Year: 1795
"Be brave." That's what her mother told her to be, but the fact is she can't be, not now, probably never again. The fact of the matter is her mother was ripped away from her, not even the best Doctor from the town could save her. Hoping and praying did not do much to help either and in all honesty she lost faith, in God, in her father and in herself. She had never felt so small, so insignificant, so she ran. She ran as fast as her little legs could carry her, away from the ridiculously large house that now felt emptier than ever and a lot less like home.
Perhaps it was childish running away. However, she was still a child herself who had just had her entire life turned upside down. The shining light that was her mother was suddenly and cruelly put out, leaving the young Clara Oswald shrouded in a darkness from which she felt she could never escape. Clara stumbled blindly through the seemingly never ending gardens, tears blurring her vision, nightgown trailing in the dirt, stained brown and green in places from where she had fell onto the grass. Her feet were red raw and stinging, but she no longer cared for in that moment the pain in her heart ripped through anything else she could possibly feel.
Clara's world was shattered, so much so that she thought it would never be right again. The complexities of so many emotions hitting her at once, sadness, confusion, anger , but then came the unmistakeable emptiness from losing an irreplaceable loved one. This plethora of emotions was too much for the 10 year old Miss Clara to handle, she could no longer be strong, so she broke. Clara feels this so deeply because she was forced to grow up, she had to be responsible according to her father. Her father despised anything less than the height of maturity as he would say "snivelling young children. I do not care for immaturity in my manor.' So Clara became far more grown up than she should be for a 10 year old, this combined with her undeniable intelligence made her fully understand the extent at which the untimely death of her mother would truly affect her life. For her mother was her chance to be a child, play as a child should, have fun as a child should, she hated that Clara's father denied her a childhood. Eleanor hated that her beautiful daughter with a breathtaking smile and musical laugh, had to hide herself from her overbearing father that saw it fit to punish Clara if she so much as put a toe out of line. Of course, Clara now realised her childhood was over, what little she had of it anyway. Now, in the eyes of her father, she was a young lady albeit in a miniature form for she had always been small. She hated him for that.
"Where is the child?" The Lord of the manor, David Oswald bellowed.
"She left the manor my Lord. Miss Clara went into the gardens." Charlotte, Clara's own maid, answered. Charlotte was almost as close to Clara as the late Lady Eleanor was, even though Charlotte was young herself, only reaching the age of 25 a month previous to the horrific events of this evening. Unfortunately, no matter how hard she would try, Charlotte would never be able to tell Clara to just pick her head up, throw her shoulders back and carry on as normal, because she knew just how much the little girl she had come to love as much as little sister, adored her mother. She knew what Lord Oswald was asking of his daughter was impossible and she did not condemn Clara for struggling with the overwhelming emotions that followed her mother's death. It broke Charlotte's heart to see those usually happy big brown eyes so empty. She had always believed that a person's eyes were a window to the soul and from looking at Clara's eyes, she knew her soul was broken.
"Well what on Earth is she doing out there? She is dressed improperly, the stupid girl. Someone is to fetch her at once!" Lord Oswald ordered.
Inconsiderate fool "With all due respect my Lord, Miss Clara has just lost her mother." Charlotte ground out, although The Lord failed to notice her tone, he did however, notice her challenge.
"With all due respect Miss Lockhart, you will no longer have a place in this household if you challenge me again." He forced out through gritted teeth, pointing an accusing finger in her face. He swiftly turned sharply to the butler "Dennison. Send out a search party at once. If that wayward daughter of mine is not found within two hours, she will have a lot to answer to."
"Yes, my Lord, right away." Dennison answered. The Lord of manor nodded is head sharply once and strode proudly out of the room, grumbling things that sounded very much like 'pathetic child' and 'out of control' as he went.
Dennison and Charlotte stood silently,watching the the door through which Lord Oswald had left until they heard the loud slam of his study door. "That man!" Charlotte exclaimed "Doesn't he have any sympathy?"
"I sometimes doubt that he is capable of feeling" Dennison replied "Although I think the death of his wife has affected him more deeply than he would care to admit."
"Yet he treats Clara just the same as always, if not harsher." Charlotte mumbled.
"I do pity the child. Her father has never even attempted to understand her." Dennison agreed. "Now, we must find her before it becomes too dark, there is already a chill in the air. I'll order the grooms to look around the estate, you inform the other maids that Miss Clara is missing and get them to search the house just in case she has returned."
Charlotte acknowledged this with a nod and hurried towards the servant's quarters, so she could wait for Clara to return at the main entrance. Admittedly, Charlotte was worried for her and she was wringing her hands repeatedly whilst making her way to the bottom of the house.
Mr Dennison was a well-set man. He was the kind of man to demand obedience just from his mere presence. However, he could never be mistaken as a horrible man, he was never a cruel man and would do all he could for anyone in whatever way he could. It could definitely be said he was a father figure to the staff at Chatham Manor and thus gained the respect of all members of staff, it would be very rare to find a single man, woman or child that would not immediately carry out his requests.
When Mr Dennison finally reached the stable block that was casting a dim, yellow glow across the cobblestones he called for the stable master. The stable master was rather plain looking man which greatly contrasted his colourful personality. He filled a room with happiness and joy as soon as he entered and was immediately lived by those who were fortunate to have met him. "Mr Mills!" Dennison called with unmistakeable apprehension in his voice, "Mr Mills. This matter is of the utmost importance, I am in need of your assistance immediately."
"What's going on Dennison? What could possibly be so urgent at this time of night?" Questioned the usually cheerful voice of Thomas Mills, but was at that moment of time, laced with worry as he appeared from around a corner.
"It's Miss Clara, she is missing. The poor child ran into the estate garden in hysterics."
"What ever for?" Mills asked.
"Lady Eleanor passed away this evening, the poor girl lost her mother." Replied Dennison. "We must find her at once. Send all your grooms around the estate, use the horses if need be, there is an unmistakeable chill in the air."
"Right away Dennison," Mills agreed solemnly "if Miss Clara is out there much longer, she will do herself harm." He paused before calling out: "John?"
"Yes sir" came the reply.
"Ah Mr Smith, I need you to go to the estate gardens and find Miss Clara before it becomes too dark. The rest of the boys and I will search the woods. Can you do that for me?"
"Of course Sir." The young boy said with a look of severe determination crossing his features. John Smith quickly turned in the direction of the gardens, but rather suddenly turned back, brown hair falling into his moss green eyes and asked "but Sir, how do I know I've found her?"
"She is probably crying." Answered Dennison.
"Right. Crying. Got it." Both men chuckled at John Smith's grimace.
Clara didn't realise where her legs were carrying her until she actually reached the secluded corner of the gardens that was her mother's favourite place to sit and tell her stories about the world. This was where Clara and her mother would talk of far off places and dream of the journeys they could go on together. Only now, that was never going to happen. Clara no longer has a mother, only a father whose main interest is propriety and keeping up appearances. With these thoughts came a new wave of sadness, Clara made her way around the pond that was now beginning to reflect the sunset towards the trailing branches of the silver tinted willow trees. She sat beneath the branches, cool breeze tickling her cheeks and drying the remains of her tear tracks. There was no more crying, just quiet sniffling mingling with the songs of the birds and insects, creating a chorus that made Clara forget just for a moment the pain in her heart.
"Miss Clara?" A stranger's voice called. Clara's head snapped towards the direction of the voice, she stood up abruptly and rushed to hide behind the trunk of the willow tree. "Miss Clara? Are you there?"
Clara peered out from behind the tree trunk catching a glimpse of a figure shrouded in shadow. She studied the shape for a moment, coming to the conclusion that this figure was a young boy, not much older than herself with rather gangly limbs. The boy scanned the area and his eyes must have found Clara's form for he called out in triumph "Ah! There you are!" The boy waved cheerfully at her. When she didn't return his wave, he stood awkwardly for a moment before clasping his hands together suddenly and asking "Well are you coming or not?"
"I'm not going anywhere with a strange boy that I don't know. I'm not stupid." Clara replied, tilting her chin upwards.
"Excuse me, I'm not strange!" The boy's voice had risen a few octaves in indignation. "I think you'll find, my lady, that I am unique." He threw in a clumsy bow for good measure.
Despite herself, Clara giggled slightly and stepped out from behind the tree and she finally got full view of his profile and discovered that this peculiar boy had a rather prominent chin. "What are you doing here Chin Boy?"
"Looking for you of course." He paused for a moment "Oi! What is wrong with my chin?" He cried grasping at his chin. When he looked towards her smiling face he huffed in mock annoyance.
"Why are you looking for me? Did my father send you?"
"Well your father didn't send me directly, Mr Dennison told Mr Mills to send out a search party, so ta da!" He explained gesturing to himself.
"You're silly."
"What's wrong with silly?"
"Nothing. I'm still talking to you aren't I?" Clara teased with a crooked smile.
"You know Miss Clara, you should probably go back inside. It's getting a bit cold out don't you think?"
"I am not going back there." She protested "I'm not cold either."
John Smith looked at Clara sceptically, only to catch her eye as she glanced at him from the corner of her eye as she shivered. "Well if you're going to stay out here you may as well keep warm." He began to unbutton his coat.
"What are you doing?" Clara immediately covered her eyes.
"I'm just giving you my coat. It's the gentlemanly thing to do isn't it? I may not be a gentleman Miss, but I have manners I'll have you know." He declared proudly, holding out his coat towards Clara.
She took the coat timidly and whispered "I think you would make a very fine gentleman." At this John blushed profusely and scuffed his shoe in the dirt. "You made me feel better."
"Well it has been said that I make everything better." John chuckled. He offered his hand to Clara and she took it daintily, pulling herself up. "Come on Miss lets get you back inside, you look tired." John ensured that his coat was secure around the young girls shoulders and began to lead her towards the manor house, this time Clara didn't protest.
"How old are you?" Clara asked.
"I'm 12, Miss."
"I didn't ask you for your name, that was very rude of me, I'm sorry."
"It's ok, Miss. My name is John Smith."
"Oh, well that's not very exciting is it?"
"It isn't is it? I think it's very dull." John agreed.
"I am going to call you Doctor." Clara stated with a finality.
"Why?"
"You made things better, you fixed my sadness, even if it was just for a little while." Clara smiled at him sadly and went silent, continuing towards the house in quiet contemplation.
John Smith, decided that he liked to be called the Doctor, his heart swelled when Clara said he had made her feel better. That's what he liked to do, fix things, make things better for people even if it was only a small difference. The name 'Doctor' stayed with John Smith for many years, he only allowed Clara to call him that. It became a promise to Clara and over time their relationship grew stronger and soon they became virtually inseparable.
A/N: This idea has been in my head for ages and I've finally got the time to actually make it into something (hopefully something good).
So the idea came from watching Death Comes to Pemberley, which Jenna was absolutely amazing in. I normally don't like Lydia as a character, but Jenna brought the comedy to her which I absolutely loved. This means that Clara may be slightly out of character in this AU as she is part of late 1700s and early 1800s upper class society, whereas the doctor is very much working class. So from the very beginning there is already a challenge for them although theydon't necessarily see it as they are children when they meet. Of course Clara's father doesn't approve and again Dave is out of character for this AU just for the purpose of the story.
I hope you all like it and feel free to leave a review about the good and the bad points.
-windowacrosstime
