1x06: The Tenth Sister (1/3)
Title: The Tenth Sister
Author: millylicious
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Rose/Ten II
Summary: When the Doctor's plan for an anniversary celebration is ruined, his back-up plan leads them to meet with one of Rose's favorite authors. But celebration is the last thing on their mind when it becomes obvious that something is wrong - something that could threaten the life and sanity of everyone it crosses path with.
Author's notes: Thanks to shinyopals for all the help and to everyone who provided assistance and compassion. A bit of a scare, some humor and a pinch of romance.
Episode 6 of a virtual series at the_altverse , following The Stuff of Nightmares last week.
Virtual Series Masterlist
Darkness had spread all over London, the moon casting only a faint light on the city. The weather was cold and everyone had long since turned in for the night, even the majority of those who made their living during the dark hours. The penumbra spread to most of the windows, though some still remained lit, their occupants having let the candle run its course, with a very few still awake.
There was no one left in the streets to take notice of the quiet rumble that grew louder every minute. Over the dark water of the Thames, a light appeared, then another. Bubbles broke the surface at a quickened pace as more lights disrupted the darkness.
This, a few did take notice of.
One street down, a woman pushed aside the curtains and peered through the window. The sight that greeted her on the other side left a look of shock on her face. As far as she could tell, the Northern Lights were visible about the river, undulating in a succession of blue and soft pink. After a few more minutes, the colours dissipated, leaving only darkness. The woman allowed the curtains to fall, unsure of what she had seen, but not letting it trouble her. Sitting back at her writing desk, she took her quill and returned to her work.
Had she remained at her window just a few seconds longer, she might have seen something that would have left her a bit more troubled. Standing in the street directly below the window, a figure was looking up.
--
The Doctor had only told her two things. First, that she should get dressed for the early 1800's. Second, that she would simply love it. This was all he would let her know about his secret plans to celebrate their first wedding anniversary. Wandering back into the control room, she was still going through all the possibilities in her head while at the same time attempting to get the back of her dress fastened.
The Doctor was eagerly waiting by the door, rocking back and forth on his heels with his hands deep in his pockets. He was wearing a dark brown suit and she rolled her eyes when she caught a glimpse of it. Why of course, she had to dress up in the proper get up, but he was just going to go with his regular attire. “Can you do the back?”
He promptly filled her request, getting the buttons done quickly. She was about to turn around when she felt the heavy weight of fabric on her shoulders. Her hands reached up and she touched thick wool. He had draped a black coat over her shoulders.
“What's this, then?”
He grinned. “You'll need it! You'll see!”
She shrugged and fastened the coat. She would find out soon enough, so it was no use protesting. It was more fun going blind anyway. A second later, she questioned the veracity of that statement when he covered her eyes with his hands. “Doctor!”
His only response was a “shhh” and a gentle push to move forward. She heard the TARDIS doors swing open in front of her and she took a few tentative step. She trusted him, but she still wanted the assurance that she would not fall face first on pavement. A cold chill hit her and she suddenly understood just why he had put the coat on her.
“You’ll see, Rose! There’s skating and huts and you can even drink warm wine! You’ve never really seen the Thames until you’ve seen it like that!” he exclaimed before removing his hands from her eyes. “Welcome to the Frost Fair!”
Rose peered down at the black water. “Looks the same to me…”
“I… what?”
He paused, seemingly paying attention to the actual horizon and not just his mental image for the first time. It did not please him.
“It’s supposed to be frozen! 1812!” he said emphatically, arm extended to point at the very much unfrozen Thames. She pressed her lips together, trying her best not to laugh because that would only make him feel worse. It was no use; she burst out laughing when his eyes met hers. “It’s not funny! There are supposed to be people skating on the Thames and huts and warm wine!”
The more he protested, the more she had to fight to regain her composure. People gave them disapproving looks as they walked by, obviously of the opinion that Rose’s actions failed to meet with the standards of etiquette they were accustomed to.
“Excuse me!” the Doctor exclaimed, stopping an elderly couple in their tracks. The woman gasped, bringing one hand to her chest, and the man recoiled slightly as though frightened. “Would you happen to know why the Thames didn’t freeze this year?”
The man gave the Doctor a dubious look, then his eyes shifted to Rose.
“We heard so much about the Frost Fair,” she added helpfully.
“Frost Fair?” came the very confused response.
The Doctor appeared frozen in place, mouth slightly ajar. A moment later, his shoulders slumped and he sighed. The woman was already tugging on her husband’s arm, signalling to him that she would very much like to take her leave from the deranged couple now, please, if that was not too much of a bother. He gladly followed her lead.
“Alternate universe?” Rose offered, though she knew that was of little comfort to him.
He joined her by the railing, burying his face in his hands without bothering to answer.
“It’s fine, Doctor. We can just wander about, we don’t need to do anything special.”
She knew how touchy he was about getting things wrong because of the alternate universe and he had been especially excited about bringing her here.
“As long as we’re together, yeah?”
He glanced up at that and looked at though he was about to speak, when something behind her caught his attention. His face split in a wide grin and he took her hand in his.
“Rose Tyler, I promised you an anniversary celebration and you’ll get it. Mind me, you’ll even get a ball.”
She frowned. He wiggled his eyebrows.
One thing was certain, she loved this crazy, fantastic man.
---
The Doctor was feeling the bitter disappointment that had just invaded him fade quickly, pushed to the back of his mind by a renewed sense of excitement. He wasn't going to let their first wedding anniversary go by without celebrating it somehow. He had been planning to take Rose to the Frost Fair one day for weeks, even before they had known the TARDIS was ready, and this had felt like the perfect occasion. Not that he really wanted to plan too much ahead, but there might have been a few things he wanted to make absolutely sure to show her. Not really strict planning, just ideas.
Okay, so maybe he had something in his pocket that could perhaps constitute a list. A flexible one.
This new idea was even better, in his very humble opinion. He offered Rose his arm and she took it, the promise of adventure putting a twinkle in her eye. One finger pointing in the direction of a town house in front of them, he winked at her.
“How 'bout that ball, then?”
As far as he could tell by looking at her, a ball sounded very, very good. Rose had made sure to change into appropriate clothes after all, they could not possibly let that be for nothing.
Gaining entry was even easier than he had imagined. A few “we are acquaintances of the family” here, a few “have you not received our letters?” there and a heavy dose of “Doctor John Smith and his wife Rose” had them in the house in less than ten minutes.
--
Rose had to admit, watching the Doctor talk and network his way into the ball had been enjoyable, though nowhere near as much as being able to step inside and away from the cold. The crowd was dense, the house was warm and she was more than happy to be there. Running from aliens had no equal, but every now and then, some downtime was quite welcomed. In addition to all her desires for at least a short holiday, the house was simply stunning. The room they were led to had a high ceiling, with walls of a rich creamy colour.
“So, ball involves dancing, yeah?”
“As well as chit chat, games...”
“...but mostly dancing,” she concluded with a wink, taking his arm again after someone came to collect her coat. Her dress was not quite exactly of the same fashion as the ones she could see on the other women as she eyed the room, but she did not care. It would do and truth be told, she only really cared about enjoying her time here. Time was relative in the TARDIS, so she had not thought they would really celebrate their anniversary, but now she was rather pleased with the idea. Her mother would probably have something planned when they visited her next, but this time was theirs to have.
As it turned out, the Doctor appeared to be enjoying the dancing far more than she did. It all seemed like a too well rehearsed choreography she had skipped too many practises to. The Doctor, on the other hand, fit right in. He tried to explain the steps as they went, but she found herself bumping into quite a few shoulders.
“You're doing fantastic!” the Doctor told her when they came face to face again. She groaned, though she had to admit she was finally getting the hang of it. She only stepped on one other foot before the dance was over, after what felt like an eternity. When the Doctor asked her for another dance with a teasing smile, she poked his side.
“Oi! Show me some of that chit chatting instead”
“Regency era society is regulated by rules regarding acquaintances. You have to know someone who will introduce you to other people and then, you decide to...” the Doctor began, leading her away from the dancers. “...Hello, I'm the Doctor”
Rose had been so absorbed by the Doctor's explanation of the social etiquette of the time, she had not seen the woman come their way. She was middle-aged, with dark brown hair and very surprised. Rose was starting to suspect that was to be the general reaction to their presence. Except that in this woman's case, it was followed by a frown, not an air of false recognition like the people they had previously talked to.
“Oh. You must be Doctor Smith! I've... heard a lot about you. Mind you, most of it was tonight, I'm sorry to say I don't recall having made your acquaintance before.”
The woman's quick recovery appeared to please the Doctor greatly, except for one small detail.
“Just the Doctor.”
“And you are?” the woman continued as though she had not heard him or pretended not to, her focus shifting to Rose.
“Rose Tyler.”
“Tyler?” the woman repeated, the slight frown deepening.
“Yes.”
“Ah.”
“Ah?” Rose repeated, now also frowning. The woman's judgemental tone and complacent attitude were starting to annoy her to the point of retaliation.
“Forgive me, I assumed that Doctor Smith and you were married. Is that not a wedding band?”
“It's the Doctor...,” he started to protest, but neither Rose nor the older woman acknowledged him.
“Yes, it is and yes, we are,” Rose interrupted, the growing irritation evident in her tone.
“Then you are Rose Smith. Or he is Doctor Tyler.”
“It's just the ...” the Doctor began again, through halfheartedly this time.
“It's just the Doctor, and my name is Rose Tyler,” Rose cut him off, in a steady but authoritative voice. That was the voice she used on new Torchwood trainees to make them too afraid of skipping out on the job or to make the alien threats cower in fear. On the woman standing before them, it had seemingly no effect.
“Ah,” she repeated, her face devoid of emotion but her eyes sparkling. Rose realized that she was actually enjoying herself and it only made her angrier.
“AH,” Rose echoed sharply. She was growing agitated, though she knew she was only being childish. This was the regency era, this was polite society and these sorts of questions were to be expected. Still, there was something in the woman's tone and composure that led her to think that she was actually purposefully seeking confrontation. “And you are?”
“Jane. Jane Austen. It has been delightful to meet you, Doctor Smith and Rose Tyler,” the woman replied, insisting on both their names. “Now, if you'll please excuse me”
“It's just the...” the Doctor began, his voice drifting off as he gave up on the effort. His eyes followed Jane as she moved past him and then they went back to Rose. He found her standing as though stunned, mouth agape and staring at the place where the author had stood just a moment before.
“She was...” Rose began, staring blankly ahead, even though Jane had gone.
“I know! Jane Austen!” the Doctor interrupted excitedly and she knew that he was simply beaming with pure joy from the tone of his voice. A few more blinks and she turned to him, confirming her suspicions. He froze as he caught sight of her expression. The grin left his face and was replaced by a frown so quickly it would have been comical had she been in the proper mood. “What? What's wrong?”
“She was mean,” Rose finished. Again, the swift change of expression. Understanding washed over his features.
“Ah.”
She narrowed her eyes at him and he winced.
“Sorry,” he said, reaching to scratch the back of his neck. Fortunately for him, something caught Rose's eyes beyond his shoulder and seeing that she was no longer focusing on him, he turned to follow her gaze.
Jane had but reached the threshold of the room before she had been stopped by a small gathering of women. All were dressed in similar dresses and sported nearly identical hairstyles, making it difficult to tell them apart. Still, by the way she stood among the group and in her manner of addressing Jane, it was possible to tell which had more social standing. The others looked on with great interest as Jane and the blonde leader of the pack exchanged a few words. Rose and the Doctor watched as a look of confusion slowly settled on the woman's features, then was echoed in three other faces. Jane took leave of them and the women watched her go in silence, then turned to each other and giggled. Rose rolled her eyes. Some things never did change.
Between the moment they had decided to join the party and their dreadful turn on the dance floor, they had learned a few things. This was the town house of Isaac Edward Austen, where he lived most of the year with his twin daughters, Amelia and Clara. Though the name had been familiar -of course it had- the thought that they could be related to the author had never even occurred to her.
“It’s kind of brilliant though, don’t you think? I mean, here we are coming for the Frost Fair, which never happened here because there’s… well, no frost to speak of, and bang, Jane Austen,” the Doctor said behind her.
“What’s a Frost Fair?”
Clara was standing directly behind them, her hair immaculately pinned in an elaborate up-do. Two curls coming down on each side bounced almost comically as she looked from one to the other.
“It’s a …”
He turned to Rose for some kind of cue, but she only cocked an eyebrow at him. She was rather interested in seeing just how he would explain that one. He was usually a rather talented storyteller, but the simplest questions would sometimes throw him off and as far as she was concerned, those were the best times.
“… book, I’m considering writing. Really, all about the effects of the cold on the disposition of certain people.”
Clara stared.
“The details are very complex, I’m sure they wouldn’t interest you,” he sniffed, putting on his best airs.
Cara smiled and to Rose’s great surprise, then proceeded to clap excitedly.
“Oh, but what marvellous news! I was entertaining a thought of introducing you to my late mother’s sister, Mrs Shannon. You see, my poor aunt has been suffering terribly this winter and the last. Now I know that it must be fate, you arriving here tonight, before your letters even reached us!”
As she spoke, Cara took the Doctor’s arm and started dragging him away across the room. He blanched and turned to Rose, mouthing “Help Me”. Rose made a pout, as though pitying him, then waved. He frowned, but the crowd soon closed around him and shielded him from her vision.
The Doctor would be fine and anyway, she had other concerns. Her eyes scanning the crowd for familiar faces, she finally saw Jane sitting on a very uncomfortable-looking sofa. She was surrounded by a few women, none of which Rose recognized. Fine, it would not be the first time she had braved a pack of unknown girls. They could not really be scarier than a pack of dinosaurs, could they? Probably not by much, at any rate.
Taking a deep breath, she began a rather difficult trek through the crowd. She considered it no small victory that she had only been stopped twice by people interested in either her dress or her estate. When finally she reached her destination, there only remained two other women with Jane. Jane looked up as she approached and if she had not known any better, she could have sworn she had seen relief on the woman’s face.
“Ah! Mrs Brook and Miss Lucas, please allow me to introduce to you Mrs Rose Tyler. She is Doctor Smith’s wife. Please, do sit.”
Rose did just that, sitting down next to the woman she believed to be Mrs Brook. Her new neighbour turned kind eyes to her.
“Rose, this is Mrs Brook. She is an acquaintance of my cousins, come to visit here while her husband has been travelling… to Spain, was it?”
Jane’s boredom came through clearly as she spoke and it was obvious that she was doing the introductions more out of obligation than actual enjoyment.
“Italy, actually. I did plan to go with him, but the cold winter suits me best.”
Rose, who was just starting to feel her toes again, could not have disagreed more with the sentiment. She still smiled and nodded.
“And Miss Lucas. Charlotte was it? I’m sorry, I have such a terrible memory for names.”
Rose started a bit at that, which Jane appeared to notice though she made no comment. Like a majority of British girls, she had grown very familiar with the author’s novels. Though not her favourite, Pride and Prejudice had held a special place in her teenaged heart. Coming across a woman with the same name as one of the characters simply could not be just coincidence.
“I have heard a lot about your writing, Miss Austen,” Rose blurted out suddenly. Three pairs of eyes turned to her, all equally perplexed. Years of English lessons rushed through Rose’s mind as she tried to remember when Jane’s novels had first been published. 1811 for the first novel, she remembered. Published anonymously.
Oh.
Still, she had learned from the best teacher. She did a quick scan with her eyes, looking for a detail that she may use to her advantage.
“Your hands. I noticed the ink on them. And your cousins are very fond of you, truly, they are such a great source of information.”
“While I concede the second, I have to admire your perception skills. You are right, yes. I do write, though I would be surprised if you ever hear much of it in the future. The words do not come as easily as the ink stains, I’m afraid.”
Jane’s interest in Rose seemed to have increased tenfold.
“So you’re having trouble writing your novel’s ending?” Rose continued, supposing the novel to be well on its way since it was to be published the very same year.
“My, you seem to know even more than you let on, Mrs. Tyler. It’s always about the ending though, isn’t it? A bad effort can be saved if well served by a good ending, but the opposite is also true. The author never really knows how the reader wishes the book to end, so perhaps novels should have no endings and people should be free to imagine as they like.”
“I think people like good endings,” Rose said with a frown.
“But do things ever really end well?”
Jane’s words were followed by silence. Only two participants were truly involved and it was obvious the other two felt left out and out of depth. Mrs Brooks cleared her throat, placing her hand over Rose’s on the couch.
“I think we can allow our Jane one night without worrying her mind about her writing, can’t we? After all, who knows what inspiration new acquaintances may bring?”
--
The Doctor's eyes were still wide with horror when he rushed through the first door he came across. He had just heard enough about Mrs Shannon's gout to inspire a lifetime of nightmares and the old woman had seemed rather keen on also describing the terrible arthritic pain she was suffering from. After keeping his eyes on the door for a few moments to make sure no one had noted his escape and decided to follow him, he turned to look at his surroundings.
Dishes, pans, cupboards, stunned maid.
“Kitchen!”
The maid let out a small gasp when he spoke, then was silent. She could not have been more than sixteen, her features still childish though she stood too tall to be much younger. Her green eyes were fixed on him and she was clutching a plate against her chest. At once, she finally collected herself enough to attempt to speak “May I help you, sir?”
“No, no, no. No. I'm just...,” he said, hand waving about the room. When he couldn't think of anything to say, he opted for a question. “What's your name?”
“Aubrey, sir.”
“Aubrey? That's a rather uncommon name 'round these times.”
“Aubergine, sir. My mum fancied the word, said it sounded delicate. Bless her soul, I'd rather she not have named me after a vegetable,” the young servant said, then pulled a face at her last words. Suddenly, realization that she was talking to a guest and not someone of her social rank appeared to strike her again and she froze, eyes wide. “I'm sorry, sir.”
“It's a fruit,” the Doctor said, which in no way eased her distress, so he offered her a reassuring smile. “I think it's pretty”.
Colour rushed to her cheeks and she bowed her head, avoiding his gaze by busying herself with picking up dishes around the kitchen. She only looked up when he handed her a small stack of plates he had himself picked up from the table behind him. Awe settled in her features and she took it from him with far more gratefulness than was deserved.
“Have you been working here long, Aubrey?”
“Just 'bout a year, sir. I was still a girl when my dad died and not much older when my mum passed. I was very lucky to get this station.”
Before he could say anything, another woman entered the kitchen. Unlike Aubrey, the look on her face betrayed anger at finding him there, not surprise. From her clothes, he could tell she was the cook and from her tone of reproach, that she was very touchy about people coming into her kitchen. “This area is not for guests, sir.”
“Yes, I was just leaving, me. Only came to command Aubrey here on the excellent work she has been doing.”
The cook eyed him wearily, then looked at Aubrey. The teenager's lips formed a thin line, the upward turned corners betraying her. The cook narrowed her eyes at the maid, then spun on her heels and was out the way she came. Aubrey's laugh was crystalline and childlike, confirming his suspicions about her age. He grinned at her.
A second later, the laughter was gone. Aubrey's hands went up as she screamed, the plates toppling down and crashing loudly on the floor. The Doctor was by her side in an instant, taking hold of her arm and looking at her in the eyes. He could feel her shaking.
“What's wrong?”
“I thought... I thought...” the young maid said, looking down at the plates, then back at him. Next, she raised one shaky hand in front of her eyes to examine it, obviously confused. “I thought I saw spiders. On my hands…”
“Spiders?”
“I hate spiders. Just thinking about them makes my skin crawl, sir,” she explained, appearing a bit calmer. She bent down to start picking up the pieces and he helped, eyes sweeping the debris to find anything that might even remotely look like an arachnid. He was not quite certain why it made him so uneasy, after all people thought they saw something from the corner of their eye all the time, but the strength of Aubrey's reaction had troubled him. Once all the pieces were picked up, Aubrey thanked him and did a small curtsy before retiring to the room the cook had previously come from.
“Is he gone? That tall skinny guest who thinks he can just wander in the kitchen?” came a voice from the other side and the Doctor instantly abandoned any thought he had entertained about following Aubrey. Peeking out the door to make sure Mrs Shannon had gone, he made a swift escape.
--
Rose was still laughing at his misadventures when they were shown to the room the Austens had offered them for the night. He was still rather impressed that they had managed to pass themselves off as family without any help from the psychic paper. Every one had probably been a bit too embarrassed to admit that they did not remember Doctor Smith and his wife. Once or twice, Amelia had even come to them with a story about their first acquaintance.
“Oh, you probably need to remember that we were here two Christmases ago and that we planned on a French holiday after we leave here,” Rose said, hopping on the bed. The mattress was thick and she bounced a few times before finally settling.
“France?”
“What? It's fancy!”
Rose pulled her tongue at him and rather than the smile she probably expected, he gave her a look that he knew by her expression had made her heart do somersaults. For the first time in hours, he remembered why they had come here in the first place. Proper celebrating had to be attended to, after all. He had taken only one step in her direction when a knock on the door broke the silence, making him jump back as though burnt.
“Come on in.”
The Doctor’s eyes softened when he saw Aubrey come in. Heavy bundles of fabric were draped over her arm, so long that they were almost touching the ground. She looked even more nervous than she had when he had first surprised her in the kitchen. Upon seeing him, some tension left her shoulders, but he noted that her eyes kept going to the shadows.
“Sorry for coming in so late, sir. Miss Clara asked that these dresses be brought to you, because it appears that your trunks have not made it here. She thought your wife might be in want of something to wear on the morrow.”
Rose got to her feet, gladly taking the dresses from Aubrey’s shaking hands. The maid did a quick half-curtsy, obviously eager to leave, before doing just that.
“She seems nice,” Rose commented once Aubrey had gone, placing the dresses down on the chest at the end of their bed. Reaching behind her to undo the bodice of her dress, she grunted as she fruitlessly tried to reach for buttons. Without further prompting, he stepped behind her and began to undo her dress. At least, Rose had opted for a dress that gave all the appearance of having a corset without requiring her to wear one and she was soon free of the constraints of her dress.
“Very nice.”
His hand slid against the skin he had just bared and Rose chuckled.
“Are we still talking about the maid?”
Her laughter caught in her throat when he pressed his lips against the pulse point of her neck. If he had to pick one thing about Rose that he loved the most, that exact spot would be a strong contender. He had been confronted with his own humanity a few times and with hers more times than he liked to remember. At that exact spot, he could feel Rose’s heart beating - sometimes rather wildly as was the case now. He always thought the words so hard to find, and yet tonight they filled his mind, threatening to spill out at any second.
“When I said I wanted to spend my life with you, on the beach, I meant every word,” he whispered against her skin, his arms wrapping around her waist. He pulled her back flush against his chest and she covered his hands with hers over her stomach.
“I know.”
“Whatever happens, good or bad, I want every minute, every second.”
“I know,” she repeated, leaning her head back against his shoulder.
“But they are so few, Rose. I just hope that this…,” he continued, kissing her pulse point again. “… I hope this doesn’t stop beating too early, that it doesn’t cut our seconds short, because I’ll have been too careless.”
She spun in his arms, wrapping her own around him in a tight embrace. “Are you okay?”
He kissed the top of her head, then sighed. “Yeah. I’m just... tired?”
Rose pulled back, looking at him with a mocking grin on her face. He had almost sounded astounded at his own admission. “Is that just an excuse to get me into bed, Doctor?”
“Me? Never,” he said, then pulled her for a kiss. Truthfully, he really did feel tired - drained even. They had not had much rest in the last few days and as much as he hated it, he truly needed to sleep. Just one more quirk of being half-human he had yet to fully adapt to. “I am, though. Tired, I mean. Is that okay?”
“Well, I do take it as a great offence to my womanly wiles, but I think I’ll recover,” she answered, then smiled wide with her tongue caught between her teeth, making him ponder on how exhausted he really was.
Part 2
Author: millylicious
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Rose/Ten II
Summary: When the Doctor's plan for an anniversary celebration is ruined, his back-up plan leads them to meet with one of Rose's favorite authors. But celebration is the last thing on their mind when it becomes obvious that something is wrong - something that could threaten the life and sanity of everyone it crosses path with.
Author's notes: Thanks to shinyopals for all the help and to everyone who provided assistance and compassion. A bit of a scare, some humor and a pinch of romance.
Episode 6 of a virtual series at the_altverse , following The Stuff of Nightmares last week.
Virtual Series Masterlist
Darkness had spread all over London, the moon casting only a faint light on the city. The weather was cold and everyone had long since turned in for the night, even the majority of those who made their living during the dark hours. The penumbra spread to most of the windows, though some still remained lit, their occupants having let the candle run its course, with a very few still awake.
There was no one left in the streets to take notice of the quiet rumble that grew louder every minute. Over the dark water of the Thames, a light appeared, then another. Bubbles broke the surface at a quickened pace as more lights disrupted the darkness.
This, a few did take notice of.
One street down, a woman pushed aside the curtains and peered through the window. The sight that greeted her on the other side left a look of shock on her face. As far as she could tell, the Northern Lights were visible about the river, undulating in a succession of blue and soft pink. After a few more minutes, the colours dissipated, leaving only darkness. The woman allowed the curtains to fall, unsure of what she had seen, but not letting it trouble her. Sitting back at her writing desk, she took her quill and returned to her work.
Had she remained at her window just a few seconds longer, she might have seen something that would have left her a bit more troubled. Standing in the street directly below the window, a figure was looking up.
--
The Doctor had only told her two things. First, that she should get dressed for the early 1800's. Second, that she would simply love it. This was all he would let her know about his secret plans to celebrate their first wedding anniversary. Wandering back into the control room, she was still going through all the possibilities in her head while at the same time attempting to get the back of her dress fastened.
The Doctor was eagerly waiting by the door, rocking back and forth on his heels with his hands deep in his pockets. He was wearing a dark brown suit and she rolled her eyes when she caught a glimpse of it. Why of course, she had to dress up in the proper get up, but he was just going to go with his regular attire. “Can you do the back?”
He promptly filled her request, getting the buttons done quickly. She was about to turn around when she felt the heavy weight of fabric on her shoulders. Her hands reached up and she touched thick wool. He had draped a black coat over her shoulders.
“What's this, then?”
He grinned. “You'll need it! You'll see!”
She shrugged and fastened the coat. She would find out soon enough, so it was no use protesting. It was more fun going blind anyway. A second later, she questioned the veracity of that statement when he covered her eyes with his hands. “Doctor!”
His only response was a “shhh” and a gentle push to move forward. She heard the TARDIS doors swing open in front of her and she took a few tentative step. She trusted him, but she still wanted the assurance that she would not fall face first on pavement. A cold chill hit her and she suddenly understood just why he had put the coat on her.
“You’ll see, Rose! There’s skating and huts and you can even drink warm wine! You’ve never really seen the Thames until you’ve seen it like that!” he exclaimed before removing his hands from her eyes. “Welcome to the Frost Fair!”
Rose peered down at the black water. “Looks the same to me…”
“I… what?”
He paused, seemingly paying attention to the actual horizon and not just his mental image for the first time. It did not please him.
“It’s supposed to be frozen! 1812!” he said emphatically, arm extended to point at the very much unfrozen Thames. She pressed her lips together, trying her best not to laugh because that would only make him feel worse. It was no use; she burst out laughing when his eyes met hers. “It’s not funny! There are supposed to be people skating on the Thames and huts and warm wine!”
The more he protested, the more she had to fight to regain her composure. People gave them disapproving looks as they walked by, obviously of the opinion that Rose’s actions failed to meet with the standards of etiquette they were accustomed to.
“Excuse me!” the Doctor exclaimed, stopping an elderly couple in their tracks. The woman gasped, bringing one hand to her chest, and the man recoiled slightly as though frightened. “Would you happen to know why the Thames didn’t freeze this year?”
The man gave the Doctor a dubious look, then his eyes shifted to Rose.
“We heard so much about the Frost Fair,” she added helpfully.
“Frost Fair?” came the very confused response.
The Doctor appeared frozen in place, mouth slightly ajar. A moment later, his shoulders slumped and he sighed. The woman was already tugging on her husband’s arm, signalling to him that she would very much like to take her leave from the deranged couple now, please, if that was not too much of a bother. He gladly followed her lead.
“Alternate universe?” Rose offered, though she knew that was of little comfort to him.
He joined her by the railing, burying his face in his hands without bothering to answer.
“It’s fine, Doctor. We can just wander about, we don’t need to do anything special.”
She knew how touchy he was about getting things wrong because of the alternate universe and he had been especially excited about bringing her here.
“As long as we’re together, yeah?”
He glanced up at that and looked at though he was about to speak, when something behind her caught his attention. His face split in a wide grin and he took her hand in his.
“Rose Tyler, I promised you an anniversary celebration and you’ll get it. Mind me, you’ll even get a ball.”
She frowned. He wiggled his eyebrows.
One thing was certain, she loved this crazy, fantastic man.
---
The Doctor was feeling the bitter disappointment that had just invaded him fade quickly, pushed to the back of his mind by a renewed sense of excitement. He wasn't going to let their first wedding anniversary go by without celebrating it somehow. He had been planning to take Rose to the Frost Fair one day for weeks, even before they had known the TARDIS was ready, and this had felt like the perfect occasion. Not that he really wanted to plan too much ahead, but there might have been a few things he wanted to make absolutely sure to show her. Not really strict planning, just ideas.
Okay, so maybe he had something in his pocket that could perhaps constitute a list. A flexible one.
This new idea was even better, in his very humble opinion. He offered Rose his arm and she took it, the promise of adventure putting a twinkle in her eye. One finger pointing in the direction of a town house in front of them, he winked at her.
“How 'bout that ball, then?”
As far as he could tell by looking at her, a ball sounded very, very good. Rose had made sure to change into appropriate clothes after all, they could not possibly let that be for nothing.
Gaining entry was even easier than he had imagined. A few “we are acquaintances of the family” here, a few “have you not received our letters?” there and a heavy dose of “Doctor John Smith and his wife Rose” had them in the house in less than ten minutes.
--
Rose had to admit, watching the Doctor talk and network his way into the ball had been enjoyable, though nowhere near as much as being able to step inside and away from the cold. The crowd was dense, the house was warm and she was more than happy to be there. Running from aliens had no equal, but every now and then, some downtime was quite welcomed. In addition to all her desires for at least a short holiday, the house was simply stunning. The room they were led to had a high ceiling, with walls of a rich creamy colour.
“So, ball involves dancing, yeah?”
“As well as chit chat, games...”
“...but mostly dancing,” she concluded with a wink, taking his arm again after someone came to collect her coat. Her dress was not quite exactly of the same fashion as the ones she could see on the other women as she eyed the room, but she did not care. It would do and truth be told, she only really cared about enjoying her time here. Time was relative in the TARDIS, so she had not thought they would really celebrate their anniversary, but now she was rather pleased with the idea. Her mother would probably have something planned when they visited her next, but this time was theirs to have.
As it turned out, the Doctor appeared to be enjoying the dancing far more than she did. It all seemed like a too well rehearsed choreography she had skipped too many practises to. The Doctor, on the other hand, fit right in. He tried to explain the steps as they went, but she found herself bumping into quite a few shoulders.
“You're doing fantastic!” the Doctor told her when they came face to face again. She groaned, though she had to admit she was finally getting the hang of it. She only stepped on one other foot before the dance was over, after what felt like an eternity. When the Doctor asked her for another dance with a teasing smile, she poked his side.
“Oi! Show me some of that chit chatting instead”
“Regency era society is regulated by rules regarding acquaintances. You have to know someone who will introduce you to other people and then, you decide to...” the Doctor began, leading her away from the dancers. “...Hello, I'm the Doctor”
Rose had been so absorbed by the Doctor's explanation of the social etiquette of the time, she had not seen the woman come their way. She was middle-aged, with dark brown hair and very surprised. Rose was starting to suspect that was to be the general reaction to their presence. Except that in this woman's case, it was followed by a frown, not an air of false recognition like the people they had previously talked to.
“Oh. You must be Doctor Smith! I've... heard a lot about you. Mind you, most of it was tonight, I'm sorry to say I don't recall having made your acquaintance before.”
The woman's quick recovery appeared to please the Doctor greatly, except for one small detail.
“Just the Doctor.”
“And you are?” the woman continued as though she had not heard him or pretended not to, her focus shifting to Rose.
“Rose Tyler.”
“Tyler?” the woman repeated, the slight frown deepening.
“Yes.”
“Ah.”
“Ah?” Rose repeated, now also frowning. The woman's judgemental tone and complacent attitude were starting to annoy her to the point of retaliation.
“Forgive me, I assumed that Doctor Smith and you were married. Is that not a wedding band?”
“It's the Doctor...,” he started to protest, but neither Rose nor the older woman acknowledged him.
“Yes, it is and yes, we are,” Rose interrupted, the growing irritation evident in her tone.
“Then you are Rose Smith. Or he is Doctor Tyler.”
“It's just the ...” the Doctor began again, through halfheartedly this time.
“It's just the Doctor, and my name is Rose Tyler,” Rose cut him off, in a steady but authoritative voice. That was the voice she used on new Torchwood trainees to make them too afraid of skipping out on the job or to make the alien threats cower in fear. On the woman standing before them, it had seemingly no effect.
“Ah,” she repeated, her face devoid of emotion but her eyes sparkling. Rose realized that she was actually enjoying herself and it only made her angrier.
“AH,” Rose echoed sharply. She was growing agitated, though she knew she was only being childish. This was the regency era, this was polite society and these sorts of questions were to be expected. Still, there was something in the woman's tone and composure that led her to think that she was actually purposefully seeking confrontation. “And you are?”
“Jane. Jane Austen. It has been delightful to meet you, Doctor Smith and Rose Tyler,” the woman replied, insisting on both their names. “Now, if you'll please excuse me”
“It's just the...” the Doctor began, his voice drifting off as he gave up on the effort. His eyes followed Jane as she moved past him and then they went back to Rose. He found her standing as though stunned, mouth agape and staring at the place where the author had stood just a moment before.
“She was...” Rose began, staring blankly ahead, even though Jane had gone.
“I know! Jane Austen!” the Doctor interrupted excitedly and she knew that he was simply beaming with pure joy from the tone of his voice. A few more blinks and she turned to him, confirming her suspicions. He froze as he caught sight of her expression. The grin left his face and was replaced by a frown so quickly it would have been comical had she been in the proper mood. “What? What's wrong?”
“She was mean,” Rose finished. Again, the swift change of expression. Understanding washed over his features.
“Ah.”
She narrowed her eyes at him and he winced.
“Sorry,” he said, reaching to scratch the back of his neck. Fortunately for him, something caught Rose's eyes beyond his shoulder and seeing that she was no longer focusing on him, he turned to follow her gaze.
Jane had but reached the threshold of the room before she had been stopped by a small gathering of women. All were dressed in similar dresses and sported nearly identical hairstyles, making it difficult to tell them apart. Still, by the way she stood among the group and in her manner of addressing Jane, it was possible to tell which had more social standing. The others looked on with great interest as Jane and the blonde leader of the pack exchanged a few words. Rose and the Doctor watched as a look of confusion slowly settled on the woman's features, then was echoed in three other faces. Jane took leave of them and the women watched her go in silence, then turned to each other and giggled. Rose rolled her eyes. Some things never did change.
Between the moment they had decided to join the party and their dreadful turn on the dance floor, they had learned a few things. This was the town house of Isaac Edward Austen, where he lived most of the year with his twin daughters, Amelia and Clara. Though the name had been familiar -of course it had- the thought that they could be related to the author had never even occurred to her.
“It’s kind of brilliant though, don’t you think? I mean, here we are coming for the Frost Fair, which never happened here because there’s… well, no frost to speak of, and bang, Jane Austen,” the Doctor said behind her.
“What’s a Frost Fair?”
Clara was standing directly behind them, her hair immaculately pinned in an elaborate up-do. Two curls coming down on each side bounced almost comically as she looked from one to the other.
“It’s a …”
He turned to Rose for some kind of cue, but she only cocked an eyebrow at him. She was rather interested in seeing just how he would explain that one. He was usually a rather talented storyteller, but the simplest questions would sometimes throw him off and as far as she was concerned, those were the best times.
“… book, I’m considering writing. Really, all about the effects of the cold on the disposition of certain people.”
Clara stared.
“The details are very complex, I’m sure they wouldn’t interest you,” he sniffed, putting on his best airs.
Cara smiled and to Rose’s great surprise, then proceeded to clap excitedly.
“Oh, but what marvellous news! I was entertaining a thought of introducing you to my late mother’s sister, Mrs Shannon. You see, my poor aunt has been suffering terribly this winter and the last. Now I know that it must be fate, you arriving here tonight, before your letters even reached us!”
As she spoke, Cara took the Doctor’s arm and started dragging him away across the room. He blanched and turned to Rose, mouthing “Help Me”. Rose made a pout, as though pitying him, then waved. He frowned, but the crowd soon closed around him and shielded him from her vision.
The Doctor would be fine and anyway, she had other concerns. Her eyes scanning the crowd for familiar faces, she finally saw Jane sitting on a very uncomfortable-looking sofa. She was surrounded by a few women, none of which Rose recognized. Fine, it would not be the first time she had braved a pack of unknown girls. They could not really be scarier than a pack of dinosaurs, could they? Probably not by much, at any rate.
Taking a deep breath, she began a rather difficult trek through the crowd. She considered it no small victory that she had only been stopped twice by people interested in either her dress or her estate. When finally she reached her destination, there only remained two other women with Jane. Jane looked up as she approached and if she had not known any better, she could have sworn she had seen relief on the woman’s face.
“Ah! Mrs Brook and Miss Lucas, please allow me to introduce to you Mrs Rose Tyler. She is Doctor Smith’s wife. Please, do sit.”
Rose did just that, sitting down next to the woman she believed to be Mrs Brook. Her new neighbour turned kind eyes to her.
“Rose, this is Mrs Brook. She is an acquaintance of my cousins, come to visit here while her husband has been travelling… to Spain, was it?”
Jane’s boredom came through clearly as she spoke and it was obvious that she was doing the introductions more out of obligation than actual enjoyment.
“Italy, actually. I did plan to go with him, but the cold winter suits me best.”
Rose, who was just starting to feel her toes again, could not have disagreed more with the sentiment. She still smiled and nodded.
“And Miss Lucas. Charlotte was it? I’m sorry, I have such a terrible memory for names.”
Rose started a bit at that, which Jane appeared to notice though she made no comment. Like a majority of British girls, she had grown very familiar with the author’s novels. Though not her favourite, Pride and Prejudice had held a special place in her teenaged heart. Coming across a woman with the same name as one of the characters simply could not be just coincidence.
“I have heard a lot about your writing, Miss Austen,” Rose blurted out suddenly. Three pairs of eyes turned to her, all equally perplexed. Years of English lessons rushed through Rose’s mind as she tried to remember when Jane’s novels had first been published. 1811 for the first novel, she remembered. Published anonymously.
Oh.
Still, she had learned from the best teacher. She did a quick scan with her eyes, looking for a detail that she may use to her advantage.
“Your hands. I noticed the ink on them. And your cousins are very fond of you, truly, they are such a great source of information.”
“While I concede the second, I have to admire your perception skills. You are right, yes. I do write, though I would be surprised if you ever hear much of it in the future. The words do not come as easily as the ink stains, I’m afraid.”
Jane’s interest in Rose seemed to have increased tenfold.
“So you’re having trouble writing your novel’s ending?” Rose continued, supposing the novel to be well on its way since it was to be published the very same year.
“My, you seem to know even more than you let on, Mrs. Tyler. It’s always about the ending though, isn’t it? A bad effort can be saved if well served by a good ending, but the opposite is also true. The author never really knows how the reader wishes the book to end, so perhaps novels should have no endings and people should be free to imagine as they like.”
“I think people like good endings,” Rose said with a frown.
“But do things ever really end well?”
Jane’s words were followed by silence. Only two participants were truly involved and it was obvious the other two felt left out and out of depth. Mrs Brooks cleared her throat, placing her hand over Rose’s on the couch.
“I think we can allow our Jane one night without worrying her mind about her writing, can’t we? After all, who knows what inspiration new acquaintances may bring?”
--
The Doctor's eyes were still wide with horror when he rushed through the first door he came across. He had just heard enough about Mrs Shannon's gout to inspire a lifetime of nightmares and the old woman had seemed rather keen on also describing the terrible arthritic pain she was suffering from. After keeping his eyes on the door for a few moments to make sure no one had noted his escape and decided to follow him, he turned to look at his surroundings.
Dishes, pans, cupboards, stunned maid.
“Kitchen!”
The maid let out a small gasp when he spoke, then was silent. She could not have been more than sixteen, her features still childish though she stood too tall to be much younger. Her green eyes were fixed on him and she was clutching a plate against her chest. At once, she finally collected herself enough to attempt to speak “May I help you, sir?”
“No, no, no. No. I'm just...,” he said, hand waving about the room. When he couldn't think of anything to say, he opted for a question. “What's your name?”
“Aubrey, sir.”
“Aubrey? That's a rather uncommon name 'round these times.”
“Aubergine, sir. My mum fancied the word, said it sounded delicate. Bless her soul, I'd rather she not have named me after a vegetable,” the young servant said, then pulled a face at her last words. Suddenly, realization that she was talking to a guest and not someone of her social rank appeared to strike her again and she froze, eyes wide. “I'm sorry, sir.”
“It's a fruit,” the Doctor said, which in no way eased her distress, so he offered her a reassuring smile. “I think it's pretty”.
Colour rushed to her cheeks and she bowed her head, avoiding his gaze by busying herself with picking up dishes around the kitchen. She only looked up when he handed her a small stack of plates he had himself picked up from the table behind him. Awe settled in her features and she took it from him with far more gratefulness than was deserved.
“Have you been working here long, Aubrey?”
“Just 'bout a year, sir. I was still a girl when my dad died and not much older when my mum passed. I was very lucky to get this station.”
Before he could say anything, another woman entered the kitchen. Unlike Aubrey, the look on her face betrayed anger at finding him there, not surprise. From her clothes, he could tell she was the cook and from her tone of reproach, that she was very touchy about people coming into her kitchen. “This area is not for guests, sir.”
“Yes, I was just leaving, me. Only came to command Aubrey here on the excellent work she has been doing.”
The cook eyed him wearily, then looked at Aubrey. The teenager's lips formed a thin line, the upward turned corners betraying her. The cook narrowed her eyes at the maid, then spun on her heels and was out the way she came. Aubrey's laugh was crystalline and childlike, confirming his suspicions about her age. He grinned at her.
A second later, the laughter was gone. Aubrey's hands went up as she screamed, the plates toppling down and crashing loudly on the floor. The Doctor was by her side in an instant, taking hold of her arm and looking at her in the eyes. He could feel her shaking.
“What's wrong?”
“I thought... I thought...” the young maid said, looking down at the plates, then back at him. Next, she raised one shaky hand in front of her eyes to examine it, obviously confused. “I thought I saw spiders. On my hands…”
“Spiders?”
“I hate spiders. Just thinking about them makes my skin crawl, sir,” she explained, appearing a bit calmer. She bent down to start picking up the pieces and he helped, eyes sweeping the debris to find anything that might even remotely look like an arachnid. He was not quite certain why it made him so uneasy, after all people thought they saw something from the corner of their eye all the time, but the strength of Aubrey's reaction had troubled him. Once all the pieces were picked up, Aubrey thanked him and did a small curtsy before retiring to the room the cook had previously come from.
“Is he gone? That tall skinny guest who thinks he can just wander in the kitchen?” came a voice from the other side and the Doctor instantly abandoned any thought he had entertained about following Aubrey. Peeking out the door to make sure Mrs Shannon had gone, he made a swift escape.
--
Rose was still laughing at his misadventures when they were shown to the room the Austens had offered them for the night. He was still rather impressed that they had managed to pass themselves off as family without any help from the psychic paper. Every one had probably been a bit too embarrassed to admit that they did not remember Doctor Smith and his wife. Once or twice, Amelia had even come to them with a story about their first acquaintance.
“Oh, you probably need to remember that we were here two Christmases ago and that we planned on a French holiday after we leave here,” Rose said, hopping on the bed. The mattress was thick and she bounced a few times before finally settling.
“France?”
“What? It's fancy!”
Rose pulled her tongue at him and rather than the smile she probably expected, he gave her a look that he knew by her expression had made her heart do somersaults. For the first time in hours, he remembered why they had come here in the first place. Proper celebrating had to be attended to, after all. He had taken only one step in her direction when a knock on the door broke the silence, making him jump back as though burnt.
“Come on in.”
The Doctor’s eyes softened when he saw Aubrey come in. Heavy bundles of fabric were draped over her arm, so long that they were almost touching the ground. She looked even more nervous than she had when he had first surprised her in the kitchen. Upon seeing him, some tension left her shoulders, but he noted that her eyes kept going to the shadows.
“Sorry for coming in so late, sir. Miss Clara asked that these dresses be brought to you, because it appears that your trunks have not made it here. She thought your wife might be in want of something to wear on the morrow.”
Rose got to her feet, gladly taking the dresses from Aubrey’s shaking hands. The maid did a quick half-curtsy, obviously eager to leave, before doing just that.
“She seems nice,” Rose commented once Aubrey had gone, placing the dresses down on the chest at the end of their bed. Reaching behind her to undo the bodice of her dress, she grunted as she fruitlessly tried to reach for buttons. Without further prompting, he stepped behind her and began to undo her dress. At least, Rose had opted for a dress that gave all the appearance of having a corset without requiring her to wear one and she was soon free of the constraints of her dress.
“Very nice.”
His hand slid against the skin he had just bared and Rose chuckled.
“Are we still talking about the maid?”
Her laughter caught in her throat when he pressed his lips against the pulse point of her neck. If he had to pick one thing about Rose that he loved the most, that exact spot would be a strong contender. He had been confronted with his own humanity a few times and with hers more times than he liked to remember. At that exact spot, he could feel Rose’s heart beating - sometimes rather wildly as was the case now. He always thought the words so hard to find, and yet tonight they filled his mind, threatening to spill out at any second.
“When I said I wanted to spend my life with you, on the beach, I meant every word,” he whispered against her skin, his arms wrapping around her waist. He pulled her back flush against his chest and she covered his hands with hers over her stomach.
“I know.”
“Whatever happens, good or bad, I want every minute, every second.”
“I know,” she repeated, leaning her head back against his shoulder.
“But they are so few, Rose. I just hope that this…,” he continued, kissing her pulse point again. “… I hope this doesn’t stop beating too early, that it doesn’t cut our seconds short, because I’ll have been too careless.”
She spun in his arms, wrapping her own around him in a tight embrace. “Are you okay?”
He kissed the top of her head, then sighed. “Yeah. I’m just... tired?”
Rose pulled back, looking at him with a mocking grin on her face. He had almost sounded astounded at his own admission. “Is that just an excuse to get me into bed, Doctor?”
“Me? Never,” he said, then pulled her for a kiss. Truthfully, he really did feel tired - drained even. They had not had much rest in the last few days and as much as he hated it, he truly needed to sleep. Just one more quirk of being half-human he had yet to fully adapt to. “I am, though. Tired, I mean. Is that okay?”
“Well, I do take it as a great offence to my womanly wiles, but I think I’ll recover,” she answered, then smiled wide with her tongue caught between her teeth, making him ponder on how exhausted he really was.
Part 2