Author's Note: Thank you all so much for reading and for your sweet words. I am touched by how many of you took the time to review. You really keep me going when I want to throw in the towel. :)
Beta'd by lastincurableromantic
The winter days traipsed idly by, and between longing for her sister and the noticeable lull in the 'goings-on' of the village, Rose found herself eagerly anticipating her visit to the Collins' home.
A letter from her aunt assured her that they were endeavoring to keep Donna diverted as best they could, and that she was being admirably brave and cheerful in spite of all she'd endured. This news did not surprise her sister in the least.
Aunt Harriet also inquired after the promise Rose had given, namely, not to allow herself to become too close to Mr. Saxon. Shaking her head a little, Rose gave a dry laugh as she began her letter. The truth of it was that, while there had been little danger of anything to begin with, there was now none at all. Mr. Saxon had set his sights elsewhere. Oh, he was still friendly, of course, but they spoke much less than before, as his attentions were now focused on Miss King, who had recently come into some money upon her grandfather's death. She observed his defection calmly; she did miss their talks, but she had not loved him. The hint of sadness she felt stemmed from the fact that they lived in a society in which such actions were deemed acceptable, even necessary. I'm sure it would be much more entertaining for the town if I were heartbroken and forlorn, she wrote, but I'm not. In truth, Lucy and Lynda are more broken up about it than I am.
Plans were soon formed between Martha and Rose regarding her visit, which both were looking forward to keenly. To her delight, it was decided that Mr. Jones, Tish, and Rose would stay a night in London with the Gardiners before continuing on to Hunsford the next day. She would see Donna. Now that her desire to leave was doubled, as it so often happened, the cold, quiet days seemed to creep by even more slowly than before.
As she prepared to leave amidst a profusion of hugs and a few tears, Rose promised her family that she would write at least once a week. Both of her parents engaged her to provide a full report on Donna's well-being, to which she heartily agreed, warmed by their obvious concern and love, though they sometimes showed it in rather unfortunate ways.
Rose was a bit surprised by the affectionate farewell she received from Mr. Saxon, considering that they had not spoken much lately. She had admired him and enjoyed his company, and truly hoped that he would be happy. For his part, Harold Saxon wished her a happy journey, voicing his confidence that they would always share a similar view of the world, and of certain people in particular.
The short trip to Gracechurch Street was rather uneventful. Mr. Jones occasionally shared a story from his time at St. James' Court, and Tish and Rose discussed their eagerness to visit Hunsford and the much-acclaimed Rosings Park, where the esteemed Lady Yvonne resided. Most of the time was spent in comfortable silence, watching the countryside unfold around them.
Donna spied their arrival from her perch by the front window and was upon them as soon as the carriage door opened. Greeting Tish and Mr. Jones with gladness, she then pulled Rose into a close hug, neither one willing to let go for several moments. Finally they stepped back, joy and relief washing through them, and walked back into the house, their hands tightly clasped between them.
The entire party spent the day in town, shopping and catching up, and in the evening they visited the theater. Though she had stayed as close to Donna as possible during the day, Rose allowed Tish to sit between them now, affording her the chance to speak privately with her aunt.
"How has she been?" Rose queried, cutting immediately to the point. She knew her aunt would not hide the truth from her, however hard the truth might be.
Harriet met her direct gaze, and Rose saw sadness there. "You know Donna, dear. She's put on a brave face, but anyone who knows her can tell she's hurting. And once in a while a day comes when she hardly speaks, looking as if she might break if she did. Oh, Rose," she sighed, her shoulders slumping a little, "I thought being here would help her more. We have tried, but..."
Rose laid her hand on her aunt's. "Her heart was broken. At least here she had some measure of peace and rest. And some... closure," she bit out, her jaw suddenly tight with anger.
An answering flame flickered back from her aunt's usually kind brown eyes. "Indeed. I was quite shocked to think Donna would befriend such a person, though I realize now she was deceived. To what end I cannot comprehend, but the harm done by that Miss Harkness and her friends makes my blood boil. I swear, if I wasn't a lady..."
Fortunately, her aunt seemed equally convinced that Donna had no wish for further contact with Reinette after that last painful visit. Thinking of other mutual acquaintances, Harriet took the opportunity to ask more about Mr. Saxon's new interest. Rose shared all she knew, which was not much. Miss King seemed kind but quiet, and as yet unaffected by the fortune she had so recently acquired.
"I hate to say it of him, but doesn't it seem a bit, I don't know, mercenary almost, pursuing her so soon after her loss? As if he was only drawn to her for her fortune?"
Rose laughed a little, shrugging; the idea had occurred to her and frankly made her a little uncomfortable. "She doesn't seem to mind, so why should we? But truly, Aunt, you said he should not marry me because I have no money, and now he shouldn't marry her because she does? The poor man!"
Aunt Harriet frowned, but there was amusement in her eyes. "You know that I like him, Rose. It's the timing of it that gives me pause, but of course I wish him well. But let us speak of more pleasant matters. Your uncle and I are taking a tour of the northern countryside this summer, perhaps as far as the lakes, and wonder if perhaps you would like to join us?"
Eyes sparkling, Rose leapt to her feet in excitement before remembering where they were. Quickly reclaiming her seat, she turned to fully face her aunt, who was beaming at her niece's delight. Rose grabbed Harriet's hands, bouncing a little in her seat. "Really, Aunt Harriet? Oh, I can't even tell you how happy you've made me! Where shall we go first? Never mind, it doesn't even matter, does it?! We could go anywhere! Enough of anger and disappointment. What are men to rocks and mountains?"
The following morning the small party continued on to Hunsford. Rose found joy in everything they saw, her heart made lighter by her visit with Donna and the promise of traveling with her aunt and uncle come summertime.
All three of the carriage's occupants eagerly scanned the horizon for their first sight of the parsonage. A minute later it came into view, modest yet charming, and Rose smiled as she remembered the minute descriptions they'd received of both this building and its impressive neighbor.
Her curiosity, however, lay chiefly in the couple who lived within its walls. Would Mr. Collins indeed be the same man who had initially visited them, all awkwardly pretentious, or would they see yet more evidence of Martha's relaxing influence upon him?
And suddenly the chance for speculation had passed as the people in question spotted them, waving joyfully from the gardens where they'd been wandering. Eager for a chance to stretch their limbs, the travelers joined Mr. and Mrs. Collins for a brief stroll around the grounds before venturing inside.
Martha greeted them all cheerfully, and the girls soon launched into the latest news from Meryton, leaving the men to follow behind. Once again Rose observed her friend's genuine happiness, noticing the way she smiled fondly and glanced behind her whenever Mickey's name was mentioned.
Once they were all settled inside, however, a slight tension fell upon the group. Rose felt Mickey's eyes on her, obviously wondering if she was truly okay with all that had happened. She smiled widely at him, and their uncertainty melted away as she asked Martha how she was enjoying life in Hunsford.
They spent a lovely evening relaxing and sharing stories, the picture of domestic contentment. Mickey and Martha had found that they enjoyed working in the garden together and walking into town to visit with friends. Rose listened in astonishment as Mickey animatedly told them about an idea he and Martha had put together. They had started having organized events for the children in the village each Sunday afternoon, usually just playing ball or tag in the field near the church. She had never seen him so open and enthusiastic. Glancing up, she caught Martha smiling proudly at him, and any remaining doubt she'd had about the two vanished.
The next morning dawned crisp and clear, and about mid-morning they received an invitation to dine at Rosings that evening. A hint of something - aggravation, perhaps, mixed with worry - clouded her friend's face momentarily. Rose tilted her head, trying to catch Martha's eye, receiving a wry smile and a look that plainly said "you'll see" when she did.
Though the next few hours were fairly relaxed, Rose marked that occasionally Mickey would still begin to give Lady Yvonne's opinion rather than his own, earning him a nudge to the ribs or a pointed look from Martha. With effort he would pause and meet his wife's confident gaze before starting again. Obviously they were still working through some things, but Rose felt stunned by the depth of understanding already between them.
As they approached Rosings Park that evening, the visitors admitted that Mr. Collins' effusions on the subject had been quite accurate. The house was both handsome and imposing, much like the lady who presided over it.
Mr. Jones and Tish seemed to be rendered speechless by the grandeur of their surroundings as they were escorted to the room where her ladyship awaited them. True to her nature, Rose took it in stride, though she was admittedly curious and slightly affected by the anxiety she felt radiating from Martha.
Lady Yvonne rose to meet them, her manner immediately conveying authority and not a little condescension, reminding Rose rather strongly of Mr. Smith. Almost in relation to how her mother dominated the room, her daughter seemed to occupy as little space as she could, as if by doing so she could escape notice.
As they stood to go to dinner a short time later, Lady Yvonne, who had indeed been the only one speaking, addressed Mickey imperiously. "Mr. Collins, take them over to the window so they may see the view. Of course it is a much finer prospect in the summer."
Mickey obligingly pointed out the perfectly manicured garden and lawn, and the glimpse of an orchard just around the side. Beautiful but far too structured for her taste, Rose thought, the hedges and trees lined up as if they, too, were bowing to their lady's wishes.
Dinner was elegant, formal, and quite delicious, waking Mr. Jones from his unnaturally quiet state to rather sudden and exuberant praise. To Rose and Martha's dismay, it seemed that the longer they remained at Rosings, the further Mickey slipped back into his old habits, so eager to please and obey that he lost sight of everything else. Unfortunately it seemed as though Martha had expected it, and Rose now had some idea of the frustration her friend felt. Added to which, Rose could see that Martha was constantly holding herself back whenever Lady Yvonne questioned her on the way she ran her home. Her highness apparently never withheld her opinion on any matter, whether it concerned her or not, and Mickey always jumped to agree with her.
When she was able, Martha responded quite composedly, in Rose's opinion. As always, Martha was the truly wise one, knowing that outright defiance would do nothing to help her husband's emerging confidence or to maintain a peaceful relationship between the families. Unfortunately, Mickey paid less attention to Martha's subtle encouragements, acting like a little puppy desperate to please its master. Considering the neglect in his past, there was probably some truth in that assessment, Rose admitted with some sadness.
Rose turned her attention to Lady Yvonne's daughter, whose name she had learned was Isobel. She had lovely brown hair like her mother, but her face was sweet and shy rather than proud and unyielding. Between herself and Tish, they managed to at least get her to speak, though all they learned was that no, she did not often get into town and yes, she liked music very much. Mrs. Jenkinson, who Rose took to be a sort of governess despite Isobel seeming rather too old for one, kept urging her to eat and worrying over her. Rose had the feeling that if she were in Isobel's shoes she might go mad.
They adjourned to the sitting room after dinner, where Lady Yvonne, in speaking to Martha, remarked that her friend seemed "quite refined and pretty." While Martha made no reply, Rose couldn't help looking up in astonishment, unused as she was to being spoken of as though she wasn't there.
Lady Yvonne then began grilling her with all manner of impertinent questions: how many sisters she had, whether they were pretty and likely to marry, what kind of carriage her father had, how many servants they kept, and so on. Rose did her best to follow Martha's lead and keep her cool, rewarding rudeness with sweet civility, but found it increasingly difficult.
"The nature of your entail is quite unfortunate, except, of course, for Mr. and Mrs. Collins," she declared. "On the whole I see no reason to entail an estate away from the female line. I made sure my husband made no such mistake." Rose felt a moment of shock as she realized they actually agreed about something, though, considering what a powerful woman she was, it made a lot of sense. "We have a fine piano here. Do you play and sing, Miss Tyler?"
Ever honest, Rose replied, "I can sing and play a little, but I was never taught."
Surprise crossed the woman's face. "What about your sisters?"
"One of them plays fairly well, and another sings," she replied, thinking of Joan and Donna, "yet none of us are what you might call accomplished."
"You should have been taught! Whatever was your governess thinking?"
"We have never had one."
"Never... never had one!" She looked down her nose imperiously, her indignation aroused. "Nonsense! Your mother must have had her work cut out for her then, teaching all of you. Or perhaps you were simply neglected."
Even as Rose chuckled silently at the idea of Jackie teaching them, she felt her hackles rise a bit. Martha may have to toe the line with this old biddy, seeing as she's stuck with her, but I don't. Taking a calming breath, she replied with calm confidence, "My mother did not instruct us, and though some might call it neglect, we were certainly free to learn if we chose to. We were encouraged to read and had tutors in all the necessary subjects. It was our choice, though some chose to be idle."
"A governess would have prevented that. It's a shame I did not know your mother, as I often assist others with finding such necessary help," she declared, Mickey nodding faithfully by her side. "Are any of your younger sisters out?"
"Yes, ma'am. All of us are," she smiled, ready this time for the look of shock that would follow.
"All out in society! Before even the eldest is married!" Completely flabbergasted, she looked about ready to fall out of her seat, which gave Rose no small amount of glee. She just managed to hide it behind a small smile. "And your youngest sister is...?"
"Almost sixteen," Rose said, grimacing slightly, "and she might be a bit young yet, I'll admit. But it does seem unfair to deny younger sisters amusement and society just because the eldest may not be inclined to marry. That would breed resentment rather than sisterly love, don't you think?"
The matching expressions of shock around the room were almost comical. Martha, however, appeared to be fighting a laugh as Lady Yvonne retorted, "You give your opinion quite freely for one so young. How old are you, child?"
Rose's spirit balked at the condescension in the lady's address and determined then and there to give this woman a bit of a hard time, something she was clearly not used to. "As I've already admitted that my three younger sisters are out, you can hardly expect me to own it," she replied, smiling.
Lady Yvonne's eyebrows rose sharply as she looked with a mixture of curiosity and disdain at the creature who would dare to answer her in such a manner. Mickey stared at Rose, fear and respect in his features, and Rose gave him a cheeky smile before returning her attention to the lady before her.
"You have no reason to hide your age. You can't be more than twenty."
"I will be twenty-one this year." She smiled, meeting the woman's shrewd eyes with a level gaze, making it plain that she would not be intimidated.
They played cards until Lady Yvonne grew tired of it and offered the carriage to take them home. Mr. Jones showered their hostess with compliments on the evening, which she seemed to receive with a haughty pleasure. Rose pressed Isobel's hand and smiled, grinning encouragingly at the soft smile she received in return. Mickey, though respectful as always, seemed strangely quiet, and Martha took his place in expressing their thanks and hopes to see them again soon.
The first week of their visit passed in like fashion, enjoying each others' company as they took part in the daily activities of the house and parish. Twice Mickey took his father-in-law out for a drive to show him the surrounding country. Every other day they would walk into the village or dine at Rosings. At the end of the week Mr. Jones returned home, satisfied in his daughter's felicity.
Rose felt surprisingly at ease here, a truth which she would have found hard to believe only a couple months ago. She, Martha, and Tish relished the luxury of spending so much time together, even while doing the simple things like gardening or shopping. Rose found she liked Mickey's company, too. Now that the tension of their situation had dissipated, a nice sort of friendship had sprung up between them.
Since that first night at Rosings, she could tell he had been struggling; she had overheard bits of quiet conversation between him and Martha before making a hasty retreat from the room. Shortly after Mr. Jones' departure, upon finding herself momentarily alone with Mickey in the parlor, she felt moved to speak up, knowing that doing so might push the boundaries of this newfound friendship a bit. "You two are good for each other, you know. You make her so happy," she said warmly.
Mickey smiled, but there was a little uncertainty in his eyes. "Do you think so? I mean, of course I love her. I didn't even know I could feel so much for someone." He lowered his eyes a moment, seeming a bit embarrassed by his honest admission. "But she has so much faith in me, and I feel like a disappointment. I'm not sure I can be the man she thinks I am. The man she deserves."
Rose found herself unable to speak, floored by the man before her and the changes wrought in him by love. Unable to stop herself, she pulled him into a quick hug and saw surprise on his face when she stepped back. But then he smiled, and she knew he understood: they were friends.
"You can, Mickey," Rose assured him, pleased that he didn't seem to mind her use of his first name. "Even though I didn't feel that way about you, I really wanted to know you better, to be your friend. Martha and I believe in you because you are a good man. You just have to find a way to believe it yourself."
"Really? You thought...?" He looked at her in amazement. "Thanks, Rose. I am so grateful for your kindness and the way you've accepted me and Martha. And, well, I'll try."
"Good."
And she could tell he was trying. It helped him, knowing that both she and Martha had his back.
Several nights later, they were once again gathered in the sitting room at Rosings, where Lady Yvonne was discussing how to further improve life in the parish. She considered it part of her duty as a powerful public figure to be active in the community, and often involved herself in even the smallest affairs. The villagers generally deferred to her, though their reactions to her meddling ranged from gratitude to irritation.
"I hear you've started a sort of "playtime" for the local children, Mr. Collins. Don't you think your time and theirs would be better spent teaching skills that might be of use to them later?" she asked, though it sounded more like a command than a question.
"No."
There was a moment of stunned silence before Mickey spoke again. "No, ma'am. I think most of them spend enough time working already, which is why Martha and I," here he grabbed her hand, which squeezed his tightly in return, "wanted to give them this time to run and laugh and enjoy being young. And it is good exercise as well."
Lady Yvonne blinked. Mickey swallowed nervously, still holding her gaze.
After a moment Martha spoke up, her eyes shining as she clutched her husband's hand. "Yeah, we were thinking of planning a scavenger hunt next month and were hoping maybe you could help us plan it?"
Looking back and forth between them, Lady Yvonne just stared for a moment, then abruptly began discussing the absolute necessities for such an event.
They also learned that two more visitors would soon be joining them at Rosings Park, namely her nephew, Mr. Smith and his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Though there were certainly other people Rose would have preferred to visit with, any addition to their party would certainly add interest and novelty to the gatherings. And she was more than a bit curious to see how he would act around Isobel, to whom he was supposedly promised, and of whom Reinette had seemed so unaware.
After returning home that evening, Mickey, Martha, and Rose stayed awake chatting happily late into the night. An important step had been taken, and all of them, Mickey in particular, were honestly feeling too excited (and triumphant) to sleep.
John Smith was in shock. He and his cousin Robert had just arrived at Rosings Park this morning. Minutes later Mr. Collins, of all people, had walked in, and he had decided, rather hastily he now thought, to return with him for a friendly visit.
When John had written to his aunt that he and Robert would be coming to visit, she had made no mention of the girl he now discovered to be staying at the parsonage. Indeed, why would she? Lady Yvonne would never suppose that he knew, much less cared for, a simple girl without title or fortune, nor would she approve if she did suspect it.
The problem was that Rose Tyler was no simple girl. She was clever and beautiful, brave and impertinent, and his heart had nearly doubled its pace just thinking about her. Pull yourself together, old man, he chided himself. He had hoped that his separation from her would allow his feelings to subside. Allow him to forget her.
Mr. Collins welcomed them into his home, and John's eyes quickly found hers across the room, the passion swirling in those brown depths stopping his breath.
Nope. Not forgotten. Not even close.