Author's Note: I am very sorry about the wait, but promise to be better now the holiday madness has passed. :) Thank you for all the lovely support!
All credit for the story and characters belongs to the amazing Jane Austen and the BBC.
As the carriage took them along the winding path that led back to the small village of Flydale, Rose could not help marveling over the revelations of the past two days, the most significant being the complete turnabout in her feelings towards Mr. Smith.
She and her aunt eagerly traded thoughts about their visit, the estate and all of its inhabitants, with one glaring exception. K-9 was the brightest dog they'd ever met, and Miss Smith had captured Harriet's heart almost as quickly as Rose's. Jack Harkness was undeniably charming and friendly, though he seemed to have gotten the lion's share, as the same could not be said of his sisters. And the food! Somehow Mr. Smith had managed to procure bananas, a rare delicacy grown in the tropics, occasionally enjoyed by royalty, and for which Mr. Smith had apparently developed a fondness during his travels. The ladies had enjoyed the sweet fruit immensely, and he'd grinned from ear-to-ear at their delight.
But they didn't speak of John Smith now, though each longed to know the other's opinion of the man. Rose's fingers still tingled from the thrill of his strong, warm hand around hers, how he'd held on until the last possible moment, his deep brown eyes regarding her with wonder.
Suddenly the carriage came to a halt, and it took Rose a moment to realize that they had arrived back at the inn. She had been talking with her aunt and apparently become lost in thought. Casting an embarrassed glance at her as they exited the coach, she managed to catch her aunt's eye. At the look of amusement there Rose let out a breath of relief; at least Harriet knew she hadn't meant to be rude. Rose's blush grew deeper a moment later, however, when she realized that her aunt had probably surmised the direction of her thoughts.
Rose awoke to the soft rays of the early morning sun stretching invitingly across her coverlet. Usually she would have hidden her face in her pillow for a few more minutes, snuggling down deeper into her covers. This morning she bounded out of bed, her heart wonderfully light. She didn't examine it too closely, simply reveling in the way everything seemed especially vibrant and beautiful today.
Her aunt and uncle smiled rather knowingly at her over breakfast, though Rose pretended not to notice. She attacked the hearty meal with gusto, as if to make up for yesterday's neglect. "Mmm… Aunt, have you tried the toast? This jam is amazing!" she exclaimed. Perhaps she could persuade the cook to give her a sample to take with her to Gallifrey later. She just knew Mr. Smith would love it, remembering from her stay at Torchwood how he would discreetly try to bury his toast with the stuff. Caught off guard by the random thought, she almost laughed outright. Even when she'd detested the man (or thought she had), he'd still made a strong impression on her.
"Yes, it is all delightful. Please tell the cook that should she ever be in need of a position, we would be most happy to help," Uncle Gardiner enthused with a grin, his hands resting contentedly on his stomach.
The servant who was clearing the table smiled brightly, assuring him that she would relay his compliments. Aunt Harriet just shook her head in amusement, eliciting a small laugh from Rose. Their affection for each other was so plain to see, open and honest and playful, and it made her smile. It made her miss her parents, too; she knew that they loved each other deeply, even if their marriage was a bit more tempestuous. There was, however, no denying the fact that traveling with her aunt and uncle was far more peaceful.
The three of them had just agreed upon a relaxing walk through the village when the servant returned with the post, immediately heading towards Rose.
Rose sighed with relief upon seeing that there was not one, but two letters from Donna. She had been surprised and a bit worried when they arrived to find no letters from home, as her sister was usually a most devoted correspondent. "Thank you, Mary," she said, smiling as she discerned the cause of the first letter's delay. "No wonder it took so long to get here! The address is very hard to read; I can hardly make it out."
Looking fondly at the letters in her hands, she bit her lip, unable to hide her eagerness. "Would you mind terribly if I stayed behind?"
"Of course not, dear," Harriet replied understandingly, taking her husband's arm. "We should be back in about an hour. Enjoy your letters."
Rose smiled her thanks and wandered towards the front window, gently opening the first letter. It began much as expected, with news of the latest parties and their daily engagements. It did her heart good, too, as she could almost hear the amusement and affection of her sister's voice in her head as she read. However there was a break midway through the second page, Donna having obviously continued the letter the following day, and here the writing became almost illegible. As she read Rose staggered backwards, collapsing into the chair fortunately situated beside her. Her face grew pale, the hand holding the letter trembling as her eyes raced frantically over the page.
I don't know how else to say it, dear sister, but I have bad news. Don't worry - we are all well. However an express came last night at midnight from Colonel Forster, informing us that Lucy has run off to Scotland with one of his officers - with Mr. Saxon! We were all shocked, although Lynda seemed slightly less so.
It is unfortunate - how I wish that they had done things differently! I'm afraid it will be hard for them, but at least we know he has no ulterior motive. They must have fallen in love. I will hope that we have misunderstood him; we must forget all the bad we have heard, and hope for the best. We expect to hear from them soon. I must go, as Mum is beside herself with worry. Please forgive my bluntness, Rose; I hardly know what to think. I will write when I know more. Love always, Donna
Her hands shaking, her fingers fumbled feverishly as she struggled to open the next letter, her thoughts and emotions jangling discordantly. Oh, Lucy! She squeezed her eyes shut tight, trying to fend off the fear clawing at her. She tried to cling to a fraction of Donna's optimism, though it quickly deserted her as she read on.
Dearest, it is worse than we thought. As unfortunate as a hasty marriage would have been, we now fear the opposite - that they are not married. By all appearances Lucy believed them to be headed to Gretna Greene for that purpose; she left a letter boasting of it for her friend, Mrs. Forster. But word soon reached the Colonel's ears, apparently from Adam Mitchell, that Saxon never intended to go to Scotland, nor to marry her. Colonel Forster immediately followed their trail as far as Clapham, but it seems Saxon was eager to cover their tracks. They changed coaches there, and all else he could discover was that they were headed on to London. He then came here straightaway, the poor man, despondent and wracked by guilt, though of course it is not his fault. Both he and our parents fear the worst, but I can't, Rose! I won't believe it. Perhaps Mr. Saxon has reason for wanting to get married in London, though it takes longer. And, even if his intentions were dishonorable, I can't believe our Lucy is so lost as to agree to it.
Another hastily scrawled addition from the next day reflected the family's increasing distress and despair. Their father had determined to go to London with the Colonel to try to find them, but Colonel Forster had to return to his regiment soon after and Donna's words were laced with anxiety.
I told myself I wouldn't, but I can't help it. Please come home, Rose. Our father is not himself - he is distraught and impulsive, and I know our kind uncle could help him. And perhaps Aunt Harriet might be just the one to calm Mum's nerves. I know you are all too good to think badly of me for asking it. I miss you dearly, sister, and hope we may see you soon.
Rose flew across the room and flung open the door, every thought bent on finding her aunt and uncle, and ran straight into Mr. Smith, nearly toppling them both. His surprise quickly changed to concern as he took in her shaken state, his strong arms having instantly come up to both still and support her. "What is it, Miss Tyler? What has happened? Are you quite alright?"
Looking up into his warm, worried brown eyes nearly undid what remained of her composure. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Smith, but you must excuse me. I am alright, but I must find my aunt and uncle. We have to leave immediately," she persisted breathlessly, attempting to pull herself free of his grasp. Her heart warred within her, a small part of her relishing the contact despite her anguish, wishing she could fall apart in his arms. Wishing that this didn't feel like the end of whatever tentative beginning they'd found.
"Wait, Miss Tyler, please," he entreated, alarmed to see her evident distress but determined to help in any way he could. "We will find them, only let me go, or one of the servants."
He could see the stubborn strength he admired shining in her eyes, but it was mingled with a fear and sadness that made his heart clench within him. "Please. You are not well," he urged, hoping she would allow him to help.
To his surprise and relief, she nodded, moving to the sofa nearby. He swiftly popped into the hall, dispatching a servant to find and retrieve her relatives with all due haste.
He returned to find her sitting quietly, her face in her hands. She looked pale and sick with worry, and his heart ached for her. He longed to take her hand in his again, to pull her to him and comfort her. Instead he sat beside her, offering the comfort of his presence. "Please, how can I help? You are ill. May I get you a cup of wine? Or some tea?"
"No, but thank you," she said, removing her hands to offer him a small smile. "You are too kind. I am fine. It's just… I've just received some terrible news from home."
He could see the moment her courage faltered, her beautiful eyes filling with tears that spilled over before she could turn away. Her shoulders shook as she sobbed, unable to hold back any longer. He watched in torment, forcing his hands over his face and through his hair instead of reaching for her as he wanted to.
After several minutes her tears subsided enough for her to speak again. "A letter came from Donna. 'S so awful. There's no hiding it from anyone." Though she spoke softly, sadness pervading her lovely form, he could see a smoldering fire banked behind her eyes. "My youngest sister has run off, without care or warning… with Mr. Saxon."
For a moment the world ceased to exist around him. The devastation on Rose's face, that name, and the dreadful familiarity of the situation swallowed him whole. As he forced himself to meet her gaze, he struggled to hide the storm of fury and guilt that he could feel brewing within him.
"You know him too well to hope. He would gain nothing - no money, no connections. He has no reason to mar-" Rose faltered, closing her eyes, unable to finish. Unable to say the words that meant ruin for not only her baby sister, but her entire family. "She is lost to us."
Mr. Smith hadn't moved since she spoke Saxon's name, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes swirling with emotion. When he finally spoke, his voice was strained. "I am appalled. But are they quite sure? What has been done to find her?"
At his abrupt tone, her eyes flew open again. She could see the powerful emotions roiling just beneath the surface; while the sight of his anger had made other men tremble, Rose was not afraid. "It is certain that they have not gone to Scotland. Colonel Forster traced them almost to London, and he and my father have gone there to search for them," she informed him, her red-rimmed eyes full of sorrow and sympathy. "But what can they do? Even if they could be found, when they don't want to be, what could we offer him? How do you appeal to such a man? If only I'd said something, just a warning that he couldn't be trusted! But it is too late. I have no hope."
As she spoke he had gained his feet and begun pacing the room with great strides, tension and power radiating from him. She missed his presence beside her and could almost feel the distance growing between them emotionally as well. As consumed as she was with grief for her sister and her family, it hurt as she watched him close himself off. He wouldn't look at her. Whatever change of heart he might have had, any sway she might have held over his heart, she knew nothing could overcome this. How ironic that as that possible future slammed shut before her, she found she could suddenly put a name to all that she'd been feeling for this man.
Feeling her bruised heart shatter, she turned away, allowing her tears to claim her once more.
After several minutes of heavy silence, John suddenly came to himself, rousing from the haze of anger that had consumed him. What must Rose think of him, acting like that? Ashamed, his eyes sought out the woman he loved, feeling another stab of guilt and pain as he took in her huddled, dejected form. Instead of comforting her, he had retreated into his own darkness, leaving her to feel even worse. Again the unseemly yearning to embrace her took hold, knowing that it was as much for his comfort as hers. But of course he couldn't. Why would she even want that, anyway? Angry at his selfishness and foolish impulses, he struggled to speak calmly. "I am so sorry, Miss Tyler. I have probably overstayed my welcome. I wish there was something I could do or say to comfort you, to help…" His eyes burned into hers, raw with emotion. "I fear you will not be able to visit my sister this afternoon, then."
"Oh! No, I am very sorry," Rose managed, her hand reaching out to touch his arm but retreating at the last moment. "Please apologize for us. Say we have been called home unexpectedly, and conceal the truth as long as you can. I'm afraid it will be known soon enough."
"Of course." He hesitated, as if he longed to say more, but what more was there to say? With one last wistful glance she dropped her gaze, telling herself she had to let go of what might have been. John's eyes rested on her for a prolonged moment before he turned away, determination written across his features.
Hearing his footsteps fade, Rose looked up at the empty doorway with a distinct sense of loss, certain that she would never see him again.