I was awakened by the bitter welcome of the frozen morning while my cold limbs ached in their attempt to reach Oxford University.

Not that England was the epitome of warmth. But it was autumn, not the middle of winter for God sakes. Could a man not request for a bit of sunshine, now and then between the gloomy skies.

I looked up to the heavens expectantly, hopping for the golden rays of the sun. Only to meet.

Nothing.

But stoic white and livid grey.

Alright I thought, feeling rather optimistic as I saw the grand sandstone building appear before me, How about a hint of blue.

Again nothing.

Now becoming rather desperate I hoped for anything, anything at all, that separated itself from the endless fog of murky white.

Nothing.

I sighed in defeat evidently my request had fell short in its transcendence to the higher powers, or more than likely, rejected upon its arrival.

It seemed even the Lord held grudges. He never had forgiven me for nicking that elderly gentleman's fob watch in my adventurous if not somewhat troubled youth.

What could I say I was a thief? While my career was short. Granted only a pocket watch. However despite that minor detail I had acquired a name for myself, the unseen man. Because I was so stealthy he only saw the Fob Watches golden chain hanging uselessly from his coat.

Mischief was my only real source of entertainment you see. And besides he could barely even read the thing let alone use it, so really in an unprincipled way I did him a favour.

The man upstairs however refused to see it that way, so unsurprisingly the sky remained as motionless as stone. Painted with a frigid expression, stormy clouds only differed by a darker shade of grey.

Oh well I supposed, wandering into the quiet hallway.

Then something caught my eye, to be more accurate someone.

A woman. Adorned in red, wandered past me into the open grounds.

I was shocked. Surely she must be one of the professor's wives or even one the students. For women rarely ventured inside Oxfords walls.

But she did not have the air of a married women, she held herself with such confidence that told you she belonged to no one but herself. And dared anyone to argue. A rare quality in a woman.

Blonde curls cascaded down her back as she made her way towards the old oak tree, book clasped firmly in her hands and a determined expression etched upon her beautiful face that spoke of intelligence beyond her years.

Although the dress hardly went unnoticed as many of the young and old gentlemen's heads were turned with the same shock as I was sure my own face bared. But it was not her attire that instigated such a commotion. It was the simple fact that she was a woman. One who it seemed to have had taken it upon herself to study not French needlepoint or the fine art of gossip in which ladies seemed to fancy. But higher pursuits of the mind. At Oxford no less. One of the most established Universities in the world.

It was astonishing. It was a scandal.

Things were going to become very interesting indeed.

My eyes tracked her progress as she made her way towards the oak tree as Classes had not yet began. I heard the men gossiping in her wake with a combination of shock, hostility and unreserved distaste.

"A women cannot study here it's ….. Why it's unconventional"

"I concur"

"It's a disgrace"

"The board can't be serious in letting a woman study here at oxford"

"I heard that her father managed to convince them to let her attend classes"

"This is an outrage"

I was sure the she heard them but simply gave no credence to their words. She passed them with a grace that all women could only hope to achieve and would envy to possess.

Every man seemed to have the same reaction, hostility that devolved into mockery. An outlandish notion that quickly became contagious amongst the studious and morons alike. Like a disease it spread deadly and incurable. Infecting all.

However I admired the lass for going against the establishment, she was bolder then I. Bolder then most.

She was not quite alone in that category. As a particular student also shared a similar situation. A man who was not as scandalous as the women, still entertained ridicule in his own right.

A foreigner.

You could tell that merely from his temperament, let alone his Accent and he was damn well proud of it too. His name I recalled was Tesla. Nikola Tesla. Brilliant but his arrogance could drive you to the brink of insanity. He possessed no tact in the fragile art of conversation and seemed to believe quite strongly in equality. He disrespected everyone equally.

But to my utter surprise neither a sneer nor an unkind remark uttered from his sharp tongue. As she approached the tree where he was sitting feeding those horrid pigeons. It seemed that the birds were the only thing he related to, or showed any compassion for. But perhaps I wondered he may find another. Moving out towards the gardens to my usual spot near the roses I watched them from behind the almost strategically placed rose bush.

He looked at her with unguarded awe, an expression I had yet to have seen another person evoke from him.

I smiled it seemed that beauty had met the beast. And the beast didn't know what to think of her. Come to think of it we all didn't.