Author's Note: Sorry for the wait! This chapter and I went rounds... hope it turned out alright! Thanks for sticking with me. :)
Breakfast the following morning was a subdued affair. The joys of being home and of their aunt and uncle's company were muted by the almost palpable absence of their father and sister.
"Eat up, now, all of you!" Jackie admonished, yesterday's optimism still buoying her spirits. "Honestly, you'd think someone had died! But your wonderful uncle is going to arrange everything, I just know it. Lucy will be married, if indeed she isn't already, and your father will come home, and all will be well. Just think - my baby girl, married!"
But to such a man, Rose thought bitterly. How much she wished that was not the best option left to them.
Trying to break the silence that followed her mother's declaration, Donna smiled hopefully at the others. "The post hasn't come yet, either. Perhaps Dad has already written with some news, and it will not even be necessary for Uncle to go."
"That's the spirit, Donna dear. We will all hope for the best," Aunt Harriet affirmed, her gaze shifting from Donna to Rose. Rose nodded in reply, determination flaring within her. She had allowed shock and fear to hold her naturally optimistic, courageous spirit in thrall, but no more. The Tylers were fighters; they would not let this beat them.
The post came with no word from their father, and Mr. Gardiner left shortly thereafter. Their aunt volunteered to stay until their father returned home, a kindness for which the girls were immensely thankful.
Unfortunately it was not long before Rose felt her resolution begin to falter. After breakfast the ladies busied themselves with various diversions: Lynda and Donna took to sewing, Rose was curled up with a novel, Aunt Harriet and Joan were writing letters, and Jackie was speculating happily about Lucy's wedding. None of them was particularly focused, however, so Aunt Philips' arrival was hardly a disruption.
After embracing both her sisters and her nieces, the pressing reason for her visit soon surfaced. "Oh, Jackie," she fretted dramatically, addressing the one she knew would be most visibly affected by her news, "The rumors I've been hearing about town!"
Jackie's eyes widened in alarm. "What d'ya mean? What rumors?"
"Of Saxon's escapades, of course! Everywhere you turn, someone is coming forward with tales of gambling or debauchery! Oh my dears! He owes money at nearly every shop I've visited and has borrowed large sums from several of our friends. To think how everyone trusted him! And that's not even the worst of it! There are whisperings of intrigues, of covert meetings, seductions…"
"Really, sister!" Aunt Harriet interrupted harshly, her countenance full of reproof. "Now is not the time to entertain idle gossip! Perhaps there may be some truth to what you say, but we must try to stay above the current, or we'll get pulled under. My husband and brother are both gone to London, and we will wait upon them to discover the truth before we surrender all hope."
Aunt Philips looked rather affronted, but after a stern look from Harriet she grudgingly acquiesced. "Alright, if that's how you want it. I was only trying to warn you."
During this exchange Jackie sat motionless, her mouth agape, her eyes flying from one sibling to the other. Suddenly she sprang from her seat and began to furiously pace the room. The fierce look flashing in her eyes would have had most young men running for the hills. "Harriet's right," she asserted, chin jutting out, "we've got to keep our heads. But if there's any truth in it - and I'm not saying there is, mind - but if there is, he'd better leave off in a hurry, or there won't be anywhere he can hide from what's comin' for him."
Now each morning the energy of the Tyler household seemed to converge upon one particular moment - the arrival of the post. Two days after his departure, Mr. Gardiner wrote them, saying that he and his brother-in-law were now safely encamped at his home in Cheapside. Pete had found no leads but was now visiting sundry hotels with a determination bordering on compulsion, hoping that the couple might have stayed over briefly before going into hiding. Their uncle doubted they would learn anything by this means, but he saw that it gave Pete purpose and so gamely followed his lead.
"He wonders if you might know of any family or close friends of Saxon's," Harriet read, watching Rose covertly out of the corner of her eye. "He's written to ask Colonel Forster the same, of course, hoping that someone close might be able to give us some clue as to their whereabouts. They have nothing to go on so far."
A wave of shame colored Rose's cheeks. During their recent trip north, her aunt and uncle had become aware, at least to some extent, of her acquaintance with both Mr. Saxon and Mr. Smith. She had only revealed a portion of the truth, however, and she knew that they must still be somewhat perplexed by her seemingly sudden shift of opinion regarding these two. Her early error in judgment pained her more with each passing day.
"No, though I wish I did," Rose replied, frowning. "I know very little of his past, really, except that Mr. Smith's father took care of him after his parents died."
Her aunt studied her a moment before replying. "Ah, well. Perhaps the colonel will be able to uncover something helpful."
Unfortunately, the letter that arrived from her husband two days later revealed that no progress had been made. Amidst his quest for information, Colonel Forster had, however, discovered more evidence of Saxon's recklessness and profligacy. He owed money not only to shops and 'friends' (many of whom were now rather put out), but he had also accrued a large gambling debt as well. The affable and charming facade was now pulled back, revealing a life blackened by immorality and excess.
With no new avenue to pursue in the near future, their uncle had persuaded Mr. Tyler to return home to his family. Mr. Gardiner would continue their inquiries in town, and of course he would write immediately if anything new surfaced.
"But wait…" Jackie spluttered upon hearing the news. "He's just coming home? Without Lucy? Oh, I knew I should've gone! My little girl needs me!"
"Jackie," Harriet said soothingly, laying a hand on her sister's arm, "we are not giving up. You admitted you were worried about Pete, right? When he is safely home again, I will return to London. We will not stop searching, I promise. They will be found, sister."
Blinking back tears, a muffled sob escaped her as Jackie crushed Harriet into a tight embrace.
Rose sat on the bed, watching her aunt gather her things for the trip home, fiddling with a loose thread on the quilt.
"Now, don't look like that, dear," Harriet said, placing a neatly folded stack of clothes in her satchel before sitting down beside her. Rose met her eyes and smiled half-heartedly. "Your father will be home soon, and I know he'll need your help. And I will write every day, if I'm able."
"I know. Thanks, Aunt Harriet," Rose replied, her throat thick with unshed tears. She leaned her head against her aunt's shoulder, Harriet's arm coming around to pull her close. "You and Uncle have been so wonderful, letting me travel with you, and now with all of this…"
A wave of emotion swept through her, gratitude mingled with sorrow, and left her unable to speak. Harriet turned, placing a kiss to the beloved blonde head. After a moment's silence, she asked, attempting to divert them both, "You haven't had letters from anyone else, have you?"
Rose pulled back just enough to peer into her aunt's face, surprised by the question. "Um… I had one from Martha and Mickey," she said, smiling fondly. Harriet's eyebrows raised slightly at the familiar use of her cousin's name, but she didn't comment. "I'm so happy for them. 'S obvious they've heard, but they didn't go on about it or anythin'. Sent their love, and said I can come visit anytime. Seems like ages ago, now."
Gratitude swelled in Harriet's heart towards the couple. If things did not turn out as they hoped, the family would be lucky to have a handful of such friends, true enough to risk association with them. It was unfair, the way mistakes of one affected all her family, but in such cases society could be immensely unjust.
With that her mind returned to the man who had prompted her question. The subject of where Rose stood in regards to a certain gentleman they had recently met had never quite left her mind, even in the midst of their troubles. She had expected, based on the affection and regard she'd witnessed between them (especially on his part), that a letter would soon arrive from that quarter, but so far she had been disappointed. And though the desperation of their circumstance was certainly enough to warrant it, she couldn't help wondering if that lack had contributed to Rose's downcast spirits.
"No one else, though, aside from Uncle," Rose added, noticing her aunt's distracted silence. Her eyes shifted to the floor, but not before Harriet caught the disappointment hiding there. By unspoken agreement Mr. Smith's name had not been mentioned between them since leaving Derbyshire, despite the curiosity that had been eating Harriet alive since that surprise encounter at Gallifrey. Whatever she might have begun to hope regarding these two, she admitted that the odds were now stacked heavily against them.
She left quietly the next morning with some reluctance, despite the fact that a part of her was eager to return home again. As had been arranged, Pete Tyler then took the same coach back to the village of Powell.
Rose's heart broke a little more when her father stepped out of the carriage. It had been several weeks now since she'd seen him, but by his appearance it could have been months. He looked haggard and weary, as though he had hardly slept in all that time, an all too real possibility. After embracing all of them warmly, he quickly and quietly escaped to the sanctuary of his study.
Despite their desire to talk with and comfort their father, the girls resolved to be patient, mindful that a respite from the world might be what he most needed right now. When he finally resurfaced in time for tea, he looked slightly more himself, giving them a wry half-smile, though he remained silent.
To their surprise and relief, Jackie had showed an uncommon restraint and understanding since her husband's return. She watched him with troubled eyes, obviously struggling to keep the conversation light and avoiding what she most wanted to discuss. She chattered away with an affected ease, directing most of her comments at her children yet resting her hand on her husband's arm. Rose's heart warmed at the simple gesture.
Eventually the inevitable silence fell, not even their mother able to maintain her usual stream of gossip, all of them needing and yet reluctant to broach the topic that hung heavy in the air. Looking up into her father's haunted eyes, Rose could bear it no longer. "Oh Dad, I'm so sorry. How hard these past few days must have been for you!" she blurted out, reaching for her father's hand across the table.
He squeezed her hand gratefully, regret written in the lines of his face. "Don't worry about me, love. I was wrong. I had grown foolishly complacent, and now I am made to see and feel the error of my ways. I have failed not only Lucy, but all of you. I have not been the father, the husband, you needed me to be," he said quietly, looking around the table at the concerned faces of his girls.
"No more of that, now," Jackie protested firmly. "It took us all by surprise, this did, and I daresay you're not the only one to feel somewhat to blame. But what's done is done, and no use cryin' over it. They made their choice, and now we've all got to make the best of it."
Although her words were meant to be encouraging, Pete Tyler did not smile, his eyes falling to the food that sat before him, untouched.
"You think they're still in London, then?" Rose asked, desperate for more information.
Pete nodded. "'S the best place, if you want to hide."
"She always wanted to go to London," Lynda interjected, her hands flying to her mouth a moment later at her own thoughtlessness.
A sad smile crossed their father's face, a shadow of his usual cheery one. "Perhaps she is happy, then. I hope so, as they will probably be there awhile," he replied. "I think I owe you an apology, Rose, for dismissing your advice last May."
Rose began to interrupt, but Pete continued on, cutting off her protest. "Don't deny it, my dear. It was sound and rather perceptive of you. But then I've always known you were clever," he said, a hint of pride shining through the despondency in his eyes.
Rose's shoulders slumped, knowing how little she deserved such praise. It was she who had let them all down, she who had known Saxon's true character yet remained silent. Yet even now she was unsure how to share this knowledge without divulging his past with Susan. "But, you see, I suspected… that is, I knew that…" she floundered, frustrated with her lack of coherency.
Squeezing her hand one last time, Pete abruptly drew himself up and stood, his dinner abandoned. "Like you mother said, it makes no difference now. We must move ahead, although hopefully wiser for our troubles," he added, a hint of steel in his voice. "No more officers will be allowed in this house, nor in even in the village if I can help it, and balls are out of the question. And none of my daughters shall leave this house until they have spent at least ten minutes each day in a rational manner."
Jackie and Joan looked stunned, Rose and Donna sympathetic, but Lynda, taking his words as law, promptly burst into tears.
"Don't worry, Lynda dear," their father said, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. "If you are very good for the next year or two, I might allow you to attend a ball at the end of it." Despite the glimmer of humor in his eyes as he quit the room, Rose felt the weight of his resolve.
Lynda sobbed into her napkin, and Joan looked slightly troubled, but it was Jackie who finally spoke. "Oh, fiddle-faddle! He can't mean tha'!" Looking around at the girls' somber expressions, her confidence faltered. "Can he?"
Rose and Donna were walking in the garden, enjoying the slight turn in the air that indicated the approach of fall. It was two days since their aunt's departure (and their father's return), and they were hopeful for a letter from her today.
Suddenly they spied Hill hurrying towards them, and unconsciously their feet matched her pace as they ran to meet her.
"Forgive me, Miss Tyler, for interrupting," the kind woman puffed, her face flushed from the exertion, "I only came to ask, if it's not too bold, if you had received any good news from town."
"I'm afraid I don't understand, Hill," Donna replied bemusedly. "We haven't had any word from town today."
"Oh miss, you mean you don't know?" the servant queried in disbelief. "An express came for your father half an hour ago, from Mr. Gardiner."
Rose and Donna exchanged a startled look before flying pell-mell across the lawn towards the house, momentarily forgetting Hill in their excitement. A perusal of their father's usual haunts turned up nothing, and as they charged down the hall, nearly toppling the butler, he directed them towards the trees at the back of the house.
Rose, who was more used to running, reached her father first with Donna close on her heels, panting slightly. Their father looked up, unsurprised by their intrusion, his face inscrutable.
"Well?" Rose demanded a moment later, impatient with his continued silence. "Have you heard from our uncle?"
"Rose, Donna." He uttered their names absent-mindedly, his thoughts elsewhere. Dragging a hand slowly over his face, he finally answered, noting their anxious looks, "Yes, I've had a letter from him, though I honestly don't know quite what to make of it."
He raised his other hand then, depositing the letter into Rose's eager grasp with an encouraging nod. Hands trembling slightly, Rose unfolded it and began to read aloud, Donna peering over her shoulder. "'My dear brother, I am finally able to send some news of my niece which I hope will raise your spirits. Soon after you left I received word of their location in London; how I learned of it can be discussed later. Suffice it to say that they are found, and I have seen them.'"
A smile lit Donna's face. "They are married!"
"'They are not married, and it does not seem they had any intention to be,'" Rose continued, forcing the painful words out, not daring to look at Donna. "'But if you will agree to the engagements I have made on your behalf, they soon will be. All that is needed is a promise of Lucy's share of the five thousand pounds your daughters will one day inherit, and one hundred pounds a year during your life.'"
Rose glanced up in shock. "So little? That can't be right."
"I thought the same. Keep reading," her father replied somberly.
"'Fortunately, it appears that Mr. Saxon is not nearly as destitute as the rumors made him out to be. Even after settling his debts, there will be a small amount left over for them to live upon. We thought it best for them to be married in our home, if you approve; they arrive here tonight. Please send you answer as soon as possible, especially regarding the particulars of her income. You need not come to London. We are willing and able to act in your stead, if you will allow us to do so. I will write again soon, and await your reply.
Yours, Edward Gardiner'"
The three of them stood a moment in stunned silence. "I can't believe it," Rose confessed at last. "That he would agree to marry her for so little."
"Perhaps we have been too harsh on him, and he really does love her," Donna chimed in tentatively. Rose clasped Donna's hand in hers, wishing that their combined wills could make it so.
Pete's smile was weary. "That's a nice dream, love. You hold on to it, for all of us."
"Have you answered it yet?"
"No, but I must, and straightaway," he replied, turning back towards the house with determination.
Despite knowing that this was what they'd been hoping for ever since the whole affair came to light, Rose's heart felt leaden within her chest. "Our little Lucy must marry, must bind herself to such a man."
"Yes, they must marry. There is nothing else to be done," Pete declared defeatedly. He fell quiet for a moment, lost in thought.
"I am quite curious, though. Mr. Saxon is a fool to take her with any less than ten thousand pounds," he mused, not heeding the startled gasps that sounded from beside him. "What I want to know is how much your uncle sacrificed to make this happen, and how will I ever repay him?"
Standing before the window that evening, gazing unseeing at the horizon, Rose found her thoughts pulled far away. "I wish I had not said so much," she said softly to herself.
"Said so much about what?" Donna asked, calling Rose back to the reality of their little room.
Blushing slightly, Rose turned to face her sister. "About our family's troubles, to Mr. Smith," she answered, quietly walking over to where Donna sat brushing her hair, the red strands shining in the candlelight. Gently taking the brush from Donna's hand, Rose continued the task herself, both girls smiling at the peace the familiar ritual brought. The desire to pour out her heart to her sister and best friend washed over Rose, and she vowed to open up about the things she'd been keeping close.
"Wait, he knows? About Lucy and Mr. Saxon?" Donna asked in astonishment.
"Yeah. He was there right after I read your letters. I was a bit of a mess, but he was a perfect gentleman, very attentive and kind, and it just kinda spilled out."
"I'm sure he can be trusted to keep our secret," Donna said, mistaking the reason for Rose's regret.
"Oh, I know that," she avowed sincerely. Donna's eyes met hers in the mirror, waiting expectantly. "It's just that afterwards, he made it quite clear that he was eager to escape. Not that I blame him. We have been spared public shame, perhaps, but neither he nor his friend will ever desire our company again."
Rose raised her eyes from her work, feeling the weight of her sister's scrutinizing gaze. Whatever Donna saw made her suddenly turn about, taking Rose's hands in her own. "I assume you mean Mr. Harkness, but Rose, I never expected him to seek me out again. But you… Why does it matter? Did you expect Mr. Smith to ask you again? Did you want him to?"
Rose bit her lip, hesitating. She was not sure how to answer that. She only knew that the thought of never seeing him again was a constant ache within her. Apparently her pause said enough. "Oh my… Rose! What exactly happened during your visit to Derbyshire?" Donna demanded.
Through a mixture of laughter and tears, Rose told of the shock and embarrassment of running into Mr. Smith at his own home, of the uncommon kindness and generosity he'd shown them, and of the unexpected friendship she'd felt blossoming between them. Donna noticed every blush (when she commented about how skinny he must've looked without all his layers, Rose turned almost crimson), heard the fondness and respect in her voice when she spoke of him, watched the way Rose deflected when she started to get emotional… and she determined, with an odd combination of amazement, delight, and heartbreak, that her sister was falling in love with this man. She recognized the signs, having experienced them herself.
"Do you love him, Rose?" she asked, guessing that her sister had not yet fully named her feelings.
Rose's brow furrowed. "I really… I dunno. Oh, Donna," she exclaimed, pulling her into a desperate hug. "I wasn't expecting it, but... I thought maybe there was something there. But it doesn't matter. He must be so relieved to be rid of me now. I will never see him again."
"Hush now, none of that," Donna murmured, rocking her sister gently even as her heart welled with grief for her sister's loss, for her own.
"The thing is, Donna, I still care," she whispered, peering out the window into the gathering darkness, her chin resting on her sister's shoulder. "Even knowing I'll never see him again, somehow it still hurts, knowing that he is out there somewhere, and thinking ill of me."
Two days earlier...
A dark figure stalked through the streets of London, sending its inhabitants scurrying out of his path, radiating power and barely leashed anger. Few dared to actually look closely at him; if they had, they might have been surprised that this lanky, well-dressed, handsome gentleman was causing such a reaction. He was a force of nature, driven by righteous anger and ardent love. It was like watching the approach of a terrible storm, feeling relief when it passed silently overhead and pity for those who would endure its wrath.