"Miss Austen, are you sure that you require no assistance? Really, you look quite faint."
"No indeed, Betsy. I shall retire early and all will be well by the morning. Rest is all the assistance my tired mind requires," the young woman said. She brushed a dark curl from her forehead and stood, taking a candle with her.
Another young lady stood and crossed the room to stand beside her. "Shall I accompany you, Jane?" Faint lines of concern creased her forehead.
"Really, Cassandra!" She laughed easily. "One cannot go to bed early in this house without the entire company sounding an alarm. Truly, I shall be fine."
"All the same, perhaps you should retire your pen for the evening." The young woman's eyes searched her sister's face for a promise.
"It is done. To please you, my dear. Wish Father goodnight for me?" Jane bent to kiss her sister's cheek and climbed the stairs to her bedroom.
Closing the door behind her, she set the candle she carried on the washstand beside the bed. Reaching up to her dark curls, she began to pull pins from her hair, it tumbling down around her shoulders. She moved to her dressing table and seated herself in front of the small mirror. Opening a drawer, she pulled out several pages of paper and a pen, promising herself just a quick moment with her beloved characters.
The candle flickered on the table behind her, and the shadows shifted on the wall. A fine sheen of sweat shone on Jane's forehead as she reread the last few lines of her work and reached her pen absentmindedly toward the inkwell. Her breath felt heavy in her chest as her pen scratched the flourish on the last letter of her newest word. She panted slightly, and she wiped at the beads of sweat on her brow. She dropped her pen, ink spreading in a dark stain across the page.
Jane glanced up into the mirror, weakly pushing herself up from her chair. Her eyes widened in sudden fear and with a sharp gasp, she collapsed to the floor.
…
A familiar grinding of gears sounded on the top of a grassy hill, and an unusual blue box faded into view beneath the branches of a large oak tree. The door creaked open and a pair of well-worn trainers stepped onto the grass, a trench coat flapping around them in the breeze. Then followed the eager step of a pair of 18th century, polished, black, ladies boots, just peeking out from the hem of a light cotton muslin.
"Do you think I look then part then, Doctor?"
The man turned to grin at his companion. "The picture of the classic Regency girl. Better put that bonnet on though, Rose. I don't want to be run out of town by the vicar for accompanying an indecently dressed woman."
Rose snorted. "They don't actually do that now, do they?"
"No. Truthfully, I'd be more worried about your ankles showing."
"I guess it's a good thing I opted against the miniskirt then."
"Definitely." He offered her his arm. "Shall we venture towards the town my good lady?"
Rose attempted a curtsy and linked her arm with his. "By all means my good Sir."
The small country town was in a flurry of activity on the warm summer morning. Young girls gazed, giggling, into shop windows, admiring a bonnet here and a good-looking shopkeeper there. Well-dressed men on horses and the occasional carriage kicked up dust on the dirt road. Farmers pulled their carts down the main street and merchants emerged from their shops to advertise their wares to passersby. Gentlemen and ladies of acquaintance greeted each other politely. As the Doctor and Rose strolled down the street, they caught snippets of conversation here and there.
"You know that Jane Austen was the daughter of a clergyman and grew up in a very modest little house in the country? There was absolutely nothing remarkable about her life, and yet she's the primary reason for people from your present to know anything about this time period. One of the greatest writers of English literature, and yet at this time, she was considered so ordinary that not one of the people on this street would have known her from the baker's daughter," the Doctor informed Rose in his leisurely way. There was a boy selling newspapers, and he picked one up, dropping a coin into the boy's hand.
"Where'd you get that?" Rose insisted. "It's not like you carry a wallet around on a regular basis." She looked suspicious.
"Would you believe that the sonic screwdriver and I messed around with an ATM a bit before you left? Jackie told me I should come back with a souvenir for her this time, so I thought I'd pick up a bit of pocket change."
"You got an ATM to give you coins from the 1700s?" She looked incredulous. He merely nodded. "Why does anything you do surprise me anymore?"
"Now let's have a look at this old thing," he said chuckling, flipping open the newspaper. "Ah, 1797, that sounds about right. I was hoping for a solid turn of the century, but the TARDIS never does like to cooperate completely, I suppose."
As he perused the front page for interesting happenings, Rose wandered away to inspect the window of and interesting shop front. A few feet from her two older women were leaning towards each other and whispering earnestly. She drifted closer to them in an attempt to hear what they were saying so excitedly.
"Is there any news of your niece, Mrs. Phillips? I am quite sick with worry. Ever since the regiment left Meryton, there has been such strange goings on. And your young Bennet is only one of them," one woman said earnestly.
"None at all, I'm afraid. I've just come from Longbourn myself, and my poor sister is beside herself. Lydia is said to have gone off with none other than, Mr. Wickham! It is all so shocking; I hardly know what to think. Surely the family is all gone to ruin." The one called Mrs. Phillips replied.
"But that is the strangest news yet. For I have heard of two other supposed elopements here in town."
"No!" Mrs. Phillips looked shocked. Rose laughed quietly. An elopement sure did seem tame compared to what people were shocked at in today's world.
"Yes! But you have not yet heard the oddest bit. Both those girls left a note saying that they have gone off with, no you shall never guess, that very same Mr. Wickham!"
Mrs. Phillips looked as if she were about to faint. "Impossible!" she cried. "Mrs. Long, go for the doctor, I suddenly feel very ill." Just as she said this, her knees gave way beneath her.
The Doctor was suddenly behind her, catching her before she hit the ground. Mrs. Long gasped in shock, putting her hand to her heart.
"Madam, have no fear, I'm a doctor." He set the unconscious Mrs. Phillips, on a bench outside the store front and reached into a pocket inside his coat. He drew out a small bottle and held it beneath her nose. She snorted and jerked her head away, regaining consciousness immediately.
Mrs. Long poured out her gratitude. "Thank you ever so much, Sir. How can we ever thank you enough?"
"Just see that this lady is seen home safely. Perhaps she's had enough walking for today." He smiled at her, but then turned to Rose abruptly. "I think it's time for us to leave."
"What? Why? We just got here." She was puzzled at the worried look on his face.
"I'll tell you on the way back to the TARDIS. Come on."
He was walking so quickly that she had to jog to keep up, lifting her skirt so she wouldn't trip. She smiled grimly now at the thought that showing her ankles seemed to suddenly be the least of her worries.
"Doctor, what's going on?" She asked, panting.
"Have you ever read Pride and Prejudice?" It seemed an odd question in response to hers. She didn't see how his worried expression and popular English literature were related.
"No, why?"
"The name of that newspaper I was reading was called the Meryton Gazette."
"Yeah, that lady who fainted was talking to her friend about a place called Meryton, too. So what?"
"Meryton was a fictional town created by Jane Austen in Pride and Prejudice. It was the town near where Elizabeth Bennet, the main character, lived with her sisters."
Rose didn't know why, but a slight feeling of dread began to uncurl in the pit of her stomach. She said cautiously, "Those women mentioned something about a Bennet. Something about her running off to elope."
The Doctor seemed to double his pace. They'd reached the foot of the hill where the TARDIS sat. "Lydia? With Mr. Wickham?" He asked.
"Yes." She heard the Doctor mumble what sounded like 'Oh no' under his breath. They'd reached the TARDIS door and the Doctor took out his key to unlock the door. They stepped inside. The light that usually shone so brightly in the center of the room was dark. The Doctor rushed forward and started pressing buttons and turning knobs more quickly than Rose could follow. Nothing happened.
"Doctor, what's going on? Tell me." Rose could hear a slight note of panic creeping into her voice.
"Rose, remember what happened when we landed in that parallel world?" She nodded. "We tore through a wall in time and space. No one should be able to do that. The reason it's bad that town is called Meryton is because Meryton doesn't exist in our history. It's fiction. It only exists within the world of the story. Jane Austen created Meryton, and the characters Lydia Bennet and Mr. Wickham in Pride and Prejudice." He paused, an apologetic look in his eyes.
"We seem to be stuck inside the story. And it doesn't look like we'll be able to get out."