Author's Note: Much love to those of you who are still with me! You've been very patient, and I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. I always struggle through the chapters when Elizabeth and Darcy are apart. Little changes to the story and characters in this one, and much love to my amazing beta, lastincurableromantic, for helping me try to keep the characters true. I did mess with it afterwards, though, so all mistakes are mine. And I always love to hear what you think!

Smiling at the warm sun overhead, Rose ambled merrily along the road leading to the Jones' home. With the departure of Mr. Collins, a measure of normalcy and peace had returned to the Tyler house. However, while Rose knew that deep down her mother had 'forgiven' her for turning Mickey down, Jackie made no attempt to hide her disappointment. To escape from the endless sighs and grumblings about "her poor nerves" and "ungrateful children," and because she felt deeply grateful for Martha's kindness, Rose had quietly escaped each of the last two mornings to visit Martha and check on her cousin. It was only a short walk, and she wrapped a light shawl around her against the chill in the late autumn air.

As she neared her friend's home, the scene that opened up before her abruptly halted her steps. There, sitting on the wrought iron bench beneath magnificent oak trees, under whose arching branches the two friends had chased each other giggling as children and in later years confessed their dreams and disappointments... there sat Mr. Collins and Martha, holding hands, completely oblivious to Rose's approach.

Rose blinked rapidly. Both her mental and motor faculties seemed to have stuttered to a stop. Moments later Martha happened to look up and see her friend's frozen state. She quickly leaned in towards Mickey, her quietly spoken words causing him to glance up sheepishly before silently retreating to the house.

Martha then calmly approached her dear friend, trying to hide her trepidation. She did not regret anything that had occurred in the last few days; in fact, she felt happier and more hopeful than she had in years. She'd always had a more practical, 'realistic' view of life and love than Rose. In addition, she was both strong-willed and smart, with hardly any inheritance, none of which added to her chances of marrying well.

Now, however, a surprising chance at happiness lay before her. What had begun as a kindness to her friend had quickly changed as she felt the natural attraction between Mr. Collins and herself. Yes, he was a bit daft and awkward sometimes, and he tried too hard to live up to some ridiculous ideal he'd created in his mind. But, much like her friend, Martha felt a lot of that stemmed from his regrettable childhood, and she could see and was drawn to the good, kind man underneath. The few days they'd spent together had been revelatory and wonderful. When they were alone, she'd been able to draw out an earnestness and honesty in him, and he wasn't at all intimidated by her intelligence and forthrightness, as so many men were. And despite their somewhat unconventional beginning, she hoped that, in the end, Rose would see past it and be pleased for them.

"Rose."

With a start, Rose realized that Martha was now standing directly in front of her, her eyes full of concern even as a smile played at her lips. She looked... happy. Truly happy. Rose's heart instinctively flooded with warmth, but her mind couldn't process what she'd seen. She felt a filial affection for Mickey, yes, but he was still so... And they hardly knew each other! Why, only two days ago he had asked her to marry him!

Rose peered up into the cloudy sky, trying to get ahold of herself. Perhaps she was only imagining things. After all, what had she really seen, except...

"We're engaged." Martha's dark eyes were watching her intently, full of confidence.

Rose stood gaping a moment before her voice returned. "But you can't! Engaged to Mr. Collins?" she protested. "I can't believe it, Martha!"

Martha tried her best not to be affronted, to remember the complicated circumstances surrounding them, but her words still came out sounding defensive. "I can and I am, Rose. You think that it's ridiculous anyone could like him, just because he wasn't good enough for you?" She regretted it instantly, watching as Rose recoiled from her.

"You know that's not..." Rose started to reply, frustration and hurt coloring her tone. She took a deep breath, obviously trying to calm down. "It's just all so sudden. I... I don't know what to think. If you're sure this is what you want, then of course I will be happy for you. It's just, this is big, y'know? The rest of your life. I only want the best for you, Martha." She reached out to squeeze her friend's hand.

Somewhat placated, Martha squeezed back. She saw and understood Rose's concern, but it still smarted that her long-time friend would doubt her judgment in such a weighty matter. She dropped her hand with a small smile. "I know you do. You know that I never really expected something like this to happen. But now, with Mick-... Mr. Collins, it has been so effortless. I can't quite describe it; I've never felt this way for anyone before. It just feels right. And I know it's fast and that he's not perfect, but neither am I. We understand and care for each other, and I know we will be happy. Trust me, okay?"

Rose nodded and smiled, offering her congratulations, but there was a small yet noticeable distance between them as they parted that tore at her heart.

When Mr. and Mrs. Jones arrived at the Tyler house later that afternoon to announce their daughter's engagement, the surprise that rippled through the room was palpable. The Jones' themselves were overjoyed, having practically resigned themselves to the idea that their bright, opinionated daughter, at the ripe old age of twenty-four, would never marry. However, the stunned silence that followed their announcement soon grew uncomfortable.

Feeling somewhat responsible, Rose jumped in, confirming the news by telling an abbreviated version of her conversation with Martha that morning. Donna soon joined her in conveying their congratulations and best wishes for the couple. Pete shook Mr. Jones' hand heartily, wondering what had come over the level-headed Martha to make her accept such a silly man. He had always loved her like a daughter and thought her as bright as, if not slightly brighter than his Rosie. He now concluded that Rose had the edge in that department.

It soon became clear that for Jackie even the common courtesies were proving difficult. Though she had grudgingly come to terms with Rose's refusal, this felt like a slap to the face. She could hardly believe it. After their guests departed, she alternated between denial and anger. They could not be engaged and certainly wouldn't be happy, and had the girls noticed the way Mrs. Jones contemplated her surroundings with newfound interest? (Which, to be fair, she had, just a bit.)

While they still saw each other often, Rose and Martha both felt the strain on their friendship, neither one knowing quite what to say. Both felt the lack, and Rose clung just a little tighter to Donna as a result.

Rose watched anxiously as the days slipped by with no sign of Jack's returning. And though Donna had promptly replied to her friend's parting letter, she had received nothing more from Reinette, either.

Word began to spread through town that Mr. Harkness and his party would not return this winter, which Jackie always vehemently denied. At home she complained at length about his absence, about the evils of city life, about broken dinner engagements and ill-used daughters. Donna endured it with a sweetness and patience that Rose believed qualified her for sainthood.

Two weeks later, Mr. Collins imposed himself upon the Tyler home yet again. While his welcome was not nearly as warm as before, it mattered little as he spent much of his time at the Jones' estate with his fiancée. His presence renewed Jackie's indignation over their eventual loss of the estate. Despite the love she had for Martha, the unfairness of the entail seemed multiplied now that the girl stood to inherit their home. "It just isn't right, Pete, that one day I will be cast out like so much rubbish, so that Martha Jones can be the lady of this house."

"Let us hope then, dear, that you do not live to see such a day. Perhaps I will outlast you," Pete teased.

Jackie's answering glare was scathing. "Oh, that's nice, that is. It's all a big joke to you, is it, Pete Tyler? Couldn't be bothered to entail your estate to your own children! I'll never understand it!"

Exasperated but amused, Pete mused that, considering the numerous times they'd tried to explain it to her, she probably never would. How he also wished things were different, but that he had no say at all in the matter. He approached his wife with caution, making sure her hands were safely by her side as he pulled her into his arms. "Course I don't like it, love. You and the girls mean everything to me." Sighing, his wife laid her head against his shoulder. The jab to his ribs as she wrapped her arms around him was completely accidental.

Their last remnant of hope was crushed the following day by the long-awaited letter from Miss Harkness. Reinette declared them all to be "quite happily settled" in London for the season. Her brother was currently visiting at Mr. Smith's home, which led to a delighted outpouring of love for his sweet sister and a conviction that her hopes concerning her brother and Miss Smith would soon come to pass. Each word stung, and Donna hid away in her room until the evidence of her silent tears had faded.

Quietly she stole down the stairs in search of Rose, who had just returned from a walk into town. One glance sufficed for Rose to pull Donna away to their favorite spot in the garden, where they could share their secrets with some measure of privacy. Never raising her voice, indeed hardly looking at Rose at all, Donna conveyed the heartbreaking contents of the letter.

While it was a pleasantly cool day, Rose felt a fiery resentment burn within her. She now felt secure in her judgment of Jack's sisters and friend, whom she was convinced had heartlessly interfered in the matter. Now, however, she found her feelings toward Jack changing as well. She still firmly believed that he cared deeply for Donna, that he had been falling for her, and her anger now flared against him for allowing his friends to sway him. To think she had once defended him for his easy nature, which now had quite betrayed him into sacrificing not only his happiness, but Donna's as well. Did he still care for her, or was he truly as fickle as his sister implied? Did he know that he would leave a broken heart behind him?

But when it came down to it, plagued as she was by so many questions, the most important part of the whole mess stood before her. Her gentle, sweet Donna, who had more courage and compassion that anyone she'd ever met, turned shining blue eyes to her, imploring her for answers. Rose could only hold her tightly, murmuring gentle, soothing words as her eyes flashed angrily, a silent warning to anyone that dared to hurt one she loved.

Rose shared the news with her family, trying her best to make it seem entirely normal and expected. Donna bore her misery quietly, refusing to discuss it further. However, after suffering through a rather bitter dose of Jackie's complaining the next day, Donna could hold it in no longer. "I do wish she would just let it go! She doesn't think of how it hurts to keep hearing his name, when I wish to forget. Oh! I'm sorry," she whispered from between her fingers. With firmness in her voice, she continued, "I will be better. Soon enough we will all move on from this, and everything will be as it should again."

Rose fought to hold her tongue, hoping Donna would finally open up, but she couldn't hide her look of incredulity.

"I see that. You don't believe me," Donna continued, her attempt at resolve betrayed as her voice wavered. "I will always remember him as the most pleasant man I ever met. That's all. I have nothing to hope or fear. He did nothing wrong, made no promises. I am glad that there was nothing more, as the affection I imagined has consequently harmed no one but myself."

Tears pressed behind Rose's eyes as she crushed her sister into a hug. "Oh, Donna! How can you not be angry? You are too good, too selfless to be real!"

Donna began to shake her head in protest, and Rose pulled back to look at her, conviction in her eyes. "You can't bear to hear ill spoken of anyone and are always determined to think the best of everyone, except yourself! You are good and kind and brave, and forgiving almost to a fault. I know you better than I know myself, Donna, and I will always believe in you. I only wish my faith in others could be as strong."

"I know you are surprised by Martha's sudden engagement," Donna replied, intuitively knowing what was on Rose's mind. She knew the silence between the two friends troubled Rose deeply. "But from what I've seen, I truly think they have an understanding and affection for each other. Not enough for you perhaps, Rose, but we must hope and trust that they will be happy, despite the quickness of it all."

Rose sighed, tucking her hair behind her ears. Her sister, in the midst of her own suffering, was still considering the happiness of others before her own. "I know. I love Martha so much, and Mickey, well..." Rose hesitated, trying to sort her tangled emotions. "Ugh! Why'd he have to go and complicate things? 'Cause I care about him, too, but this... I just don't know what to think. But I will try to think and hope as you do, for their sakes."

Donna gave her a tiny smile, but her eyes were still sad. "Yeah. Let's hope together. But Rose," she went on, and now her gaze was imploring, "I think I know who else you meant, and I beg you, don't blame him. It would hurt me to think your regard for him had fallen. He is carefree and friendly without reservation; it's why he is so well-liked. It's not his fault that women tend to attach more meaning to a man's attentions than is meant. I'm sure he never intended to encourage false hopes in me. 'Twas my own vanity."

"Yeah, and if you're vain, than I'm the Queen of England," Rose muttered. "And no, I don't believe Mr. Harkness meant any harm, but harm was still done. When we are thoughtless or fickle, or careless of how our actions might affect others, we can hurt them unintentionally." Rose felt a twinge of shame at that, knowing she herself was not innocent of such mistakes.

"And you think he acted this way?"

"I see no other alternative, Donna, than inconstancy." She took care to couch her next words as gently as possible. "He obviously cared for you, yet he allowed himself to be swayed by his sisters and friend."

Donna flinched slightly but seemed to accept Rose's declaration as she replied, "You still think they influenced him, then. I... Rose, I just can't accept that. Surely they only care for his happiness, and if he did care for me, then he wouldn't be content anywhere else. Right?"

"I agree with the last bit, sweetheart, but I believe that they value many things besides his heart. Like wealth and consequence and connections," she said, bitterness clouding her tone.

"They do hope he will choose Miss Smith, quite clearly, but they have known and loved her longer than me; of course they'd prefer her. But I just can't believe that any sister would presume to interfere with her brother's personal life, unless the woman in question was a proper terror. No, I must believe that if he truly cared for me, they would not oppose it, and that they wouldn't succeed against him even if they did. Your view of his affection pains me too much, for then they have all acted poorly. I prefer to believe I was mistaken, which hurts me much less, truly, than thinking badly of him or his sisters. Please, Rose."

Rose fell silent, understanding Donna's request, but her heart broke regardless.

Out of love for her sister, Rose and Donna did not speak of the matter again. Unfortunately, this understanding did not apply to the rest of the household. Rose ran interception as much as she could, warning Donna away with a glance when Jackie was feeling particularly disgruntled. More often than not, she found herself parroting the very opinion she did not believe, but hoping its repetition would eventually silence her mother: that Mr. Harkness' attentions to Donna had been only a common and fleeting affection, forgotten once she was out of his sight.

Pete Tyler wondered at the curious turn of events, as he had rather thought their young neighbor to be taken with Donna as well. He worried a little but felt sure she'd soon recover, and he couldn't help trying to lighten the rather somber mood that had settled on the house. When Rose ventured into the library in search of a book to escape into, he commented, "So our poor Donna has been crossed in love. She deserves better than that. There is a kind of melancholy distinction to it, though, isn't there? It might even become fashionable. There's plenty enough officers to jilt all the girls in town. Which one'll you have then, Rosie? Perhaps that affable Saxon fellow? Reckon he'd do a smashing job."

With only a hint of reproach in her eyes, Rose laughed at her father's audacity, grateful for his attempt at humor. "I suppose. You know I like the pretty ones, though for a jilting, I guess it doesn't much matter."

"And either way, you can trust your dear mum to make the most of it."

Indeed, Mr. Saxon's frequent company did much to lighten their spirits with his easy company and entertaining stories. At some point his story had spread through town, of how poorly Mr. Smith had treated him and of his consequent suffering. Donna alone stood firm, saying that too little was known of the case and so desiring them not to judge too harshly. However, the town generally agreed that they had never liked Mr. Smith in the first place, and that he was the worst kind of man.