Chapter Two – Of Hatpins and Pounds
Rose stood at the foot of the stairs and wondered if lunch would be as mind-bogglingly delicious as breakfast. The high-waisted dress she wore let her get away with eating more than she normally would. Once they left this place, she would have to go on a diet! No chips for awhile, but it would be worth it, with food as good they cooked here.
She hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, seeing three different doorways and one bare arch exiting off the short hallway. One door seemed heavier than the others, so she deemed it the front door. Of their hostess or the Doctor she saw no sign, but she could hear people talking somewhere ahead. A door off to one side proved to be a parlour. As she approached, the voices drifted out.
"I refuse to bow to some stranger who happened to show up in the middle of the night," a woman said, shrilly. "I don't care if their carriage did break down outside our village, it doesn't mean that she gets to take over!"
"Your aunt says that she is a lady, come all the way from London," replied a man's voice.
"Lady or no, I've earned my place and I'll not give it up."
"Yes, and we all know how you earned it, do we not?" He laughed cruelly. "At any rate, perhaps they won't stay long. It may only be through the rehearsal."
"And suppose they decide to stay longer? Suppose they settle down here? She'll demand the role by right of rank and what'll I do then?"
Rose frowned, a nauseating chill running through her. They had to be talking about her, but she would never take something belonging to someone else, even under the guise of being a lady. And she certainly didn't want any of the locals upset with her.
"Ah, Rose! There you are."
She felt a flood of relief at the Doctor's greeting. The voices in the parlour immediately quieted. "Good morning, Doctor. I'd ask how you slept but I know better."
He grinned and in that moment she knew that everything would be all right.
"Take a look at you! Gone native, have we?" He walked all the way around her, inspecting her dress.
"Considering how the bog ate my luggage..." She made a face at the Doctor, "I'm lucky that Mrs Morris had anything in my size."
"Maybe I should hide your jeans and hoodies more often, if this is the result."
"You wouldn't dare!"
"No? Oh, but look at you! All soft and pink." He grinned. "Very ladylike."
"I look like something out of Pride and Prejudice." She crossed her arms, realized the effect that had on her already raised bosom, then dropped them back to her sides.
The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "You've read Jane Austen?"
"It was a film." She sighed and relented, "All right, I was supposed to read it for English Studies but I couldn't get past the first few chapters. Shireen and I rented the two-part series on video. Got us both a passing grade, at least."
"Oh, I imagine it would. Best not mention that here, though." He lowered his voice briefly. "They don't seem to have tellies! Oh! Did you hear there's gonna be a dance tomorrow? We're invited, of course."
She frowned. "Yeah, Mrs Morris said something about it being a rehearsal, but she didn't say what for. D'you suppose they're having a wedding?"
"No one said anything about that. Just your typical small-town ball, I'd imagine. Lots of women desperate for the chance to show off their dancing ability and social skills, and of course, their... uh... décolletage. Plus, lots of men desperate to be allowed to touch women in public."
"Sounds scandalous!"
"Not really," he said, not catching her sarcasm. "After all, when a glimpse of a woman's ankle is the equivalent of, say, a modern woman taking her shirt off and flashing someone, then it's understandable that the men would enjoy the opportunity to be able to grasp a woman's hand for a length of time, and if they're really lucky, to hold her arm. It's the equivalent of making love in public! Of course, the whole thing is merely a set-up for the single ladies to find husbands. The married women miss out on all the intrigue."
"That so? Sounds like fun." Rose smiled and kept her voice casual. "You taking me?"
"What, me? No, of course not." He backed away, scratching the back of his neck. "I really should get back to the TARDIS, try to find out exactly where we are."
"Innit obvious? Seems like the early eighteen-hundreds to me."
"You'd think, wouldn't you? But I'm not convinced. There's something a bit off about all this." He waved a hand around. "Haven't you noticed?"
She took a step toward him, the soles of her borrowed shoes whispering on the hardwood floor. "Well then, this is your chance to investigate, yeah? Go to the ball, talk to the men, listen to conversations..."
"Rose Tyler, are you suggesting that I eavesdrop?" He paused and his eyes lit up. "Not a bad idea, that."
"That mean you're taking me?" She grinned and took another step forward, cornering him against a low table. He leaned against it and fingered a vase filled with cut flowers.
"Would you look at that! I don't recognize these. They remind me a bit of... but, no, it can't be. The number of stamens is wrong and the petals aren't quite the right shape." He pulled out his glasses, slipped them on, and leaned over to examine the flowers.
Rose cleared her throat.
"Hm? Oh, right. We were talking, weren't we? What was I saying?"
"You were about to say that you'd take me to this ball."
"What ball? Oh, tomorrow night, you mean! No! No, no. You wouldn't want to go to something like that, would you? All those people hanging around, gossiping, matchmaking..." He pulled one of the flowers from the vase.
"Dancing?"
"Well, yes, that too. Otherwise they wouldn't call it a dance, would they? They'd have to call it a chitchat or a gabfest or something of the sort. You're much too clever to go along with that sort of thing—be bored out of your mind."
"Are you serious? I'd die to go to a real ball. That's the sort of thing you read about or see on the telly. If Mum finds out, she'll have kittens. You have to take me!"
The Doctor glanced up from the large white flower. "Yes, well... I suppose I could go with you, gather some intelligence, like you said. That is, not with you, but just so you wouldn't be alone. That be all right?"
She tried not to sigh as her heart sank. The Doctor had danced with her once, in his previous incarnation. She'd never forgotten that evening of laughter, carefree joy, and reckless flirting. Since his regeneration, she'd tried to pin down his feelings for her but failed utterly. How could she figure him out when his attitudes changed in the blink of an eye? She'd grown used to it, but she didn't like how he would tease and flirt with her one minute and then shut himself away the next and act like he wanted nothing to do with lowly humans.
Rose nodded to the Doctor's query and decided that she would take whatever she could get. For now.
"Care to go for a walk?" the Doctor asked Rose. "I'd like to see if I can find more of these flowers. They're not wilted yet, so they must grow around here somewhere."
"Going out? What a wonderful idea," Mrs Morris said, glancing up from her corner. "Take my Etta with you. She knows the gardens better than anyone, and she can take you into the village if you like."
Rose stood and shook her long skirts out. "Might be nice to get out for a bit. Is there anything nearby? Shops or such?"
"Market's about two kilometres away, edge of the village. Oh, you'll like it, Lady Rose. Might not be as sophisticated as the shops in London, but we've a fine seamstress and milliner's shop, a grocery run by Mrs Fairfax, a trinket stall that has things from all over, an excellent woodcarver, oh, and the cobbler. You'd best stop by there and put a pair of shoes on order, so you'll have some as fit your own feet. Nothing worse than walking around in someone else's shoes, is there?"
"Oh, I don't think we're gonna stay long enough for that," Rose began, but the Doctor cleared his throat. She looked at him. "What? We're not... are we?"
He found a place that itched behind his ear. "I did say we wouldn't stay long, didn't I? But it turns out... well, I didn't want to say anything, but you remember that, er, rather remarkable jolt when our... er, carriage... stopped?"
"Our carriage always jolts when we stop, Doctor." She smiled sweetly.
"Right. So it does. Well, in particular, I mean the one that caused you to fall on your backside with a loud sort of groaning sound. The carriage that is, not you. You made more of a surprised squeak than anything else. How is that bruise, by the way? Better?"
"The condition of my backside is none of your business! Cheeky git." She accepted a large brimmed bonnet from Mrs Morris and slapped it onto her head.
"Yes. Well, as it turns out, that particular jolt caused rather a lot of damage to the... er, wheel axle. Take a bit of repair, it will."
She attempted to tie the ribbon into a bow beneath her chin. "Caused a rather lot of damage to my backside, so it did. How long?"
"For a bruise like that to heal? Hard to say since you won't let me examine it," he said with a wink at Mrs Morris to ease the scandal of his remark. "You're in good health, though, so assuming you didn't damage the muscle or fracture your coccyx, any bruising should fade in a matter of days, no more than a week. If it really does bother you, let me know. I've got an... err, an ointment, I can give you. Sonicus screwdriverius. Always does the trick, that one."
He paused, watching her attempt to tie the ribbons on the bonnet. "Having trouble with that, are we? Here, you need to just..." He pointed and tried to direct her efforts, which quickly ended in a tangle of silk ribbon. "Let me, will you?"
He smoothed out the ribbons and retied them into a perfect bow that dangled on her chest. "It's the style, so don't complain that I've gone and done it wrong. Besides, contrary to what you might think, the ribbon isn't what keeps the hat on your head. Most ladies use hat pins."
"I haven't got a hat pin, and if I had, I'd use it on you! How long?"
"Oh, about eight inches. Nine, maybe." He held out his fingers to demonstrate the length of a hat pin.
"Not the bloody hat pin!" She ground her teeth and tried to remind herself that getting upset would solve nothing. She chose her words carefully. "How long until we can get moving again?"
"Oh, that." He shrugged. "Few days, give or take a week. Depends on what parts I can find. Fortunately, our kind and generous hostess has allowed us to store the carriage in her stables, whilst I effect repairs. Mrs Morris, did I hear you mention a smithy amid all those shops in town?"
"No, sir, you did not, though you may as well have. We've a fine blacksmith, just up the road from the grocer and across from the pub." She fixed a hat pin firmly through the crown of the bonnet, securing it to Rose's head.
"There's a pub?" Rose's crankiness vanished.
"Wouldn't be a proper village without, now would it?" Mrs Morris smiled. "In fact, I'm sure the good Doctor will enjoy a pint of our local brew whilst you're busy shopping."
The good Doctor himself mumbled something that sounded rather like, "It would take more than just one pint to get me to enjoy a day's shopping." But of course, he made an innocent face when Rose narrowed her eyes at him.
"Shall we?" He opened the front door and escorted Rose outside.
A glorious day greeted them. The sun shone brightly down from a cloudless sky. A gentle breeze brought the scents of wood smoke and hay. Though only a few flowers now bloomed in the garden, many of the bushes had leaves of orange and yellow with clusters of red berries tucked away here and there. Little birds hopped across the path in front of them and squirrels dove under piles of dried leaves.
Rose turned her head up to the sky and sighed. The Doctor glanced over at her.
"You all right? Seemed a bit... out of sorts, back there. We didn't choose the wrong time to... er, crash here, did we? And if we did, I don't want to know about it. I'm sure Mrs Morris can handle whatever you need," he added quickly.
"Must be," she said, although it wasn't anywhere near her time of the month. It was easier to accept the embarrassment of that than to admit the true reason for her crankiness. If the Doctor wanted to pretend that he had no particular regard for her, other than as a travelling companion, then she would pretend that she felt the exact same way. No use begging him to say he loved her, because he wouldn't, and then things would get more and more awkward between them, until he dropped her off home and found someone who wouldn't develop a schoolgirl crush on him.
"Oh!" came the shout from behind them. "Etta! Do wait up."
Mrs Morris came running out of the house—more of a cottage, now that they could see it in the daylight, made of grey stone with ivy growing along the cracks—waving a small bag. Etta had been following the Doctor and Rose silently, and she now stopped and turned to wait for Mrs Morris.
"I nearly forgot. Since you're going into the village anyway, won't you stop at the butcher? I put in the order last week and forgot to pick it up yesterday. I promised the committee that we'd bring some beef pies to the dance, you see," she said to the Doctor. From the bag she pulled two strips of thick silver. "Now, here's two pounds. If it costs more than that, ask Mr Thomas to put the rest on our bill, but there should be enough left over so that you can stop at the baker's and have yourself some of those little cakes you like. Buy some for the Doctor and Lady Rose, too, there's a good girl."
After Mrs Morris had gone back into the house, the Doctor gestured to Etta. "May I see those? Bit different from the pounds we use in London."
He examined the small strips with interest. Although about the same size as a British one pound note, these were made of plain silvery metal, and each bore an incised mark that read "one pound". The Doctor made a face of curiosity and hefted them in his palm. "Just about two pounds, I'd say."
"What, d'you mean the two pounds—"
"—Actually weigh two pounds, yes. Fascinating, yeah?"
"But I read about that in history, didn't I?" she asked, forgetting to guard her words. "They're called British Pounds Sterling because they used to be worth a pound of silver each."
"Yes, quite true. But that was... oh, way back in the thirteenth century, before the monarchy began mucking about with the banking system. They diluted the pound with base metals little by little until in your day there isn't a single drop of silver in the one-pound coin."
"You mean when we have a bank note that says 'one pound sterling'..."
"In the old days you could take that to any Bank of England and exchange it for actual silver or gold. But in your time? Not a chance. That's the trouble with a paper money system—so long as people believe their little pieces of paper are worth something, well then, they are! But if anyone starts to doubt it or, god forbid, should panic, the whole thing falls apart like a castle built of straw. Throw in inflation, so that a loaf of bread used to be worth so many pennies, but it's now only worth half as many even though it's exactly the same loaf of bread, and you're setting yourself up for a lot of trouble. That's what started the Sterling riots of 2207 and 2214 and eventually led to the downfall of the so-called civilised world and the rise of the New Roman Empire."
He idly handed the two pounds back to Etta, then shoved his hands into his overcoat's pockets and continued to talk as they walked slowly up the path. "It all began innocently enough, with one pound of wheat seeds being the base of trade. They standardized it and eventually changed wheat seeds into sterling silver. Then the King—Edward the first, that is—decided to stretch the dollar, so to speak, by using his one pound of silver to make more than the usual amount of pennies. Over the years, his successors did the same, until the silver content wasn't even a third what it used to be. Then they did away with it altogether and now everyone just trades imaginary money back and forth. Bit silly if you ask me. What, we here already?"
"Looks like," Rose said, peering out from the brim of her straw bonnet. A number of small stone and brick buildings sat on either side of the road, just ahead. "Good time, too. My feet are killing me. Have you ever tried to walk in a pair of shoes that have no left or rights?"
"Blimey, we can't be!" He glanced back down the path they came up. "It's just been a few minutes since we left the cottage and we haven't been walking that fast. Didn't Mrs Morris say it was two kilometres to the edge of the village?"
"Just over," Etta said with a soft voice.
"Yet here we are," he said, astounded. "But this doesn't make any sense."
"Well, you're the one who likes impossible things," Rose replied.
"I suppose now you'll believe me when I tell you something strange is going on here?"
"Something strange is always going on wherever we are, Doctor. S'like you're that character from 'Peanuts'... the one with the little rain cloud always over his head."
"M'not." He pouted, just a bit. "I don't carry around a security blanket, either."
"Oh, no?" Rose grinned.
"Rose Tyler, my sonic screwdriver is not a security blanket! I'm insulted at the very idea. How many times have I gotten you out of whatever scrape you've gotten yourself into by..." He stopped, remembering the presence of Etta. Clearing his throat, he sized up the buildings ahead. "Never mind. Looks like your trinket shop over there. I'll be at the blacksmith, but by the time you're done shopping, you'll probably find me in the pub."
(To Be Continued...)