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Chapter Text

It is a truth universal acknowledged that a woman is in want of a man. What her feelings are about the situation of her life and relationships within that life is unimportant. It is also acknowledged that a man, if he be so inclined, is completely able and allowed to pursue a relationship with said woman. 

However inappropriate. 

Chapter Text

Harriet Ross never drank. Usually. Usually she’d be at home with the footy on TV and a bowl of popcorn. Warm fuzzy slippers, comfy blanket, her sisters either arguing or talking in the background. That was what she liked. But tonight loneliness weighed down on her. Loneliness and anger. 

Not that she was particularly lonely. But the mood sometimes took her to be lonely and to wallow in it. And so, she took to the pub. 

Technically the footy was still on the TV. A replay for those who didn’t catch it the night before. It was a quiet night, only a few of the tradies hanging around for a beer or two before heading home to the ‘missus’.  Two families sat in the restaurant section of the pub, getting ahead of the dinner rush. She liked it when it was like this. Her sisters had texted her earlier, wishing her luck and informing her that Maria, the second eldest, had stolen Bella’s, the youngest, hairbrush. She’d told them both to sort it out by themselves. 

The news reporter’s voice began raising as a player closed in on the try line. Some tradies behind her hushed their friends with angry voices, raising their own as the player slid across the line and slammed the ball down onto the  grass. They cheered, bringing their cups and bottles down onto the table. Harriet joined them, then taking a deep sip from her bottle. 

The stool next to her scraped against the polished timber floor before a woman sat down. Harriet would have been annoyed, considering there were plenty of other empty seats not next to her. But she just decided to assume the woman was nervous. 

“I never know what to order here,” the lady commented after receiving her bottle, the same as Harriet’s. “I hope you don’t mind.” 

Harriet noted the slight redness about her eyes, and the puffiness of her cheeks and lips. “No, of course not. Go ahead.” The woman was short of stature with a slight figure. A round face was partnered with dark hair pushed into a bun and wide, intelligent eyes peeking out from under heavy brows. She was striking, not pretty. ”Are you alright?” 

Harriet hated peeking into people’s business, and talking to strangers. But sympathy mixed with alcohol made her push herself. 

“Oh yes. I lost someone very dear to me a few years ago.” Her voice, though she spoke of it very little, was poignant. The picture of great loss was painted in few words. “Sometimes it gets to me,”  Harriet nodded. 

“I understand,” 

The woman shifted in her seat, eyes becoming glassy. “Sometimes I just wish I could go back to happy endings.” 

Harriet placed a hand on her back, rubbing circles. “My sisters always love Jane Austen books. They love happy endings even if they don’t always get one.” The lady’s eyes snapped up, lip trembling as she brought them into a small smile. 

“Which is their favourite?” 

“Pride and Prejudice. They have very simple taste,” The lady laughed, with a laugh that sounded like bells and birds. 

“Tell them they’re very wise. It was always my favourite.” She smiled once more, taking another sip of her drink. “I wish I could go into the book, the world,” 

“So do they, and I. I suppose.” 

The lady stayed and talked until Harriet was three drinks in, though her own drink never seemed to finish.  She called Harriet an uber and sent her home, standing on the curb and waving. 

X X X

When Harriet woke up, she was in a different room and bed. 

While she immediately assumed that she’d lost her mind and actually gone home with someone after the pub last night, she still felt somewhat at ease that she had something of standards. For, you see, the room was luxurious. Four poster-bed with some sort of covering on the top, expensive carpets and mahogany furniture. And the bed coverings themselves? Silk, warm, plush, Harriet just about dove back under them. With the absence of the poor idiot who decided to take her home, she was going to sleep.  

Her head peeked out after a moment, staring at the heavy curtains. She remembered being tipsy, talking to the lady. But she was sure she hadn’t had more then her drinks. Her limit was usually five or six. So she sat up, looking for her wallet or her phone. As she sat, she found herself wearing a white, old fashioned nightgown, reaching her ankles. 

The door creaked open and someone padded across the carpeted floor to the wide window. The heavy curtains were pulled open, light streaming into the room. Harriet groaned, bringing her hands up to shield her eyes. 

“Bloody hell, warn a girl.” She squinted, focusing her eyes onto the stick-thin woman across from her. The lady looked lightly surprised, mixed with some motherly disappointment, and curtseyed. “Who are you?” 

“Pardon, ma’am?” 

“Are you British? Where am I?” Harriet rubbed at her eyes. 

“Of course,” The lady rang a bell and seconds later a young girl hurried in. “Fetch some water for the mistress,” She commanded and the young girl rushed off. “You must be fairly exhausted, such a long boat ride,” 

Harriet watched her with growing alarm. “Boat ride??” The lady nodded sympathetically. Harriet touched her forehead, pressing a palm to her temple. She didn’t have a hangover. Was this a dream? 

“You arrived in Hertfordshire just last night, ma’am. Been sleeping ever since.” 

Hertfordshire, she’d heard that name. Her sisters had mentioned it. 

“Where’s my sisters, or my phone?” She asked, looking around. None of her possessions were anywhere in sight, nor her clothing which she presumed would have been strewn across the floor. 

“Your sisters are at breakfast currently. I asked them not to disturb you.” The lady curtseyed as the young girl brought water in. A tall glass was quickly filled and passed to her. Harriet took a deep chug, struggling through the early morning  taste. It was cool and refreshing, and she took another deep sip. “Should you like me to fetch them?” 

“Uhm, yes please.” Harriet murmured, then gulped the rest of the water down. 

It was a few minutes before she heard her sisters running down the hallway, and before they threw the door open and rushed onto her bed. She barely managed to curl herself up and out of the way before they’d collapsed onto it. Both were dressed similarly, in soft dresses that came to their ankles and were adorned with short and puffed sleeves. Maria’s was a light blue, and Bella’s a complimentary pink, going with their high up-dos full of curls and adorned with flowers. 

“What are you wearing?” Both the girls scrambled off the bed to spin and show off their dresses to Harriet. Bella was taller, despite being younger, with a slimmer more youthful figure, tanned skin, and dark hair and eyebrows. Maria looked similar, though her figure was more like Harriet’s, and her hair was slighter and loose curled. 

“Regency clothing, Harry!” Bella fell back onto the bed so she could reach across and hold Harriet’s hand. Maria fell beside her, wide smile. “We’re in Pride and Prejudice!” Harriet blinked. 

Maria sat up slightly. “The Butler, George, was talking about Netherfield and the ball at Meryton, and our neighbours-“ 

“We’re neighbours to the Bennets!” Bella squealed. 

“Isabella! Keep your voice down, we don’t know where we are.” Harriet climbed out of bed, beginning to pace with unusual steadiness for the morning. 

“Harry, come on, just look out of the window.” 

Harriet turned and glared, but then unwillingly glanced out of the window. Fields, of the greenest grass she’d ever seen. Even their neighbours who continued to water their grass through droughts and fires didn’t have grass that beautiful and lush. And it was natural, with clumps of wildflowers and healthy trees. Paths wound their way through this scenery, and she even spotted a small stream cutting through it. But she saw no other house. 

“Where’s everyone else?” 

“That’s the best part!” Maria whispered, coming over to her sister and holding her hand. “We’re rich, we own all of this!” 

“17 thousand a year!” Bella held Harry’s other hand. “We make it all from business and trade in Australia and England!” 

“That’s not a lot,” 

“Not in our day it isn’t.” Bella whispered. “Remember Mr Darcy, the rich one?” Harry nodded. “He made 10 thousand, and he was like a millionaire.” 

“So, if this is real, that is, we’re practically set for multiple lifetimes,” Harriet said slowly. Bella grinned and nodded eagerly. “Alright, alright. I’m going to believe you, or believe this is a lucid dream, whatever. But-“ 

There was a knock at the door, the girls turned. “Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst are here to see you,” The maid curtseyed and retreated. 

Both the girl’s faces fell. “We should go and meet them at least,” Bella murmured. 

“Let’s get Harry dressed first.” Maria sighed, turning to the wardrobe. Then her face lit up. “At least we’re HEAPS richer then them!” 

X X X

It took several minutes of tweaking and asking for assistance before Harriet was dressed, finishing the trio with a slightly more luxurious dress of a light green. The three did look very pretty and impressive coming down the massive staircase to their drawing-room— though Maria insisted if she was ever going to draw in this house it wouldn’t be with Miss Bingley in the room. 

Miss Bingley herself stood to greet them, with an air of practised comradeship. Mrs Hurst followed her lead, dipping into a more indifferent curtsey. To Harriet the motives were clear. Miss Bingley to sniff out new friends in high places, Mrs Hurst to see what the fuss was about. She supposed that a small neighbourhood like this one in the 1800’s would have feathers ruffled about new rich women from Australia.

“Miss Bingley, I presume,” Harriet had never been the biggest fan of period things, but she had chaperoned Maria to the Downton Abbey movie, she could fake fancy words. In fact, watching her two sisters go through spasms of dislike and disgust, she guessed she’d be the only one with common sense in this fever dream. 

“Oh, Miss Ross, your accent! How charming,” Miss Bingley smiled. “Yes, yes, I am Miss Bingley, and this is my sister. Mrs Hurst.” 

Harriet and her sisters struggled through curstesys, all while Harriet wondered how Bingley had gotten ahold of her last name. 

“We weren’t expecting guests,” Bella, an advocate for the antisocial, muttered. She received a hidden, but effective, elbow from Maria and hastened to add. “But it is a pleasure to meet you,” 

And the sisters sat. 

Harriet had been given a brief rundown on the plot of the book. She knew Miss Bingley was a plotting snake, and her sister too indolent to really do anything besides gossip. She knew of Mr Darcy, Mr Bingley, the Bennets, everything she would need. Maria felt the importance to stress the Wickham drama, though Harriet was shimmying into a chemise at the time and hardly heard. She knew the basic outline, enough to know Bella would be kept under close surveillance should they stay long enough to meet him. 

“I was so thrilled to hear you were moving into the neighbourhood so close after we did, I’m sure we shall be great friends,” 

Harriet smiled. “Of course, I’ve heard good things about your family,” It’s true, she had. About the Bingley fortune, and the family name, and the brother. Unfortunately the sister’s were the exception. “You must have been so scared to move so far from the ammenities you are used to,”

“And all your friends,” Maria cut in before Bingley could reply. 

“It has been a great challenge, both me and my sister struggled together a great deal. But you! From Australia to here. I profess I fairly fainted at the thought.” 

“Oh, so did I, believe me,” Harriet smiled. 

X X X

Luckily for the family, once establishing a good connection the sisters seemed unwilling to stay too long, except to ask for a promise that the girls would attend the Meryton assembly ball. Maria answered for them before Harriet could reply. Then the girls were left in the room, fairly wiped out. 

Miss Bingley left the house in high spirits. She’d admit she’d been nervous at first, so great a fortune could make many a man forget their lowly station. Trade! Hah. They were pleasing to the eye, she supposed. But their looks and fortunes could not disguise their ugly manners, nor their uncouth sayings. 

“Did you hear their accents, dearest?” Mrs Hurst asked Caroline as the carriage pulled away from the house. “I nearly laughed.”

“I’m sure you would’ve if you were not yawning,” Miss Bingley answered unfairly, staring out at the great house. They’d viewed it, in fact Mr Darcy had recommended it over Netherfield. Which naturally made her like it greatly. But the price attached to it made Charles’ deep pockets look thin. The driveway by itself spanned a mile or so, a tedious mile. 

“Shall we really have to endure them?” Mrs Hurst asked, once she’d forgiven, or forgotten, the slight. 

“Maybe we could marry Charles off to one of them.” 

“And have him endure their loud talking!” 

“Fortune creates tolerance. Did you not see the way the second one’s eyes lit up when learning he was unmarried?” Mrs Hurst only yawned in reply. She’d always been more partial to Mr Bingley’s fanciful wishes for a marriage founded on love. Perhaps her own indifference to Mr Hurst had made her wish for more. Bah! Caroline fairly scoffed at the idea, forgetting the great number of fairytales she collected in her youth. A man in shining armour had always been in preference, but years of schooling by her mother had morphed shining armour into shiny coins. 

The drive, without the inclusion of the driveway, would be fairly short. Though Miss Bingley loathed having to look out the window and know that the prime land she watched go past belonged to her unwitting enemies. 

It is fitting, perhaps, for the Ross sisters to be enemies with her. For she knew very little about them, and they knew entirely too much about her. While one could scoff at the others’ manner, the others’ could laugh at the one’s fortune in the book. Life has a way of devising little tricks such as that. 

When the carriage arrived in Netherfield they found Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam arriving from their ride, leading their horses over to the stable hand. Miss Bingley had no patience for the Colonel, blinded by his lack of large fortune to his good charms and looks. 

The two made a good looking pair, with Darcy’s aristocratic air and Fitzwilliam’s open cheerfulness. Darcy was the better looking of the two in the traditional sense, he was paler and had darker features adding to a look of well-bred airs. Fitzwilliam had a deep tan, with lines crossing his face showing the worry he’d gone through in life. Yet he had sparkling blue eyes and mousy brown hair that ruffled at the slightest wind, he wasn’t unpleasing to look at. 

The two greeted the women with curt bows and helped them down onto the gravel. 

“How did your visit go?” Colonel Fitzwilliam asked before Miss Bingley had her chance to compliment Darcy on his excellent riding. 

Mrs Hurst yawned, holding the Colonel’s arm. “They were very-“ She paused. “Untraditional, I suppose.” 

“Low borns usually are, Sister,” Caroline tittered. 

“I’m sure they will soon fit into society here,” Fitzwilliam supplied. His personality held a striking difference to Bingley’s. Despite their matching good nature Fitzwilliam held back a fiery temper that flared up quickly and subsided within minutes. It just so happened the sisters often made this temper rear its head, though he schooled it into obedience around them. “Darcy, what thinks you?” 

“I think they will be outliers for very little time. Their money will quickly help them enter society despite untraditional manners.” He moved away from Miss Bingley, giving another short bow. “I must ready for dinner now, I suggest you do the same Fitzwilliam.” 

The Colonel was only too glad to peel away and follow his cousin. 

Chapter Text

They were in the house two days before the girls had leave its confines. Most of those two days were spent sleeping and eating, and the other part out on the garden. They hardly explored the house at all.

Harriet seemed to be the only one unwilling to explore the outside world. She looked out of the front windows with worry, watching the carriage pull out of the side of the house toward the front door.

“Ma’am,” It was the Butler. Apparently he’d come from Australia with them, according to his accent anyway. He was a willowy man, a bit taller then her, greying and stiff. George his name was. She liked him. “Are you alright?”

“I am, yes,” She sighed.

“I understand your worry. It’s a large world outside of your home, so many unknown people.” He smiled thinly at her. She wondered how he knew what she was thinking. “You’re far from home. But I looked at this neighbourhood myself, and there isn’t a better one around.”

She nodded softly, turning to watch her sisters come into the front hall. “I’ll trust you then,”

X X X

Meryton was exactly like the girls imagined. Lines of houses and shops ran down the sides of curved roads. Carriages rode down narrow streets to bars and hotels, women and men walked up and down. They visited many shops, though only Bella bought anything. A gold broach she quickly fastened to her cloak.

Many a man spotted them and made their bows, few tried to introduce themselves. But the sisters were largely undeterred.

They turned down another street, finding a whole new strip of shops, one of which was a book store. Maria and Bella stopped in front of this one, hands clasped in rapture as their eyes scanned the shelves through the window.

“Harry! Harry, please let us,” Maria turned, grabbing Harriet’s arm. Her older sister smiled.

“I’ll wait out here for you,” She replied, handing her reticule to Bella. “Buy all you want.” She gestured to a servant who’d been following them for a while. “Could you help my sisters choose books? Buy a few for yourself if you want,”

The servant’s eyes went wide, and she ducked into a curtsey, following the two into the shop. Harriet didn’t like this instantaneous obedience, but she supposed it couldn’t be helped immediately. She stood outside the shop, fixing her gloves’ buttons and the top of her dress.

“Well, what a surprise!”

She turned abruptly at the voice, mouth dropping open as she beheld her.

Intelligent eyes, curls now let loose in fashionable hairdos, empire waisted dress. The lady from the bar.

“Harriet Ross,” The lady held her hand out for a shake, which Harriet could hardly force herself to return.

“ You! ” She all but shouted.

“Careful, Dear. You don’t want all that attention to suddenly turn to evil gossip. Shouting in the street is very unlady like.” She wagged a finger, smile quirking at her lips. “I suppose you’re a bit light headed.”

“What did you do? Is this like a reality TV show?” Harriet’s voice was a harsh whisper. The lady shook her head.

“My name is Jane, Jane Austen in fact.” Harriet’s eyes went wide. “I’m a Time Cruiser.”

“A what?”

“Someone who can time and multiverse travel.” She smiled. “And you, and your sisters, are my Anchors.” A cloud drew over Ross’ face, anger twisted her mouth into an ugly frown and she stepped forward. Jane held up a hand. “You said yourself you’d like to be brought into the Pride and Prejudice world.”

“I didn’t mean really!”

“No one does, but you said it nonetheless. Intent doesn’t factor into it. And you included your sisters in your statement, so they’re here too.” Harriet scowled. “An Anchor is what allows me to move about time and the multiverse. You become a fixed point in time that me and all future me’s can find. Look.” She pointed across the street. There was, in fact, another her. New Jane waved politely then continued on. “Your life span becomes something I can use.”

Harriet stared. “So-“

“So you really are here.”

“In this multiverse, who-“

“I moved your consciousness to another you. It so happened in this world you’re an heiress. You should thank me I chose this one, you were also a slave owner-“

“No!”

“Unfortunately. In this world, you and your sisters move here to get away from the heat.” She shrugged. “You end up marrying Mr Darcy, and your sisters live out their life single and happy,”

“ Mr Darcy? What about Elizabeth?”

“I didn’t check,” Jane looked at her very modern looking watch. “I have to go, but feel free to explain this to your sisters. Say hi to Darcy for me,” She smiled and Harriet found herself laughing in spite of herself.

“You’re crazy!” Jane admitted it with a shrug. “But,” She looked around the town, then at her sisters gushing over a book through the window. “Thank you, I suppose,”

X X X

Meryton produced many such twists. After the younger girls had gotten over the fact that Harriet had met Jane Austen , they had to battle with the shocking fact they met the Bennets.

Harriet walked behind them, in step with the young maid following them. She tried to introduce polite conversation with the timid girl, but she received conversation ending one word answers. She’d finally given up when a group of five girls had poured out of a milliners, closely followed by a larger woman demanding they hurry. The group turned to walk the opposite way to the Ross girls, and the three sisters stepped aside.

Harriet examined each girl as they ducked into curtsies and hurried past giggling. The girl leading the pack was tall and girlishly thin, with cheeky eyes and a pretty complexion, she was side by side by a slightly shorter girl of more plainer features and lighter hair. The next was a serious looking young lady with a severe bun and heavy frown. She eyed the packages of books the girls held with obvious envy before hurrying on. The next two Harriet knew immediately.

Light and dark. One with a open face, all smiles, and a halo of golden hair and light brown eyes. A thin figure tempered with womanly curves. It was Jane. The next with her arm tucked around her sister’s waist was Elizabeth. Harriet had never read the book, but she knew it was her. Dark hair and eyes watched her with searching intelligence, finding and picking apart the character. She was slightly rounder then her sister, but a healthy spring was ever present in her movements.

“You must be Miss Ross!” Mrs Bennet exclaimed. “I had hoped to visit you, but I’m afraid this assembly ball has taken all our time.” Harriet, with a smile to Elizabeth that instantly spoke of future friendship, looked at Mrs Bennet.

Pretty, rounded, but with glassy brown eyes that spoke of easily flowing tears. “Mrs Bennet,” Harriet sunk into the deep curtsey she’d practised in the mirror. The lady blushed at the honour. “I assume, at least. I’ve heard of your daughters,”

“They are my pride and joy,” Mrs Bennet was all smiles at the compliments. “And these are your sisters?”

“Yes, this is Isabella, and this is Maria.”

“Such pretty names,” She smiled. “Do you know many people here in England?”

“Not many, though we hope to travel to London meet more. In fact, we hope to bring a group.” Harriet instantly saw the opportunity bring a shine to Mrs Bennet’s eyes. “I’m afraid we shall have to go, but we shall see you at the ball, and we hope to entertain you sometime soon,”

There was another round of deep curtseying, so much so Harriet was beginning to hear clicks in her kneecaps. Mrs Bennet left with her daughters, all gossiping and discussing the new neighbours.

“Did you see their clothing?” Lydia asked, turning her eyes to her mama. “Lord I wish I could have dresses like that.”

“They seem very friendly,” Jane, wise to what happened when Lydia was put on the subject of fashion, put in. “What did you think Lizzy?” Their carriage was waiting and the girls climbed in. This interval was enough for Elizabeth to put together words.

“I liked the eldest one. I feel we shall be great friends,”

“I am so glad,” Mrs Bennet threw her hands up. “If all goes well they shall take you with them to London, and they will help you find a husband.”

“Isn’t the eldest Miss Ross 25? She’s practically a matron.” Lydia tittered and Kitty smiled along with her. Kitty was fast finding Lydia irritating, she put on such airs. Sometimes she looked to her steadfast older sister Mary and preferred the overbearing wiseness to nothing but men and dresses. But she herself was too timid to really make the change.

Lizzy smiled, watching as their carriage drove past the Ross girls. The eldest waved and the two youngest seemed so caught up in conversation they hardly noticed. Lizzy returned the wave.

“Lizzy! Lizzy!” Mrs Bennet demanded her second eldest daughter’s attention. “At the ball, you must obtain their friendship and an invitation for dinner. Jane, you’re the prettiest-“ Jane blushed. “You focus on Mr Bingley.” Elizabeth grinned behind her hand, turning a shining eye to her sister.

“Because heaven forbid you get to 25 unmarried!” Jane gave her a reproachful look as their mother fell into a fit of worry, reminding them heavily of her nerves.

It was about a mile out of Meryton where they get their first and only glimpse of the Ross house, aptly named Finnian Place after the man who built it, Lord Finnian. It was a large estate, the principal inhabitance of Cameron, a small town they lived near. The town itself was not much to talk about, even the people who lived there considered it part of Meryton. But the house. Oh the house.

Their glimpse was through the trees, large oak ones that bordered the east of the Ross’ land. The stately Georgian house showed itself, sun glinting on the high windows and over the hills surrounding them. Usually they would then turn up a lane toward Longbourn. This time, however, Mrs Bennet asked the driver to continue down the road so the girls could get a better view of the house.

It was a minute or so drive until they stopped out front of the driveway. Now the grey house looked larger. Hedges and climbing roses off set the stateliness into something out of a fairytale. The left side of it had a more sheltered section of the garden, including a greenhouse full to the brim of greenery and bright flowers. The girls oo-ed and ah-ed over the house and garden, and Mrs Bennet said a silent prayer that her own daughter could fall into such a fortunate financial situation.

They stayed for a few moments before turning again and hurrying back to Longbourn.

X X X

When the girl’s did return to Finnian Place, they found themselves lost in their own house. They knew the directions to their rooms, each on the west wing of the house, but the rest was unknown, and exciting.

They explored the lower levels first, finding many sitting rooms with furnishing still covered. But, there was no time to stop and uncover them. An empty portrait hall was next, George met them here, explaining that the art their family owned were still being shipped to England and that the greatest care was being taken.

They thanked him and moved on, now finding the kitchen. The kitchen staff was shocked to find the three mistresses in their room, but consented to show the girls the small vegetable garden and tiny farm consisting of a cow and goat and a few pigs. Next was the dining room, a long, impressive space full mainly with a grand table. The sisters had seen it and did not feel the need to view the gardens from the windows yet again.

The final room was at the top of a two step staircase. The house was built on a hill, and this area must have been too high for the builders to dig into. It was a large set of doors, the only room to the back of the house. Harriet shoved them open.

A library.

Tall bookcases surrounded the room. There were ladders- ladders!- to the higher shelves and high windows between each case. The girl’s stared, each reminded of Beauty and the Beast. A fireplace was placed at each end of the room, though neither was lit. The sisters walked across the wooden floor toward one, surrounded by plush armchairs and sun beds. Many of the bookcases were empty, especially on the less decorated side, but there were still more books then even their local library in Australia. Maria drifted over to the closest section, hand running along the spine, some more worn then others. Harriet sunk into one of the armchairs, a warm red velvet one sitting right next to a basket full of blankets. There was an ottoman that she pulled close and tossed her legs over.

“There’s a bell here! This one is for the kitchen, do you think we could have dinner in here?” Bella called. There was a bell hanging near the fireplace, with a piece of string that disappeared behind one of the cases heading in the direction of the kitchen.

“And over here is a desk, with all financial stuff. We make a ton of money,” Maria called. Harriet sighed peacefully, staring up at the blank space over the fireplace. Maybe they should put a picture there.

“Call in George or someone, we can have dinner here,” She murmured, pulling a blanket over her legs.

X X X

The dinner stretched long into the night. Maria found a piano forte and some sheet music and played with her dinner balanced on a chair nearby. They stayed silent besides this, each invested in a book or activity they’d found. Bella had retrieved some knitting needles and yarn from Meryton and filled the silent spaces when Maria stretched her fingers with pleasant clacking.

Harriet found a book on estate management, gifted to a man or her father in this universe she supposed. The neat little greeting in the front read ‘To Gregory, May you ever know how to handle your money. - Harrison Dear.’

It was well worn, with multiple bookmarks and dog tags. One particular chapter Harriet found herself drawn to was the management of gardens and land. She found it fascinating, and a bit terrifying.

When the morning dawned, she found herself still in the library, the book tossed on the floor. She retrieved it and threw the curtains open in the room. A smouldering fire lay in the fireplace, perhaps by the behest of her sisters. But she ignored everything besides a good bath.

After she changed and washed she returned to the library, this time calling George in with her.

She sat primly at the desk, using a blanket to cushion the hard back. “George,” She addressed him. “I know next to nothing about managing an estate,”

“Of course, ma’am. Your father handled that mostly.” She looked up briefly. It seemed like an over-explanation on his part.

But she put it down to slight sexism and pushed on. “Did Lord Finnian have a man that handled it?”

George thought for a second, looking out the window. “I think he did, Miss Ross. He retired after m’lord died and died soon after. They were close friends.” She raised her eyebrow at this. “But he has a son, one of the gardeners.”

“Bring him in. I’d like to get a man who knows at least something.”

“Of course, mam. And may I just say you’re slipping into this leadership role well.” She smiled and turned to her desk, picking up the book yet again.

She waited a very short time before he brought in the gardener, bowed, then left the room.

The gardener pulled the hat off his head, looking around the room and at her with wide eyes. “You wanted to see me, Mistress?” Harriet struggled to recover against him.

He was well over six foot, and built like a barrel on a ship at that. Large hands complimented large arms and broad shoulders. He was deeply tanned with a muss of black hair and straight black brows. She cleared her throat, gesturing to the seat she’d set near the desk.

“I wouldn’t want to break it, ma’am.”

She resumed her head of the house position. No use getting ruffled up for a tall man. “I’m sure we have others,” She replied diplomatically. He shuffled over, sitting down carefully with one hand holding the wall. It creaked ominously, but held up.

“What did you need from me? Miss.” He stumbled over his words.

“Your father. He handled the land for Lord Finnian?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Did he ever teach you anything about handling the land?”

“He did,”

“Look out the window,” She asked, stretching her hand out. His eyes moved quickly toward the window. The library commanded a view of green land and trees. “It’s a large area. What would you do?”

“Me, Miss?” His deep voice went up an octave in surprise. She nodded. He thought for a moment. “Flowers.”

“Flowers?”

“My pa always wanted to plant more wild flowers, to break up all the green. Not that there is anything wrong with it.”

“Of course not.”

“And the fruit trees. There used to be a small orchard, but it’s almost gone to ruin.”

“Almost?”

“I’ve-“ He blushed. “I’ve been checking on them, making sure they’re still alive. With a bit more care they could be real productive.” He thought for another moment. “You’ve got some real good birds around here too. With more shade you could hold some real good shooting parties.” His eyes darted back to her. “Beg your pardon.”

“What for?”

“My ma always says to be real gentle speaking to a lady such as yourself. I dunno whether you like shooting.”

She laughed, tipping her head back. “What’s your name?”

“James, Miss.”

“James, I hope you know you’re more polite then many of the men who have hoped to marry me.” He blushed deeply and hid his face. She sighed, mouth still quirked into a smile. “You clearly know what you’re doing. Consider it done.”

“What?”

“On a trial basis, you’ll be promoted to your father’s place.” His eyes went wide and shiny. If it wasn’t for sexism, she was sure he was going to cry. “Tell George about this, and start planning out how you plan to follow through.”

He stood, the chair clattering. He bowed thrice and stepped back hastily, hand finding the handle and hurrying out.

She leant back and smiled. Maybe she’d enjoy this.

Chapter Text

James turned out to be a success. Within the week seeds were ordered for the flowers, the orchard was cared for, and an architect began designing an “orientally inspired” folly. While Harriet reflected the architect had in all probability never been out of England, let alone Europe, she let him be. 

This left Harriet to turn her mind to other matters. While she left the trade business alone to the people her “father” had left in charge, she found herself very busy on the business of keeping busy. Shopping trips were organised, dinner and morning tea with the Bingley sisters (not the brother, mind you) were scheduled. Books ordered, riding instructors procured, all with the goal to keep her younger sisters entertained and happy. As it turned out, Bella had an excellent hand at riding and was friendly with the horses they owned before the week was out. And Maria thrived under the encouragement the servants provide unto her piano skills. The Bennets remained elusive, though Maria encountered Mary Bennet on one or two trips to Meryton. Regardless the week before the ball seemed to be a haze of calendar reminders. 

The day before the ball dawned heavy with clouds. The whole countryside turned its sunny smile away from Hertfordshire and presented a grim scowl. An evil wind blew and howled over the house, and the clouds hung over the world casting their grey emotions over the inhabitants. Mrs Bennet sobbed, Mr Bingley frowned as much as he could, the Bennet sisters seemed entirely upset. Unsurprisingly the Bingley sisters seemed unaffected by the chance of rain. 

Harriet and Bella, worn out by the week, prepared with heavy hearts for either a cancelation from heavy rains, or simply a lazy day doing nothing, by sleeping in as late as they could. This left Maria alone in the library, staring out at the fields. She hadn’t gone far from the house besides Meryton, and the possibility of running through heavy English rain was beguiling. 

She rung the bell. George, with his usual punctuality, entered seconds later with a curt bow. 

“George, I am going walking.” 

He was too well trained to betray much emotion, but Maria fancied she saw a flicker of a smile cross his face. “A walk, ma’am?” 

“Yes. Don’t worry about me if I’m gone a long time.” 

“I won’t, ma’am.” 

With the worry of her friend the butler calmed, she quickly got dressed in some warmer clothes and set out. 

The land they own stretched about ten acres. Lord Finnian had been an avid hunter and made sure the land he bought had a sizeable forests, though George assured them there wasn’t much to be found in the woods at this time of year. The rest of the land was hilly grassland. 

Nearer to the house many gardeners went about their work. James has ordered them to get as many seeds planted as they could before the rain, and Maria encountered many such a man. Many had reddened cheeks and swept hair from the wind, and all watched her walk with widened eyes. 

It was after the first hill that the mist set in. Rolling over the land like fog it became damp and cold, unpleasant for all except Maria. She’d planned to get soaked, had even let her hair out for it. She pushed forward, ignoring the great thunder clouds marching over her.

The entire morning had been a build up, like a man pushing a bolder up a hill. Now he’d reached the top of the hill, and a breath of wind had blown. The land plunged into darkness, a howling wind sweeping across the lands and a great crack of thunder bringing a tiny yell out of Maria. The land lit up momentarily, all blue and harsh edges. She climbed quickly to the top of the hill, watching the great spectacle. She could no longer see Finnian Place, but it didn’t bother her. 

Like the biblical wall of water the rain came. She watched it as it sprinted towards her like a runner in a marathon. As trees thrashed against it and the wind, as flowers and bushes collapsed under the great weight. She opened her arms out, turning her face up. 

It hit her face. No time lapsed between it meeting her and it surrounding her. It poured off her hair and down her clothes. Fabric stuck to her and pooled at her feet. She took her shoes off, thanking heavens she had the forethought to not wear stockings. With a little whoop of freedom, Maria pumped her fist in the air and spun around, letting mud splash up onto her dress. 

As if invisible music began playing she kept spinning, water droplets flying off her fingertips and flicking off her hair. She didn’t know what song was playing, or how she was following the rhythm, but it came naturally to her, jumping and whooping about in the storm. 

“Hey there! Witch of the rain!” 

Maria turned aghast at the male voice. Really, she would’ve been embarrassed at any person seeing her dance like that, but it was particularly embarrassing considering she was supposed to be a *lady*. There was the outline of a figure that drew closer. She saw the outline of a masculine face, smiling brightly down at her. She stared up at him, finding him looking greatly like the Gods of old. 

“I didn’t know girls were like that in England,” 

“I-“ Maria swallowed down her embarrassment. “I didn’t know English men went for walks in the storm.” 

“By Jove! Not an English Rose then?” 

“Australian, sir,” Maria found herself fascinated by this man. Despite the circumstances, he still looked incredibly good-looking. When she ventured lower, she found his jacket and waistcoat abandoned and a white shirt sticking to his chest. He was active, that was for sure. 

She was startled out of her thoughts by a shock of lightening. 

Before she could register that he hadn’t disturbed her thoughts, and was therefore watching her with the same absentminded admiration, he grabbed her arm. “Come! There’s shelter over here,” She followed him, splashing through the grass and stumbling over puddles. She was conscious of the mess she must look, especially as they drew under a man made shelter. “How come you to my friend’s land?” 

She found him more attractive out of the rain, with water still dripping down and highlighting the sharpened curves of his face, but forced herself to speak. “I live in Finnian Place,” 

“A servant of one of those Ross sisters then?” 

“No, sir. I am a Ross sister,” She laughed nervously, pulling at a wet ringlet. “I’m afraid that any good opinion of me may be lost.”

“Not at all, Miss Ross.” He smiled even brighter. “All I know is that I should go to Australia for more interesting women,” 

She blushed, dipping her head down. “I’m sure there are interesting women in England, sir,” 

“I’m sure- but what is this sir business. You capture me in a moment of self-abandonment as I you. I am Colonel Fitzwilliam,” Her eyes went big. “What? I am sure you’ve seen a Colonel before. We are a dime a dozen.” 

She laughed, finding that his manners made sense now. A gentleman might not do this, but a solider would. “I’m afraid I haven’t, Colonel.” He smiled. “I’m rather sheltered in regards to army matters.” She sat down at one of the benches under the shelter. “Please tell me.” 

And so he did. With sparkling eyes and hearty laughs he retraced his steps over the barren wilderness of Spain. He halted slightly at some of the battles, lowering his voice and speaking in the broadest of stroke, but he found he had an avid listener in Maria. At every turn she prepared a question or an exclamation, at every point he looked at her he found she was bright eyed and invested, begging him to continue. He painted pictures of poverty and riches, the two sides clashing against each other in striking contrast. 

He hesitated, finally, when he got to the final battle. The rain had long since stopped, and light streamed into the area. He took the opportunity to look around. When he did speak, he was quiet. “Then we have Waterloo.” 

“You don’t have to speak of it.” Her hand rested on his forearm gently. “I understand it to be a terrible thing.” 

“It was.....” He took a breath. “Not fit to be seen by humans. I was injured early into it, broke my leg. But there were no medics to be spared, all I could do was drag myself into hiding and hope.” 

“You are very brave,” She whispered, her brown eyes finding his blue ones. He’d noted that she was not teary as he feared, but kindly sympathy showed on every feature. 

“Thank you, Miss Ross.” There was a silence, it rang out under the shelter. Around them birds called and water dropped off trees, the world was alive and welcoming, but Maria never wanted to leave the shelter again. They’d found a kindred spirit in each other. 

Maria was the one to break the silence. “I’m afraid my sisters will be getting worried. It’s nearly midday.” 

“Of course,” He stood up and took a slight step away from her, the conversation had made them sit very close together. Maria gathered her wet skirts to curtsey, but Fitzwilliam took her hand. “I did not think the Witch of the Rain should curtsey to anyone,” Her cheeks bloomed red, and he smiled. Bowing over her hand, he pressed his lips to it, lingering long enough for Maria’s breath to catch in her throat. “Good day to you, Miss Ross,” 

“And you Colonel Fitzwilliam.” 

And they separated, both noting the wild beatings of their hearts and the heat in their cheeks. 

X X X

When she arrived at home, she was rushed upstairs by her maid who made several muttered prophecies about her young mistress’s health. She was cleaned and dressed, then sent to the library to be properly warmed by the fire. George shook his head at the sight of a reddened nose and at the sound of sniffles.

“Jane Austen visited,” Harriet said as soon as Maria entered the library. It wasn’t uncommon, she visited nearly everyday, though she was varying ages when she came. Maria sat down at the piano, tucking her shawl about her arms. “She brought stacks of sheet music.” Maria flicked through the books sitting atop the piano. “How did your walk go?” 

“Good. Did you know we border Netherfield?” 

“Yes, why?” 

“I met Colonel Fitzwilliam,” Bella sat up in surprise, eyes going wide. “He was very nice,” A slow tune was drawn out of the piano. “And handsome.” 

“Oh ho ho!” Harriet sat up properly, resting her face on her fist. “What would Caroline say if she found out you were making an advantageous match?” 

Maria hit the wrong key and quickly withdrew her hands, blush stinging her cheeks. “There’s no match, Harry.” She fiddled with some lace on her shawl. “Plus, after David, I dunno.” 

Harriet’s eyebrows drew together. “What’s got you thinking about David?” Maria shrugged, drawing into herself. Both her sisters stood and came and sat next to each other. “He’s miles away.” 

“Not to mention years.” Bella continued in her quiet way. Maria placed an arm around her younger sister and squeezed. 

“I know. It was...” She sighed, staring down at the keys. “Just before we left he showed up again. At work, three in the morning and black out drunk.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me!” Harriet exploded. 

“Harry!” Bella chided. Maria sniffled and received a tight hug from Bella. “That’s probably why, you’re always loosing your temper.” 

Harriet looked furious, but visibly swallowed her anger down and apologised. “What did you do?” 

“Stayed later. Called one of my coworkers when I had to go home. He just yelled at me from a distance.” 

The girls didn’t quite know how to continue. Maria sniffled once again and flipped through the 60’s music book. She found a song and set it up. Soon the jaunty tune of Fly Me To The Moon was flitting about the room. Bella sang quietly, keeping her arm tucking around Maria, and Harriet stayed quiet just watching Maria play. 

X X X

Despite prophecies, Maria seemed very well the next day. Well enough to want to hazard another walk before the ball. Harriet banned her, however, and told her to go and have breakfast. 

The household went about it’s quiet way until midday, when the girls seemed to transition into different people. They flew about the house, demanding shoes off each other and snatching hairpieces before their sisters could reply. This resulted in quiet a few explosive arguments, especially between Maria and Harriet who had the worst tempers. But even Bella’s quiet way was disturbed. 

The storm was quick to pass when the girls finally proclaimed themselves ready. 

Harriet dressed herself appropriately, she didn’t plan to catch the eye of any man tonight. Especially considering she had her sisters to look after, she had better things to do. Her dress was neither eye catching or drab, but a mustard colour with matching gold jewellery and white gloves. Maria chose a light blue, with a grey lacy shawl draped over her shoulders. Her hair was curled and pearls in her ears. Bella probably had the most fun, in a green dress that twirled as she spun, and silver jewellery glittering in her ears and on her hands. 

When they did arrive to the ball, there was a slight hush as they were introduced. Sir Lucas made it his duty to introduce them to the principal people in the room, including the Bennets, and set Maria and Harriet up for the first dance, which Harriet stoutly refused. She retreated with Bella to the outskirts of the room, already choked with the perfumes of the room. Bella was soon whisked away by Lydia and Kitty, leaving with a stern warning by Harriet to stay away from any creepy looking persons. 

“Mr and Miss Bingley, Mr and Mrs Hurst, Mr Darcy, and Colonel Fitzwilliam.” Harriet spotted Maria tripping over herself, her head turning to see the new people. She only smiled. 

She had no patience to watch the newcomers like many of the other inhabitants were doing, but pushed through the crowd to find Bella, who she found in avid discussion with Mary Bennet. 

“Well! I thought you were with the other two,” She said as she entered their space. 

“Mary has just been telling me about a book she’s been reading, it sounds so interesting!” Bella smiled at Mary brightly, and the girl blushed and looked away. “May she come over soon,” 

“Invite as many as you want, dearest. We’ll make a day of it,” Bella smiled brightly and grabbed Mary’s hand to drag her back into the throngs of people. 

“You’re certainly brave, Miss Ross,” Harriet turned to meet Miss Bingley, walking arm in arm with who she could only assume was Mr Darcy. He was as serious as described, and he hardly met her eyes besides a brief, proper bow. Handsome,  of course, but she couldn’t find anything other then the surface to be attracted to. “Inviting all those young people, at your age.” 

“Miss Bingley,” She curtseyed. “I’m afraid our house often feels too big and empty, I hope to fill it with many people as often as I can. And, last I heard, I was only five years older then you.” Harriet arched a brow, watching Miss Bingley laugh as happily as she could. She saw, in the corner of her eye, a flicker of something pass over Mr Darcy’s face and turned to him. “I’ve been rude, sir. We have not been introduced.” 

“We have not,” He bowed yet again. “I have heard of you by Miss Bingley,” 

“All good things, I hope,” 

He only bowed. When he rose she held a hand out. “Miss Ross at your service.” He took it and was taken aback to find a firm handshake waiting rather then what’s proper. She saw Miss Bingley turn away, letting her fan fall open and cover her face. She continued smiling. 

“Mr Darcy.” Looking greatly like a man who has betrayed everything he believed in, and the couple soon drew away from her. 

Harriet indulged in a giggle, holding her handkerchief firmly to her mouth as she retreated back to the wall. 

“You’re laughing at us, Miss Ross,” She found Elizabeth also cramped against the wall. 

“Not at you, at all Miss Bennet. Simply at your guests. Have you met any of them?” 

“Jane has danced with Mr Bingley,” She turned to her sister. 

“He’s everything a young man should be,” The eldest Miss Bennet claimed, resting her hands over her stomach.   

“Then I only met the bad portion,” Both Miss Bennet’s rose their eyebrows at the sudden freedom of speech. “I apologise, but I must combat my insulted feelings with something.” 

“Was Mr Darcy very rude?” Jane asked, leaning in to speak quieter. Her eyes betrayed the truth that she had never truely thought bad of anyone, and Harriet regretted speaking so freely. 

“It’s too soon to make assumptions,” Elizabeth coughed politely at this. “But I have heard of him through a friend of mine. A Miss Austen. He has a great fortune, ten or so thousand. But she claimed he was prideful unless one really got to know him,” 

“I’ve always found first impressions to be wildly important.” Elizabeth fixed her gloves. “Especially to the acute observer,” The girl’s exchanged a laugh before a young man came and took Jane away for a dance. Harriet managed to spot her sister gliding around the dance room with Colonel Fitzwilliam and let herself smile. “And who is that gentleman?” 

“Colonel Fitzwilliam, Mr Darcy’s cousin. Another fine young man, and also one of two out of the party I have not met.” Elizabeth smiled, craning her neck to her a glimpse of him. 

“It seems your sister is quite fond of him,” 

“So it seems, Miss Bennet,” 

“Come now! Miss Bennet? We have already spoken freely between ourselves, it is Lizzy.” 

“Then it is Harry to you, Lizzy.” The two exchanged a semi-serious handshake and sealed their friendship. 

Throughout the night Harriet found herself introduced to all manner of people. She found a reoccurring pattern of being introduced to young men by the more sympathetic married women of the ball. She heard once or twice the rumour that every young man of fortune shall be bewitched by her and her sisters, but found it in her to laugh. She talked very little to the Bingley’s, though she met and exchanged brief pleasantries with Mr Bingley; enough to ascertain that he was very much on his way to being in love with Jane. Once she saw Jane Austen watching the scene before her, but the allusive woman disappeared before anything could be said. 

Elizabeth and her sisters were invited for a picnic, much to the chagrin of Miss Bingley when she heard. Mr Darcy followed the pattern expected, only dancing twice and speaking only to his party, besides the brief interaction with Harriet. She saw him looking at her many times, but considering she was with Elizabeth many of these times she thought very little of it. 

It was only near the end of the ball that anything of great importance happened. She was alternating between watching Maria take part in a lively conversation between herself and a young lady and Elizabeth dancing. 

“Miss Ross, you have not danced tonight,” She turned to see Mr Darcy standing near her. 

“You have danced very little yourself.” He watched her with a serious frown. “I’m afraid I cannot dance. At least not English dances. I do know the Macarena.” 

“I don’t know that dance,” 

“I didn’t suppose you would.” 

“How is Australia?” 

“As well as it can. A very bright idea to put criminals together in one place.” She smiled. “But to ease your mind, me and my sisters come directly from a line of officers and business men. We *are* law abiding.” He looked haughty, staring at her. 

“You do not have a great opinion of me.” 

“I do not know you well enough to have any opinion.” 

Mr Darcy went silent, then bowed and spun on his heel. 

Chapter Text

Very soon after the ball a scandal of sorts arose. For Miss Ross has been seen out riding, with a pack of hunting hounds. And when inquired about this, apparently Miss Ross had startled Miss Long even further by claiming she was defending her land from ‘squatters’. This piece of information was passed around dinner tables. The Miss Bennets felt the need to defend her against the scalding tongue of their mother, but teased the girl herself. Harriet had indeed come into possession of a large number of animals by the chance of a young man no longer having the fortune to provide for them. They were loyal creatures to their new mistress, excitable, and friendly, most useful for soothing Isabella’s fear about such a large number of them. For there were seven, two male and five females, one of whom was pregnant.

This news was received at Netherfield with no little delight by Miss Bingley, and very little surprise by Mr Darcy who was fast finding himself expecting exactly the opposite of what he was brought up to believe in.

“In the absence of a husband, I’m sure your hounds make the greatest companions,” Elizabeth chuckled one afternoon as she watched the dogs snooze in front of the fire, much in the manner she’d seen Mr Hurst do.

Harriet was inclined to agree. The more time she spent in this period, the less she wanted to marry anyone. Mr Bingley was so in love it was impossible to want to seperate them, Colonel Fitzwilliam was off bounds, for obvious reasons, and many of the other men held such ingrained views about her sex they could hardly look at her without offering advice. She had yet to even bother considering Mr Darcy, for to look at him was to dislike him.

Other rumours came and went. The girls all drank a bottle of port a day. Harriet could shoot (partly true, James was teaching her). Maria was married to an Indian man and was running away in disgust (Elizabeth nearly spat out her food when she heard). But, possibly the most unforgivable- true- offence was one that was never heard by anyone besides a young lady in Derbyshire.

The lane Mr Darcy was fond of riding down had the disadvantage by only being available by way of the Ross land. He rode down there very early one morning on the chance that he could have a few hours peace before the upcoming Netherfield Ball. It was early enough that as he came up upon a hill, the sun was still rising. He reined his horse in to admire the view, taking in a few deep breaths. Somewhere a door slammed open, and a voice yelled out to a man walking down to the greenhouse. He looked down to find Miss Ross hurrying out of the house. In, and this is too terrible to say out loud, so I must whisper it, breeches.

A shovel slung over her shoulder, boots on her feet, but pants nonetheless. Darcy would usually have turned around and rode home directly, incensed and practically insulted. But a curiosity which he was fast developing pushed him forward. Anyway, by all possibility, she would not see him.

But she did, and had the audacity to lift her hat at him, grinning like a cat with cream. Her dogs jumped at her feet, playing and tumbling about her. Very well cared for dogs he had to admit. He turned his horse and trotted down to her, bowing his head in an effort of politeness.

“Miss Ross, you’re looking well.” It was true, she was. With a healthy tinge of red to her cheeks and sparkle in her eyes.

“Quite well, Mr Darcy. I am gardening, you see.”

“I do. And is that the reason for this.....apparel?”

“Why, yes! I am helping James weed, and one cannot do that in a dress. So I was obliged to wear breeches. It does not matter to him, nor any of my gardeners, for they are quite comfortable with me now.” Mr Darcy’s nostrils flared at so casual and familiar a way of talking about servants, but he composed himself.

“Quite. And will I see you at the ball tonight?”

“I am afraid I’m staying in tonight, but my sisters will be attending with Miss Lucas. You know her, I believe?” Mr Darcy said he did. The ball was looking a lot more boring without Miss Ross’s quick retorts and lack of manners, but he would not allow himself to reveal that to her. Their conversation after that was very short, but Darcy told it in wild detail in a letter to his sister.

“I have never been more surprised or shocked. For she seemed to have little regard for the position she was in, how easily I could completely ruin both her and her sisters' reputation. I confess, dear Georgiana, I nearly laughed when I ever thought of Caroline or Louisa doing anything like that.’

Miss Ross does have the tendency to be completely unaware of compromising situations. Whether it be her riding with a gun at her side, or arguing passionately for all to hear. I can safely assure you, we shall never visit Australia.”

Mr Darcy may have stayed stayed angry a lot longer if it were not for the speedy reply of his sister, who, in her gentle way, persuaded him to think otherwise.

‘As for Miss Ross, I will tell you the truth. Which is that I do not find her shocking in the slightest, I find her wildly diverting! Of course her manners may be lacking, but we must make exceptions for a girl who has been in charge of a household since one and twenty. As to the matter of breeches, I have often thought that you gentlemen are rather lucky. They seem much more comfortable then dresses, though I would never think to say that in polite society.’

X X X

Like Harriet predicted, she did not attend the ball. Bella had asked if she too could stay home, because even regency balls, as polite as they were, made her exceedingly tired. So in the end only Maria attended, looking her very best. She and Elizabeth were most happy to talk to each other when they were obliged to sit down for a dance, and Maria soon learnt of the soon coming cousin.

“Mr Collins!” Maria exclaimed lightly. “Why, and he will really inherit everything?”

“Unfortunately.” Elizabeth nodded, watching the couples go down the room. “Mama is very cut up about it.”

“I could imagine.” Maria squeezed Elizabeth’s hand empathetically. “And should he well and properly turn you out, you are welcome to come and stay with us, for as long as you need.” The two girls laughed and joined in the light applause after the dance. Through the crowd, the young Colonel came forward and bowed to both ladies.

“Miss Maria, Miss Elizabeth.” The ladies stood and curtsied. “I was wondering if I could solicit Miss Maria’s hand in the next dance?” Maria glanced at Elizabeth who nodded good-humouredly.

Slipping her hand into the Colonel’s, she followed him to the floor. The two stood for a moment before the song started. Gliding along, they certainly made a very good-looking pair.

“How have you been, Miss Maria?” The Colonel began as they met together. Maria smiled.

“As well as I can be, thank you. And you?”

“Terrible. There has been no rain recently,” Maria blushed and lowered her head as they met again, though she felt his gaze on her face unwavering. When he felt no one would see, he used one hand to lift her chin up, giving it a slight squeeze. “Come now, don’t be shy, oh Witch.”

There was a short split between the two, long enough for Maria to compose herself. “I have felt your loss at the lack of rain, though my gardeners have been foretelling some.” Maria glanced around, wondering if she dared. “They say it shall come tomorrow, when I will be taking a rather long walk.” The separation from each other was long enough that she saw his cavalier smile and sparkling eye.

When they came quite close again, he whispered. “Are you suggesting we might happen to meet, Miss Maria?”

“I am suggesting that getting to know each other while constantly in the company of others is rather difficult.” She murmured back, eyes flashing. He smiled and they separated again. They met again, this time with his arm about her waist as they spun. “Don’t you agree, Colonel?”

“I agree it is difficult to get to know one intimately when in company.” There was a way he said the words that made her shiver, though she put on a brave face and grinned. “Is it a date then?” They separated for the last time and she curtsied, before turning and leaving the area.

X X X

To say that the Colonel was anxious was to say that Waterloo was a skirmish. She had given him no real answer, despite them dancing once or twice more. Had it merely been a figment of his imagination, an eager boy desperate to be alone with his girl? Or had she lead him on so that she could watch from a distance and laugh. It was Mr Darcy that finally put his mind to ease, though unknowingly.

“Take a book with you Richard. No one will suspect you are actively seeking out the rain if you take a book.” For the Colonel has told him of his purpose for this walk. That is, in hopes it would rain. He thanked his cousin for the suggestion, and grabbed a short novel to take along with him.

The day was fine, though clouds gathered on the horizon. The ground was still wet with dew as he Colonel strode along his way to the small folly where he had met Maria. He greeted quite a few of the birds he passed in the good natured way he had. When he arrive at the folly he found Maria already there, also with a book on her lap.

“So we meet!” He greeted her. She stood up to meet him. “No curtsying, please. I am confoundedly tired of bowing and curtsying.”

“Truely, sir? I am sure my poor knees will thank you.” Maria had chosen a light dress of brown, perfect for walking, but it also had the advantage of showing off her curved hips and bosom, things the Colonel was finding it harder not to gaze at. She slipped her hand in his arm and they began walking together. “I am glad you came, I’m afraid being mysterious and vague is a rather difficult thing to pull off.”

“Yet you did it admirably, I could not get you out of my head for the rest of the night.” He tapped her cheek with one finger cheekily, she blushed. “You do look beautiful, Miss Maria. I hope I am not being to forward, but I’ve never seen a prettier looking girl.”

“Nor I a handsomer looking soldier, Colonel.”

“Call me Richard, please.”

“Richard, what a fine name.”

“Unfortunately it is disagreeably common. Not like yours, Maria. It is Spanish or French?”

“Both, I suppose. My father enjoyed it’s exotic sound.” She laughed and he felt a queer thump in his chest. “But Richard is a strong name, like the King Richard in Robin Hood.”

“I am honoured at the comparison.” Perhaps unknowingly the two had drawn into a more sheltered area of woods, unseen from either Finnian Place or Netherfield. When the Colonel did notice he felt a hard beating in his chest. He did not want to take her innocence, and she had not given him leave for any more inappropriate advances, but she looked lovely. She was more tanned then the fashion, but her curved neck and soft skin were certainly the envy of many women in his acquaintance. Some may ask for more symmetry in her figure, but he found the swaying hips mesmerising.

Unbeknownst to him, Maria was thinking similar thoughts, indeed every moment he looked away from her she looked at him and her hand tightened around his arm.

This seemed to be all the encouragement needed, for he stopped and turned to face her. “Maria, I have felt inexplicable attraction towards you. I hope desperately that you will forgive my shocking behaviour, but-“

She silenced him but leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He went still, and stayed still until she pulled away. Her face was healthily tinged and she wet her lips nervously. He stared at her for a good long second before leaning back down. His hands went to her hips and his mouth to hers. Her lips were soft and pliable under his, and she moved easily when he pulled her forward. There seemed to be nothing outside of her, just the way she felt yielding under him. She encouraged him further, opening her mouth and placing her hands around his neck.

He seemed to loose every ounce of his patience, pulling her closer to him almost angrily. She made a little sound into his mouth as his lips moved hungrily over hers. They paused to breath, hot breath pooling between them in clouds of fog.

“Richard, I’m sorry,”

“Don’t.” He said quickly. “Don’t apologise.” He pressed more kisses to her face and lips, with her tipping her face up so he could. “Maria,” He said huskily. “My Maria.” She kissed him more fully, grabbing the collar of his shirt so that there wasn’t space between them. It was biting and passionate, desperate for more. He gave it, even opening his own mouth the way she did.

X X X

No sooner had the excitement of the Netherfield ball diminished, the small neighbourhood of Hertfordshire was shaken by not one but two talking points. At least one of these would have been passed around a lot more quietly had it not been Sunday when the news arrived.

The first piece of information was indeed that fabled regiment stationing itself in Meryton. This piece of news was received on a Saturday, which was well because most of the principal inhabitants cancelled appointments to go and greet them. The Ross sisters were among them and Maria had the delight of seeing the Colonel greet Colonel Forster, then wink secretly at her.

The second piece arrived at Longbourn, and most other places, on Sunday morning. There was to be a new inhabitant.

Sunday Church itself was a large weekly affair, for if you did not see your close acquaintances throughout the week, church was indeed the place to do it. People’s tongues also seemed to free up at Church, as though gossip was as important as worship to God. The Pastor wasn’t a liked man, neither was he particularly good at his job. He had been the second son of a country gentleman, and had gone into the Church at a young age. His years of experience had neither taught him charm or public speaking skills and it was widely concluded, though in private rooms, that they would be very glad to see him gone. Harriet had a more pointed dislike for him, for he had once tried to advance the acquaintance between himself and Maria after church. He failed, but had considered it enough of a success that he asked Harriet’s consent in pursuing a courtship.

She’d refused. Most ardently.

However this Sunday many did not listen to the sermon, nor prayers. For they were composing lengthy paragraphs to introduce this favourable new subject. This paragraph must include obscure information that no one else would know so that they could show off their superior knowledge on the subject. A young man, from the Highlands, of four thousand a year, had settled and bought an estate quite close to Longbourn. Because of this closeness, Mrs Bennet was hailed as the leading expert on the subject, as Mr Bennet had already gone to visit him.

It quickly circulated that he was a handsome man, by what Mr Bennet told Mrs Bennet, with a very strong accent. He was a farmer, and was already intimately aquatinted with the tenets of his land. Such qualities could speak of nothing but the most amiable young man, though Miss Bingley quietly scoffed. Many strained their heads to see if he attended the Church, but to no avail, for he was absent. The Bennets were lucky even further for as they drove to church they managed to catch a glimpse of him riding beside their carriage and he was said to have fiery red hair, and rode a chestnut horse in a black coat. It was then decided that any lady with the slightest acquaintance with the Bennet girls should immediately use that to gain information.

Mary, the more observant of the five, was less of a popular choice for her pragmatic way of talking about him, but Bella Ross gleaned many interesting details about his habit and way of riding.

“An experienced horsemen, he rode like the horse was his old friend.” Mary said as the two walked down the lane toward the carriages. “He wore no hat, though that is to be permitted for his was going at a quick pace.” Bella nodded sagely.

“And he has red hair. Exactly as you expect.”

“Is it? I did not think of that. But regardless, yes. Bright red hair and very pale. I do not know if I thought him quite handsome but some others may.”

Mary seemed to prophecy correctly, for no sooner had the man, a Mister Johnathan Grey, been seen in public that the report circulated. He, along with having such ostentatiously red hair, had exceedingly pale skin, and large freckles covering him from forehead to chest. He was also proclaimed to have a very unwieldy figure, fit for a farmer perhaps but not a gentleman. This did not stop some mamas for hoping for the best for their daughters, but did stop many daughters for agreeing with them.

Chapter Text

Harriet had not long since heard of this news that she went to Meryton. She went at the behest of Mrs Bennet who could not accompany her daughters there on account of her nerves. This rather strange reaction was due to the imminent arrival of that long since dreaded cousin. He was to arrive within days. However the younger girls, and indeed the elders, were less obsessed with this then the new officers.

Jane was still largely engrossed with Mr Bingley, and Harriet flattered herself in believing it was because of her terrible rudeness that the Bingley sisters did not consider it important to have him removed from Jane’s influence. Compared to her Jane was considered truly a a match. So, the party stayed with no sign of leaving. No sudden business had yet arrived from London. Though the party was soon to sustain the loss of Mrs and Mr Hurst who were to leave for home because it had been discovered that Mrs Hurst was in a delicate situation that was not yet known of by the public.

Harriet and the Bennet’s walked down to Meryton on a fine morning. Lydia, who had fast grown attached to Harriet’s louder ways, walked beside her.

“Do you want to have a ball at Finnian?”

“A ball! I don’t know how to plan one.”

“You could always ask Miss Bingley.”

“That I most certainly will not do.”

“At least buy a book! Or ask Mama, she’s been so dreadfully boring ever since she found out Mr Collins was coming. As if anyone ever cared about some stuffy old pastor.”

“Lydia!” Kitty nudged her with an arm. Lydia frowned. Harriet, now with a pleasant turn of mind, smiled.

“I shall certainly consider it, Miss Lydia.” Harriet bowed her head in assent. Lydia grinned and skipped forward to the head of the group. Elizabeth fell behind to walk by Harriet. The two girls were fast becoming close friends, for both had a quick wit and a love of the ridiculous.

They arrived in Meryton, which was considerably more busy then usually. Soldiers wives bustled to and fro, soldiers themselves, both married and not, went on smiling with some local girls. Indeed a great many local girls were out, many would later insist it was simply a coincidence. No one thought this was true.

The girls instantly saw their Aunt Philips talking to an officer’s wife and moved toward her.

Both Lizzy and Harriet had their arms tucked together, and so it was that, when Harriet saw a man riding toward them on a horse, Lizzy was the first to see her mood change when her inquiry as to who it was met with a cheerful; “Oh a Mr Wickham, I believe. A handsome man indeed!” from her aunt. Harriet’s mouth worked into a frown, and a scowl descended on her brow when he reined in his horse to acknowledge Mrs Philips. He seemed to scan each girl in the group as he was introduced, and no sooner had he heard Harriet’s name that he made a very gracious and polite welcome. She curtsied with as much politeness as she could muster, but still went about gathering Lydia to her side. Lydia remained nonplussed at this for Wickham had turned his attentions to her and was obliged to move to Lizzy when Lydia fell into forced conversation with this stormy miss.

Harriet may have not kept her countenance had not Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy approached them. Mr Bingley with the express purpose of seeing Jane, and Mr Darcy because he had no other acquaintances he could approach. They both tipped their hats at the group, and Mr Bingley made polite, if strained, conversation with Wickham.

Mr Darcy, silent except to answer the very vague questions Harriet posed to him out of necessity, observed Wickham with quiet indignity. Both he and Harriet had the pleasure of seeing him, upon his realisation that Mr Bingley was stubborn in his attentions to Jane, make excuses and leave the group. And Mr Darcy got to see some tension leave Harriet’s shoulders and her to heave a sigh. He watched her with some curiosity for a moment, but when she met his gaze frankly he turned away and contributed lightly to Jane and Bingley’s conversation.

All and all, considering Harriet had privately promised to kill Wickham should she ever see him, it went pretty well.

X X X

Wickham was quickly introduced into society and invited out to any and all parties available. Though poor he was educated, and a great wit. He managed even to rival Elizabeth in his abilities to spin stories into comedies or tragedies. She found herself much enamoured with him, and daily told Harriet about his adventures in the militia. Harriet found very little patience with this, and was thus glad to have a distraction.

Mr Grey was to be present at many of the assembly balls and dinner parties, and though he came late and left as early as was polite, he was there. Some of the women who had before scoffed at him before fanned themselves at his great height and strong bearing. Perhaps not fashionable, but certainly like a classical hero of old. Harriet talked very little to him, and found him much like Mr Darcy could be. Educated and quiet, but charmingly polite and reserved. He didn’t speak often, but when he did it was a sure way of making his conversant laugh. He possessed very Scottish airs and could quote poets and philosophers on the drop of a dime. He was particularly fond of Burns and Harriet struggled to understand him as he got into a discussion about the Scottish poets.

The second assembly at Meryton, arranged by Sir Lucas, was a large affair simply because the militia would be there. The crowd was crushed into the rooms, and Harriet had to hold tightly onto Bella’s hands as they struggled through the throng of people.

“Miss Ross, Miss Bella,” The crowd parted as the Scottish gentleman came through. “Are you having troubles?” For he had noticed their progress coming to a complete standstill behind a particularly deaf gentleman. The gentleman bowed quickly and moved away to allow Mr Grey and his new walking partners through. Harriet pushed Bella forward and let her take Mr Grey’s arm. She walked closely behind, letting Bella thank Mr Grey for his assistance.

“We are trying to find our acquaintances, but this room is so crowded I’m afraid I can’t see anyone.” Though Bella was a very respectable 5’6 she certainly did not meet the requirements to be able to look over the crowd to find a path toward their friends. Mr Grey, with his rather ridiculous height well past 6 foot, was easily able to inform her that the Bennet’s had only just arrived and were making their way to one of the less crowded rooms. He helped them through toward this room and even made sure to check Harriet’s progression behind them.

“You certainly have saved us from being crushed.” Harriet smiled as she came into the room, breathing a sigh of relief. Mr Grey bowed with a smile.

“I’m afraid I have come at the wrong time, this militia certainly makes me seem very dull.”

“Not at all. I’ve never met anyone from Scotland.” Bella smiled.

“And you are not British yourself?”

“Australian, sir.” Harriet answered. He bowed again and looked over as the Bennet’s entered the room, their father practically falling onto the floor in relief.

“I shall take my leave of you.” Once again he bowed and left them, diving back into the crowds.

Much to Harriet’s annoyance Wickham was apart of the Bennet group, along with another man who was considerably shorter then the solider. He was introduced as Mr Colins and he instantly jumped into a lengthy discussion about the great kindness his Patron has shown him in recommending he heal the breach betwixt himself and his generous uncle. Bella seemed delighted in this long paragraph of asskissing, and Harriet listened lightly. Wickham moved from Elizabeth’s side to her own, smiling at her.

“Miss Ross,” He said, tipping himself in a slightly graceless bow. She inclined her head in acknowledgement. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of properly meeting you.”

“You know me by sight, sir, I should think you have met me well enough.”

“Come now! Why this unkindness?”

Harriet’s voice lowered to an angry whisper. “I do not pretend to shy away from the subject, and instead I rejoice to tell you that I find you among the vilest of men to walk this country or Earth. Should I be under threat of being hung I would continue to treat you with the same “unkindness” as you have complained about.”

With Wickham suddenly ashen faced, she moved forward toward her sister and applied herself to listening to Mr Colins. Elizabeth, only privy to the first part of Harriet’s angry speech, raised her eyebrows and watched Wickham’s face with careful intent.

As more people entered the ballroom and even the room that this group was in began to fill up, the Bennet’s and the Ross moved away. Wickham promptly asked to be excused so he could go over to some officer friends of his, and the group was better for it. Mr Colins seemed satisfied that Lady Catherine De Bourgh’s name was properly burned into the ladies' memory and made fewer lengthy descriptions of her wealth and generosity. Elizabeth walked close to Harriet, talking of things with little concequences.

Maria soon approached them with Colonel Fitzwilliam, smiles all around and they joined the group in small talk.

Mr Collins drew close to Harriet. "Miss Ross, I have heard that you and your family are intimately connected to a lady most dear to my heart."

"Really?" Harriet answered, searching her brain.

"Why, yes! Surely you must know, a woman with such funds as yourself. Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr Darcy are the nephews to Lady Catherine."

"Your esteemed patroness, yes I remember now. I heard about it briefly, but I do not believe I know of the woman."

Mr Collins would have replied had the group not been interrupted by Mr Darcy himself. He came with Mr Bingley, who whisked away Jane, and stuck close to Colonel Fitzwilliam. Mr Collins, seeing an opportunity, moved forward to the two men. Bella, Harriet, and Maria watched in infinity amusement as he badgered the two men into talking about their oh so esteemed aunt. Fitzwilliam seemed more likely to obliged, and gave his compliments to both the lady and her daughter. Mr Darcy watched with a slight sneer on his lips, until he looked toward Harriet and Maria who were hiding their faces in amusement, and Bella who was periodically coughing into her handkerchief.

"Lady Catherine is a lady of much generosity, I'm glad you have found use of it." Fitzwilliam smiled, attempting to end the conversation.

"Yes of course." Mr Collins replied, very likely to dive into a new discourse about her great wealth and generosity.

"Miss Ross." Mr Darcy called. Harriet looked up in surprise. "Do you have any thoughts on this topic?"

Maria and Harriet exchanged looks. "No, I don't." She replied. "She seems an amiable lady."

Somewhere nearby the band began again, a waltz. Some of the older people in the assembly scoffed at the pass time, but a variety of couples appeared on the floor quickly. Fitzwilliam solicited Maria's hand and the two hurried over.

"Do you know the waltz?" Mr Darcy asked Harriet. She nodded.

"I've always found the waltz a rather scandalous type of dance." Mr Collins interrupted.

Mr Darcy looked at him once then held out his arm for Harriet, she took it and followed him out to the dance floor. The couples took their positions and the dance began, with men and women alike sweeping across the floor. As there was no separations it is to be seen that Fitzwilliam indulged heavily in flirting with his fair companion, much to Harriet delight.

But, as the two eldest danced, the youngest stood on the edge of the floor, watching. A soldier extricated himself from conversation with Kitty and Lydia Bennet and made his way toward her, much to the distaste of a tall man nearby.

"Miss Isabella." Wickham made his bows. Bella felt slightly pale and glanced out at her sisters, though both were more interested in the dance.

"Mr Wickham." Her hands shook as she curtsied.

"You look pale, ma'am. Do you need to sit down?" He used his height to look around the room for a suitable seat, preferably away from prying eyes.

"No, thank you. I'm quite alright here."

Mr Wickham's face and tone grew more placating. "Come now, do not soldier on. Really it would be better if we sat quietly." He held out his hand. Bella looked again at the dancers, swallowing a lump in her throat. Suddenly, a heavy, pale hand landed on her shoulder. She started and looked up. Mr Wickham looked up at the intruder. He bowed again. "Mr Grey, we have not had the pleasure of meeting each other."

"I trust you were not bothering, Miss Isabella." The deep baritone rumbled through the space, and Bella moved closer to Mr Grey nervously.

"I hope not, sir. I was simply commenting on how pale she looked. Such a tight space is surely not healthy for a young lady."

"Huh." Mr Grey mused, looking down at Bella. She presented her face to him for inspection and he smiled comfortingly. "I believe you are right, sir. I'll see to it that she is seated right away." Mr Wickham opened his mouth, but Mr Grey had already turned Bella and himself away and was guiding them to an empty seat.

She smiled nervously up at him and thanked him multiple times as they sat down. He only shook his head and helped her calm herself down.

"I saw that your sister shared your dislike of him." He explained, helping her put her shawl around her thin shoulders. "Don't know why, but he seemed awful set on getting you alone." Bella nodded, slightly paler.

"At least I'm an adult." She laughed bitterly.

"An adult?"

"Well- I- Uhm." She flushed. "I knew of a girl that he tried to marry. She was 15. I suppose if he supposes to get me alone that his taste in age has advanced some."

"That devil!" Mr Grey swore, his grey eyes flashing like lightening in a thunderstorm. He seemed on the verge of apologising when he saw that she was giggling. The shock and fear of a situation had morphed into halarity. Mr Grey grinned sheepishly.

"He is a devil." She said through laughter. "Horns and all."

Bella now applied herself to watching any glimpses of the dance she could see. She spotted Maria laughing and Harriet grinning and was satisfied.

Harriet was indeed enjoying herself. She knew that she was simply a tool to escape Mr Collins grasp, but, since she used Mr Darcy the same way in accepting, she made no demure. Mr Darcy was rigid and upright the whole dance, though he certainly moved more smoothly then any of the other dancers on the floor; including herself. He would have been entirely silent had not she probed him.

"In the last 30 minutes I have heard more of one lady then any  about I've known for years." She peeped up at his face, stoic and unwavering. "Does Lady Catherine really live up to her reputation?"

"A reputation is built on the word of multiple people, not one man."

"So she doesn't." Harriet concluded. Darcy's eyes fixed on hers, eyebrows furrowing angrily.

"She is a lady of great wealth and a good family, she is all anyone could hope to be." After this small outburst he withdrew with something of a surprised look on his face as if he himself couldn't believe he got angry. She grinned and nodded wisely.

"Of course, sir." Her voice held the slightest inflection of disrespect and she noticed the way his jaw worked as he strived to stay silent. "One does not need to be polite when you're rich."

"Ma'am!" He ejaculated. She looked up, eyes wide with false surprise. "I'll have you know my aunt is the very object of politeness, I strive to follow her example."

The song ended and the two stopped. Her smile was still present as she curtsied. "I'm afraid, Mr Darcy, that does little to lift this woman up in my favour." He froze mid-bow and drew himself up with a rigid back and face. But she'd already turned at the behest of Bella and was hurrying over to her.

X X X

Mr Darcy retired soon after, still retaining a thunderous look. Miss Bingley knew more then to question his motives, and Colonel Fitzwilliam went with him, tired out and having promised a certain lady to meet early the next morning. Darcy's next letter to his sister was full of angry description and furious explanations.

It was returned by a sorrowful, but likewise very unsympathetic letter. Georgiana had decided against her brother in this situation, and, though she felt sure he knew her deep sisterly regard for him, he was not always so quick to befriend strangers. Like Mr Bingley, perhaps? She felt certain that, although Miss Ross might not exactly be the most upright and polite young woman, she was not entirely incorrect.

This was promptly followed by a request to visit and to see Mr Darcy and Miss Ross, a request that was shortly denied. Darcy had seen Mr Wickham entering into society too easily, and felt that his sister should remain at home until the malita left.

"I'm sure you know the anxiety I feel when we seperate, but these feelings would double in power should you be brought out into the society here while men of evil intentions remain.

Your Beloved and Loyal Servant,

Fitzwilliam Darcy."

Chapter Text

Bella moved about the world in a quiet way. She wasn't much taken to the balls, despite the glamour, or dinner parties, despite the food. She had a penchant for sport, and thrived when in the saddle or running across their large land. Maria often came to her for directions to secret areas in glens. Much like Mr Grey she retired quickly when they had guests, and rose too early for there to be much conversation.

She was at breakfast when there was a commotion in the front door. Harriet being asleep and Maria being who knows where, she was obliged to be the one to travel out and see who it was about.

Two man-servants stood at the door, a large man draped over their shoulders. The larger man dragged his feet, groaning often.

"Ma'am." George addressed her. "You may attend to your breakfast, this is unfit for a lady to see."

"Oh damn that, which sister is it!" The man groaned and threw his head up. Bella saw with some surprise it was Mr Grey. He smiled wryly. "Someone spooked my bloody horse. A red coat!" The two men dragged him into a room off the side of the hall, with him still muttering angrily.

Bella folded her hands restfully. "Is that true, George?"

The old butler nodded. "Seems to have broken his leg."

"Fetch the doctor then, I'll go attend to him." She turned back into the dining room and grabbed the tea tray. Balancing it, she opened up the door and came into Mr Grey’s makeshift sick room.

His leg was certainly broken, it lay twisted on the daybed, and he looked in no good humour about it. Bella briefly remembered Maria’s broken bones, how she would crack jokes through the inevitable panic and how Bella would always scold her through tears. Mr Grey sat silently, like a thundering statue and afforded her little more then a grunt when she arrived. He spared a glance to the tray and made brief noises to direct her in making it.

A servant had laid a basin of water and some linen near him, and Bella wrung a sheet out. Mr Grey had some cuts on his head and arms, and she moved closer to attend to them. He put his arm out, warding her off.

“You will do well to leave them alone.”

“Certainly.” She said, taking his outstretched forearm in her hand and dabbing at the oozing wound. “And let it get infected.” Had he had his full range of movement it’s very unlikely she would have been able to do this, for he could have easily put his arm up in the arm and out of her reach. But as it was she managed to dab away the blood and move to his face.

There was a gash at his forehead that she gently cleaned and he had the honesty to let out a little, pained wince. She apologised and held his chin as she turned his face. He moved obediently.

“Does your leg hurt dreadfully?” She asked, moving away and handing him his tea.

“Not at all,” He grunted. He turned to face her, grey eyes boring into hers. “A red coat scared my horse.”

“I heard.”

“Who do you reckon that might be?”

She betrayed the slightest surprise in widening eyes. Then she shook her head. “Certainly not. Wickham would do much better in trying to marry my sister, she has a larger inheritance, which included the company.” Mr Grey shrugged weakly, lifting himself up to a more comfortable position.

“I think Miss Ross scared him off.” Bella giggled, sitting herself down.

“She does do that, yes.” She sighed, letting her hands rest in her lap and staring off at the land outside the window. “What were you doing so far from home?”

“Exploring the neighbouring land. I like to see what places are about.” Mr Grey followed her gaze to a couple walking along the crest of a hill nearby. She smiled at them, then turned back to him.

“That’s very exciting, was Scotland very different?”

“Just the people.”

“Everyone in Australia is different.” She sighed, leaning back in her chair fitfully. “It’s overwhelming.”

Before Mr Grey could form a reply, Harriet and the Doctor came in. Harriet to chastise Bella for not telling her, the Doctor, a friend of Grey’s, to chastise him for riding so recklessly. Bella was brought out of the room while the leg was put in a split, and received the news that, while he could be moved, it would be dangerous to the recovery of the leg. She and Harriet insisted that they were more then happy to let him stay, a sentiment backed up when Maria arrived home again.

Grey also expressed that he would be more then glad to have them as his hosts until his leg was healed, though it seemed unlikely he would accept their attentions. While unable to be moved except to his sickroom, he regained his stubborn insistence on only the simplest of necessities, and begged them not to put their own servants out, for his would arrive soon with clothes. He only sent for one, something the girls, still unused to the large amount of manpower at their disposal, respected. He, Jenson, was a greying man of a thick accent and less then gentile bearing. He refused to have a room besides a low bed in his Master’s room, and practically chased George out of the room when he entered to undress Mr Grey.

Neither gentleman was not seen throughout the day besides a brief glimpse of Jenson after lunch, where he informed the girls his master was very well pleased with the food. Mr Grey’s room was barred from entry and messages were only sent through word of mouth or simple letters.

It was well past lunch on the next day when Bella finally managed to prevail on Jenson to let her in. She did this with a large pile of books and a small tray of tea. Jenson agreed on the stipulation that she be in there no longer then an hour, for his Master had fell into a fever that very morning.

“He is stable now, don’t mistake me, Mam.” Jenson said brusquely at Bella’s concerned look. “I’ve been caring for that boy since he could really be called a boy.” He swung open the door, announced her, put the tea tray down, bowed curtly to both man and woman, and left.

Mr Grey was sitting up, pillows cushioning his back. He seemed to have been startled out of a revere as she entered and looked away from the window.

“Miss Bella.” He inclined his head in favour of a bow, and gathered up some of the bedsheets to cover up his night clothes.

“I’m just bringing you some books.” She said, smiling. “No need to rearrange yourself for my sake.”

“You are taking this very well. Any other woman would have fainted.” Bella placed the books down with something of a bang and Mr Grey looked surprised. “I’m sorry, I have offended you?”

“It's not your fault, it was just how you were raised.”

“You are arguing against my summery of your sex, then?“

“It’s much too early for that, sir. That is most certainly an evening discussion." She smiled, less kindly. "Here are some books,"

He reached out and touched her arm. "I am sorry. If you feel that I said something wrong you have only to say it. I am nothing if not aware of my faults."

Bella blew her cheeks out, noting the gentle confusion in his eyes. "It's only that you mustn't be so harsh on women. Constantly believing they must be weak and fragile is exhausting." He laughed a little. "We are equal to men in almost every way."

"Almost?"

"Heights differ." She grinned. "I do not wish to argue with you. But I will not change my mind on it."

"I will endevour to remember then."

X X X

An argument of sorts passed between Jenson and Mr Grey the next morning, and Jenson was obliged to announce Mr Grey would be attending them at dinner. The girls, who'd seen very little of Mr Grey, welcomed the news with profusive thanks.

Dinner was arranged for an hour earlier then their usual hour- a quiet plea from Jenson to Miss Ross, so that his Master could retire to bed earlier. And, while the cook bemoaned this lack of notice, it was done. Dinner was set and almost begun when Mr Grey limped in on cruches.

Jenson helped his Master to the chair then retired at his request. Mr Grey was silent through the interval between them sitting and the food being brought out, sipping his port occasionally. When the food was brought out, he exchanged a few words with Harriet who told him what it was and the rest of the meals planned out, then he turned to Maria to inquire about whether she rode often.

She looked startled, for there had very little to saw between the two of them. His quiet pragmaticism had not endeared itself to her loud romantic self. "I do, sir. Not as often as my sister," She gestured her hand to Bella, sitting next to him, who was inquiring quietly about receiving a pitcher of water. "How did you know?"

"I saw you riding with a gentleman through my window."

"Yes, of course." She turned her face away from him, looking slightly embarrassed. "That was a dear friend of ours. A Colonel Fitzwilliam." Mr Grey nodded, adjusting himself on the chair with a slight grunt. Bella turned away from her food toward him.

"Are you alright? Do you need pillows?"

He waved away her attendance with a airy hand, though it was clear his leg still pained him. "Miss Maria was telling me about her friend."

"I'm sure Fitzwilliam can wait," Harriet said sternly. "Please allow my sister to help." From her position at the high backed wooden chair sitting at the head of the table she certainly looked very intimidating. But Mr Grey merely scoffed.

"I mean no disrespect for you or your sisters, but I am not to be fussed over."

His words put Harriet in a bad mood for the rest of the meal, which could have been cured had he retracted the statement. Bella hastily interjected that she only asked, and Mr Grey need not accept anything he would not want. All she succeeded in doing was brightening the halo Harriet had placed on her for this occasion, and lengthening Mr Grey's horns. That he be so rude as to refuse her dear sister's kind help was simply unbearable! Maria watched the anger grow on Harriet's face with no little amusement, and the dinner went by extremely quietly.

Mr Grey retired shortly after, helped up by Jenson and Bella on either side of him. He thanked Bella at the door, quietly so that no one would get the wrong idea. She returned to the table.

The next morning was even quieter. Maria, having been left without her Colonel yesterday, set out early with a roll and cup of chocolate in her belly.

The morning was delightful, the grass still damp with dew. Birds sung and cut through the crisp air. Her marching walk soon turned in a frolic, jumping over puddles and leaping up to grab at low hanging branches. When the Colonel came into sight she ran toward him, rushing into his arms with a delighted 'Colonel!'

"My Witch." A hand rested on her hair, playing with a loose curl. It was a small gesture, quiet in its gentleness.

"What's wrong?" She asked, leaning her chin against his chest.

"Absolutely nothing." His blue eyes sparked with loving admiration toward her. She smiled and stood taller to kiss him. He took her face in his hands and kissed her deeply, with even more passion then he did usually. It took her by surprise, but she did not want it to end.

When they did part, her how furrowed and she stepped away. "What's wrong, Colonel?" He smiled, turning away and beginning to walk.

"You read me too well." He said sadly. "I'm afraid duty calls."

"The army?" She said in alarm. Flashes of gun fire and possible death moved through her mind. He laughed and kissed her cheek.

"No, Witch." His good humour put her at ease, though she still watched his face with anxious eyes. "I am leaving at the behest of Darcy."

"Leaving?" She said faintly.

"Georgina, his sister, has been left without accompaniment for too long. I am to return to Pemberly for her."

"Why can't Darcy?" They'd drawn to a stop, Maria looking up at him with saddened eyes. He frowned, kissing her forehead and pressing her chest to hers.

"He is still needed by Bingley."

Maria desperately wished to remind him that she needed him with her. That without him the world looked very grey and dull. Without the secretive meetings and loving looks....she felt her heart ache. Perhaps, in her heart of hearts, she also worried that separation may remove the rosy tint on their feelings and reveal a stale acquaintanceship, sucked of all passion.

"Of course," She met his eyes, and ventured a smile. "I shall miss you dearly."

"Oh Maria, you'll never know how much your sadness hurts me." He kissed her thrice, each more lingering then the other.

X X X

This news and a bout of bad weather had the entire household cast into a gloomy air. Maria was forlorn, Harriet sad for her, as well as irritated at their guest, and Bella sad for both her sisters and Mr Grey.

The doctor had promised a speedy recovery, and, because of the weather, the news of Mr Grey staying so long with the girls did not circulate beyond short letters sent between Bella and Mary, fast friends.

"Dearest Isabella,

You must know how sorry I am to hear about the difficult situation you are placed in. But Mr Grey, if he is how you described, is the ideal guest. Quiet, not demanding, and soon to leave. I'm sure you'll forgive the jest.

I wish to soon invite you to Longbourn, as soon as the weather permits that is, and I long to see your library.

Your Friend,

Mary Bennet."

Neither Bella nor Mary was particularly fond of this mode of communication, though Mary's handwriting had been schooled into perfection. The notes were usually short, full of quick answers and questions, and received within a day or two.

"Mary,

I'll admit I'm fast growing afraid for my sister Harriet's sanity. She cannot seem to get along with Mr Grey, and the constant jabs they exchange have sent her into the gloomiest of moods. Of course, Mr Grey finds this the height of amusement and this continues to do it. I want to speak to him, but I worry I will irritate him, and, as he is a guest, I would not wish to do that.

As soon as the weather is bright, you and I shall spend a day in the library and you will borrow as many as you like.

Yours,

Bella."

Mr Grey was indeed a frustrating guest to the oldest sister, and Bella had a difficult time persuading her into a better mood. And, thus, she fell into a bad mood as well. Tired and stressed.

Mr Grey, seeing this on night in the library, spoke suddenly. "What's this? You have not offered me a pillow for over half an hour."

She roused herself with effort and turned. "Would you like one?"

"You are in a bad mood. Is it something I have done?"

She frowned and looked at the book left alone in her hands. "No, only-" She fell silent, and would've stayed that way had not Mr Grey encouraged her. "Only I wish you would stop teasing Harriet. She is a very headstrong person, and I understand you are our guest-"

"Done." She looked up in surprise. "I will be the utmost gentleman to Miss Ross."

"Thank you, Mr Grey!"

"Johnathan, would you please fetch a blanket for me?"

Bella hastened to do this and smiled as she did.

Like he promised, he was a gentleman to Harriet. Though surprised, she accepted his apologises, and offered some of her own. The two were by no means friends, but certainly were a lot more comfortable with each other.

Mr Grey left a week after he arrived, when his leg was healed and the roads well enough to travel home. He left with a tolerable friendship to Maria, an comfortable relationship with Harriet, and fast friends with Bella. Both being the quiet sort, they got along well and both parted on the most amiable terms.

Chapter Text

Like promised the Ross sisters had dinner with the Bennets shortly after Johnathan left. Mr Collins being out on a call to a friend in the area, they were comfortable enough to express their feelings. Bella was able to more articulately express what happened during his visit to Mary and Harriet was able to glean information from Elizabeth and Charlotte Lucas, who was there, about what Mr Darcy had done to Wickham.

Despite knowing about Harriet's dislike of Wickham, Elizabeth continued a tenuous friendship with him, one that was now strengthened out of sympathy. Jane did not agree with the story, and thus retired toward Maria with her mind more agreeable turned toward news from London. Harriet listened to the story with great indignity, a feeling Elizabeth mistaked for in Wickham's favour.

When it finished Harriet drew in a breath, glancing back from Elizabeth's shining anger, and Charlotte's quiet sadness.

"And you believe it?" She sipped some tea to fortify her strength. While "spoilers" were never directly prohibited by Jane Austen, she had certainly hinted against it.

"Believe it!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "Why, you hate Mr Darcy."

"I hate him, true. But I only dislike his personality, I have no bad thoughts toward his honour." Charlotte glanced curiously at her, watching Harriet work through a multitude of bad feelings.

"But you dislike Mr Wickham. Why?" She asked before Elizabeth could work up an angry response.

"I know of a story." Harriet looked away from the two girls. "That he tried to seduce a lady, of great fortune, who was Lydia's age. He tried to convince her to run away with him."

"Run away! And who was this lady?" Charlotte asked, as she and Elizabeth drew close to her.

"I should not say, for her sake." Harriet shook her head. "All I know is that any stories Wickham has tried to tell you about Darcy are surely false, and he is simply trying to hurt another man of good fortune who happened to know him once." Despite her dislike of him, she would not see a man wrongly accused. Elizabeth went silent and stayed in this thoughtful quiet until dinner, when Mrs Bennet exclaimed against her rudeness toward their guests. Charlotte maintained a conversation with Harriet until then.

X X X

Again, as promised, the Bennet girls, including Charlotte Lucas who was included in all invitations, arrived for a day at Finian Place. They marvelled at the half built folly, said to be completed just in time for the shooting season, and met James who'd approached Harriet to hand her some of the first fruits of their orchard.

"The gardens had sadly been neglected after the death of the previous owner," James explained. "Lord Finian was a great lover of nature, and he would be very pleased to see it come back to life." Harriet smiled as he bowed to her before leading the ladies inside toward the library.

Mary and Elizabeth instantly fell into raptures, and Kitty very well might have as well had not Lydia exclaimed, "It's just books, Lizzy!" which silenced her on the subject. Bella, noticing her quietness, led her away to a portion of the library where she could examine the romances without the prying eyes of her younger sister. Lydia fell into a habit of retrieving a book, flipping through a page, sitting, replacing it in the wrong shelf, and repeating. This entire action annoyed Maria who, at various times, asked if she could not place it in the right area.

Kitty took up a short novella and fell into a comfy armchair in which she devoured it in a matter of minutes. The rest of the girls either played the piano quietly ("One of the finest instruments I've ever seen or played!" Said Elizabeth.) or talked amongst themselves.

Bella, to her surprise, learnt a fact from Mary when they were in quiet conversation. She was directing her to the books of sermons and fell into conversation about the difficult nature of nursing after they spotted a book on wound care. This eventually led to Mr Grey, who was thrust into the conversation in a joking manner by Bella. Mary pursed her lips, looking prim.

"I no longer want to hear of that man. He is not a fit friend for anyone."

"Whyever not?"

"He left his wife in Scotland. Did you not hear? My Uncle, in London you know, told us. A Miss Grey came from Scotland recently looking for him. She said that she had been left behind."

"She did not say she was Mr Grey's wife?" Bella said, sternly.

"No," Mary, sensing some error in her way of speaking, tilted her head to the side. "No I suppose not. But still, what else could she be?"

"A sister? A cousin? Someone living under his care that he was obliged to leave behind until he settled down?"

Mary fell silent, and did not speak until she'd located a book she wanted. Then she apologised and said she was sure it was nothing. Bella resigned herself firmly to forget about the conversation, but still found it hard to focus.

X X X

Before any other personal visits could be made a ball was announced. This was to be held at Netherfield, as a goodbye and thank you to the militia who was to leave soon. It was with tears in their eyes that the women dressed, however the few men of marriageable age felt decidedly thankful.

Harriet and her sisters were slightly late in arriving, and the dancing had already begun once they had entered. Maria was still slightly upset at the untimely exit of the Colonel, but made an effort to mingle with some of the soldiers that approached her for a dance. Harriet moved instantly to Charlotte. Charlotte was already the chaperon of her younger sisters and was grateful for an older girl to talk to.

Bella, finding nothing but a sea of girls chatting to red coats, thought it pertinent to move to one of the more secluded rooms and thus have a few moments of quiet to herself. She found one almost entirely empty besides the tall figure of Wickham, who had retreated to the room after spotting Mr Darcy.

She stopped at the threshold and, seeing that he was turned away, tried to make good with her escape.

"Miss Isabella!" He said as he spotted her. She half-turned fearfully, for he had moved very quickly to block her escape. "I heard of your friend's injury. What a shock to such a active man such as himself."

"It was certainly unfortunate." She spoke cautiously, ever watching the crowd. Her saviour, in the shape of Mr Darcy, presented itself. Darcy moved through the crowd with agile ferociousness.

Mr Wickham, seeing that his time was nearly up, tried to seize Bella's hands and bring it to his arm. But she withdrew even further and Darcy stepped in.

"Mr Wickham." He said. His voice was neither enthusiastic nor angry. It was flat, and undeniably dangerous. Wickham paled considerably and dropped the hand that had reached out for Bella.

"Darcy," He muttered. He didn't attempt any further conversation and exited the scene quickly. Darcy watched him go with a slight sneer.

"Thank you, Mr Darcy." Bella said quietly. "He is a very unsettling man."

"Certainly." He watched Mr Wickham for a moment longer then turned to her. "Would you like to dance? He will leave soon I'm sure, but just in case." There was a brotherly protectiveness in his eyes, and she nodded slightly.

She followed him to the dance floor, keeping her eyes lowered. The two went down the line, Mr Darcy silent and watchful, her quiet and nervous.

Bella eyed him nervously, saying finally, "I heard you have a sister, Mr Darcy." His eyes snapped to her. "She is very accomplished. Or so I've heard."

"Not many are knowledgeable about my family situation. How did you come to know about it?"

"A friend of mine lived in Derbyshire for a while." Bella excused herself. "You are the principal inhabitants there." He seemed to accept this and fell silent for a moment.

"What else have you heard of my sister?" He asked, almost conversationally.

"Not much. Just that she was a very pretty child and played beautifully."

"She still does....play, I mean."

"Of course. Someone with a gift of music should continue to hone it."

"Miss Maria is also skilled." He nodded toward her, sitting at the piano and surrounded by soldiers.

"Thank you. Our father taught her. He was a very skilled musician. If he did not go into trade I believe he could have made a living off of it." Bella smiled fondly at the memory. Mr Darcy watched her, then his gaze shifted to Harriet, watching from the sidelines.

"Your eldest sister has raised you?"

"Partly. She was 20 when I was 15, so she fell into the role of mother."

Mr Darcy nodded, meeting Harriet's eyes and smiling slightly.

X X X

Very soon after the ball the Bennet sisters again received a invitation to Finian Place. Because this invitation was received and read aloud- due to Lydia's indiscretion- in the company of Miss Bingley the very day after the visit was made the lady went to visit the girls.

Her visits were rare and short, often just to keep up the aquaintenceship rather then any like of the present company. This one betrayed no new feelings and she left before she had been there an hour.

But the damage she did was almost irreparable to the reputation of a beloved friend.

"Mr Grey- you know, the farmer- well his wife has finally joined him. A very pretty young lady." Bella's tea clattered into the saucer and she stared with eyes as wide and round as the plates on the small table between them. "I don't know why there was separation, but I doubt it will signifiy. They are not respectable people."

Bella reflected on this for a while after Miss Bingley left, wishing for the confidence in Mr Grey she had had when Mary broached the question.

Sunday Church came and the whole neighbourhood, suddenly buzzing with this news was shocked to see a lady enter with Mr Grey. She was tall and pretty with flashing grey eyes and curling auburn hair. Bella's heart did so much sink as it did leap with anger. How dare he leave this poor girl alone while he galavanted over to England.

She was so furious she left as soon as prayer ended, almost barging through Mr and Mrs Long. Mr Grey, watching her, frowned. He left his lady with Harriet who'd come with great curiosity to be introduced.

"Isabella?" He called as he saw her outside of church. She didn't meet his eyes when she curtsied. "What have I done now?"

"What about the girl? The poor thing,"

"Poor thing? Why she may be little, but she certainly isn't to be pitied."

"Of course," She flared up, her voice raising into almost a shout. "Because a woman who is your wife couldn't possibly be pitied."

"My wife?" Mr Grey, equally angry now, seethed. "Damn me if she is. That's my sister!"

Bella was not to be deterred. "Sister or not, leaving her in Scotland like that is awful!"

"Her wretched husband wouldn't let her go until he died. I didn't even know she was here until last night!" Mr Grey roared. It was lucky that most remained inside and only a few children were scattered about the front lawn. Not that he would've cared.

Bella fell back on her heels, leaving Mr Grey thundering over head. Her eyes were apologetic and wide. "Oh," She breathed. "I'm sorry, Mr Grey," She fidgeted with her shawl.

Seeing that she was properly upset over her mistake, Jonathan put an arm about her shoulders. "Now now, girl. I should'n't've gotten so mad over silly gossip, and you should've checked your facts. All is well and done."

Bella glanced up at him, seeing an affectionate look, both forgiving and apologetic. She smiled. "I should like to meet her, if that is alright?" She said meekly.

Miss Grey, a Charlotte- Lottie to most- was a similarly quiet girl. And she held all of the determined resolution of her brother. She was eager and sweet. Bella instantly felt a kindred spirit in her and invited her to dinner with the Bennets. Of course her brother was always welcome in their home. He accepted.

X X X

The dinner, comprised of this group, was held on that Tuesday night. The Bennets, having met Lottie on Sunday, were able to hold friendly conversation before dinner was ready.

The group, as was the Ross custom, assembled in the library, each taking up an armchair or a daybed for their own.

At this dinner party, despite only one man being there, dancing was included. Maria refused and retired to the piano happily. Harriet was more then pleased to act in the part of a male for Lottie and a few of the younger girls when they could not dance with Mr Grey, who was passed around like a doll. Each girl had at least a brief chance of dancing with him, though Bella both started and finished with him.

Lottie expressed her great love of dancing and asked as to whether Mr Bingley had arranged any balls in the near future. After dispelling this belief, and the hope that there may be any Meryton assemblies on the horizon, Harriet told her of a plan to host their own ball. Lottie, with great stars in her eyes, clasped her hands and asked her if she did indeed mean that.

"Of course I do," Harriet laughed. "I have never hosted one though, so I should like a lot of help."

"Of course I'll help!" She exclaimed. Harriet smiled at her.

Chapter Text

The date for the ball was set and the invitations written. It was talked of widely throughout church and Meryton visits. Lottie often visited to make plans and discuss gowns for; "You must have new ones, silly!" 

Being only 16 she'd been to very few herself, but had been schooled enough by her husband's sister to learn the protocol and correct functions. She was always given much credit for it by Harriet.

Lottie didn't speak much of her husband, barely anyone outside of Harriet's family knew she'd even had one. Harriet did not try to pry, though sometimes conversations did lead in the direction of the lady’s home land. In which case Lottie would fall silent and unresponsive to any questions Harriet posed. 

Another thing in which Lottie, ever stubborn, insisted on, was a dancing master for all three of the girls. Harriet, having never bothered to learn anything besides the waltz, fared the worst under his critical eye. Maria, oh so graceful, became a shining favourite, and Bella an apt, if clumsy, pupil. 

So it was on this morning, when the dancing master had been in raptures of the way Maria moved through the dance that Harriet slipped away. Her feet naturally carried her to the small lane that remained partially hidden by trees and fences, a place most wouldn’t think to look for her. The day was fine and dry, with a brisk wind blowing over the hills at her back. The sun had been in full affect for the past two days, a rare occasion believe me, and animals lumbered across the green landscape. 

The London season would soon be upon them, and Harriet stopped to look at the nearly finished folly sitting over the hills when a tugging at the leashes in her hands moved her onwards. Her dogs, so often moved out of the room when the dancing instructor arrived were eager to walk about with their mistress. She gave into their whims, pausing when they wished to, moving quickly when they spotted an object of interest, but continually steering them where she wished to go. 

They arrived at this lane when the sun was high in the sky, and Harriet was pleased to retire to under the shade of the foliage. It was surprisingly hot for this time of day and she removed the shawl from about her shoulders. George had insisted she take it, but- for once- his wisdom had failed her. 

She’d walked only a metre or so into the lane when she heard the crunching of leaves behind her. Her dogs each turned and resumed a defensive position about the lady, defending her against the surprised figure of Mr Darcy. 

Having looked him over, the dogs were more then happy to move on and leave him behind, and annoyed to find Harriet unresponsive. 

“Mr Darcy,” She curtsied cautiously, lest one of her dogs use that moment to bound away into the forest and pull her off her feet. 

He bowed stiffly. They hadn’t exactly spent time together since the day at the second Meryton assembly and the words they’d said rankled in the air. Harriet girded her loins. 

“I am glad you came by this lane.” She began, meeting Darcy’s steady gaze. “I wanted to thank you for saving my younger sister from the attentions of a soldier.” 

“It was nothing,” He bowed again. 

“Certainly I was mistaken in you, and I also wish to apologise for the uncomplimentary words I spoke on your and your Aunt’s behalf.” 

He didn’t acknowledge this besides a slight widening of the eyes and a curt nod. “How does Mr Collins fare?” He said, in way of accepting her apology. He fell in step with her, to her dogs’ delight. 

“I know not, I have not seen him for above a fortnight. He is particularly allusive.” He nodded. “But I hear he is to leave in a week or two.” 

“We shall miss him then, at your ball?” 

“Yes, I believe we shall. What an unfortunate occurrence.” Had she looked up, she would have seen a slight twitch around Mr Darcy’s mouth. “I also hope to arrange shooting parties when the season is right, I have heard Mr Bingley is fond of them.” 

“Yes, he is. But do not hold out hope, he hopes to be in London soon to attend to business.” 

“Truely? When he was dealing so well with Jane. She liked him so well.” 

Darcy looked at her. “I do not know if the lady returns his affections, though he makes his own apparent.” 

Harriet tilted her head upwards and to the side, looking like a curious robin. “Do you think so? I suppose not everyone can see her feelings so plain then.” 

“Enlighten me, please.” 

“Why even Elizabeth agrees, she is in love with the man!” 

“Truely?” He stopped and turned to her. She nodded. He gazed at one of her dogs for a moment before bowing and making his excuses. 

She watched his figure with a smile and a tilted head. What a strange man. 

X X X

Harriet only saw the fruits of her labor three days later when, up the winding driveway, Elizabeth and Jane arrived, both breathless. 

They were let in, though George surveyed their messy apparals very sternly. Harriet and Maria were the only women in the house, Bella visiting Lottie that day. They met the sisters in the drawing room, where both were talking. 

“Elizabeth! Jane! Why, did you walk here?” 

“Oh it was nothing, dearest Harriet.” Elizabeth came forward and held the girl’s hands, then reached out for Maria’s when she drew close to them. “My sister has the greatest of news!” 

“I am to be married,” Jane burst out, much at odds with her usual calm. “To Mr Bingley!”

The room fell into tumult, with Elizabeth beginning to laugh in happiness, and both the Ross sisters falling over each other to come embrace Jane. She recieved them warmly, laughing along with her own sister. 

When this chaos was abated, Harriet demanded a recounting of the story and drew Jane close to her on the couch. 

“Oh please, Jane! Tell us,” Maria clasped her hands and Lizzy joined in the begging. 

Jane, queen of the moment, laughed again and folded her hands on her lap. 

“He came to me this morning, and confessed that he had been planning to go to London,” She twitched the skirts around her knees. “I was naturally upset, but attempted to convey my well wishes. He interrupted me and said that Mr Darcy had revealed to him that perhaps I felt more for him then he believed. Do you know, he really did not know I loved him?” She glanced around the group, Harriet was the only one who didn’t respond. 

“Well, he asked me to marry him, there was not much to it. But I am oh so happy. I wish you all to be as happy as I am.” She held Lizzy’s hands between her own now, and Lizzy kissed the top of one affectionately.

“How good of Mr Darcy,” Harriet said quietly before the talk swerved quickly to bridal clothes and the date they hoped for. 

That night Harriet sat at the desk in the library, her back to her sisters. Her hand held the pen over the pot of ink, stilled as she thought. She traced her words out on the paper and began. She was never good with this new medium, but managed a tolerable level of neatness. 

“Mr Darcy,” 

“I believe thanks is owed to you in this new happiness that has come to my friend Jane. She declares herself the happiest in the world and I say I am not far behind. Seeing her so lifted fills me with a greater joy then I believe you can imagine.

“I have not been kind to you in the past, my own prejudice and blindness kept me from seeing that you are indeed a good man. I hope to see you at the ball, and I wish that, if not a friendship, we may be friendly aquaintences when we next see each other.

“You have proven my thoughts of you wrong at every turn and so I remain,”

"Your faithful servant,”
“Harriet Ross"

The letter was sent the next day and received, luckily enough, when the man himself was leaving for Meryton. He secreted the letter in his pocket and remained silent about it until he arrived home when he announced the need of paper and ink so he could respond to some letters of business. When he took it out to peruse and perhaps reply, Miss Bingley, with great liberty, looked over his shoulder. 

"Miss Ross! Whatever could she be writing to you for?" She cried. 

"I saw her recently, and we had a conversation," Miss Bingley didn't look away and pressed him to reveal more to her. "I offered some advice and she to me. It clearly prospered." With that he turned away from her to break the seal. Miss Bingley, cowed, moved from him to her brother, only to find him writing a letter to some family with the news of his recent engagement. 

Mr Darcy read the letter in some surprise but, since he now saw the answer to a dawning problem he had, no distaste.

His answer went as follows: 

“Miss Ross,

“I thank you for your letter. And, though it was not for your sake I rectified my actions, your thanks means I great deal to me. I hope that you will accept my own apologies as to my actions.

“I now enquire after Miss Grey. If I am to be informed corrected you are something of a chaperon to the younger girls of this society and hold many entertainments proper to their sex. My sister, Georgiana Darcy, a girl of nearly seventeen, is due soon to visit me for a week or two before we depart to Pemberly once again. I hope, if it puts you at no disadvantage, that you could perhaps included her once or twice in this group. She has very few friends of her own age.

“I feel no need to list her attributes, only that she is a polite, talented young lady. She may find a friend in Miss Maria, as she is similarly musically gifted. Please do not consider this suplication a demand, if it seems so. I only hope to make her stay here as pleasant as possible.

“I hope that you and your family are in good health.

“Your servant etc.
“Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

Harriet replied speedily. 

“To Mr Darcy,

“Thank you for your reply.

“As to your hope, I always believe a girl of 17 should have friends of her own age. I then extend my invitation to the ball toward her, if you are willing.

“And I will certainly include her in entertainments. I believe her visit will overlap with a reading party me and the Bennets are having; we are trying to cram as many visits in while Jane remains in Longbourn. She is more then welcome to come, and even sample our piano if she wishes. I am told it is a good instrument.

“I have heard nothing but good things of her. I believe, if the reports are true, she will fare very well in this small society. My hopes are that she and Miss Grey will be good friends, for both are young and very quiet.

“I do hope she likes dogs. If she likes she may take of a puppy once they are weaned. I am overrun.

“Regards,
“Harriet Ross”

No letter was necessary in reply, as the day after it was recieved Mr Darcy travelled to the lane in hopes of seeing Harriet. She went there to escape the chaos that reigned over her house. 

As the ball drew closer Lottie gained more and more of a hand over the ruling of the house and now had the entire household under her tiny thumb. The puppies also took a great deal of time, and most of the dogs (and people) had been entraptured with them since the moment they’d been born. So she took the time to leave her house. 

They met at the gate, bowed and she took his arm. 

They walked silently for a while, Harriet clutching her sketchbook under her arm and keeping her gaze fastened to the land around. 

“Thank you for helping with my sister.” 

“Oh, please. I couldn’t let a poor girl be left with- left alone.” She had meant to say Miss Bingley, but thought that perhaps she should savour this friendship while it lasted. "She is very welcome to attend any one of our parties or dinners, and you are too if you would like." 

He looked surprised. "Mr Grey often attends with his sister, he is a good friend of ours. It would be unkind to discriminate " 

"I may not always come, but Colonel Fitzwilliam, who is returning with Georgiana, may attend." 

"Oh, perfect!" She smiled, thinking of a girl who would very likely rejoice at this prospect.

X X X

It was to be seen that the Bingley and Darcy party did not attend Sunday church. 

Georgiana and Fitzwilliam suffered through the waves of affection displayed by Miss Bingley, welcomed the affection by Mr Bingley, and then retired into a private room with Mr Darcy. They recounted their journey, handed over letters of business, and told him Pemberly was indeed in good shape. 

Sunday was of course off limits to go galavanting around the countryside in search of people, but Fitzwilliam held out hope for the next day. He could at least take Georgiana to be introduced. 

But the weather (and I) decided to hold off this joyous meeting with a wild bout of wind and rain. Deeming it to dangerous to set off anywhere, Darcy set about seeing to Georgiana’s entertainment, letting Fitzwilliam mope quite happily. 

Chapter Text

Georgiana, once the weather had abated in a day or two, was not to be held back any longer. She was a sweet, patient girl, more like Mr Bingley in nature then her brother. But Miss Bingley was bringing out the hard, stubborn, Darcy streak in her. Miss Bingley would fuss and talk and gossip and chatter, never once considering the feelings of the poor girl beside her, who was practically swaying in exshaution. In Miss Bingley’s eyes she saw a kindred spirit, a girl after her own heart who could join in her dislike of the countryside. If Georgiana did ever venture to disagree, Miss Bingley only took this as a sign that the girl must be better trained by her and her only, thus making her friendship and attentions more pronounced. 

Fitzwilliam, though not subjected to Miss Bingley and for quite different reasons, offered to take her to the Ross Place. They set out midday on a Tuesday, both brimming with exciment; again for quite different reasons. 

There was no little delight when their carriage was seen on the road, still a good minute or two away. Maria leapt off her couch and flew away to fuss over her appearance, heart beating wildly. Bella moved downstairs to ensure the drawing room was clean and suitable enough. And Harriet went downstairs to greet them, hoping against hope that Miss Bingley had not quite ruined this girl yet. 

Miss Georgiana, though she did not act like him, looked remarkably like her brother. The straight Darcy nose was prominent, as was the black ringlets curling about her face. Her dark eyes had a satriacal gleam to them, though quite hidden under long lashes that were now downturned as she curtsied to Miss Ross. 

They moved to the drawing room, Fitzwilliam very naturally fell into the seat besides Maria.

Georgiana was quiet for a moment or two, listening to Harriet and Bella converse quietly to the Colonel. 

When a minute of silence alapsed she moved in very quickly with a polite; “You have very beautiful lands here, Miss Ross,” 

“Thank you!” Harriet, becoming prouder and prouder of the work James was doing by the day, beamed. “It is certainly a change from brown grass.” Georgiana looked curious. “It is very hot in Australia,” She explained. “Most of the grass goes brown unless you water it often.” 

Georgiana, the conversation having turned this way, enquired with several quaintly worded questions about Australia. Having seen it only in a few books in the Pemberly library, she knew very little and remained curious. She delighted over the accent they displayed, and learnt very quickly a few of the slang words Australian’s used so often; though she quietly decided not to show her brother. 

The conversation then turned to the orchard, and Georgiana expressed a wish to visit it. Fitzwilliam seconded this, and took Maria’s arm as they left the rooms and into the sunshine. 

The orchard was placed behind the house, not seen by the road. Hemmed by a neat hedge it was not very large. There were about ten or so trees within it, all for household use rather then to sell. A few apples, pears and a single, ageing orange tree. Lord Finian, especially nearing the end of his life, was a prolific gardener and made several enhancements to this part of the land. Multiple benches sat near the hedges, and winding paths branched off from it toward different sections of the grounds. 

This attractive position was lit up by a bright sun, and cooled by a fine breeze flowing down from the hills surrounding the house. Bella and Harriet took Georgiana to see the orange tree, the fruit of which was already near ripe. Maria was deterred from following by Fitzwilliam asking if she could perhaps show him some of the other gardens he saw on the horizon. She agreed and they departed. 

"You look lovely today, Maria," Richard said, in a way of testing the waters. Maria blushed and glanced away. 

"Thank you, Richard." 

There was a short silence, in which both failed to gather up the courage to ask questions nearest to their heart. Time and separation had not dulled their feelings, nor had it made their relationship any less attractive. But what the other person thought was unknown, and worrying. 

They arrived at the gardens, a place which was mainly used by James. A cottage was placed nearby, where James could be seen moving in and out of it. The garden, a vegetable patch, had long since been revived by him and thrived under the loving care of him and his wife. It was set out in long rows, one of which was full of herbs and flowers, all carefully chosen to compliment each other. 

Maria gave Fitzwilliam a short tour of these grounds before he finally broke his silence. 

"Do you have any family remaining in Australia?" 

Maria paused by a lavender. "An aunt, I believe. She was our next of kin once our father died. But she had very little to do with us." 

"I am sorry." Fitzwilliam, standing a little away from her, watched her. She stood with her back to him, her brown curls framed by the bluest of skies. The lavender plant bobbed near her, and grass swayed at her feet. She seemed almost an unmoveable part of the landscape. "Do you ever wish to return?" 

"Not at the moment, maybe I'll visit one day." She turned half way, staring down at the squat little cottage. "I quite like where I am now," 

These words were complimented by a shy glance towards him, and her hand coming up to tuck a loosened curl away. He came forward toward her. His hands held onto her waist and he wasted only a second gazing at her before his lips met her's. 

X X X

Fitzwilliam and Georgiana returned to Netherfield sometime after dinner. Fitzwilliam retired immediately and Georgiana went in search of her brother. She found him reading in the library with the other inhabitants of the house. 

This attractive apartment had been furnished to the most modern standards. Mr Bingley would have preferred a more simplistic style, seeing as they never recieved guests in the library, but his sister had insisted on the new style not yet seen by anyone else in the little society. Red drapes fell to the floor, covering up the two windows facing the front of the house, there were quite a few seats and lounges placed about the centre of the room, in the middle of which sat a large table. A desk was placed along one side of the room, and a fire on the other side. 

There were few paintings hanging, though a watercolour of Georgiana’s hung above the fireplace. It was Miss Bingley’s greatest dislike, for it did not suit the rest of her carefully thought out plan. She longed to have a house close to Pemberly, or at least such an establishment that Mr Darcy could not help but visit once or twice a year. But her brother was happy as tenet, was happy at the lower status that gave them. 

When Georgiana came into the room she found the group spread across the room. Miss Bingley was writing to her sister, Mr Bingley was enjoying the warmth of the fire, and Mr Darcy was closest to the door, reading. Both men stood to bow, and she returned it. Miss Bingley left her writing instruments and came toward her, squeezing her hands warmly. 

“How good of you to return, I was so worried.” 

“Whatever for? I had Fitzwilliam with me,” Georgiana, constantly confused by Miss Bingley’s effusions, looked at her with wide eyes. 

“But this is a strange land to you, you never know what brute might be lurking.” Miss Bingley, it is to be noted, was never a boring conversationalist. “There are Scottish men, and-“ 

“Mr Grey? Oh yes, Miss Bella told me he is a excellent man. I think I shall like his sister. She is about my age, William?” Mr Darcy nodded. 

“A bit younger I should think.” 

Miss Bingley, thus silenced, retired to her letter writing. She watched the brother and sister with some jealousy. Georgiana was so comfortable with him, felt easy in a way she never could.

Georgiana addressed Mr Bingley, but, finding him abstracted, returned to Darcy happily. “They were very nice, brother. Just as you described, though perhaps a bit less preposterous.” 

Darcy smiled. “I was very angry when I wrote about them.” He patted her hand. “I trust you do not listen to those letters too closely.” 

“Oh no! I will burn them in their entirety.” Her eyes held a glint of mischief, and she recieved a light tap on the cheek because of it. “I think Richard is very well taken with Miss Maria.” 

“Truely? This is news to me,” 

“Oh yes. I suspect we shall hear of something or another soon. Perhaps a marriage.” 

This word brought Bingley out of his reverie and he joined the conversation in order to enquire about it. After briefly telling him, he agreed wholeheartedly. 

“They dance constantly at parties, and are always talking to each other. I should not be surprised if they are very taken with each other.” 

“Oh, how romantic.” Georgiana sighed. For, though her experiences with men had left her shocked and disillusioned, she wished dearly for romance. It was one of the things she could not understand with Miss Bingley. Her fortune had always been secured, no matter what man she married she would be supported and able to live a tolerable life. But Miss Bingley was desperate to marry a man of larger fortune upgrade her social status. If she could had such prospects why could she did she have to have love?

Mr Darcy had seen this striking difference and decided long ago that Miss Bingley was not fit for his sister to be friendly with. He allowed it only for the brother’s sake, but tried to keep his sister at an arm’s distance from her. 

Miss Bingley shortly retired, giving her letter to a servant to be posted. Georgiana soon followed, leaving the two gentlemen to their thoughts. 

Mr Darcy retired later then Bingley, sitting up until the fire dwindled. He used this time to flick restlessly through pages of his book, pace the room, and to unsuccessfully try to write a letter of thanks to Harriet. He finally resolved to meet her in the morning, but found that the prospect of his bed did not yet endear itself to him. 

I have not spent much time indulging in his thoughts, reader. In truth, his thoughts did not often stray for his purpose. An upright man who had stowed away the feelings of his heart often had no knowledge as to how shallow his life was. He remained close to three people, two of which were related to him. He did not indulge in frivolity, he had seen what path his uncle went down with that, and spent hours in his early adulthood agonising over the possibility he could become a man like him. 

Despite what I have said, he slowly found his thoughts being drawn away from the straight and narrow path that had promised to be his life. He doubted he'd ever marry. Fitzwilliam would have no problem with finding a wife, and the Darcy name could be continued through his sister and a few distant cousins scattered across England. But, sitting before the dying embers he wondered. Harriet had no need to marry rich, indeed she had no need to marry at all.

His thoughts here strayed toward her. She was certainly not the blonde beauty his father and family had hoped for. Her russet curls were far from it, as were her steadfast, brown eyes. Her figure was not symmetrical, but upright and active. Her mouth was too wide, eyes too satirical, nose too large. He played each feature in his mind, but found each one was pleasing to him. His seasons in London had given him an eye to feminine beauty enough to know, at least, that Harriet was not one. 

Here he stopped his thoughts and stood quickly. He retired, staying up to read- unsuccessfully- until he was tired. 

X X X

The morning dawned bright and hot, luckily Bella had escaped the house before the sun could truly do it's work. She managed to walk a good way before it had even risen. She took off her shawl once it did, basking in the slight warmth it gave. 

Her goal was toward the Gray homestead, where she hoped to invite Lottie to breakfast so she could meet Georgiana. When she did arrive she found that Lottie had gone out for a ride that morning and only Mr Grey was in the house. 

She agreed to see him and was shown into the drawing room, where he greeted her with a bow and warm handshake. They sat next to each other, him beckoning her to come meet the black cat moving over her feet. Pilot, as he was named, was a friendly sprite, and sat happily on Bella's light grey dress, leaving fur whereever he moved. Mr Grey indulged in some light conversation with Bella, starting thusly. 

"You look well today, Miss Isabella. What has put you in such a mood?" 

"I wish you would call me Bella, as my friends do." Though he only nodded in response, inwardly he glowed at the thought of being counted among her friends. "My mood depends largely on the weather. Today it is fine and warm." 

"If the weather so pleases you, let us go to the garden." He stood, holding out his arm for her to take. She smiled, inquiring whether his leg was strong enough to handle prolonged exercise. He scoffed at her. 

The Grey garden was a fine piece of land. It was made on the principal that everything should be eaten, and so no pruned bushes or roses showed their face. Large branches of fruit trees crowded over the path, long rows of herbs, vegetables. It spiced the air, and Bella breathed it in with relish. 

"It pleases you? The garden?" Jonathan asked anxiously. 

"How could it do anything else." She sighed. "It's beautiful." Johnathan smiled. “Everything looks so delicious.” 

“My cook does wonders with the things growing here.” He said proudly, pausing with her so she could view a small bunch of flowers. Gallantly, and much against his nature, he picked on and handed it to her. She thanked him and tucked it behind her ear, the orange of the flower standing out against her brown curls. He smiled. 

“How goes your sister?” 

“She fares better here then she did in Scotland.” He said. 

“I understand.” Bella smiled. “She was in a difficult relationship.” 

“God forbid you understand out of experience rather then sympathy?” He asked, with a worried look toward her. 

“No, no. I’m too plain to have such a tragic background. Maria had one, I believe.” There was a smile on her face when she said this, but a frown descended on Grey’s face. He turned away to conceal it from her, but remained still stoically silent for a time. 

The sun was now burning on the world, and Grey took Bella to a shaded table and ordered out some lemonade. They sat in a peaceable silence, Pilot- having now found a lady he likes- sitting again on Bella’s lap. Grey commented on this favour and looked sternly at the cat, who licked his paw smugly. 

“I try to cuddle the damned thing and it disappears for days.” Grey scowled. “I’ve brought it up since it was a kitten, I don’t why it hates me.” 

“He’s just independent.” Bella smiled, stroking Pilot’s head. “It probably doesn’t help you call it a damned thing.” 

Grey tutted and crossed his arms. The lemonade was brought out. 

After watching Bella drink for a moment, Grey reopened the conversation with. “I intend to buy a townhouse and go to London for the season.” Bella nodded. 

“I am not very aware of the London season.” 

“Neither am I. It lasts through the summer, or so I am told. I only go to introduce my sister.” He looked over at her. "Will you and your sisters go?" 

"Perhaps. We may take a party, but we shall stay here until George can find somewhere suitable for us to stay." 

"You can always stay with us. While you wait, that is." She said she would consult her sister. 

He paused, then continued. "Do you hope to be married?" 

"Married?" Bella said blankly. "I haven't met anyone I'd like to get married to. Maria might, if Colonel Fitzwilliam is willing." 

"I didn't ask about Maria." He fixed his gaze on her and spoke the words lowly. She felt a burning sensation rise up to her face. 

Lottie returned from her ride and came to greet them.