Archive of Our Own

There is a distinct beauty in the way the sun lights the fields surrounding Netherfield. Alex Manes loves going out right before the sun is fully out, enjoying the brisk colours of the world before everyone is really awake.

The mansion is standing tall, lonely in its magnificence. Alex knows there’s a new owner now, after so many years of it being vacant, and Rosa has been blabblering about all the balls and parties that will take place now that a certain Mr Max Evans is going to be living there for the time being — or until he gets bored of the English countryside.

Alex takes in the image in front of him, drinking in the way the sun reflects on the white stone from the façade. When he was younger, he dreamed of living in such a house when he was old enough to marry — it had taken him a few beatings from his father and being thrown out of Manes Manor when he turned fifteen to understand that his preferences werenʼt what was expected from him.

He’s lucky Arturo Ortecho chanced his own reputation taking him in, but no such amount of compassion could keep Alex from feeling the way he does when a particularly handsome military man happens to stroll through Longbourn’s packed streets.

When he comes back from his daily walk, he finds Liz sitting on the steps, her back to the wooden door, gazing up at the sky. He flops down beside her, nudging her gently. “Morning, Miss Elizabeth Ortecho.”

“Morning, Mr Alexander Manes,” she greets back, a dreamy look on her face.

“I didnʼt expect you to be out so early in the morning.”

“The letter carrier came,” she informs him with a private smile. “Mr Evans has invited Father and us all to a ball heʼs throwing in a few days in Netherfield.”

“Has he, now?” Alex muses. He knows that the new owner of Netherfield should mingle with the local society, but he hasnʼt expected it to be so near his moving into the mansion. “Heʼs going to fall in love with you so fast, Liz. Youʼre the prettiest girl in the whole county.”

Liz laughs heartily and slaps him playfully on the arm after making sure no one is watching them. “I donʼt plan on making anyone fall in love with me,” she tells him.

“Dear, heʼs irremediably going to love you. You canʼt plan on that. It will simply happen.”

“I will never leave you, Alex,” she reminds him. “We promised, remember? When the time comes, you and I will marry each other. It works for both of us; you donʼt have to hide who you are with me, and I avoid having to live with someone society approves of just because I am a woman.”

Alex shakes his head. “If ever that time comes, when your father forces you to marry someone you donʼt love, I will step up. Not before. And you and I both know that Arturo will die before forcing your hand in marriage.”

Liz hugs him. “Letʼs get inside, Alex. Breakfastʼs ready!”

Alex knows Liz and Rosa canʼt stop thinking about the ball. He knows them inside and out, and he knows that behind the indifferent masks they both put on, the Ortecho sisters are excited about the party. Rosa has spent three days learning new dance moves, and he has caught Liz checking her ribbons twice every now and then. So when the time comes, Alex is more than ready for it to be over.

He spends the first half of the dance holding up against a wall, eyeing the Longbourn society fussing over every little detail in Netherfield, until the host — a tall, dark-haired man whose jacket fit perfectly — shows up along with a blonde woman and another man who catches Alex’s eyes.

“Whoʼs that?” he asks Liz, who has been by his side for the past hour, gesturing toward the trio.

“The one on the left is Mr Evans,” she whispers back, blushing slightly. Alex smirks privately, knowing he will tease her about it later. “The woman on the right is Miss Evans, his sister. She’s rumored to be betrothed to Mr Bracken, one of the wealthiest men in London.”

Alex nods. He is entranced by the glow of the man in the middle — wild curls belying his neat appearance in a black jacket and a crisp white shirt. “And the other gentlemen?”

“Leave it to you to ask about him,” Liz teases him. “That is Mr Guerin. Heʼs Mr Evans and Miss Evansʼ cousin. Apparently he earns ten thousand a year.”

“Ten thousand?” he repeats. “Lucky will be the woman who marries him!”

“Lucky indeed,” Liz repeats slowly, before leaving him to mingle with the crowd of people being introduced to the host and his family.

Alex stares a bit longer at the curls that have caught his attention, at the intelligent eyes keeping track of everything and everyone, and leaves the room.

There is a distinct beauty in the park surrounding Netherfield. Michael Guerin has always enjoyed being engulfed by the green of nature, so he doesn’t approve of the ball being currently thrown when he could be lost in the fields with a book.

He’s tired of the people trickling slowly to be introduced, of the names that mix with each other in his mind as the night goes on. From time to time, he sneaks a peek through the wide glass windows, sighing. He wishes he could be lost in the woods. Instead, heʼs trapped in a dance room because Max and Isobel believed it would distract him from his own thoughts.

Michael should be grateful that his cousins are so thoughtful, but the truth is that he would rather be left alone. Heʼs had a difficult year, filled with arguments with both his aunts, Lady Ann and Lady Louise, about his tendencies. Neither understood him, but Michael has come to an agreement of sorts with them — he will be able to keep his antics with other gentlemen if he marries a woman of their choice. After having been caught in a more than one compromising situation with Lord Enthorp during his stay in Rosings, Michael hasnʼt had much to say about his future — even if heʼs already made sure that both his mother and his aunt know he doesn’t think there’s a Lady in the whole country who is suitable to become his wife and therefore inherit Rosings with him.

Isobel throws him an apologetic look when there’s a recess in the introductions. “Iʼm so sorry that you have to go through this,” she whispers. “There’s only one more family left, and then you can escape.”

He huffs. “As if that was an option,” he mutters back before placing his indifferent mask on when he sees four people approaching them, accompanied by Mr Valenti, the man who’s made it possible for Max to acquire Netherfield Park.

“Mr Evans, Miss Evans, Mr Guerin,” Mr Valenti says in an even voice. “Please let me introduce you to Mr Arturo Ortecho and his daughters, Miss Rosa Ortecho and Miss Elizabeth Ortecho, and his son, Mr Alexander Manes.”

Michael is surprised to hear a different name in the introductions, but he is promptly distracted by the depth he can see in dark chocolate eyes staring right back at him. Michael shakes his head slightly to clear it, but the feeling doesn’t go away. He feels as though he’s being pulled towards Mr Alexander Manes by a force of nature he can’t fight.

He doesn’t want to fight it, either.

For the remainder of the evening, Michael decides to stay put against a wall, not dancing with anyone, for he isn’t sure he would enjoy the activity when he most certainly won’t be able to dance with the only partner who’s caught his eye. Isobel calls him on it, repeatedly, until he has to appease her desire to get him to dance with anyone.

“I certainly shall not dance. You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this it would be insupportable. You are engaged, my dear Isobel, and there is not another woman in the room whom it would not be a punishment for me to stand up with,” he tells her with what he hopes is a final tone. “Max is already dancing with the only handsome girl in the room,” he adds, his head nodding toward the spot where Max is swaying along with Elizabeth Ortecho.

He should have known better than to expect Isobel Evans to let something like that slip past her.

“And any other man?” she retorts cheekily, voice barely a thread under her breath. “I can see a few handsome ones around, and I could order the band to play those songs that I know men can dance to with other men.”

Michael shakes his head. His cousin means well — she always has — and she’s one of the few people, if not the only one, to ever accept his true nature. Max has always been judgemental of Michael’s tendencies, and he has never supported Michael in any of his adventures.

“Even Miss Ortecho’s brother, who’s sitting down just behind you? I’ve seen how you’ve looked at him, before,” Isobel keeps going, making Michael sigh. “He’s very handsome, and I dare say very agreeable. Do let me ask Miss Rosa Ortecho to introduce you.”

“Which do you mean?” Michael asks, feigning indifference. He already knows about Mr Alexander Manes, although not enough as to understand why he has a different surname than his sisters. He turns around slightly, avoiding the other man’s gaze and hoping that he is not listening. “He is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me,” he continues. He can’t risk everything by misstepping in a place he’s just set foot in, and Longbourn is such a nice, albeit modest, country town for him to think he might like it here for a while. He can’t afford showing his true colours so soon in a village where he believes tradition still has a heavy weight in the minds of the locals. “You are wasting your time with me.”

He looks straight ahead, refusing to dance with anyone and remaining frozen in his spot, but that isn’t enough to miss the pained look with which Alex Manes’ leaves the dance, barely a few minutes after Michael’s finished talking to his cousin.

The days after the party thrown by Mr Evans are surprisingly grim for Alex and his family. He canʼt shake the feeling that he isn’t enough from what heʼd overheard Mr Guerin saying to Miss Evans. As much as Liz tries to make him smile, Alex just feels standoffish and unsuited.

He’s too distracted in his grief to notice the shift in Rosaʼs behaviour when the military reaches Longbourn. All of a sudden her smile is brighter, her drawings are sharper, her words have regained theirwit. Alex is happy for his friend — for the sister he never had but was lucky to earn — and so he doesn’t realize the subtle change in her demeanor.

“Alex!” he hears his name in Rosaʼs voice one day when they are at the store purchasing some more art supplies she’s been needing for some time. He’s so happy to witness Rosa finally giving in to her talent, that he doesn’t notice the officer entering the shop until he greets them politely. “I want to introduce you to someone,” she exclaims happily.

“Mr Manes,” the officer greets him with a small bow and a smile that blinds him. “I have heard only good things about you from Miss Ortecho.”

“Surprisingly, she hasnʼt said anything about you,” Alex replies icily.

“I am so sorry,” the officer excuses himself. “I am Wyatt Long, officer in Colonel Miller’s regiment.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Alex states politely. “Rosa, we need to go. I hope to see you again soon, Mr Long.”

He grabs Rosa by her arm and drags her outside the store. He itches to ask her about the reason why she seems so well-acquainted withthe officer inside, but he knows better than to suffocate Rosa with questions she might not be in any disposition to answer. He walks with her back to their house, silence only broken by Rosa speaking about officer Long, when they run into Mr Evans and Mr Guerin on a horseback ride along the stream.

“Mr Evans!” Rosa calls from their side of the water. “Itʼs such a surprise to find you here!”

“Miss Ortecho,” both gentlemen greet. “Mr Manes.”

Alex can only bow his head in recognition, voice caught in his throat at the sight of Mr Guerin in front of him. He admonishes himself for being weak, for not fighting his own feelings hard enough — he tells himself that Mr Guerin is too proud, too full of prejudices; he tells himself that his perversions, as his own father had one day, arenʼt to be shown in public or shared with someone with an upbringing such as Michael Guerinʼs.

“Today is a wonderful day!” Rosa chants, twirling around Alex playfully. “I canʼt believe we have been so lucky to run into not one, but three gentlemen! Did you know, Mr Guerin, that Officer Wyatt Long is dying to attend one of your famous parties? You should invite him!”

Alex will later deny it, but he sees the way Mr Guerinʼs shoulders tense at the mention of the name. He frowns but doesn’t point it out. Instead, he tells her, “Rosa! You canʼt invite people to other peopleʼs dances!”

“It is fine, Mr Manes,” Mr Evans replies. Heʼs blushing. Alex imagines that he might be thinking of Liz, if his thoughts about what happened in the last party are correct, and he couldn’t be happier for her. She wouldmake a beautiful bride and an even wiser Mrs Evans. “Your friends are always welcome at my house.”

“Max,” Mr Guerin interrupts in a harsh tone. “It is time to leave. A pleasure, Miss Ortecho, Mr Manes.”

Alex watches them turn around and ride back up the path with a heavy dread in his soul. Rosa doesn’t seem to mind, for she is once again lost in her world of bright and pink realities.

Netherfield Park is vacated a few days after the following ball, without further ado. And Alex is left wondering what it was that made Mr Evans leave Liz with a broken heart.

The days after their sudden departure are grim for Michael. He knows it’s partly his fault, for his behaviour during the ball and the subsequent events that followed. He knows he is to blame for the tremendous fight that escalated between Wyatt Long and himself — albeit they didn’t proceed to blows, because Michael is nothing but a gentleman — but he refuses to apologize to Isobel, who’s the one most offended by his demeanor, and he most certainly won’t retract his heartfelt words when he stated, most ardently, that he doesn’t think anyone in the Ortecho household is suited to become related by marriage to either the Evans or the Guerins.

What he can’t forget about, as he watches the landscapes of Netherfield Park retreating behind him in the dust of the carriage, is the face of Alex Manes when Michael had, in a quite undignified manner, huffed and turned around, denying himself the chance to acknowledge Alex’s presence in the dance, only because Alex had been accompanied by Wyatt Long. His hatred for the military man dated back to when they both were infants, and he hasn’t let go of it in the past twenty years.

He doesn’t think he will ever stop hating the Long family, for as long as he lives.

Isobel doesn’t talk to him for the entirety of their journey back home. Michael holes up in his chambers for at least a week, not even getting out for the shared meals they usually have. Lady Louise doesn’t force him to, most probably influenced by her daughter, and when he finally emerges, it is to announce that he is leaving for Rosings, to stay for a few weeks with Lady Ann. Michael’s mother, Lady Mara, was the older sister of Lady Louise’s husband. After his mother passed away and Lady Louise became widowed, Lady Ann had taken upon herself to protect her nephews and her niece when Lady Louise had been too grief-stricken to do so. She is a force of nature, and she’s entitled to find them the perfect matches to marry.

Lady Louise doesn’t say anything. She simply looks at him with sad eyes — the same gleam she’s had for the past thirteen years — and nods her approval. Isobel doesn’t want him to go, and she voices this, but Max encourages him to travel and open his eyes to the world outside now that the spring is coming once again. Michael can tell he’s idling, in the doubtful space between believing he’s done the right thing and reassuring himself that nothing else could have been done, ashe doesn’t want to add more sorrow to Max’s soul.

Rosings is waiting for him when he steps out of the carriage, the silhouette of his aunt towering from the steps leading inside. Ever since Lady Ann married Lord Phil Evans, she started making renovations until the manor was completely redone. Michael almost doesn’t recognize the hallways where he played with Max and Isobel during the hot summers of his childhood.

“My dear child,” she greets him, offering her hand so he kisses it dutifully. “Welcome.”

“Thank you, dear Aunt,” he replies slowly. He follows her and the maids through the corridors until they reach his childhood room; his aunt leaves him to get comfortable, and announces that they will be having guests during dinner, all in Michael’s honour. He wants to retort that he doesn’t deserve any special treatment, but he knows better than to contradict his aunt when she’s set her mind to do something.

He’s still fighting her on her intention to wed him away to some rich Duke’s daughter or another. He doesn’t need to add more stress to his already difficult existence.

Michael isn’t expecting Alex Manes to be among the guests, accompanying his aunt’s favorite landlord, Mr DeLuca, along with his wife and their daughter, Miss Maria. Apparently, as he learns throughout their shared meal, Mr Manes is a childhood friend of Maria DeLuca and is now visiting for a short vacation. Michael hadn’t realized until now that Alex Manes is the long-lost son of Major Jesse Manes — a son who was rumored to have been sent away from his family for his tendencies. When Michael had been younger, he hadn’t understood what that meant.

Now, old enough to know what he wants, Michael realizes that there might be a ray of hope for himself.

He runs into Alex once again before the other man leaves the premises to go back to Longbourn after his visit is over. Michael goes searching for Alex back at Mr DeLuca’s house, but he’s told Alex has gone out for a stroll despite the impending storm. It’s pouring when Michael finds him, walking through the fields under the rain, completely soaked. He knows he must be a sight himself — walking back to Rosings, looking frantic and a bit disheveled. If his aunt spared a glimpse at him now, she’d probably throw a fit.

“Mr Guerin,” Alex greets him with a bow of his head, heavy drops of water soaking his hair. Michael wishes he were free to thread a hand through those dark locks. Despite the chill falling upon them, the mere sight of Alex Manes warms Michael’s heart.

“Mr Manes, I was looking for you,” he blurts out before he can stop himself. He feels the need to talk bubbling inside of him; he resolves not to fight it — he’s tired of always letting his most rational side win. “I need to speak to you.”

“Does it have to be done under this storm, Mr Guerin?” Alex questions, arching an elegant eyebrow.

Michael gulps visibly, and charges on. “In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.” Before he thinks better of what he’s doing, Michael continues, making a short but concise list of the reasons why he shouldn’t love Alex — the inferiority of his social status, his family, Alex’s stubborn pride — in the hopes that Alex himself could see how much Michael was struggling with this love and could choose to liberate Michael from his prison.

“Sir,” Alex speaks once Michael has run out of words and is left panting under the rain. He can see how Alex is struggling to get the words out, shivering and trembling. “As you must know, this is a very dangerous issue to be treated so lightly in the open, and with such reasons.”

“Mr Manes,” he tries to interrupt, only to be cut off smoothly by the other man. Michael can see tears in Alex’s eyes, and he has to fight the urge to wipe them with his thumb.

“Mr Guerin, I will be very clear in this, for you have been very clear with your exposition. I am in no position to accept your proposal, whatever it is, and I apologize for having elicited those feelings in you, since they are so clearly unwanted on your part.”

With that, Alex rushes past Michael, who is now rooted to the spot after such a rejection. He can only watch as Alex disappears under the curtain of rain crying from the skies, turning his soul as grey as the clouds.

Alex Manes doesn’t understand how he’s gotten himself into such a predicament. He’s outside Pemberley, walking from the building with a spring in his step that he doesn’t feel at all. Jim Valenti and his son, Kyle, who have so graciously invited him on their journey across the English counties, are leading the way back to their inn in town to get ready for tomorrow — along with one Michael Guerin, who had invited them to go hunting on his own preserve.

He’d promised himself he wouldn’t meet with Michael again, after Michael’s failed proposal and Alex’s stubborn rejection that had more to do with Alex’s inability to realize his own feelings than with anything else. Alex has been replaying that scene time and time again — the way Michael had been soaked to the bone but still willing to tell Alex how he felt, the way Alex himself had dismissed Michael’s words in a haughty way that didn’t reflect his own feelings at all.

Afterwards, Alex had received a letter — written and signed by Michael Guerin, no title, nothing to prove Mr Guerin’s nobility — where he’d learned that the Long family had been responsible for the mortal fire that had broken out upon the Guerins’ estate when Michael had been merely a child, for they had been in charge of the land and had been lazy on the job. Wyatt Long himself, years after the sad accident, had had the audacity to step up to Michael’s door and ask for payment for the aggravation his family had undergone due to the rumors about the fire — he’d threatened Michael, claiming that he would speak up about Michael’s true tendencies regarding his preferred lovers. Michael had paid him to keep his secret, but he’d despised every coin he’d spent on that.

Alex could only love him more and more, even when he’d set to hate him for all eternity.

And then, today, Alex has been once again face to face with Michael Guerin, and he’s made a fool of himself by stuttering and stumbling over his own words. He can’t believe his bad luck. Just when he thought he could have a tiny shred of what Liz had — before Michael Guerin spoiled her happiness — Alex has ruined all his chances.

For his whole life, Alex has been aware about the fact that his preferences would prevent him from having a family of his own. He’s been convinced that the only way for him was becoming a minister and dedicating his life to God. Then, he met Michael Guerin, and despite the initial character clash Alex had fallen for him.

Alex is so lost in his own thoughts when they reach the Rose and Crown that he almost runs over the maid handing him his correspondence. He mutters his thanks absent-mindedly, and grabs the stack of letters with one hand. He excuses himself and retreats to his chamber when he reads his name in Arturo Ortecho’s neat handwriting. Arturo has become a father figure to him, taking Alex in without questions after his own father disowned him several years ago. Arturo wouldn’t write him during his vacation with the Valentis if it wasn’t important.

Kyle catches his wince and follows him to his antechamber, closely pursued by his father and Michael Guerin. Alex doesn’t register half of their motions, for he’s tearing open the envelope and avidly reading the words Arturo sent him. A tear escapes his right eye before he can stop it.

“Alex, dear?” Jim questions with a frown, but Alex escapes behind the screen before he can speak, his voice breaking under the crushing knowledge of the worst tragedy to ever fall upon the Ortecho family he now feels is his own. “What is it?”

“I have just had a letter from Liz, with such dreadful news. It cannot be concealed from anyone. It’s—It’s Rosa,” he stammers, trying to reign in his tears once he finds himself strong enough to step in front of Kyle , Jim, and Michael. Michael is looking at him with such worry in his honey-colored eyes that Alex has to look away for fear of being crushed under its weight. “She’s—she’s thrown herself into the power of—Wyatt Long.” He hiccups. “She has no money, no connections, nothing that can tempt him to—I fear she’s lost forever.”

“This is my fault,” Michael interjects, trembling. “If only I had exposed Long when I should have.”

Alex shakes his head, remembering the falling out Michael and himself had several weeks before about how Wyatt Long wasn’t exactly who he seemed to be. “No, this is my fault. I might have prevented all of this by being open with Rosa. Arturo—Mr Ortecho has gone to London but I know very well nothing can be done. We have not the smallest hope.”

Michael steps closer to him, and Alex wishes he could feel those strong arms around him, comforting him in a time when nothing could ever bring him peace. “Wish I could help you,” Michael whispers, voice breaking.

“I think it is too late.”

Michael nods. “This is grave indeed. I will leave you now. Goodbye.”

Alex sees how Michael disappears through the throng of people at the Rose and Crown, but he doesn’t have much time to dwell on the sudden feeling of loss he’s experiencing, for Jim and Kyle Valenti are both hugging him, in an attempt to make him feel comforted while making plans to come back home for the search and impossible rescue of Rosa’s virtue.

Michael Guerin doesn’t understand how he’s come to this situation in his life, torn between following his heart or following his head. He’s facing the large windows at Pemberley, hands entwined behind his back, as he looks at the vast immensity of the land that’s now his by birthright. He’s been debating with himself for the longest time, and now that he’s all alone with his thoughts he can’t seem to stop berating himself. Even after all he’s done, he’s wished to remain anonymous in his quest to make amends with his past.

He should have said something. He should have voiced his true feelings. He should have run. He should have screamed. Instead he’s remained silent and static, just the same way he’s spent his whole life — waiting for everything to cater to his very existence, because it’s been his privilege for all these years. And he may very well have lost the only rhythm to the broken beating of his heart.

He wonʼt allow Max undergo the same pain that is now tearing his soul apart.

“What are you thinking about, cousin?”

When he turns around, he sees his cousin Isobel Evans standing in the doorway to the hall where he’s been lost in his own thoughts. She’s beautiful and elegant as always, dressed in a long and flowy beige dress that highlights her thin waist. Her long blond hair is braided in a crown around her head, making her look even more innocent than ever. Michael knows better, though.

“You’re such a wonderful vision this morning, Isobel,” he greets her. When she approaches him, he leans in to drop a soft kiss on her cheek. He’s always been too tactile with Isobel, but that’s only because they’ve grown up together and she’s more like a sister to him. Whenever they’re around other people — particularly people he doesn’t trust — Michael tries to downplay his affections for his cousin.

He’s always been the perfect, courteous gentleman.

“Thanks, Michael,” she tells him with a small smile. “But you haven’t answered my question.”

“I sincerely believed it was a rhetorical question,” Michael replies, turning around to face the windows once again. He can see out of the corner of his eye how Isobel takes a stance beside him. “I wasn’t thinking about anything in particular.”

“Which means you were thinking about him, again,” Isobel coos softly. “Oh, Michael.”

“Don’t pity me,” he tells her. “This is the best for everyone. Believe me.”

“I’m so sorry Mother has decided against your heart’s desire, cousin,” she whispers, looping her arm around his elbow, forcing him to look at her. “I really am sorry.”

“Please don’t apologize. It isn’t suitable in a lady, you know that. Aunt Ann wouldn’t approve of it.”

Isobel huffs. She doesn’t say anything else, though, and Michael is grateful for that. The last thing he needs now is some sort of compassion coming from the strongest woman he’s ever known.

“Did you know that Max is planning to go back?” Isobel says all of a sudden after a loaded silence. “To Netherfield.”

Michael nods, not wanting to acknowledge the way his heart skips a beat at the name. He doesn’t say a thing, though, even as Isobel stands on the tip of her toes and kisses him lightly on the cheek.

“You should accompany him, Michael. He needs all the encouragement he can gather, for he’s about to set his whole life on fire, and Mother will most definitely not approve.”

She turns around, her dress floating around her in an elegant movement as she retreats back to the door. Michael follows her with an attentive gaze, and is surprised when she stops short of the door, her hand pressed against the wooden frame, and says, “I know the exact role you have played in this, cousin, and I will be forever grateful that you have managed to look out for someone outside of yourself.” And with that, she leaves the room.

Michael shakes his head. He’s aware of what she is talking about — the true reasons why his cousin Max Evans is going back to the country house he purchased a few years prior on a whim — because he’s been the architect in building a new world for his cousin’s happiness. Where he once had forbidden any kind of relationship with the people living around Netherfield, for he’d deemed them inferior to the mighty Evans twins and the heir of the Guerin’s wealth, Michael now believes he was deeply mistaken. It’s taken him several months of introspection, of researching the depths of his own heart until he’s found the foundations of a feeling that can’t be pushed away with lies and social position.

He’s fallen in love when he was least expecting it, and with someone of whom his family will never approve. And although he will, one day really soon, be the director of his own life, that isn’t the case right now. He can’t afford to stand against his aunt and tell her that he doesn’t want to live the life she’s laid out for him.

Netherfield is perfect under the blooming light of spring, the day Alex receives the best news. He’s been waiting anxiously for days now, for this letter from Arturo, who’s traveled all the way to London to find Rosa where the latest information had located her. Liz had been left behind, alongside Alex, to take care of the house — which she has done, unsurprisingly complaining time and again that she’s more than capable of ruling a house without a man by her side, and that she’s much stronger than she seems.

Alex has been sitting under his favorite tree, reading one of his books that’s already ruined enough for some lines to be blurred, when he sees the letter carrier’scarriage stopping by the front door of their house. He stands up and runs as fast as he can towards the building, where Liz is waiting for him with an open envelope in her hands. There’s a piece of paper dangling from her shaky fingers, and she stutters, “Alex, please, read it yourself. I don’t think I can.”

For all the strength she prides herself on having, Alex knows she fears that her father’s news might be of the worst kind. He snatches the letter from Liz’s hands, and reads it quickly. When he looks up, his eyes are bright with tears of happiness.

“He’s found them!” he cries out. “He’s found Long and Rosa, and they’re marrying. After that, Arturo will come back home.”

“And Rosa?” Liz asks with a small voice. Alex squeezes her arm softly.

“She’ll go live with her husband,” he reassures Liz. “Rosa will come visit whenever she can, but for now it’s better if she stays with her husband for some time.”

Liz nods. Alex ushers her inside the house, where he can hug her without having to respect the social rules stating that he can’t be physical with her — not even for a simple hug — for the only reason of him not really being her brother. Alex allows her to rest her head on his shoulder and holds her while Liz sobs uncontrollably, letting everything that she’s been bottling up inside out in the form of tears.

Alex knows she’s crying for her lost sister, for the vanished future beside Max Evans, for the uncertainty hovering over them all now that they’ve been marked with dishonor. He has been in her same situation for the longest time, but he hasn’t been able to externalize his feelings.

“Is there anything else?” Liz asks after a few moments, when she’s calmed down enough for her voice not to quiver.

Alex checks the sheets, skimming through the words detailing how the wedding has been secured and how much will be paid to Long for his silence and acquiescence. Alex hates every single letter on the paper, for it means Long has gotten away with his felonies. By the end of the letter, a few words catch his eye, and he mutters, “Nothing worth sharing furthermore,” before folding the papers and placing them in his pocket.

He spends the rest of the evening helping Liz around the house, keeping himself busy, until it’s time to go to bed and he wishes Liz a good night’s sleep — she certainly deserves it after all the stress from the past few weeks — before jumping into his bed in his own room and unfolding the letter once again.

His eyes water and his breath catches in his throat as he reads.

My dearest Alexander,

It is my desire that these words don’t reach my sweet Elizabeth. The knowledge I am sharing with you should remain strictly between us, just like a pact among gentlemen.

Upon my arrival to London, Mr Guerin came to visit me. He informed me that he had found both Long and Rosa, and had spoken to both of them privately before coming to me. From what I could gather, he must have left Pemberley only one day after you did, and came to the city with the resolution of hunting for them.

“Oh dear,” Alex mutters as he keeps reading, entranced by Arturo’s ability to stories.

Mr Guerin insisted that this whole situation was a result of his mistaken pride, and he called it his duty to step forward and to endeavour to remedy an evil which had been brought on by himself. I fancy, my dear Alex, that obstinacy is the real defect of his character, after all. He has been accused of many faults at different times, but this is the true one.

“I accused him of so many horrible things,” Alex almost cries into the letter, clutching the sheets tightly against his chest. He sags a little before forcing himself to focus on the missive once again. Arturo’s words are shedding a new light on the whole ordeal, and Alex can’t wait to see which role Michael Guerin has played in it. He suspects Mr Guerin has been the one to convince Long of the convenience of marrying Rosa and, if that’s the case, Alex will be forever grateful — only he knows the extent of Mr Guerin’s grievances against Long, and he can only wonder about the reasons that might have led Mr Guerin to set his feelings aside and talk to Long.

Mr Guerin insisted on remaining in London until the wedding takes place. When this reaches you, Rosa and Long will already be husband and wife. During this whole situation, I’ve found Mr Guerin’s understanding and opinions pleasant; he wants nothing but a little more liveliness, and that, if he marries prudently, his wife may teach him. Although, I suspect, son, that it won’t be the case. I’m afraid Mr Guerin isn’t interested in any lady at the moment. He, however, asked about you on several occasions. Rest assured, my dearest Alex, that I have kept your secret as such.

Alex blinks several times, chasing the tears away. “He asked about me?” he wonders out loud. “How’s that even possible, after everything? How could it be?”

He falls asleep with the letter in his hand, secured and rumpled after so many readings, none of his questions answered.

Netherfield is perfect under the blooming light of spring, the day Michael and Max arrive in their carriage, completely unannounced and utterly unprepared for what they’re about to do. Michael has spent half the journey reassuring Max that he’s about to do what’s best for him, that his mother has already approved of Elizabeth Ortecho as a suitable wife for Max regardless of her background. The other half of the journey, he’s tried to gather himself enough courage to achieve what he needs to, but he’s failed spectacularly. Once he helps Max out of the carriage, next to the steps leading to Netherfield’s front door, Michael Guerin is no closer to finding a way to make up for his previous mistakes than he was when the journey started.

How is he supposed to declare his endless love if he finds himself tight-lipped and short of breath?

Max wants to leave for Longbourn as soon as possible, and Michael can’t find it in himself to stop his cousin. He’s been through a lot, believing that Elizabeth didn’t love him back with the same ardent desire Max had for her. Michael knows his cousin deserves to be happy, even though it may entail him having to witness how his own existence crumbles to dust around him.

Elizabeth Ortecho lives in a cottage in the outskirts of Longbourn, along with her father and her older sister Rosa. That’s where they are headed once Max has caught his breath long enough, once Michael has run out of reasons for them to wait. Max doesn’t really know the real extent of Michael’s feelings, and Michael would rather it stayed that way, but he knows the moment he’s faced with reality his heart will be on his sleeve and there will be no way to deny it. There will be no way to fight it.

“What am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to say?” Max is fretting by the lake next to the Ortecho household with Michael as his only witness. He wants to be snarky, he wants to outsmart his cousin, but he understands Max.

If he could, he would ask Alex the same question Max is about to ask Elizabeth.

Michael encourages Max to step up and knock on the door, to ask the question he’s dying to ask, but he does so with a wary heart. He knows what’s waiting behind that door, and he knows he will deserve whatever treatment he might receive when that door opens.

He’s not ready, not at all, when Mr Arturo Ortecho allows them into his house with a muttered, “Welcome to my humble abode, gentlemen.”

The tea room is full of half-drawn paintings — surely the remnants of Rosa Ortecho’s art on display — when they enter. Both Max and Michael bow at the sight of Elizabeth sitting on the couches, busy with a book. Across the room, next to the window, Alex Manes only spares them the briefest of glances before resuming his staring outside in a bored stance. Michael swallows around the sudden lump in his throat, but he doesn’t have a chance to say anything before Mr Ortecho shoos them all outside the tea room, urging Alex to follow them when Elizabeth tries to grab her friend by the arm to prevent him from leaving.

Michael’s heart breaks a little when he looks straight into Alex’s eyes and finds nothing but a void in them, the moment Alex walks past him.

Netherfield is perfect under the first lights of the day. Alex can see it from his spot under his favorite tree outside the Ortecho household in Longbourn. He hasn’t been able to sleep the whole night, after Lady Ann Evans’ sudden visit when she offended Alex — and the Ortecho family by extension — in every possible way. As he stares into the distance, he remembers the words exchanged in the foyer of the Ortecho household that have shattered him to his very core.

The knocks come in the middle of the night, startling them all out of their sleep. Arturo rushes to open the door while Alex tries his best to appear decent while climbing down the stairs, Liz in tow. When he sees Lady Ann Evans, all he can think is that something bad has happened to Michael Guerin, but he can’t fathom why his aunt would come to him if that’s the case.

He can’t even imagine why she could be in his house, after all.

“I want to speak to Mr Manes alone,” she demands, dismissing Arturo and Liz as though they weren’t in their own house. Then, once they’re both alone, she turns to watch Alex, sending a shiver up his spine.

“You can be at no loss, Mr Manes, to understand why I am here. Your own heart, your own conscience, must tell you why I come,” she begins, coldly.

“I cannot account for this honour at all,” he responds, feigning a respect for her he doesn’t feel. During his visit to Rosings, he’d deemed Lady Ann Evans an impertinent woman who thought everyone was at her beck and call — which might be possible with all of her servants — someone who didn’t respect anyone who wasn’t herself.

“Mr Manes, I warn you, I am not to be trifled with.” Lady Ann breathes in and then cuts through to what she’s come to say, slicing through Alex’s heart with her words. “A report of the most alarming nature has reached me.”

She makes a pause. Alex is looking anywhere but at her face, because Lady Ann has always given him the impression that she can see right through him, and the last thing he needs now is for her to reach deep down into his soul.

“Are the rumours about you true, Mr Manes?” she asks, straightforward. “Is it true that you intend to lure my nephew, Mr Guerin, with your perverted tendencies?”

“Who has said such a thing?” he bursts out, unable to stop himself. Once the words leave his mouth, he realizes his mistake. He knows of at least one person who would enjoy spreading such knowledge about him — someone who would relish in dragging him through the mud.

“I thought it was a scandalous falsehood,” she keeps on. “Despite whatever lies you might have believed about my nephew, he is set to marry one suitable woman. He wonʼt entertain such behaviours with the likes of you.”

Alex both feels like the ground has opened underneath his feet and like he is soaring high in the sky. But instead of flailing like he wants to, he keeps a steady voice as he says, “If you believed it to be so impossible, I wonder why you took the trouble of coming so far.”

Lady Ann seems at a loss when he retaliates. Heʼs sure she hasnʼt been spoken to like this in all her life, but he isn’t one of her peasants — he doesn’t owe her obedience. “To hear it contradicted.”

“To hear what contradicted exactly, Your Ladyship?” he presses. “My tendencies or your nephewʼs?”

“I canʼt believe you have such nerve.” Lady Ann squints at him haughtily, and Alex feels himself shrink in her presence. “My nephew is a decent man, and he will thus be respected. Has it not been you circulating these horrible rumours about my nephew?”

“I have never heard of them,” Alex replies truthfully. He allows himself to hope, for the first time since he came to terms with his own feelings.

“And can you declare that there is no foundation for it?”

“I do not pretend to possess equal frankness with your Ladyship. You may ask a question which I may choose not to answer.” Alex is about to open the door and invite her to leave when she decides to retaliate.

“This is not to be borne,” Lady Ann insists. “Will you promise to never engage in any kind of conversation or relationship of any kind with my nephew?”

“I will make no promise of the kind,” Alex tells her, emboldened by the inkling heʼs having about the utter fear he can hear in Lady Annʼs voice.

“Heaven and Earth! You ungrateful child! I have come here to stop you from making a mistake, and I am thus treated! Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?”

“You have insulted me in every possible way and can now have nothing further to say. I must ask you to leave immediately. Goodnight.”

Alex finally opens the front door, tapping his feet on the floor impatiently. Lady Ann looks between him and the open space, and in the end seems to choose leaving, not before exclaiming “This is outrageous!”

After telling her, in no uncertain terms, that she wasn’t welcome in the house, Alex hadn’t felt strong enough to go back to sleep, so he’d decided to go for a walk in the wee hours of the morning.

The sunrise is the best view he can have right now, the rays bathing his features as he looks up at the sky, revelling in the warmth of the first days of spring. It’s been a few months since heʼs been able to enjoy the landscape around the house heʼs grown up in, his soul laden with fear and grief and concern for the girls he considers his sisters. But today, after a night full of celebrations for Lizʼs engagement and full of the hopes that Lady Annʼs words have seeded in his brain, Alex allows himself to dream in the magic hours of the first day of the rest of his life.

He’s been so full of himself for so long. He’s tried to bury his true feelings underneath layers of stubbornness and pride. He’s allowed his life to be led by prejudice, and now heʼs paying the consequences of his foul behaviour. He may have lost the only person heʼs come to care about outside the small family heʼs been lucky enough to secure for himself. He may have lost his only chance at being challenged, at feeling alive, at growing and learning from another human being — he may very well have lost his only chance at being happy and loved.

For someone whoʼs proud of being brave, Alex Manes has behaved like a true coward.

“I've been so blind,” he mutters to himself, sitting up on the tree root heʼs claimed for himself during this colourful daybreak. “Now I should—”

He trails off as he watches a silhouette cut against the horizon walking quickly towards him. He would recognize the frame anywhere, but he would never admit out loud to have learned every small detail of that swagger by heart now that itʼs been months since they first saw each other.

Michael Guerin.

In Alex’s mind, he will never be Mr Guerin or, now that Alex has finally understood the real position of the man making his way hastily to him, Lord Michael Guerin. In Alex’s mind, he will always be Michael, even if he will never have the opportunity to say that name out loud.

There’s no hope for the likes of him, even if Lady Ann seemed confident that there might have been something between them — something she didn’t approve of, but something nonetheless.

Michael reaches him and comes to a halt abruptly, as though unsure how his presence will be taken in. Alex wants to scream that Michael is always welcome to step up and sweep him off his feet. When he realizes that Michael isn’t going to say anything, shifting from one feet to the other in whatʼs evidently his nightclothes, Alex chooses to speak up.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he says before he can think it through. He wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

“Nor I,” Michael whispers, in a surprisingly soft voice. “My aunt—”

“Yes, she was here,” Alex smiles sadly. He doesn’t want to think about the events from the previous night, even though heʼs spent the last few hours doing nothing but that.

“How can I ever make amends for such behaviour?” Michael has the audacity to ask, and Alex shakes his head, taking a step forward before he can realize what heʼs doing.

He itches to touch that skin, but he still isn’t sure if heʼs allowed to.

“After what you’ve done for Rosa,” Alex mutters softly. “And I suspect for Liz, it is I who should be making amends.”

Michael shakes his head too. Alex can see the way he tenses up, his hands balling into fists, and he wishes nothing more than to be able to soothe the frown lines that are showing up on Michael’s forehead.

“Much as I respect them, I believe I thought only of you. You must know,” Michael grits out, as if the words hurt him. “Surely you must know it was all for you.”

Alex freezes in his spot. Heʼs been so distracted by Michael’s presence that he almost misses the pain with which Michael seems to be speaking. He tries to say something, but Michael lifts one hand to stop him.

“You are too generous to trifle with me,” Michael continues, voice finally steady. “I believe you spoke with my aunt last night. It has taught me to hope as I had scarcely ever allowed myself to hope before, for hope is a dangerous thing. I knew enough of your disposition to be certain that, had you been absolutely, irrevocably decided against me, you would have acknowledged it to Lady Ann, frankly and openly.”

Alex nods, unable to form any words right now. His chest is swelling with a hope he hadnʼt allowed himself to feel either, now that heʼs finally hearing what he was so scared to accept so many months ago

“If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever,” Michael offers. Alex can tell itʼs difficult for him to pronounce those words, to lay himself open for his feelings to be picked on. “If, however, your feelings have changed—” Alex can see Michael swallowing, his throat working as he tries to reign in his feelings.

Alex wants nothing more than to hold Michael in his arms and tell him that his feelings have changed indeed, that he is now more in love with Michael than he ever was before — that heʼd been in love with Michael since before meeting him at Rosings and rejecting him out of spite. He wants to reassure Michael that he has fallen so fast and so intensely for him that not even the force of God could convince Alex to stop loving Michael. But he waits still, hoping against hope that his ears arenʼt tricking him.

“If your feelings have changed, I would have to tell you,” Michael stammers, his voice breaking slightly. He clears his throat before continuing, with voice barely above a whisper, low and insecure, “You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.”

Alex feels his heart bursting through his chest, breaking out free and wanting to throw itself into Michaelʼs arms. However, he remains still for a long moment, taking in Michaelʼs features in the glowing light of the newborn day, his eyes glinting with the first rays of dawn, his curls falling in a messy heap into his eyes. He smiles softly before stepping up and closing the distance between them, a physical abyss that only he is capable of jumping across.

“Well, then,” he says evenly, taking Michael’s scarred hand in between his. He takes the knuckles to his lips with a smile. “Your hands are cold,” he whispers, more to himself than to Michael, before dropping a chaste kiss on Michaelʼs fingers.

They are pulled to each other by the force of gravity, Michael’s forehead coming to rest against Alex’s, both breathing heavily as they dance slowly in each other’s arms, the world forgotten.

Alex closes his eyes and relaxes, finally, giving in to his true feelings until he doesn’t know where he ends and where Michael begins.