Chapter Four

And Dinner Too?

As Clara prepared for her visit to John and Bill's house, she realized that nothing she had to wear seemed adequate. This was possibly the start of a new chapter in her life, and all of her dresses were so short her ankles could almost be seen above her boots. She hadn't thought she'd grown much since she'd first been given these dresses, probably seven or eight years ago, but as she surveyed her image in the mirror, it would seem that she had. If only those tall girls from school could see her now; would they still called her 'vertically challenged' and the like?

She smirked to herself, but then remembered her nerves. This was only an interview, of course. She didn't have the job yet.

And she definitely didn't have the money for tomorrow's rent bill yet.

In a more sullen mood, Clara started out the door into the frosty air. The sun was just starting to set, parents calling for their children as they ran around the streets giggling. Their play put a smile on Clara's face.

That is, until one of their errant snowballs came whizzing towards her. It grazed her cheek as she fucked away, leaving a thin line of broken skin where the sharp ice had made contact.

Clara touched a palm to her face to investigate, calming when she realized there was hardly any blood. She turned up to the child who had thrown it, a boy cringing as his mother yanked him away by the ear.

"It's alright! I'm fine, really," she called, hoping to lessen the boy's punishment. The mother threw her a glare as if she were an accomplice.

When she arrived at John's house, just a few blocks closer to the Thames than her own, she was a little taken aback. She'd expected him to live somewhere big and expensive, where the other city doctors lived. Somewhere with servants and stewards and a lawn or, at least, a view of some landmark or park.

Instead, his flat was at the top of a slightly crooked East end building, with a hidden charm rather than a modern flair. She knocked on the door and was greeted by John himself, which nearly startled her. She was so used to being greeted at work by old butlers with tuxedos and white gloves. The 'master of the house' typically liked to be bothered only with things on a need-to-know basis.

"Ah, Clara, hello."

He stepped out of the way so that she could walk in and she suddenly smelled the unmistakable odor of burning food.

John scratched the back of his neck.

"We seem to have lost track of the time. I hope you like roast beef? And we have some green beans and carrots as well."

Clara smiled, though she was still more than shocked that a doctor was cooking her supper.

"Roast beef is my favorite. Next to pudding, of course."

"Of course," John said, with a lopsided grin. His face fell suddenly as his eyes landed on her cheek.

"Are you alright?" He asked, motioning to her face.

Clara covered the scrape with a hand and hissed in pain. She'd nearly forgotten about the incident with the snowball.

John dashed away and came back lugging his medical bag.

"Please, have a seat. I can clean that up for you."

Clara obeyed, but sat up stiffer than she usually would. The entire situation still seemed so bizarre and new that she didn't know how to act. Even her own doctors didn't seem to take so much care in her; if anything, they enjoyed when she was ill or injured and needed to pay them to get better again.

In hindsight, Clara realized maybe she'd never had very good doctors.

"This might sting a little," John said, kneeling in front of her with a cloth doused in some kind of smelly antiseptic.

He dabbed it gently on her cheek, but she couldn't suppress a wince. John's eyes softened in apology.

"Sorry. Always gets worse before it can get better."

He smiled that tilted smile again and Clara felt her heart flutter despite herself. He was still wearing that beautiful blue waistcoat, now without a jacket. As he held the cloth to her face, she studied him more closely. His kind eyes, his anxious movements despite seeming like he knew exactly what he was doing.

He lifted the cloth abruptly and tossed it into a nearby basin.

"That should keep it from infection. How does it feel?"

Clara grit her teeth.

"Honestly, it stings a little."

He rose to his feet and nodded.

"What happened?"

She waved it off.

"A boy's snowball went a little bit off course."

"Nothing that a slice of roast won't solve, I hope?" John asked.

Clara smiled and followed him to the dining room. Three different chairs of three different heights surrounded the lopsided table. Clara almost wanted to pry into John's past a bit more, if only to find out how he came to live in...if she were honest, such disarray. But then John disappeared to the corridor and she was left alone with the half-burnt roast and a bowl of vegetables.

John came back a moment later with Bill tracking behind him, walking almost as stiffly as Clara had been sitting. She sat down quietly and folded her hands together, then looked to John for instruction.

He grinned at her, making her lose focus and start giggling. Clara laughed, too. She'd always been governess for parents that were almost as distant to their children as they were to herself. It was such a pleasant change to find someone-a doctor, no less-who actually had some fun with his child.

John noticed her and his eyes widened.

"Eat, please! Would you like anything to drink?"

Clara hesitantly served herself a slice of beef.

"The water is fine, thank you."

John nodded and turned to Bill.

"Half a slice or a full slice?" He asked.

"Hmm." She pondered for a moment. "Full slice!"

He cut her piece and served her, then dropped a spoonful of vegetables on the plate as well. Bill's nose crinkled in disgust.

"Bill…" John said with a playful smile.

"I don't like vegetables."

"I can't make my patients to eat them and not make you, can I? That just wouldn't be fair."

Bill picked at the carrots with her fork.

Clara swallowed a piece of beef and leaned over to Bill. She arranged the carrots into eyes and the green beans into a smile.

"See how happy the vegetables are? You're going to be ten times happier when you've eaten them. They have happy powers."

"Happy powers?"

"They make you happier. And healthier, too, which you're papa will certainly tell you."

She looked over to John and noticed his pale complexion. He'd seemed to jump at the word 'papa'. Was she wrong? Had she made a huge mistake?

"John?" She asked timidly.

He jumped back into awareness and cleared his throat.

"Yes. Yes, they will make you very healthy, Bill."

He gave Clara a very forced smile, which she returned, and then the trio ate in near silence, broken only by a few random questions from Bill about the widest array of topics that Clara would have thought possible. When they were finished their meal, Clara stood to put her dish away. John practically jumped out of his seat to stop her.

"I'll take care of that," he insisted, already setting her plate on top of his.

Clara thanked him a million times and sat back in her seat. Bill was seated next to her, kicking her legs under the table.

"Miss?"

Clara turned to the young girl with a smile on her face.

"Do you live nearby?" Bill asked.

"Yes, actually. I'm a bit closer to St. Paul's."

Bill smiled.

"St. Paul's is lovely. The Doctor and I go there for picnics sometimes."

Clara grinned ear to ear.

"You know, I've always wanted to try that," she said. "But you know, you live really close to the river. I bet you have some fantastic views."

Bill shook her head.

"The river is dirty."

Clara chuckled, as did John who had just walked in from the kitchen.

"Well," Clara said, "you're right about that."

Bill laughed, and then slid off of her chair. She tugged on John's sleeve as he picked up a couple forks to put them away.

"Doctor?" She said. "Can I go to my room? I need to finish my drawing before I forget."

John nodded in response. He watched her go with that same sad smile on his face before he met Clara's eye.

"She's very sweet," Clara said.

"She is." He opened the door to the kitchen, then turned around. "You can go sit in the lounge. Make yourself comfortable."

She sat stiffly upright on the chair again, feeling her hands start to shake. If he came in and gave her a job, then her future was bliss. If he came in and dismissed her, she'd be out on the street tomorrow evening.

A lot was riding on this next conversation.

John entered the room a few minutes later with his sleeves rolled up. He dropped into a chair opposite Clara looking exhausted. He brightened as he realized she was watching him.

"Do you need anything? Tea?" He asked, already halfway out of his seat again.

"I'm fine. Thank you, John."

He smirked.

"I'm so used to people calling me 'doctor' or 'Dr. Smith'. It's nice to be called John again."

He grew contemplative, rubbing his hands together. Clara waited for him to speak, knowing his mind was busy.

"I took Bill in when her mother died," he said suddenly. "She was in my care. Bill was very young. Her mother used to call me 'the doctor' to make it simple for her. That's why she still calls me that."

Clara paused for a second.

"I'm sorry. About her mother," she added.

His eyes flicked over her own.

"Me too," he said with a frown. He took a deep breath and rubbed his palms on his thighs.

"That was in Bristol. About four years ago now."

"What brought you to London?" Clara asked.

"They needed help. I'm a travelling doctor, so I go wherever there's need. We just spent some time in Germany and then France. It's nice to be a little closer to home again."

Clara smiled.

"That life would be a dream for me. I've always wanted to see the world."

"It has its positives and negatives. We're only in town for four months this time," he explained. "One of their surgeons is researching new medicines throughout the continent. I'm just a place filler until he gets back. I don't know where we'll be after that."

Clara's face fell.

"Oh," she said softly.

His expression brightened as if to counteract her own sorrows.

"But, enough about me. I think that we should talk about what you came here for. I'm sure you want to get home."

Clara couldn't remember a time she wanted to go home less, but didn't say anything.

John sat up straighter.

"I'll say it flat out: I think that you'd be the perfect governess for Bill. I hope that you're still available, because we could really use your help and I think I would like to hire you this instant."

Clara blinked in a daze.

"Yes, I, er, I mean of course. Of course! I can start immediately, if you'd like me to," Clara stammered back, lost for words.

John smiled.

"That's brilliant. Can you start tomorrow, then?"

"Yes, I can," she said. Her face fell as she remembered what day 'tomorrow' was.

"Brilliant," he repeated. "Then...tomorrow at eight in the morning? Would that be alright?"

Clara nodded fervently.

"Yes, that would be perfect."

He smiled broadly.

"I'll only need you to come in on days when I am working. But I will pay you what you need to offset the cost. I hope that's alright."

Her jaw nearly dropped. Was she dreaming? Or did her new employer just ask her if it was alright to have paid time off?

"That is extraordinarily kind of you, sir."

"John," he said, standing.

Clara stood too, though she found her legs wobbly.

"John," she said with a blank, happy stare.

He held out his hand and she shook it.

"Bill," he said over his shoulder. He let go of Clara's hand and repeated, "Bill!"

The young girl came bursting out of her room.

"Yes, Doctor?"

John gestured toward Clara.

"Clara will be your new governess."

Bill smiled widely.

"That's a wonderful idea, Doctor."

John smiled proudly, and quitely sent Bill to get ready for bed. He turned back to Clara and then glanced out the window.

"It's pretty dark out there. I can call a cab, if you need it."

"I think I'll be alright," Clara said with a smile. "It's only a few blocks."

John insisted, but Clara was adamant that she wanted to walk home. He had no chance against her will, that was certain.

So Clara walked home in a daze. The chill of the air didn't reach her with the cloud of utter joy she was riding on. She smiled at everyone she passed, including the dogs eating from the piles of rubbish in the alleyways.

It was as if her life had only just begun.