Chapter Ten
Author's Note!Due to draconian rules regarding adult material, I've had to censor one scene in this chapter fairly heavily to keep in line (just!) with its 'M' rating. If you'd rather read the uncensored version, with the explicit sex, please check my profile for the link.
In the afternoon it turned cold and started to rain, driving the entire party and their various pursuits indoors.
Rose sat with Mrs. Wentworth and Lady Penelope, giving the neglected needlework another try. She was improving, but her stitches were still large and crooked. At least she was getting to the point where she no longer pricked herself constantly with the needle.
She looked on at the expert work Rosemary Wentworth was producing and shook her head. Not only were the stitches minuscule and neat, but she was working with white thread on a background of white linen.
"Dunno how you do that," Rose said honestly.
Mrs. Wentworth smiled. "Practice, my dear," she said. "You shall learn. How is your injured hand?"
Rose showed it to her, still faintly green from the mysterious ointment, but definitely on the mend. "'S okay."
"An advantage to being married to a doctor, I suppose," Lady Penelope remarked, without taking her eyes off her own work.
The Doctor – at least Rose's version of him – hadn't been seen since shortly after breakfast. Arthur Wentworth, asking and answering his own question, had assumed he'd gone off to work on his so-called carriage, and no one, including Rose, had questioned it. He'd show up in his own good time.
Meanwhile, the other Doctor was present, discussing the political situation in France with some of the gentlemen of the party. Apparently, the discussion was only forbidden during dinner or something. Rose listened vaguely; thanks to all her time with the Doctor, she'd picked up the habit of trying to learn as much as she could. No telling when it would come in handy.
He spoke familiarly of Napoleon, having met him several times, and his opinion of the situation was clearly held in high regard. When he was asked to speculate on how long the war would last, he smiled faintly and replied, "Oh, I daresay old Boney will meet his Waterloo in another year or two."
Rose looked up when she heard that, catching the Doctor's eye. He winked at her, and she had to hold her embroidery in front of her face to hide her laughter. She couldn't remember ever having been taught anything about the Napoleonic Wars in school, and she'd never known the date of the Battle of Waterloo, but she was quite certain now that it would take place within the next couple of years.
The ladies, still focussed on their handiwork, paid no attention to the conversation. Mrs. Wentworth finished the area she'd been working on, and held up her work to examine it critically. Rose reached over to finger the tiny garment.
"So little," she marvelled. "Can't believe a human being'll fit into that, can you?"
Her hostess laughed happily. "It is hard to believe," she agreed. "But they do, at least for a short time. You will find out for yourself one day soon, if you're fortunate."
Rose, caught completely off guard, choked slightly. "Umm," she said, not knowing how else to respond.
The Third Doctor watched her carefully, curious about what her reaction would be. This was precisely the reason he couldn't really complain about Jo's leaving, no matter how much it hurt. Jo – and Rose, for that matter – deserved a chance for a normal life. It was what he'd always wanted for them, all these humans he'd got so attached to. Despite the out-and-out hunger his older self had displayed earlier, the Doctor was certain his feelings on the matter hadn't changed significantly. If Rose stayed with him, if she got the "forever" she was asking for, it would be at the price of never having a proper life for herself.
"Don't think kids are really a big, um, priority, for us," Rose managed finally.
Mrs. Wentworth gazed at her with a smile that was slightly condescending. "Things change," she said. "And I suspect Dr. Tyler would make a wonderful father."
Rose snorted. "Probably – jus' a big kid, himself."
"Well, perhaps he will grow up a bit once he has a child of his own."
"Don't think so," Rose answered thoughtfully. "Had a kid when he was younger, but she died. Her and her mum."
"How tragic!" exclaimed Rosemary.
The Third Doctor raised his eyebrows in surprise. So he'd told her, had he? How very odd.
Rose nodded. "Yeah. Long time ago, I think." She looked over at the Third Doctor for confirmation and he nodded slightly, his expression unreadable.
"Perhaps he was more mature then," he suggested. "You make him feel young again."
"Think I do, yeah," she agreed, holding his gaze.
Julia Forsythe, gliding into the room in her characteristically silent manner, came to stand behind the sofa where her sister and Rose were seated. "Mrs. Tyler," she interrupted, "I have a message from your husband. He requires your presence upstairs immediately."
Rose's eyebrows went up almost into her hairline. "Oh, really? S'pose I better go and see what my lord and master wants, then," she said, although the Doctor was the only one who realised she was kidding.
"Hey, look at me, playin' dutiful little wife," Rose joked as she entered the bedroom. The Doctor perched on the side of one of the armchairs near the fireplace, and she placed herself in front of him and dropped a rough approximation of a curtsey. "You summoned?"
"Husband's prerogative, and all that," grinned the Doctor. "Even fake husbands have prerogatives."
The room seemed quite dark after the cheery lamplight of the parlour. The heavy draperies were already drawn, and the only illumination in the room was the fire in the hearth. As Rose's eyes began to adjust to the darkness, she could make out shapes on the little table by the fireside. Plates, and covered dishes. A second, smaller table that held a large tray sat nearby, filled with more of the covered objects.
"What's this?" she wondered.
"Just … thought you might like it," answered the Doctor. There was a strange, almost nervous undertone to his voice, as if he wasn't quite sure of this whole thing, or the reception it was going to get.
He stood up and retrieved the sonic screwdriver from a hidden pocket inside his jacket. Aiming it at the tip of one of the slender tapers arranged on the table, he flicked the switch and the candle caught alight. He repeated the action on the other.
"Voila," he announced. "Candlelight supper for two. Had it brought up as a surprise."
"I'm surprised," agreed Rose. Actually, gobsmacked might be nearer the mark. He'd never been one for traditional romantic gestures. He might well take it into his head to walk hand in hand on a deserted beach at sunset, all right, but the beach tended to be freezing, or inhabited by talking frog creatures begging for money, or they had to be careful not to venture too close to the acid sea that lapped the shore.
And a "candlelight supper" with the Doctor was more likely to mean hiding out in an empty house, eating whatever they'd managed to get their hands on, instead of sitting beside a cozy fire in a manor house, with servants waiting to bring the next course if needed.
Then he did something else astonishing. He pulled out one of the chairs and stood waiting expectantly. Rose sat down, wonderingly, and he pushed it back in for her and sat down across from her.
"Make a gentleman out o' you, yet, Doctor," she teased. "You should meet your third self more often; his manners are rubbing off on you."
He said seriously, "I just thought it might be nice to make it up to you – well, to both of us, really – for this morning."
Rose, knowing nothing about his lapse into paranoia that morning, or his visit to his former self, was amazed at the uncharacteristic gesture. But it was the expression on his face that rendered her absolutely speechless.
The earlier Doctor liked her, she had no doubt about that. Just in the limited amount of time they'd spent together, they'd become good friends. She was starting to suspect that any version of him she might run across would end up liking her, and vice versa. The feeling pleased her very much. The Ninth Doctor, the one she'd first known, had loved her. She'd never realised how much, or in what way, until it was far too late.
But neither of them – none of them – would ever look at her the way this one was looking at her. The candlelight made his dark eyes sparkle even more than usual, but it didn't disguise the intensity of his expression. He was gazing at her as if she was the single most important thing in his life, as if he could never get enough of the sight of her.
This Doctor, for all his tongue-tied ineptitude with the actual words, loved her. He proved it to her with his actions, over and over, and here he was proving it again.
Rose had to bite her lip to keep from crying, she was so moved. She understood that this sort of thing was hard for him, because in a way this simple dinner was almost tantamount to a declaration.
And because she loved him just as much, she made it easy for him. She deliberately changed the subject, going back to something mundane, something that would allow him to slip back into his usual mode of invulnerability.
"What're we having?" she asked, in a voice that wasn't quite steady.
He cleared his throat, and pulled the domed cover off with a flourish, revealing two tiny bird carcasses on a plate.
"Partridges, I think," he answered. His voice held no sign that he'd been choked up just a few seconds earlier. "Though, they were out of the optional pear tree, sadly."
"Only have those at Christmas, I think," Rose answered, and they both laughed.
The meal was quite light compared to the dinner they would have had downstairs, and they revelled in their freedom from table manners, cheerfully consuming each dish in whatever order and with whatever utensil they liked.
After they finished, they piled all the dishes onto the heavy tray, and the Doctor picked it up and carried it out into the corridor, Rose following with the little table. They piled the things outside their door for some passing servant to deal with, then stepped back into their bedroom and closed the door. The Doctor aimed the sonic screwdriver at the latch and they exchanged a satisfied smile as they heard the lock click into place.
He took Rose's hand and led her back to the armchairs in front of the fire. They both sat, or rather sprawled, in the large chairs, utterly relaxed. Rose heaved a sigh of relief to have escaped the communal dinner hour, and particularly the after-dinner social gathering with the so-called ladies.
The Doctor was quite pleased with himself that his little plan for a romantic dinner for two had gone over so well. He reached under his chair and pulled out a plastic bag full of grapes, a sweet green German variety that he was particularly fond of.
"Dessert?" he offered.
Rose laughed at the incongruity of the packaging. "Where'd you get those?"
"Tesco," he said simply. "Too early for 'em here. Only April, I think. Maybe not." He detached a bunch from the rest and stretched one long arm across to pass them to Rose.
For a few minutes they munched on the grapes, till Rose decided it would be more fun to throw one at the Doctor. It was a lucky shot, bouncing off his nose and landing in his lap. He grinned and tossed it right back at her. It caught in her hair, and by the time she'd managed to free it, three more of the things had landed on her.
She stood up, letting the stray missiles drop to the floor. She advanced on him menacingly, brandishing the grape she'd untangled from her hair. The Doctor held up his hands in mock surrender, but she shoved them aside and stuck the grape in his mouth.
"There. Didn't your mum ever tell you not to play with your food?"
He thought it over. "Probably," he said with his mouth full. "But I didn't listen to her. And besides, you started it!"
With that, he pulled Rose into his lap and she fell against him with a yelp. "All right," she said softly. "Got a point."
She moved to kiss him, but he forestalled her by popping another couple of grapes into his mouth. Laughing, Rose plucked one off the bunch he held and stuck it in her teeth before bringing her head down to his.
The Doctor smiled, enjoying the game, and kissed her. Their tongues pushed the grape back and forth between their mouths as they kissed, until the Doctor finally pulled away and swallowed it. The cheeky grin he gave her faded slowly as she looked at him, the tension between them growing more and more palpable.
He stroked her cheek, gazing into her eyes tenderly, and Rose felt that familiar melty feeling come over her whole body. He pulled her in for another kiss, this one threatening to consume them both.
His hand rested on her lap, stroking her leg through her muslin gown. His other arm was around her waist, holding her in position, while her fingers tangled in his hair.
Rose slid her lips along his cheek toward the jawline. The starchy cravat he wore got in the way when she tried to kiss his chin, so she sat up purposefully and tried to rid him of the encumbrance. She faltered, realising she had no idea how the bloody thing tied, and he reached up and unknotted it for her, one-handed.
The two of them fell back to kissing, Rose finally able to investigate his neck and throat freely. When she paused for an instant, the Doctor returned the favour in turn. He kissed the underside of her chin, and her throat, and that area just underneath her ear, which always made her shiver pleasurably when the spiky tendrils of his hair tickled her cheek and neck. Then he moved his attentions downwards, sliding his mouth along the side of her neck till he found her collarbone, and laying a series of tiny kisses there.
She arched backwards against his restraining hands as he moved his mouth lower. Both her hands were in his hair, unintentionally pulling a little, although the Doctor was oblivious to the discomfort. She kissed the top of his head as he moved down to kiss and lick the top of her breasts, which were exposed by the neckline of the low-cut gown.
Rose went backwards a little more, nearly losing her balance this time, but the Doctor grabbed her quickly. "Whoa, careful, there," he laughed.
He urged her off his lap with just a little upward pressure of the hands on her waist. She got to her feet reluctantly, and he followed, without removing his hands from their resting place. When they were standing, he slid his arms around her and held her close.
Their mouths met once again as they embraced in front of the fireplace. The Doctor's long fingers deftly unfastened the four buttons at the back of her dress, and he pulled it down to bare her shoulders completely, trailing a row of kisses along the area.
Rose moved away from him long enough to step out of the dress completely, then reached behind her back to untie her stays. She pulled the loosened corset off and stood before the Doctor in her shift, smiling expectantly. He grinned back and pulled her to him once again.
Rose's hands, trapped between their bodies, fumbled with the buttons on his coat. They finally came undone, and he somehow managed to shrug his way out of the thing without breaking the kiss. The waistcoat went next, followed by his shirt. That one was more problematic, and required him to actually stop kissing her long enough to pull the thing over his head. Meanwhile, Rose ripped off her petticoat and stockings impatiently, not bothering with anything like a sexy striptease.
The Doctor noted the fact with amusement, and followed suit. The two of them raced to get undressed, then fell on one another, hands and lips exploring skin. He caressed her from shoulder blades to hips, while she ran her fingers along the backs of his thighs.
She pulled him closer against her, and he still didn't seem close enough. He stayed like that for just a moment, pressing his body against hers, then he moved back and took Rose's hands, lowering her to the floor. She lay back on the rug, and the Doctor stretched out beside her.
He kissed her face again first, running his mouth across lips and cheek and neck before slowly moving down the length of her body. Rose moaned and tilted her head back as he explored her with lips and tongue. Oh, god, the things he could do with that tongue of his!
He wasn't talking, for once, just concentrating on what he was doing, while she writhed beneath his touch. She kept her hands on him, following his movements, wherever she could manage to reach. The Doctor worked his way back up her legs, pausing a little too long at her knees, indulging himself in one of his weird little habits and biting gently at her knee-caps. It seemed to take forever for him to get anywhere near where she wanted him. This was wonderful, incredible, but it wasn't what she needed anymore.
"No, Doctor," she finally managed to gasp. "Now! You're wastin' time."
"Oh, you want the whole thing, do you?" he murmured, mouth still on her. The feel of his breath against her made her shiver. "Aren't you an eager little human, then?"
He gave her one last lick and then moved with that deceptive speed he possessed. In an instant, almost before she had time to prepare herself for the onslaught, he was on top of her, his body covering hers completely. He brought his mouth down on hers, letting her taste herself on him.
He raised his head to smile down at her. "Better, Rose?"
"Mm hmm," she murmured, eyes closed.
"Yes," agreed the Doctor. "Much better."
They found a rhythm, their bodies in sync, breath and heartbeats the only discordant notes. They lost all track of time as they moved together, the Time Lord as oblivious to the passing minutes as his human lover.
Making love in front of a blazing fireplace was certainly a romantic image, but the reality was hot and sticky. Sweat plastered Rose's blonde hair to her forehead and neck, and made her whole body slick. The Doctor was less affected; his lower body temperature meant that he perspired far less than Rose, but his body was nearly as sweat-drenched as hers from sliding against her.
He shifted position, moving only the slightest bit, but the change in contact made Rose cry out in pleasure. She made a kind of sobbing sound deep in her throat as the spasm went through her whole body. She went limp with satisfaction, but the lethargy only lasted a second. "Thank you," she whispered, looking up into his face.
He grinned down at her, and replied breathlessly, "Oh, no, Rose. Thank you!"
She pulled his head down to her and kissed him hard, feeling him breathing roughly into her mouth. Then, with a shudder, the Doctor collapsed against her, panting.
Rose said his name softly, lovingly, over and over again. It was a substitute for what she really wanted to tell him but wouldn't let herself, taking her cue from him, as always. He was sorry for that. Just because he couldn't manage to make himself say the words didn't mean she shouldn't. He gave it one more try.
"Rose, I—" he began, and she looked up at him hopefully. He rolled over on his side and pulled her into his arms, holding her tight so he wouldn't have to see those eyes of hers pleading with him. He kissed her forehead, and murmured into her hair, "Oh, Rose. My precious, precious girl. Come to bed, shall we?"
Rose woke early the next morning, having slept soundly all night. She moved slightly and discovered to her great delight that she wasn't alone. She didn't often have the pleasure of waking up before the Doctor did, and she enjoyed it for the rarity it was.
She stretched out one arm, and started to move closer to him and put her head on his chest. As her bare arm left the warm comfort of the covers, she realised two things. She was naked – they both were – and the fire had died down some time ago. Her nightgown had been placed carefully underneath her pillow by whoever had made the bed the previous day, and it was still more or less there, disarranged by the movement of the pillow throughout the night.
Yawning, Rose slipped it over her head and got out of bed. She shivered in the chill morning air as she padded barefoot over the carpets. She poked the coals in the hearth, making them instantly glow brighter, although there was no substantial increase in heat. With a sigh, she began to pick up the piles of discarded clothing they'd left behind last night, when the Doctor had carried her to bed. Spying the half-eaten bag of grapes, she grabbed those as well, hiding them underneath the clothes when she dumped them by the side of the bed.
Oh, yes, the lock, she realised, just as she was about to climb back into her nice, warm bed. The sonic screwdriver was in the Doctor's chair, half hidden behind the cushions. She grabbed it and held it down close to the fireplace, trying to find enough light to see by.
"Setting twelve. That's the one you want." The Doctor's voice sounded sleepy, but fully alert. Rose looked over to see him sitting up in bed.
"I know that," she answered. "I just can't see to set it."
"Bring it here, then," he said, holding out his hand.
Rose did so, bouncing on the bed as she handed it to him. He didn't even have to look, just flicked the switch, aimed the device at the door, and unlocked it without even having to get out of bed.
"It's cold!" he said accusingly.
"Noticed that, yeah," agreed Rose. Slipping back under the covers with him, she said suggestively, "Want me to warm you up, Doctor?"
Before he could reply, they both heard the telltale sound of the coal bucket, just an instant before the doorknob turned. The little chambermaid closed the door silently behind her, and made her way over to the fireplace, carefully not looking in the direction of the bed.
"Morning, Katie," he said cheerfully. "We're glad to see you. Freezing in here."
The girl gasped in surprise, and her bucket hit the stone hearth with an unholy clang, spilling coal all over the place. She began to pick it up, apologising profusely as she worked.
"Nah, 's my fault," said the Doctor. "Let me help." He started to throw the covers back, but Rose stopped him just in time, digging her nails in when she grabbed his arm. He looked at her, puzzled, then looked down at his bare chest and realised the problem. "Ah."
He scrunched down and pulled the blankets up modestly to his neck. Rose adjusted the pillow for him, placing it behind his back so he could sit up more comfortably. "Very wifely of you," he teased, in a voice that was barely audible.
"Shut up," she whispered back affectionately.
"By the way, Katie, you won't have to worry about us frightening you, or … well, other things … after this. We're leavin' today," announced the Doctor, making the decision at that very instant, the way he tended to decide things. "S'pose you won't be sorry. Don't blame you, really," he added with an embarrassed sort of frown.
"No, sir. We shall be sorry to see you leave," the girl repeated formally. "But we all wish you godspeed on your journey."
"Thanks," laughed Rose, before she could stop herself. "We'll probably need it!"