinette congratulated herself with her success, albeit with a bit of disappointment amidst her triumph, and invited him to join them in their exercise.
"Thank you, no," he replied. "I can only imagine two reasons for your walking together, and in either instance I would only be in the way."
"What a strange answer!" Reinette said coyly, smiling at her companion. "Whatever does he mean?"
Rose considered him a moment before answering. "I'm sure he means to judge us severely. Maybe it's better not to ask," Rose quipped.
"No, I must know. Do tell us," Reinette implored, her curiosity piqued.
"I don't mind sharing, if you really must know," he said, a hint of amusement creeping into his somber tone. "You either have secrets to discuss which I should not hear, or you realize that such activity highlights your lovely figures, which I can admire more happily from where I sit." His eyes sparkled merrily, a small smile transforming his face. Rose felt her cheeks heat against her will. What was wrong with her, that the slightest hint of flirtation from this man affected her this way?
"How shocking!" Reinette giggled, quite pleased with his response. "How should we punish him for speaking so?"
"Easily. Laugh at him, tease him," Rose replied, catching her tongue between her teeth as she smiled, noticing as she did that his eyes never left her face.
"Never! He is too good for such treatment. We must admit defeat."
"That is too bad," Rose said, pouting slightly, "for I love to laugh. What is a world without laughter? I find that even the best people have their faults, their moments of silliness or flights of whimsy that allow them to laugh at themselves, and us with them. But perhaps Mr. Smith is the exception."
"I doubt that anyone is completely without fault. I do try to avoid those weaknesses that open me up to ridicule, however," he admitted.
"Like vanity, and pride?"
"Vanity, yes. Pride, however, is quite natural, and is always kept in check when paired with an appropriately superior mind," he declared.
Rose bit her lip, trying to hold back a smile. "Mr. Smith is indeed without fault. He admits it himself."
"Well, I am rather brilliant," he replied with a wry smile, "but I have faults enough. My temper, while generally even, can be quite resentful and unforgiving. No second chances; I'm that sort of man. My good opinion once lost is lost forever."
"That is quite bad," Rose replied, a bit taken aback by his solemnity. "Well done, though, for I cannot laugh at it."
"I believe every disposition tends toward some failing, which even knowledge and effort can't completely conquer," John added, eyes locked with hers as though there was no one else in the room.
"Yours is a tendency to think badly of everyone," Rose declared boldly. How this man managed to get under her skin so easily, she didn't quite comprehend.
"And yours," John replied with a knowing smile, "is willfully to misunderstand them."
"I feel in the mood for some music," Reinette suddenly declared, heading quickly to the piano.
With Donna nearly recovered, Rose was eager to return home, and wrote asking her mother to send the carriage. Of course Jackie refused, claiming that it could not be spared for several days, as she was still hoping to prolong their stay.
Donna sensed her sister's frustration and appealed to Mr. Harkness and his sister for help. His concern for her health, however, outweighed his desire to please her, so they arrived at a compromise. He would make arrangements for them to leave tomorrow.
Reinette soon regretted urging Donna to wait, for while she cared for one sister, her jealousy and dislike made her eager to be rid of the other.
John found that he welcomed the news of their departure. He was troubled by his undeniable attraction to Rose. She had stayed long enough. Her removal would make life easier all around. He disliked Reinette's unkindness to her and relentless teasing of himself. With her departure and some much-needed separation, he hoped that her strange pull on him would diminish. Knowing he had probably revealed more of his feelings than he should, he kept his distance on that last day, hardly speaking to or even looking at her. He could not encourage any hopes on her part. What shocked him was how difficult he found it to ignore her.
Rose could not stop smiling. While Jackie was perturbed by their return, their company had been missed by all, especially their father. They were soon treated to Joan's latest theories on human nature and a detailed account of all the officers' activities from Lynda and Lucy. Rose welcomed their nonsense with affection, breathing a sigh of relief and gratitude. It had been a very strange and interesting few days, and she was glad to be home.