Beginning, Section II,
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Chapter 18
Henry went down to breakfast early as usual. On most mornings Rose was already there waiting for him and they would enjoy breaking their fast without any other company. The other inhabitants of Pemberley were late sleepers. However, when Henry went down to the dining room Rose was not waiting for him. Instead there was a note at her normal spot. Henry picked it up idly, wondering if she wanted him to meet her in the garden, or something of the like. What he read was shockingly different from what he had expected.
To whomever may find this note,The letter drifted from Henry's hand and his heart beat painfully in his chest. He scarcely knew what he was doing when he sprinted to the stables and saddled Darcy's fastest horse. He scarcely knew if he was going for Rose's sake or his own.I would like to inform my Uncle and Aunt that they have no reason to be concerned, but I have gone to Gretna Green to be married. I am sure I don't need to tell you the man's name, our admiration of each other has never been hidden. Please do not alarm my parents, I should like to tell them myself. Again, do not worry for me, I am being made the most happy of all women.
Rose Heighton
Chapter 19
Rose stretched as best she could in the cramped coach. She didn't know how long she had been sleeping. She figured it had been quite some time, for when she asked the driver where they were he told her they were almost to Gretna Green. Stephen was still dead to the world, undisturbed by the sound of pounding raindrops on the carriage roof.
Even though they had almost reached their destination Rose felt the overwhelming urge to write her parents. She hadn't packed any paper herself, but Stephen had carried with him a small case which she assumed held materials for business affairs. Rose dug through the bag, indeed finding paper and pencil, but as she pulled a few leaves out, several letters floated to the carriage floor.
Rose honestly didn't want to read his private affairs, but when she inadvertently saw the letters were all written by feminine hands she couldn't help herself. Her eyes wouldn't focus long enough to read each in entirety. Instead they focused on certain fragments: My darling Stephen...My heart's love...miss you dreadfully...no other gentleman speaks as prettily as you...you may have competition...your last missive was so amusing...Remember, you promised to be faithful...I am glad all the ladies in Derbyshire are so plain...Miss Darcy and Miss Heighton sound quite unfortunate in appearance and manner...hope to make our engagement official...When shall we make our attachment known to the populace?...dream of the day when I shall be Lady Luhman...Your faithful lover, Margaret Winthrop...Your passionate servant, Sarah...Love, Maria...Waiting desperately for you, Jane Martin...Your dearest, Alice
Rose couldn't breathe. What did this mean? Had she been taken in? "Stephen," she said faintly, "Stephen wake up."
He stirred then looked up at her. "Yes, my love?"
How many other girls had he called "my love"? "Stephen, what are these?" She held up a fistful of love letters.
"You've been in my things," he accused.
"I was looking for paper...to write to my parents. How do you explain these?"
"I don't think I have to explain, Rose. They are letters from young ladies."
"Young ladies do not write to young men without their being an understanding between them."
"Young ladies do not elope with men they have know for just weeks," he returned.
"What?" Rose gasped.
He smiled at her cruelly. "I am sorry, darling, if my acquaintance doesn't meet with your approval. It is too late now, you and your thirty-five thousand pounds are stuck with me."
"My thirty-five thousand pounds," she murmured.
"So I suggest, for your own good and happiness, that you forget what you have just seen."
Rose leaned back in silence for a few minutes, trying to regain her composure. Then she cried out, "Stop the coach!" The carriage came to a jerky halt.
"What are you doing, Rose?" Stephen asked irritably.
"You are wrong, Sir Stephen, I am not stuck with you. I have not taken up that odious office of being your wife quite yet. Please order the driver to take me back to Pemberley."
He sneered, "I shan't take you five miles from here, Miss Heighton ." With that he opened the carriage door and pushed her out, throwing her bag after her. "Good luck finding another husband, you filthy whore. For that matter, good luck finding your way out of Gretna Green!"
The carriage pulled away in a frenzy and Rose was left standing alone and penniless in the rain.
For awhile Rose was totally unaware of her surroundings. She was rooted to the ground, and it had nothing to do with the mud sucking at her boots. She was pulled out of her numb trance by someone shaking her shoulders. "Rose! Rose!" the person was crying.
"Henry?" she wondered, not believing her eyes.
"What are you doing standing in the rain? Where is," he had to swallow hard before he said the name, "Sir Stephen?"
"I don't know. Gone," she answered dully.
"Are you- Are you married?" he asked fearfully.
"No."
Henry took her arm and said, "I can tell there is a lot you need to tell me. Let's get out of the rain. There's an inn right across the street." He had to practically drag her to the warm inn where he sat her at a table and ordered a pot of tea and luncheon. "Now tell me why Sir Stephen left you." She was silent. Henry reached across the table and covered her hand with his. "You must tell me, Rose."
Rose began to speak slowly and softly, "We were in the carriage, just coming into Gretna Green when I looked into his bag for some paper. So I could write to my parents, you know. Well, I found paper, but I also found letters. Letters from young ladies. From then I discerned that Sir Stephen had been all but faithful to me. He almost outright told me that his reason for marrying me was my dowry," Rose paused, wincing in physical pain at the memory. "I told him I wouldn't marry him and he-he-that man pushed me out of the coach right where you found me. I think I went mad for awhile. I thought I'd never get home again, I had no money, nothing but my clothes. If you hadn't found me..." Rose's voice trailed off as she gave into the tears building behind her eyes. Her body was wracked by heaving sobs.
Henry moved next to her. "It's alright," he comforted, "I found you, and we'll go home and forget the whole thing. Our families aren't indiscreet. No one shall know."
"But that isn't all," Rose gasped between sobs. "When-when we were about half-way here we stopped at an inn rest. Stephen said we were practically married already, and it would save money if we...Henry, we shared a bed! I didn't want to, but he made me seem so unreasonable. What if there's a baby? He called me a filthy whore and that's what I am! Just a common whore." She buried her face in her hands. Henry made no response, and she figured he was disgusted by her. When she had the courage to look up, however she saw his face was a mixture of compassion and anger.
"That b****** took advantage of you, Rose, and I swear if I ever see his face again he shall regret it for the rest of his life, which shan't be long. Rose, Rose, you are not to be blamed. Luhman obviously made a practice of seducing young women, he must have a sick talent for it. How were you to know?"
Rose laughed bitterly. "Not everyone will be as understanding as you, Henry. Especially if I am with child. I don't know what to do. I might as well stay in Scotland."
The food came and they were silent as they ate, although they both just picked at the meal. Suddenly Henry clapped his hands. "I've got it, Rose! I've got the perfect idea."
"What?" Rose asked doubtfully.
"You could marry me! You never said who you ran away with in your note, and I left before anyone else was up. We'll pretend you eloped with me. If there is a child he or she will be mine, regardless," he said eagerly.
"What did you just say?" Rose asked, not trusting her hearing.
"Rose Mary Heighton, will you marry me?"
Chapter 20
Rose couldn't believer her ears. Henry Tilney had just asked her to marry him? After all that she had told him. He was looking at her expectantly. Rose couldn't deal with those hazel eyes at the moment. She got up and walked out into the rain, which had subsided into a cold, stinging mist. Henry immediately followed her.
"Well?" he asked.
"How can I let you do it?" Rose answered. "I can't let you ruin your life just because I made a stupid, stupid mistake. What about Olivia?"
He looked at her strangely. "What about Olivia?"
"You're in love with her, aren't you?"
"No!" Henry practically shouted.
Rose looked at him in amazement. "But, she said..."
"Rose, haven't you noticed that Olivia thinks every young man that has had the good fortune of meeting her is in love with her?"
Suddenly it all made so much sense! She really hadn't thought Olivia was his type. "Yes, I guess you're right. But I still can't marry you. So you don't love Olivia. That doesn't mean you won't fall in love with somebody else someday. What if you meet the woman of your dreams, but oh, too bad, you're married to me. Henry, I care about you too much to hurt you in such a way."
Henry took her gently by the shoulders. "Rose, when I first met you, outside of Darcy's study, I thought you were an interesting lady. When I saw you the next morning, I thought you a beautiful lady. When we were continually arguing I found you humorous and intelligent. When you went with me to Nan's I knew you to have a loving heart. Then, you became my best friend. And when I read your note, I realized that I am in love with you. I have already found my dream woman, Rose. I'm not asking you to marry me out of pity or a sense of charity, but because I love you so much that the very thought of a life without you fills me with indescribable horror. So, please, Rose, say you'll marry me."
Rose reached up and stroked his face. "Well, if that's how you feel, yes."
They were married later that day. Henry decided that they should spend the night in an inn, and start the long journey back to Pemberley in the morning. The new Mr. and Mrs. Tilney were shy with each other in a way they had never been before, even when they hadn't gotten along. After dinner they had awkwardly parted, Rose going up to their room to change, while Henry stayed down for a glass of port.
When Henry came up to their room Rose was sitting gingerly on the bed in a white nightdress, her hair shimmering in golden waves down her back. Henry thought her an angel until he saw her trembling. Angels don't tremble. Rose looked up at him with a gaze that was half grateful, half frightened. Henry's stomach twisted, that was an expression that should never be on her face. Rose wasn't made for gratitude and fear. His anxiety increased when he considered just exactly what he had done.
He had taken advantage of her as much as Luhman had. Rose had been scared and alone and betrayed and he had taken advantage of it. She was married to him not because she was in love with him, but because he had proposed when she wasn't able to think straight. He was a louse, a cad, a disgrace to the Tilney name. Now, he had to find her a way out in the likely case that she would want one once all her faculties had returned.
Rapidly forming a plan he sat next to her on the bed and put his arm around her. She instantly stiffened. When she realized that she had, she began apologizing. "I'm so sorry Henry. It's just so much has happened in the last few days..."
"He hurt you," Henry said flatly. It wasn't a question.
Rose simply nodded.
He took a deep breath and started to explain the plan. "Rose, I know how much had happened to you lately. I know and understand that you're not ready for this. So this is what I suggest we do. When we return to Pemberley we shall tell everyone that we went to Scotland together, no need to bring Luhman into this. But, we shall tell them that we decided not to marry up there." He paused to take in Rose's shocked expression. "We'll tell them that we still want to get married, but the madness that took us to Gretna Green has passed, we want our families to witness our union. We can plan the wedding for say, two months from now. If in that time you learn you are not with child and want to dissolve our public engagement and annul our secret marriage I have a friend who handle the legal details in absolute confidence. If you are with child and we get "married" and people start counting months after the marriage we'll tell the truth--that we were married in Gretna Green. Did you get all that?" Rose nodded. "Well, should I make a bed on the floor, or ask for a room of my own?"
Rose replied, "Stay with me, Henry. I trust you, I trust you more than anyone else."
Henry smoothed back her hair and kissed chastely on the forehead. "Never forget that I love you, Rose. No matter what you decide." Then he took a blanket and a pillow and settled on the floor.
Conclusion
When the secretly newlywed couple returned to Pemberley there were naturally a lot of questions asked. Not only from the Tilneys and the Darcys, but also the Heightons, for regardless of what Rose requested in her note, Mr. Darcy had sent an express to their Townhouse the moment it was discovered. Many of the questions stemmed from the fact that everyone was almost certain that Rose had eloped with Sir Stephen Luhman. Henry's disappearance had, until then, been unexplained.
Henry coolly explained that they had run off to Scotland, merely to discover they wanted to be married in front of their family. Why they had ever eloped in the first place remained unexplained.
Neither set of parents had any opposition to the match, which was fortunate, for if the pair had run off together they must marry, in case their acquaintance got wind of it. The wedding was set for September 3rd.
Rose found her situation extremely awkward. She kept forgetting that she was actually married to Henry, and not just engaged. But it was clear that Henry never forgot. Every glance he sent her way seemed laden with meaning. Of course the happy betrothed were made the guests of honor of many a Derbyshire social function. Every time he took her arm to escort her into dinner, or to start the dancing the air between them crackled with electricity.
One night in particular struck her as exceptionally strange--equally terrible and wonderful. They were at a dinner hosted by the Lawsons, which was strange in itself, since Chatham Manor was the place she had met Sir Stephen. That gentleman's absence was explained by pressing business at his estate in Kent. Rose and Henry found themselves distancing themselves from the Lawsons who had committed the unforgivable crime of being his friend. They took in the sweet August air on a porch off of the drawing room, and then slipped into the gardens. Surrounded by rose bushes and the starry night sky, Rose found herself in the same places she had wandered with Sir Stephen, but this time it was Henry's face coming closer and closer. Rose closed her eyes and waited expectantly. Nothing happened. Rose opened her eyes and Henry was embarrassed, muttering unintelligibly. He took her back to the party and Rose was left privately exclaiming that she had never wanted Sir Stephen to kiss her as much as she had just wanted Henry to. This was a realization worth much pondering.
It was three weeks before the wedding when Rose successfully searched for Henry in the library, looking more excited than perhaps he had ever seen her.
"I have wonderful news!" she cried breathlessly as she ran through the door.
"And that is..." Henry prompted.
"I'm not-" she started with the same loud voice, then lowered it considerably, "expecting."
Henry was confused. "Expecting what?"
Rose lowered her voice even more, "You know, a baby."
"What?! How do you know?"
Rose blushed. "Women cycles" she muttered.
He blushed even more than she did. Women cycles were a strange and mysterious thing to him. Then the impact of her statement hit him. His expression turned gloomy. "Well, congratulations. I'll go write to my lawyer friend, and-"
"Why?" Rose interrupted.
"To annul our marriage."
He turned to leave, but Rose put out a hand to stop him. "Don't"
"You don't owe me anything, Rose. Don't feel obligated to go through with everything."
"I don't feel obligated. I want to be married to you."
"What?" Henry asked, scarcely daring to breath.
Rose, on the other hand, was breathing to fast. "Henry," she said softly, "when I left with Sir Stephen I was sure I was in love with him. When he left me, however, I realized I wasn't. When he left I really didn't think about Sir Stephen at all, I thought about how his actions affected me. I realized I didn't know how to love, yet. But I have had a very good teacher, and however young and naive it is, my heart is entirely yours."
"What are you saying?"
"I am saying that I love you, Henry Tilney, and will for the rest of my life."
Rose would have said more. She would have said that she didn't deserve him. She would have said he was the best man in the world, and she was the luckiest woman. But she couldn't, for Henry's first impulse was to sweep her up in his arms and kiss her, just like in a novel. And that's just what he did.
The End.