Jane Austen (
janebecomes) wrote2010-03-23 09:27 pm
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Dancing
Jane found herself moving through the ball with far less joy than she wished as her thoughts seemed to circle ever around what it means to be sensible.
Mister Wisley was a fair dancer but he did nothing to make her enjoy her time on the floor, but she would give him the dances that he asked for.
She knew that it would be sensible and profitable to accept his offer of marriage but Jane was not sure if she truly could.
So she moved around the floor, not truly hearing or seeing simply walking the steps and wondering if perhaps Mister Lefroy had decided he had no wish to attend the ball.
Mister Wisley was a fair dancer but he did nothing to make her enjoy her time on the floor, but she would give him the dances that he asked for.
She knew that it would be sensible and profitable to accept his offer of marriage but Jane was not sure if she truly could.
So she moved around the floor, not truly hearing or seeing simply walking the steps and wondering if perhaps Mister Lefroy had decided he had no wish to attend the ball.
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Why did he have to go and -
Turning back to the company he'd gathered around him (deliberately ignoring Wisley's looming form close by) he mutters a polite, "Excuse me" and parts from them.
He wants nothing more than to apologize for his impudent behaviour - but when he reaches the grand hall, he spots John Warren by the bottom steps, he remembers Mr Wisley still within the ballroom, and he remembers that for all of his affection, this - none of this - would ever work.
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As she tries to find a place to slip out of the way, Lady Gresham calls for her and Jane steels herself once more.
Somehow she manages to respond and listen to the horrible things that Lady Gresham speaks of, her father's difficulties with money and her own faults of independent thought.
She does not remember if she gave a definite acceptance of marriage or simply that Lady Gresham decided she had either way she was finally allowed to escape once more.
In the garden perhaps she can try once more to find some peace if only for a time. After all, her life is truly not her own.
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"Mr Wisley is a good opportunity for Jane," his aunt had said.
"She should accept him at once," Lucy responded innocently. Because it would have made sense, wouldn't it?
It was so incredibly simple, this logic, that even a girl as young as cousin Lucy could figure it out.
(So why can't he?)
Despite all better judgment, only moments after his relations leave for refreshments, Tom finds himself in the gardens as well.
His steps are quiet, and he soon finds Miss Austen by the fountains, alone.
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So she turns towards the fountain since she doesn't know what he hopes or thinks.
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Out of respect for her, really. But also: there is (as always) the matter of propriety.
Still, he feels the need to clear a couple of things up. There are questions he must have answers for before he leaves for London in the 'morrow.
"I have learned of Mr Wisley's marriage proposal," he starts, before swallowing the bitterness in his throat. "My congratulations."
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"Is there an alternative for a well-educated woman of small fortune?"
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(And the ache in his heart - it could easily match hers.)
Before he can control himself, he blurts out, "How can you have him?"
He can't look at her; not yet. He stares across at the water gurgling before them.
"Even with his thousands and his houses - how can you, of all people, dispose of yourself without affection?"
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Her voice is small as she finally turns to look at him,
"You are leaving tomorrow."
He is so close and yet so terribly far away and Jane wants to forget for a time how to be sensible.
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How did she know he was leaving? He hadn't exactly told her. (But it occurs to him, that news in the country spreads quickly.)
He frowns and says nothing.
The guilt, the apology - it's all there.
(I'm sorry.)
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What would she dare if no one made her be sensible?
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(and suddenly, he realizes he admires it - her - all the more)
- nor did he expect to feel the warmth of her breath so close to his mouth.
He knows this is entirely out of bounds - but then, when had he ever followed rules?
(And when did Jane, for that matter?)
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His lips are so warm and she wants this moment to never end.
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(Because it can't be.)
But the touch of her lips against his is no trick of the mind, certainly no fantasy. It's real and it's causing every last scrap of logic to disappear as though it never existed.
A hand reaches up to graze her jawline with the barest of touches.
He returns the kiss earnestly, hungrily, but all the while - gently.
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"Did I do that well?"
They're not the words she meant, but in a way they are, she wants him.
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(For she had, in the most cliche of ways, quite stolen it from him.)
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"I wanted, just once, to do it well."
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It's likely the first genuinely happy one he's managed to make in a long time.
His hand slowly moves down to graze tenderly at her neck. There are consequences to this, but right now he could not be forced to care.
The sound of a group of men chattering beyond the distance makes him turn - just briefly - towards their direction.
Decisions must be made.
He turns back to Jane, a hopeful smile on his face. His hand moves to take hers and he starts off - away from the fountain and the approaching men.
"I have -" he starts, "no money, no property. I am entirely dependent upon that bizarre old lunatic, my uncle."
He leads her towards the trees, excitement and joy rising in his voice.
"I cannot yet offer you marriage. But - you must know what I feel.
"Jane, I'm yours."
He can't believe that he's confessing this; and yet it is exciting to admit it.
"God. I'm yours. I'm yours - heart and soul."
He watches her expression, half-joking as he concludes with, "Much good that is."
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She wants to laugh and that joy slips into her voice,
"Let me decide that."
Then she tightens her grip on his hand for she will not let him go.
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"What will we do?" he asks, because though he'd laid his heart out for her to see, he didn't exactly think beyond it.
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"What we must."
Its so easy to lean her face upon his shoulder and feel that silly green coat,
"I think now I understand the allure of a man's velvet coat slightly better."
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It's relieved and happy, and there's a little bit of disbelief thrown in too. Because whatever it is they must do, they'll do it. He'll do it.
"Do you?"
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Gently she moves her hand to his lapel and looks up at him,
"Which suits you."
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Never mind that there are parties within the Gresham Manor awaiting them. Never mind the looks he will receive from his relations later.
When he kisses her this time, he thinks he understands - more than ever - why his parents did what they did.
(They married for love.)
(He can too, can't he?)