Author's Note: To everyone still with me (or just joining), thank you for reading! If you have the time, please leave me a tiny note; they make my day. :) Thanks as always to lastincurableromantic for the beta, and to ashlanielle for all the encouragement. As always, I own nothing; all credit goes to the writers of Doctor Who and the incomparable Miss Austen.

Her feet hardly touched the ground as Rose flew to the edge of the estate, anticipation making her giddy. With the graceful ease borne of familiarity, she shinnied up into the branches of the oak tree, settling her back against its trunk. Her hands trembled as she contemplated her prize.

She had been watching for the post today expectantly. It had been several days since she wrote her aunt, and today was the earliest a response could reasonably be expected. The temptation to press Lucy for information had been so strong, almost irresistible. She desperately wanted to know - needed to understand - why Mr. Smith had been at the wedding. With a calmness she didn't feel, her pulse thrumming beneath her skin, she had watched her father flip through the mail. "Here's one for you, Rosie, from your Aunt Harriet," he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he took in the controlled eagerness of her form. She never could fool him. With a faint blush and answering smile, she had taken the precious missive and disappeared.

Letter in hand, she had sprinted off, her legs carrying her automatically to this hidden place, far from prying eyes. The lovely ivory note in her hands felt heavy, promising her answers. Squeezing her eyes shut, she took a deep breath before opening them and reverently unfolding the letter.

Gracechurch Street, Sept. 6

My dear niece,

I must admit that your letter surprised me greatly, but I can understand your urgency and have set aside the rest of my morning to answer it. I must admit, while I expected questions, I didn't expect them to come from you. I'm not angry, mind, just astonished. Perhaps I have assumed too much, although your uncle was equally taken aback. He would never have agreed to all he did had he not felt sure that you were involved in the matter.

However, dear one, as it seems we were mistaken, I will attempt to enlighten you.

On the eve of my return from Powell, Mr. Smith called upon us at our home, and remained for several hours. He had seen and spoken with Lucy and Mr. Saxon. It seems he left Derbyshire soon after we did, the very next day in fact, determined to them track down. He claimed full culpability for Saxon's success in passing himself off as a gentleman, saying it was only his own pride and reserve that kept the truth from being known. He was most adamant, Rose; I think he is not a man I would like to cross. It was his fault, he said, and therefore it fell to him to heal the damage done. I'm certain that any other motives he might've had were good and honorable, and would not be held against him.

Rose inhaled sharply, her aunt's words attempting to fan that tiny spark inside her. Shaking her head at the foolish hope, she turned her eyes back to the letter.

It took him several days to hunt them down, but he had an advantage we did not. He knew of a connection, a Mrs. Younge, who had apparently at one time been Miss Smith's governess and was a friend of Saxon's, and who now lived in London. I honestly can't imagine him traveling through some of the places he must've gone, Rose. But he did find the woman and eventually persuaded her (for at first she was most unwilling) to reveal their hiding place.

I don't know how much Lucy told you, but Mr. Smith did try to get her to leave Saxon, to return either to the Forsters or to Powell with his aid, but she refused. She claimed that they were in love and would eventually be married, and that they did not need or desire his help.

I suppose he soon realized the futility of arguing with the foolish girl, and so began to outline for Saxon the only other option he would allow: the two would be married. Mr. Smith would seek our assistance, as Lucy's nearest family, in caring for her and acting on her behalf in the matter. The fool balked at first; he had clearly never intended to marry your sister and resisted being ordered to do so. While in Brighton he had found himself over his head in debt and had run, but he felt no responsibility for your sister's choice to join him. Apparently he had still hoped to make a more lucrative match elsewhere, perhaps in another country where his character was not known.

I need not tell you how incensed I was. To care so little for your sister's feelings, for her future… How could we all have been so deceived? I am ashamed. For he seems now the epitome of dissolution and selfishness, caring only for his own interests. And foolish to boot! He actually had the nerve to challenge Mr. Smith, asking if he was willing to fight him over "some girl who meant nothing to him." If the shadow that passed over his features in telling it bore any resemblance to what Saxon faced, it is no wonder that he relented. So, as detestable as it must have been to him, Mr. Smith used Saxon's cowardice and greed to reach an agreement of sorts.

Rose furiously blinked back the angry tears stinging her eyes, her free hand clutching the folds of her dress. How dare he? Though by no means faultless, Lucy did not deserve such base, heartless treatment. And the thought of how awful it must have been for Mr. Smith to seek out and negotiate with that despicable man, to essentially live through that again, pained her beyond measure.

He then came here to seek our help, though he let us do precious little, aside from harboring your sister and representing the family at the wedding. I believe, Rose, that obstinacy may be his true fault. Such unflinching resoluteness I have never seen. He would not let us do anything. Your uncle would have settled it all himself, and he did not surrender without a fight. Not that the couple in question deserved it.

I know I can trust you not to share this knowledge, except perhaps with Donna. I actually think Mr. Gardiner is glad to have someone else know the truth. He was unhappy, firstly in not being allowed to do more to help his niece, and secondly in having to allow others to believe that he had done it. In the end it amounted to several thousand pounds, between paying off Saxon's debts, giving them the thousand he had offered to match Lucy's inheritance, and buying Saxon's commission. He said he needed to do this. Despite his rather domineering manner and obvious regret, believe me, dearest, that we would never have yielded so completely to his will if we didn't suspect he had another interest in the affair.

Mr. Smith then returned to Gallifrey, where the rest of his party had remained, and Lucy came to stay with us at Gracechurch Street. Mr. Saxon visited often and acted just as I remembered. Talking with Lucy was a trial of patience. The moment the conversation turned serious she tuned out, refusing to acknowledge the hurt she had inflicted on herself and her family. But from what I hear they have acted much the same at Powell, and I am sure I have not been the only one provoked.

Mr. Smith returned for the wedding, as you know, managing to look both dashing and imposing at the same time. I hope you don't mind me taking this chance to tell you how much I like him, Rose. Despite the circumstances he was kind and respectful, just as he had been in Derbyshire; he is brilliant, too, and I believe very good at heart. He can indeed be a bit solemn, even brooding at times, but I have also seen glimpses of the joyful energy beneath. I think marriage might work wonders in him; he just needs to find the right hand to hold. Perhaps he has already found it.

Please forgive me for being so bold; you know it's just my way. At the very least do not banish me from Gallifrey; I would miss you dearly, and would so like to tour the entirety of its grounds one day.

Affectionately, Aunt Harriet

Her hands fell to her lap, her eyes wide as she stared out past the gently dancing leaves. A small, quiet place within her heart stirred and began to sing, a gentle fluttering sensation that gradually spread outward. It was Mr. Smith who had done it all: who had pursued first the traitorous governess and then the wayward couple; who had threatened, reasoned with, and eventually bribed a man he utterly despised; who had arranged the wedding and the couple's future to best alleviate any stirrings of gossip. He did it for you, her heart whispered.

As much as Rose wished to believe it, to surrender to those glimmerings of joy and hope, she could not. She did not think so highly of herself as to believe his love for her could brook not only her earlier refusal, but also the natural revulsion he must feel at the thought of any relation to Mr. Saxon. She shuddered. Brother-in-law to Harold Saxon. As selfless as his recent actions had been, that was asking too much.

An empty ache crept over her, tears pricking behind her eyes. He had done so much for them already. She could easily believe, from what she had learned of his character, that his actions stemmed from feelings of guilt and of responsibility for the consequences of his silence; however, she allowed herself to believe that a lingering regard for her may have borne some small part in his actions. A man of such means certainly had the freedom to do as he pleased, but for him to do this - at such great cost to himself, to suffer such insult and pain in the name of compassion and honor, and never to have it known save to a very few - it grieved her. Even were they to discover it, her family could never repay such a monumental kindness. Rose now felt ashamed as she recalled each unkind thought, every time she'd challenged or teased him. In that moment she forgot his shortcomings, and the fact that he'd responded favorably to her spiritedness. She saw only the generosity and goodness he'd shown in this act.

Glancing down again at the note, a soft smile played across her face, though it didn't quite chase away the sadness in her eyes. They think he still cares for me. This amazing man. She was quite positive the hope was unfounded, but still she was moved by it.

A movement near the house caught her eye, and a moment later she bit back an unladylike curse, seeing Mr. Saxon headed in her direction. Willing him to turn to the side, she deftly swung down from her perch, steadying herself to meet him.

"I'm afraid I've intruded upon your quietude, my sister," he apologized glibly.

"You have," Rose affirmed with a smile, determined to be pleasant, "but you are welcome to walk with me anyway."

She began resolutely to head towards the house, pretending not to notice the elbow he offered as he fell into step at her side. "I'm glad. We have always been friends, and now we are family."

"We are. Isn't it a lovely day? Are the others coming out?"

"I'm not sure," he said, clearly uninterested. "So… your aunt and uncle mentioned you'd visited Gallifrey?"

"Yeah, we did."

"I wish I could. It has been so long since I last saw it. Lucy and I could stop by on our way to Newcastle, but I think it would be unwise," he lamented. Rose tried not to visibly cringe at the obvious insincerity in his tone. "I suppose sweet old Mrs. Reynolds showed you around. She always liked me. I don't suppose my name came up?"

"It did, actually."

"And what did she say?"

Detecting a hint of worry in his eyes, her lips quirked slightly as she replied, "That you had joined the army, and that she fear you might have… taken a wrong turn along the way. But being so far away, it might be easy to get the wrong idea, yeah?" she offered.

"Indeed," he said, his eyes narrowing. There was a blessed space of silence, which he interrupted all too soon. "I was surprised to see Smith in town. Several times, actually. I wonder what took him there?"

Anger fired through her veins. The nerve…! Breathing deeply, she replied, "A matter of singular importance, I'd think, to go in this season. Perhaps preparing for his wedding to Miss Hartman?"

"Perhaps," he hedged. "Your relatives indicated you had run into him while you were in Derbyshire?"

Blushing slightly at the remembrance of that meeting, Rose quickly recalled her present company and schooled her features. "Yeah, we did. We met his sister, too."

"Did you like her?"

"Very much. She is a sweet, lovely girl," she answered honestly.

"That is good to hear. I've heard she has improved herself recently. I must confess, I did not expect much when last I saw her," he remarked. Rose bit her cheek to keep from flying at him. "I'm happy to hear it, and wish her well."

"She will be just fine, I think, now she has survived the most trying age."

His eyes snapped sharply to hers, but Rose managed to maintain a calm demeanor. "Did you happen to go through Kympton during your visit? I only ask because it is the living I should have had."

"I don't remember it, if we did," Rose replied. She was quite honestly astounded that he could be that obtuse; apparently she hid her contempt better than she thought. "You think you would have liked that - making sermons, caring for the poor and afflicted, and all that?"

"Undoubtedly. It would be my profession, and I am fairly adaptable. It wouldn't take long for me to master the necessary arts, I'm sure," he boasted. "It's a rather quiet, secluded life, but I think I would enjoy it and would have been very happy. Oh, well. We mustn't cry for what we've lost, eh? Although I am curious - did Mr. Smith ever happen to mention it?"

"I have only heard that the living was left to you conditionally, at the judgment of its present patron." She paused a moment, observing closely as a startled look crossed his face before she dropped the other one. "And that there was a time when you were not nearly so fond of sermonizing as you seem to be now. That you turned the living down, and even received financial support instead."

Rose stopped and turned to face Saxon, who had obviously been shocked into stillness and now stood gaping at her, fear and denial warring in his features. "Well, I did mention some of that when we first spoke of it. It was so long ago, perhaps you have forgotten," he said, his attempt at equanimity undercut by his nervousness.

They were almost to the house now, thanks to Rose's brisk pace. In a show of both goodwill and warning, she gave him a small smile and extended her hand. "C'mon, then. We're kin now. Let's not dwell on what's past. I hope, brother, that from this moment we will not disagree anymore, at least not about the important things," she declared, pinning him with her gaze.

Leaning forward he kissed her hand, his shrewd eyes watching her with respect and fear. He soon excused himself on some random errand, and Rose took a calming breath, releasing the tension of the last few minutes. She was grateful for the conversation in a way, as it brought some relief to her burdened spirit. Perhaps now she could be left to reflect in peace.

Mr. Saxon, apparently quite satisfied with their conversation, hardly said two words to her over the next couple days. Rose couldn't say she minded in the least.

Finally the day of their departure arrived. The Saxons had most of their belongings packed and ready before breakfast.

"Do you really think it might be a year before we see you again, sweetheart?" Jackie protested.

"Maybe. It's hard to tell, mum," Lucy replied blithely.

"Well, you must write us often, then, and tell us what you're up to."

Lucy sighed. "I'll try, though I'm sure we shall be awfully busy. My sisters may write me as often as they like; they will not be nearly so busy as I. Oh, what a lucky girl I am!"

Lucky to have such a loving family and such magnanimous friends, Rose added silently.

"She will have the very best I can give her. Much as we would like to stay, honor and duty call me elsewhere," Mr. Saxon declared.

"Oh! That reminds me," Jackie interjected, eyeing his empty plate. "You're done, aren't ya? I have something for you."

They left the room, Lucy following just after in order to pen a hasty letter or two to her friends. Their father chuckled drily. "A fine example of the modern man, that one. He plies us with his charm and eloquence, playing us for fools. I am rather proud to have such a son-in-law," he quipped, his voice laced with irony.

Within minutes breakfast was finished and the carriage loaded. Lucy shifted impatiently, waiting with the others in front of the house. "Whatever could they be doing? I wrote two whole letters while they were gone!"

Just then the front door opened and Saxon hastened towards them, Jackie a few steps behind. Last minute hugs were given, hands were shook, and tears were shed (mostly by Lynda and Jackie). Rose noticed, however, that Saxon hardly looked up through it all, urging Lucy to hurry and glancing nervously at the carriage as though it might leave without him.

"What's wrong with him?" Rose whispered to her mother as the couple boarded the waiting vehicle.

"Oh, he'll be fine. Just had to share a little motherly advice with him before he left," she replied, smirking slightly.

Bemused, Rose turned to wave goodbye to the departing couple. As the others headed inside, she stood watching the carriage pull away, trying to connect her mother's answer with Saxon's odd behavior. At the last moment she caught a parting glimpse of Lucy gingerly touching her husband's cheek - and what was unmistakably the fading imprint of a lesson he would not soon forget.