A/N: I wanted to have a go at writing an AU rizzles story, and although this wasn't my original plan, 19th century Boston just sounded so cool.
Let me know what you think about the concept. Any feedback would be awesome! Hope you like it :)
Maura stepped gracefully off the boat, both hands lifting the hem of her skirt. Frenzied sounds of activity bustled around her and she breathed deeply, noting the slightly briny tang in the air. Gulls called overhead as she eyed her new surroundings and her new home – the famous city of Boston. As the shouts of the mariners rang out, Maura's mind revelled in the thoughts of the Sons of Liberty throwing crate after crate of British tea into the waves below. She was in the birth place of the American Revolution and she couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement. Composing her features, she demurely moved to the side so several sailors could disembark behind her, carrying her trunks and boxes. Careful consideration was given to the handling of Bass's cage, which was loaded gently on to the top of the carriage waiting by the quayside along with the rest of her luggage. A small gaggle of children had paused to point at the tortoise and she shot them a quizzical look. It was as if they had never seen a creature like it before. She opened her mouth to inform them it was merely a giant variety of the Geochelone sulcata, originating in Northern Africa on the Southern edge of the Sahara desert, but was distracted when one of the men cleared his throat loudly.
"That's the last of your things miss."
"Ah," Maura nodded her head and reached into her purse to pull out a coin, which she promptly handed over. "Thank you for your assistance, it was most appreciated." She gave him a polite smile and turned to the carriage.
"Not from around these parts eh miss?" replied the sailor quickly, giving her a wide grin.
Maura's head tilted slightly to the side and a small puzzled expression flitted across her face. Social cues had never been her strong point and she was confused by the sailor's sudden attempt at friendliness.
"No, I've spent most of my life in Europe. England and France mainly," she offered, making her way towards the coach. The sailor immediately fell into step beside her, "but I've visited many of the most culturally significant parts of Italy, Spain and Greece as well."
"Wow," he said, rubbing his hands together, "Not only mighty pretty, but mighty well travelled too..."
Suddenly the sailor's intentions were all too clear and Maura was caught off guard by the boldness of his words. She found herself stopping to stare at him, eyes wide. His blunt and unrefined manner of speech, mixed with the heavy local accent was unlike anything she'd heard before. She knew she was an attractive woman – many people had told her so and she had no reason to doubt them; she even purposefully dressed in the latest fashions to accentuate her best features – but never had she been addressed with such audacity. Tries for her affections were often hidden behind much more delicate phrases…
When she didn't reply the man gave her a slow wink and stepped in front of her to open the door to her coach. Maura felt the colour rise to her cheeks.
"So what brings you to Boston then?" he asked, offering his arm for support. Maura carefully avoided it as she grasped the wooden frame to pull herself up onto the plush red seat. Smoothing her skirts she composed herself.
"I came here to dissect bodies," she replied, slowly meeting the young sailor's eye.
It was his turn to pause.
"I'll be doing other things as well such as setting bones and wrapping bandages I suppose... Then of course there will be surgeries and amputations. Administering medicines as well… My main area of interest is autopsy though..."
Maura noticed the colour drain from the young man's cheeks as she spoke.
"I'm attending the Boston Female Medical School," she explained with a smile, hoping to clear up any confusion.
The man merely nodded and started to edge towards the ship.
"Have you heard of it?" Maura enquired, confused by his sudden change in behaviour.
"Yes miss," he muttered, touching the brim of his cap, "Cutting people up and the like. But if you'll excuse me, I have to get back..."
"Oh, certainly..." replied Maura slightly sadly as she watched the sailor turn and scuttle up the gangplank and out of sight.
His reaction had been extreme, yet she'd witnessed something similar a hundred times before. People always became uncomfortable when she discussed her interest in the human body. Personally, she believed medicine to be a laudable and fascinating profession; one which required years of hard work and mental prowess. One in which there was still so much to discover, to improve, to perfect...
The adverse reactions of others when she raised the subject were deeply puzzling to her.
From what she had read, Boston had seemed to be a particularly progressive city; they'd erected one of the first female medical schools (to which she was headed) in 1848 and they'd passed the Fugitive Slave Law in 1850, becoming a bastion for the abolitionist movement. Not to mention they had the Jordan Marsh department store, an elaborate transport infrastructure and a fully formed police force. Surrounded by universities and one of the forerunners in the fight for equality, Maura found it strange that even here her scientific bent was not more welcomed...
"Where are you headed for miss?" called the driver from the front, startling Maura out of her train of thought.
"Sorry, Beacon Street, if you please."
"Right-o. Nice area that," he called and the carriage jerked forward, wheels clattering over the paved streets.
After checking Bass was perfectly safe behind her, Maura pushed aside all thoughts of the young sailor and leaned back to survey her new surroundings. Her driver did not seem inclined to strike up any conversation and Maura was perfectly content to sit in silence and merely observe.
So this was Boston. It was noticeably different from the continent she was used to. Tall, whitewashed buildings rose up on either side of the wide avenue they were currently making their way along. Everything seemed bigger somehow, the people less reserved, more alive and definitely louder. Boys ran in the street calling to each other and housewives hung out of windows calling greetings to neighbours as they passed by with bags of groceries. Stalls piled high with fresh fruit or newly picked flowers occupied many of the corners and Maura had to resist the urge to jump down and purchase a few choice blooms. She couldn't wait till she had a chance to go shopping properly at the department stores. A new city clearly required new shoes to match. A few horse drawn carriages passed by, yet the majority of traffic seemed to be comprised of the street cars which rattled past on rails. Maura smiled. Boston was indeed a modern city.
As her coach clattered onwards, they left the bustle of the docks behind and moved towards one of the obviously wealthier areas. Apartment buildings were replaced by large, detached estate houses and housewives and paper boys were replaced by fashionable couples out for their gentile mid-afternoon walk. Now this was what Maura was used to. She admired the large hooped skirts worn by the women, which appeared to be the height of Boston style. Somewhat behind the fashions in Paris, Maura mused, but charming nonetheless. Subconsciously straightening her own dress – a beautiful piece she'd picked out at a small boutique along the Champs-Élysées – Maura let out a little mew of surprise as her coach came to an abrupt stop outside one of the larger houses.
"Here y'are miss," called the driver, twisting round in his seat, "That's a nickel for the ride."
"Yes, of course," replied Maura, regaining her composure and once again reaching for her purse.
"D'ya have someone for ya bags?" he asked as he took the money from her outstretched hand.
An uncertain frown briefly worried Maura's forehead, but before she could open her mouth to reply, the door of the house they had stopped outside burst open. A short smiling woman strode out, closely followed by a tall, dark haired boy.
"Miss Isles!" the woman called, in a friendly, excited tone, waving one arm in the air.
Maura was thrown by the unexpected, familiar greeting.
"Miss Isles!" she called again nearing the carriage, a wide grin on her face, "There you are... "
"Frankie, help her down from her carriage," she shot at the boy, who leapt forward to open her door. He also offered his arm, which Maura accepted as she clambered down. The boy gave her a small comforting smile. She tried to keep the confusion off her face.
"I'm sorry but..." she began, before the older woman cut her off with a bark at the boy behind her.
"Get her bags Frankie and carry them to the house."
Maura thought she heard a small groan come from the lad, but still he moved off to obey the request.
"Sorry about this Miss Isles," the woman continued, smiling once more at Maura, "we weren't sure what time you were coming. I'm Angela Rizzoli, and this is my son Frankie," she pointed to the dark haired boy who was delicately attempting to lift Bass's cage off the coach. Her eyes sparkled with affection. "I look after the house."
Maura let out a small sigh of relief; the housekeeper, of course. Her mother had mentioned there was a woman here.
"I do all the cooking and cleaning and other little things like that," the woman continued, "Just so you don't have to worry. I hope you like Italian Miss Isles…"
Inclining her head in a sign of thanks, Maura found herself smiling at the warmth radiating from this maternal woman who was clearly quite the conversationalist.
"Let me tell you," she whispered conspiratorially, "I was so excited when Mr Stanley told me a proper lady was renting the house this year. I thought, oh, she just has to meet my Jane. You'd like my Jane. Everyone likes my Jane. I think you're probably about the same age... She could show you around Boston!" she paused, evidently realising she'd been a bit forward, "If you'd like of course... It must be intimidating for such a refined lady as yourself to travel alone to a new city..."
Maura could do nothing but nod at this overwhelming deluge. Angela clapped her hands.
"But where are my manners, your journey must have been exhausting and now you're stood here listening to me talking away... Please, come inside, I'll fix you something to eat," and she beckoned to Maura, who found herself following willingly.
Sparing a quick apologetic glance for Frankie who was struggling to hoist the larger of her two trunks onto his shoulders, Maura hurried after Angela into her new house.
The interior of the building matched the exterior perfectly. Dark, hardwood floors covered the entrance hall, which was dominated by a large wooden staircase sweeping up the centre. A beautiful crystal chandelier hung above the scene and sparkled gently in the dim light of the afternoon. Angela directed Maura through a door to her left which led into a comfortably furnished parlour.
"Make yourself at home there Miss Isles. I'll bring you through something to drink."
Maura thanked her politely and perched herself on one of the cream sofas as Angela hurried away. A heavy silence seemed to hang in the air at the sudden absence of the housekeeper.
For lack of anything else to do, Maura gazed around at the room she found herself in. Several portraits stared back at her from the walls. Maura's highly trained artistic eye picked out their flaws almost instantly. A cursory glance at an expensive looking vase by the window revealed a cheap imitation of an old master; however, the table upon which it was stood was extremely well made. A solitary bookcase was resting in a far corner and before long Maura found herself up and gravitating towards it. The books seemed old and worn, clearly well loved in their time. She ran a gentle finger along their spines, removing one of the smaller ones from the shelf. A sudden bang from the front door caused her to jump.
Loud, boisterous voices carried through from the entrance hall. As far as Maura could tell one belonged to a young man and the other, despite its low, husky tone, sounded decidedly feminine. They appeared to be involved in a heated conversation and Maura found herself frozen as the voices came closer. Suddenly the door to the parlour swung open.
"Yeah well, I'm clearly just vastly superior to you."
A good-looking young man with dark skin, probably no older than about 17, crashed into the room smiling wildly.
"Shut it Frost, you know I would have got it if I'd even had a…"
The woman following him cut off abruptly as soon as she saw Maura standing in the corner, still clutching the book.
Maura had never seen anyone quite like her. She was impossibly tall and thin, her physique radiating an athleticism and strength rare to most women. Her hair was dark and tousled, falling in natural waves down her back, which complimented her olive skin tone and left no doubt in her Italian heritage. She wore a rather baggy, shapeless dress, which followed no fashions Maura knew of, yet it suited her perfectly. Her otherwise tough exterior was only marred by the subtle wrinkle of surprise in her forehead.
She was quite frankly a stunning woman.
And Maura was lost in her eyes.