milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Jane had gone home and worried that her mother or Cassandra would wonder about the bandage on her neck but Dr. Cullen did a good job and no one noticed.

Though she found her dreams were slightly richer as if there was something strange and full of passion inside her. She would wake up and try to write them but they slipped from her hand like the morning fog.

When a door to Milliways appeared, she at first hesitated but then went through to order a pot of tea and keep trying to write what she could not quite grasp.

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"I would be grateful for some more tea, thank you. You could perhaps tell me about yourself, Miss Warner."

She requests the tea, grateful that Bar seems to know just what Jane had been drinking earlier, and a second cup appears for Kate.

"There's not a lot to tell, I'm afraid," she says with a small smile, pulling her steaming mug closer. "I'm from Los Angeles, California, and it's 2005 for me."

"Might I ask what you do? Since it seems that most women from later dates than myself have fascinating lives."

"Of course, I don't mind. But it's not really that fascinating," she adds, breathing a quiet laugh.

"I'm in finance -- I work for my dad's investment company. I'm pretty much a glorified accountant; I manage client accounts and oversee our in-house expenses."

"Is it something that you enjoy?"

"I do," she says with a nod, ignoring the twist in her stomach that reminds her just how long it's been since she's been home.

"And I get to travel quite a bit -- we have offices in several countries, so it definitely has its perks."

"That does sound rather wonderful and your father must trust you greatly to put you in such a position."

"He's a good man -- a good businessman, too. He's taught me a lot."

"How wonderful. My own father tries his best but I fear at times there are too many women in the house against him except when my brothers are back."

Stirring honey in her tea, she looks up and smiles.

"Tell me about your family, Miss Austen."

"My older brother Henry is in the army and making quite a name for himself. My sister Cassandra is truly my greatest friend and engaged to quite a charming young man."

"Sisters can be good like that," she says, her smile softening as she remembers how close she and Marie once were.

"Do you have more siblings, too?"

"Yes, my father always worries how he will manage as does my mother. Though her worry is more that we will not marry well enough."

She lifts her tea, the cup pausing halfway to her lips.

"I think those worries are universal, no matter what century it is."

"I fear that is true though I believe that you have more of a chance to follow your own happiness than I do."

Kate puts the cup down, forgetting her tea entirely for the moment.

"Society has changed by 2005, at least a little."

(Though the cutthroat world of international finance is still a boys club, one that gives Kate more headaches than she cares to admit at times.)

"But, Miss Austen, you're a writer. Your pen and your notebook -- "

Her eyes flick to the Moleskine, then back to Jane.

"Those are things no one can take from you."

"I do know that but I fear that they will never be enough to support me. Though I will not marry if not for love no matter what my mother might say."

"Without ruining anything for you, I can tell you that you and your pen should do really well for yourselves," she says with a small smile.

"Do you and your mom argue a lot about marriage?"

"Quite a lot, yes though it has been slightly less since Cassandra became engaged."

She smiles through another hollow pang behind her ribs.

"That's wonderful news -- congratulations to her. I helped plan my little sister's wedding; they can be a lot of work."

"Sadly her wedding must wait until her fiancee returns from the Dominicans where he has gone to make his fortune."

"Oh, wow."

A trip like that would probably take weeks -- even months -- in Jane's time, she thinks.

"How long has he been away?"

"A few months now and Cassandra keeps receiving wonderful letters from him."

"God, that's romantic."

A beat.

"Do you like him?"

"It is rather and yes, I do. Though what counts is that he makes her happy. I wrote them a poem when they became betrothed, it was perhaps not my finest work but they enjoyed it."

Tom did not but he doesn't matter though Jane misses having him to talk to here.