Author's Note: Rose struggles with her newfound knowledge, and the girls return home.
Much love to all of you who are still reading this story, and hugs to my reviewers! You make me smile!
Beta'd by lastincurableromantic
Rose returned from her contemplative walk to find that both Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Smith had visited the parsonage during her absence.
"They just came to say goodbye. Mr. Smith was his usual charming self," Martha said, causing Mickey to snicker, "and stayed all of five minutes. Colonel Fitzwilliam, however, talked with us for almost an hour. He seemed sad to have missed you."
Martha watched her friend carefully as she spoke, noticing how Rose paled at the mention of Mr. Smith's name and sank rather shakily onto the settee behind her. Their eyes met, and Martha was taken aback by the anguish she saw there. Wordlessly she moved to the sideboard to prepare a cup of tea for her friend.
'You will have to tell me eventually,' Martha's brown eyes demanded as she placed the restorative drink in her friend's cool grasp.
'I will... I promise. Just not yet.' Rose covered Martha's hand with her own, her amber eyes imploring and grateful all at once. Martha simply nodded, taking a seat beside her.
The invitations to dine at Rosings resumed almost immediately.
Lady Yvonne lamented the loss of the gentlemen's company at dinner the next evening. "I wish they could have stayed longer. Of course they were quite reluctant to leave us, too; they both seemed rather downcast, my nephew in particular. The colonel seemed to rally his spirits before they left, however."
Rose struggled to hide her reaction to this news. She could not help wondering if she was partly to blame for Mr. Smith's melancholy. If anything, this thought only unsettled her further. However, her eyes flicked up to Isobel at the mention of Colonel Fitzwilliam. A small smile lit the girl's pale face, lending her an almost angelic appearance. Upon meeting Rose's knowing gaze, Isobel seemed momentarily alarmed at being found out. Her fear faded as Rose smiled, who motioned silently to show that her lips were sealed. Tentatively Isobel smiled back, and both girls hastily returned their attention to her mother.
The night passed as many others had, but Rose felt weighed down, unable to converse with her usual levity. Attempting to lighten her thoughts, she tried to imagine what her highness' reaction would have been had she accepted Mr. Smith's offer. The prospect of Lady Yvonne's indignation and the tirade that would doubtlessly follow might have been enjoyable if a small part of her heart didn't twist so at the thought of John Smith. Anger and defiance, which had so long been at the fore, were now tempered by regret for the unjust accusations and pain she had caused him. And there was something else, too... admiration? Compassion? Concern? She couldn't quite put her finger on it.
She was startled from her thoughts by a sudden lull in the conversation around her, realizing abruptly that everyone's attention was focused on her. Coloring slightly, Rose stuttered. "I... I'm sorry?"
"You are not yourself tonight, Miss Tyler. Naturally you are sad at the prospect of leaving all of this to return to your dull little life in the country," Lady Yvonne declared imperiously. "You must write your parents and ask if you may stay a little longer."
"Thank you, ma'am," Rose replied politely, Martha alone noticing the dangerous edge to her voice, "but I rather miss my family, and I'm sure that they miss me as well. While I have greatly enjoyed my stay, I believe I must leave on Saturday as planned."
Lady Yvonne appeared mildly affronted at being so easily turned down. "Well. Be sure to mention my name in town when you change horses, and they will take care of you."
Rose nodded, more to be left in peace than in agreement, quite positive that the woman's name would not cross her lips, at least to that end.
As they prepared to leave for the evening, Mickey and Martha were waylaid to see a newly acquired tapestry. Before she could follow, Isobel gently took Rose's hand, pulling her out of sight of the others.
"So I guess you know..." she began but hesitated, trailing off shyly. However, her face showed more animation and joy than Rose had seen from her during the whole of their stay.
Rose beamed in reply. "About you and the colonel?" At Isobel's small nod, she continued, "Yeah. I mean, I guessed. He never came out and said anything, of course."
"Of course not. He is a perfect gentleman, and the kindest, bravest man I've ever met," she confessed, her eyes shining sweetly. "I don't know what my mother will say, though."
He is brave indeed, Rose thought, but aloud she said, "You love him?" Isobel nodded again, decidedly this time. "And he obviously loves you. S'what counts."
Isobel's delicate features flushed with joy at Rose's words, and she clasped Rose's hand in both of hers. "Thank you. It is such a relief to confide in someone. I hope we will see you again."
Rose smiled back, pressing her hand as she turned to join her friends. While she was happy for the young couple, it might be awhile before she could consider returning to this place without apprehension.
She had told Lady Yvonne the truth: she did miss her family. Her brash, meddling mother, her clever yet complacent father, her silly sisters... and Donna. Especially Donna, her brave, smart, and compassionate sister, who placed such faith in others yet had so little faith in herself. She missed her. Rose needed to make her laugh again, to see those sharp eyes sparkle with mirth... any proof that her spirit hadn't been broken.
"We'll miss you, you know," Mickey confessed over his eggs and toast. He and Rose were the first ones up, and in a few hours she and Tish would be headed home.
Rose grinned at her cousin across the table. It was one of those unexpected, wonderful surprises of life. That she could now call Mickey Smith, whom she had at turns dreaded, pitied, spurned, and resented, her friend. But he was, and he had also made her dear friend unbelievably happy. "Thanks, Mickey. I'll miss the both of you, too." Her voice half jest, half seriousness, she threatened, "You be good to her, alright? Trust me - you don't want to cross a Tyler woman. Although Martha can be pretty formidable, too."
"Yep." Mickey smiled at that. His face growing serious, he considered her a moment before continuing. "She's worried about you, ya know. And a little hurt."
Flustered, Rose sought for some explanation for her reticence, but he shook his head, cutting her off. " 'S okay. She is a very understanding woman. Just, don't keep her in the dark longer than you have to, yeah?"
Rose nodded mutely. She would never underestimate this man again.
"It's him, isn't it?" Rose's eyes boggled, and Mickey chuckled a little at her expression. "Might be a lot of things, but I'm not blind. Never really was a chance for us, was there? It's just you and him. Whether you admit it or not, there's somethin' there."
Rose shook her head furiously, startled out of her silence. "Nothing like that. We're not..." How could he even guess at what had passed between her and Mr. Smith? They hadn't even mentioned his name! This whole conversation was impossible! She squeezed her eyes shut in frustration. Was she the one who was blind?
"Whatever you say, Rose. I know what I see," he teased, noting the alarm and denial in her eyes. He stood to leave, but paused in the doorway. "And just so you know, Martha saw it, too."
Rose stared down at her half-eaten breakfast, her thoughts whirling. She didn't know what to think anymore, what to feel. If it was so obvious, why hadn't she seen it?
She took the next hour to recheck her room, making sure she had packed everything, saying goodbye to her favorite haunts, and trying to find her equilibrium again.
They parted with warm hugs and promises, both spoken and unspoken. Her heart swelled at the happy picture they made, Mickey's arm wrapped comfortably around his wife's waist, waving as the carriage rumbled out of sight.
She and Tish planned to stop for a couple days at Gracechurch Street, where Donna still stayed with her aunt and uncle. Donna would then join them for the remainder of the journey home.
The trip into London passed rather quietly. Tish would occasionally break Rose from her reverie by calling her attention to a particularly picturesque view or reminiscing about their visit. The honor and grandeur of Rosings had made quite an impression on her young mind. "The days just flew by, didn't they? I have so much to tell everyone!" she gushed excitedly.
Rose glanced out at the passing scenery, worrying her bottom lip. "And I have so much to hide," she murmured.
By midday they had arrived in London. The girls received a hearty welcome from her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner, but it was that flash of red hair that brought warmth to her heart. Rushing towards her, Donna pulled her into a tight hug. Rose sighed in relief, marveling at the comfort and sense of home that could somehow be contained in a sister's arms.
Her aunt kept them busy, determined to make the most of her nieces' last days in town. Rose enjoyed it, giving herself over to the experience entirely. She had decided it best to wait until they were home to divulge all she'd learned. Donna seemed happier than when she'd last seen her, and Rose was in no hurry to spoil her good mood.
On Saturday, Tish, Rose, and Donna set out for home. All of them thanked the Gardiners for their hospitality, particularly Donna, and Rose expressed her fervent anticipation of their approaching trip into the country. The rest of the journey was filled with pleasant conversation, as all of them were quite ready to be home again. As they drew into Hertfordshire, they spied Mr. Tyler's carriage and heard familiar laughter coming from the windows above.
Lynda and Lucy smiled down at them, giggling. "Surprise!" they sang. "C'mon, we've got lunch all ready!"
As they hurried inside the cozy inn, Donna rolled her eyes at Rose, who grinned back at her. "Welcome home!"
They were led upstairs to a private room where an array of cold cuts and fruit awaited them. "Isn't this nice?" Lucy exclaimed proudly. "I'm afraid you'll have to pay for it, though. Lynda and I got bored waiting for you and spent our money in town. See?"
She then procured a rather drab little bonnet from a box, and at her sisters' raised eyebrows, replied with a dismissive shrug, "I know it's not very pretty, but you should have seen the others! I'll just take it apart when I get home. Well! It hardly matters what we wear anyway, with the regiment leaving soon!" She tossed the hat aside carelessly, pouting as she plopped herself dejectedly at the table.
Rose's head snapped up. "Really? They're leaving?" Relief coursed through her at this unexpected news.
"They leave for Brighton in a week," she sulked. "Lynda and I have been working on Dad, trying to convince him to vacation there this summer. Even Mum is for it! Oh, can you imagine? A whole campful of soldiers!"
Amidst the delighted squeals of their younger sisters, Rose and Donna's faces wore matching expressions of horror. Their family made enough of a spectacle of itself over just a small regiment in town! Silently they agreed to do all in their power to contradict such a plan, though they hardly thought their father would approve it to begin with.
"Oh! But we have other news that you're sure to enjoy, especially you, Rose," Lynda eagerly supplied.
"Everyone is talking of it. Mary King has left town and gone to live with her uncle in Liverpool," Lucy cut in. "Mr. Saxon is safe!"
"Hardly," Rose muttered under her breath, her hands balling into fists under the table. "Rather, Miss King is safe."
The others did not hear her, but Donna eyed her curiously before turning to face Lucy again. "They couldn't have been too serious, then, for her to up and leave like that," she suggested. Now it was Rose's turn to glance up in concern. Though Donna spoke with her usual calm optimism, she refused to meet Rose's gaze.
"It's her loss," Lucy declared. "I'm sure he didn't truly care for her. She is rather too homely and dull for someone like him."
Even as she balked at her sister's cruel assessment, Rose's conscience smote her. Hadn't her own thoughts been similar? Less coarse, perhaps, but still unkind, and she now knew, completely unjust as well. Her error pained her, and she vowed that the lesson would not go unheeded.
After they had finished and paid for their lunch, the girls piled into the family's carriage, slightly squished by all the luggage and Lucy and Lynda's impulsive purchases.
"Isn't this cozy?" Lucy cooed, drumming her fingers on her new hatbox. "So, you three must tell us about all you did! Did you flirt with many handsome men? I had hoped one of you might have landed a husband, or a beau at least! I mean, Donna is almost an old maid. Twenty-three, and not even engaged! 'Course, Rose could have married Mr. Collins, but I don't blame her for refusing him. Wouldn't it be funny if I married before any of you? He'd have to be dashing and important, of course. Oh, but we've had so much fun with the officers. Just the other day..."
Rose stared out the window, endeavoring to ignore the careless words spilling from her sister's mouth. Mr. Smith's imputations about her family rang through her head, and her face burned with shame, realizing again the bitter truth of his words.
Their parents welcomed them home with a rather surprising show of affection, and even Joan embraced them before returning to her book. The Jones' joined them for dinner, which was filled with stories and gossip. Later that evening Lucy begged to go into town, but Rose managed to postpone it until the morrow. Her stomach churned at the thought of facing Mr. Saxon, whose name she had been forced to hear so often that afternoon. The sooner the regiment left, the better.
By the end of the day, Rose felt utterly spent. The long trip, combined with the emotional upheaval of the past few days, had her longing for the familiar comfort of her own room and her own bed. As she said goodnight, her father stopped her, pulling her in for a brief hug. "It's nice to have you back, Rosie. It's been a couple of long, foolish months without you and Donna here to keep me sane."
"I missed you, too, Dad. It's good to be home," she said, smiling up at him. And she found that despite all the conflict in her heart, or perhaps because of it, she meant it.