The noise from the party spilled out from downstairs. Clara could hear the chatter of hundreds of elegant guests, all dressed to the nines, all engaged in serious discussions of politics and economics. Is this really what these people found fun?
She sighed and flopped down onto the window seat, watching the rain streak down the window and trying to disappear. Normally, of course, she loved parties. She loved hanging out with her friends, making jokes and socializing. But here… everyone was judging her, trying to see if she was good enough. She didn't know what she was doing, thinking she could just marry the richest guy around and everything would be alright. Of course there would be expensive parties, of course there would be incredibly affluent relatives all around, and of course this would be one of the expectations of her. She'd just been so stupid.
She turned and stood hastily as she heard footsteps on the stairs. Only her fiancé would have bothered to come look for her, and it would not do for her to show him that she was tired. John needed her to be strong; he needed her to prove that she was worthy of being his wife. When she faced the newcomer, however, it was not her fiancé.
The man standing before her was almost as tall as John, with floppy brown hair, deep-set grey-green eyes, and a remarkably prominent chin. He was wearing a long purple coat with a matching vest and bowtie, and he was bouncing on his heels, as though he were incapable of standing still. "Hello there!" He said, holding out his hand for her to shake. "You must be Ten's fiancé, Clara."
She took his hand hesitantly, looking him up and down. "'M sorry, who are you?" She asked. "And who's Ten? I'm John's fiancé, John Smith's."
"Yeah, that's the thing. I'm John Smith, too, a cousin of your fiancé's. He's the tenth one in the family to be born with the name, and I'm the eleventh, so our family just calls us by our numbers. He's Ten, I'm Eleven, see? Much less confusing that way. Anyway, point is, I thought you might like to see the observatory?"
"Well it seems to me your parents ought to have been more creative with their names."
"Perhaps. Do you want to see the observatory or not?"
Clara grinned. "Absolutely. Rescue me, Chin Boy, and show the stars."
He grabbed her hand and pulled and they started up the stairs before a voice called them to a halt. "Clara! Where are you going? It's almost time for the first dance."
It was Ten. "Sorry John," Clara said, feeling as reluctant to let go of Eleven's hand as she had been at first to take it, but dropping it anyway and descending the stairs to her waiting boyfriend. "I guess I'll take a rain check," she told the other man.
"Yeah, sure." He nodded. She thought he seemed a little offended, but she didn't have time to worry about that now.
John Smith offered Clara Oswald his arm, and she took it. Together, they walked down the stairs to lead the company in a sweeping waltz.