Chapter Three – Of Bedtime Stories and Balls
The sun was just setting by the time Rose and the Doctor entered the path that led through the cottage's garden. Etta had already gone ahead with the things Rose had bought on credit at the store.
"Don't forget to pay those merchants before we leave," she reminded him.
"Not a problem. I'll analyse the residue of those two pounds Etta so graciously let me hold for a moment." He rubbed his fingers together. "Should be able to find a comparable metal on the TARDIS that I can melt down."
Rose turned to him, worrying at her bottom lip. "You wouldn't take anything she needed, would you? I'd hate to think of you melting off bits of your ship just to pay my shopping bills."
"Don't be ridiculous. I'd sooner run off than take anything vital. Though I'd hate to leave those honest folk waiting for their money. How much did you buy, anyway? I thought you were just picking up a few bits and bobs to take home to your mother."
"You did say we could be here awhile. Mrs Morris has been awfully nice already, putting us up and letting me borrow her daughter's clothes." She eyed him speculatively. "I don't suppose we'll see you in anything out of the ordinary tomorrow night?"
"Oi! You speculating about what I sleep in, Rose Tyler?"
She coughed, startled into choking on her own saliva. He pounded her on the back but she waved him away. When she could speak again, she sputtered, "I meant what you'd be wearing to the dance! I'll be getting all dressed up, seems only fair that you wear something historical, too."
"Ah, but I rarely need to," he pointed out. "A suit's a suit, even if it's not quite the same as what everyone else is wearing."
"I think they're wearing knee breeches and velvet coats."
"And how d'you know that?"
"Saw it in the film." She grinned. "Lots of handsome gentlemen all showing off their legs."
"Not a chance!"
"Oh, but c'mon. Where's your sense of adventure, Doctor?"
"You trying to have a look at my legs?"
"Just trying to get you to play fair, s'all."
"I see. Oh, would you look at that!" He knelt at the side of the path, where several tall white flowers grew. "There you are. Let's see what sort of species you are, then."
He slipped his glasses on, glanced about to see if anyone other than Rose was watching, and pulled the sonic screwdriver from his pocket. With a press of the button, a high-pitched squeal filled the air and a bright blue light shone onto the flower. He scanned the petals, the leaves, and even the soil around the base of the flowers, then tucked the screwdriver back into an inner pocket of his coat.
"Well? What's the verdict?"
"Not any plant I've ever encountered. Certainly not terrestrial. The base DNA code's all wrong. Wherever we are, it's not Earth," he said grimly.
"But that doesn't make any sense. Why else would they talk about London, and use pounds, and so on?"
He stood. "That is precisely what we need to find out. C'mon. Let's go inside."
-oo-O-oo-
After dinner everyone gathered in the parlour. Mrs Morris apologized that her son wasn't at home, but explained that he had private rehearsals to make in preparation for the ball. Then she sat in her large rocking chair and pulled a fine wooden box onto her lap. Everyone, which included the cook, the maid, the groom, and Etta, quieted and watched with reverence. The Doctor and Rose looked on with curiosity.
Mrs Morris opened the box to reveal a velvet-lined interior and an ancient leather-bound book. It had gilt lettering on the cover, but she opened it too quickly for either the Doctor or Rose to make out the title.
"We will continue with chapter sixteen," Mrs Morris said. And she began to read.
The Doctor closed his eyes. Occasionally his lips moved in unison with the words, but mostly he just listened.
Afterwards, everyone went their private ways. The Doctor followed Rose up to her room. As she unwound the ribbon from her hair, he sat on the bed with a thoughtful expression.
"I know that look," Rose said with a sigh. "It means we're gonna end up running for our lives very shortly."
"What? No, no, no. Of course not. Why should we?"
"How should I know? But I hate it when you get that look."
"What look? What're you talking about?"
She stood in front of him and traced her fingers across his face, dipping first into the crevice just above the bridge of his nose, then following the shallow dent above one eyebrow, and finally tapping the dimple beside his mouth. "These. These are what I'm talking about. Every time I see you looking like this, all pensive like, trouble follows, yeah?"
He raised an eyebrow. "I'm only considering the evidence. Trying to add it all up in my head."
"Exactly! Every time you connect the dots, we end up running for our lives."
"Not this time," he promised. "But you should have some sleep. Days and nights are shorter here, haven't you noticed? Best you get to bed early. There's that dance tomorrow, don't forget. I'll mingle about; see what else I can learn."
"It's that book, yeah?" She paused while unbuttoning her dress. "You figured something out because of that novel Mrs Morris was reading us."
"Could be. You need some help with all those?" He gestured to the long row of buttons that she had been struggling to undo. "Bit silly to put so many buttons down the back of a dress, innit? How on earth are you supposed to get in and out of your clothes?"
She turned so her back faced him and he began undoing them one by one. After a moment of silence, she said, "So? What is it? This book, I mean."
"Oh, didn't you recognize it? I thought you might've."
"It was a bit boring, going on and on about the stupidest things, I thought."
The Doctor made an uncommitted noise. "Books that old tend to do that. Modern readers are accustomed to films and telly, everything happening fast, one thing after another. Back before such things, people liked to take their time to enjoy the story, to explore the subtleties and motives and not have everything spelled out for them right away. There you are, all unbuttoned. Wait, there's another dress underneath? How many dresses have you got on, anyway?"
She turned around and made a face at him. "Too many. Victorian, remember? An ankle is erotic!"
His face turned just a bit red at that, in memory of the way he'd examined her leg the night before. "No more bug bites, I trust?"
"Not a one, thank you."
"Good. Then I'll leave you to finish dressing for bed. See you in the morning, yeah?"
"'Night, Doctor."
"Goodnight, Rose."
-oo-O-oo-
Contrary to his promise, she didn't see him the next morning.
"The Doctor? I think he said something about fixing your carriage," Mrs Morris said, upon bringing Rose her breakfast. "I offered the services of our groom, but he said he'd rather do it himself."
"That's like him. Doesn't trust anyone else with his carriage."
"Do you mind if I ask you a personal question, Lady Rose?" She sat on the edge of the bed when Rose nodded. "It's none of my business, I know. But it seems as though you and the Doctor... well, that you have affection for each other beyond the strictures of a guardian and ward. I might dare to even say that you're in love with one another, if you wouldn't take offence."
Rose promptly swallowed a mouthful of egg-dipped toast before she'd finished chewing it. She coughed a bit and turned red in the face.
"Oh, please don't be upset." Mrs Morris handed her a cup of tea. "I couldn't help but notice. It's more than obvious."
"Yeah. To everyone but him," Rose answered quietly. She sipped the tea to soothe her throat.
"I wouldn't say that. I've seen the way he looks at you when he thinks you're not aware. He knows his heart full well, I'd say. But something's holding him back from saying."
"He's like that. One day I'll think I know exactly how he thinks and feels, and the next it's like he's another person, all closed off and hidden." She played with her fork, pushing around the remaining eggs on her plate. "He was hurt a long time ago. Really bad. Lost his family, his home, everything. I'm all he's got now."
"And he's afraid to lose you, too." Mrs Morris nodded wisely.
"He's not gonna. I promised I'd stay with him forever, and I meant it. I won't leave him, not ever. It's just... I can't keep waiting, hoping someday he'll come around, y'know? It hurts too much."
Mrs Morris reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Rose's ear. "He's a lucky man to have someone like you travelling with him. A very lucky man."
Rose nodded, her eyes filled with tears that she brushed away with a quick gesture.
"Now, come on. There's a lot to be done before the ball tonight. Can you cook at all?"
-oo-O-oo-
The Doctor waited for Rose at the foot of the stairs. When she made her grand début in a borrowed ball gown of pale rose silk, his jaw dropped ever so slightly. He cleared his throat and grinned, sticking his hands into his pinstriped pockets.p "Miss Tyler, may I escort you to the ball?"
"That's Lady Tyler," she replied, sticking her nose up into the air.
"My mistake. But don't you look smashing. For a human," he added after a second's pause.
Rose smacked him on the arm, but he merely smiled at her. "Your carriage awaits, m'lady. Not our carriage, of course, but close enough for where we're going."
They drove a short distance to a large brick meeting hall, festooned with lights. The sounds of many people talking and laughing filled the night air, overshadowing the soft chirping of night insects and the metal harnesses of the horses clinking as they pulled up to the door. The smell of many combined perfumes filtered out of the door, along with the mouth-watering scents of barbecued meats and side dishes. Rose felt her stomach gurgle in response. She'd helped out in the kitchen for several hours, putting together little meat pies with the house's cook, but she hadn't been allowed to eat any of them herself.
The Doctor helped her out of the carriage and escorted her into the building. It seemed very bright after the darkness outdoors. Candles flickered on every surface, and great chandeliers hung from the ceiling, lit with gas. The soft lights made every woman's gown shimmer; combined with everything else it nearly overwhelmed her senses. She clung to the Doctor's arm.
Halfway into the main room, they stopped in front of another couple.
"Ah, Lady Rose Tyler," said the Doctor with a smirk, "Allow me to introduce you to Mister William Walker, and his wife, Mistress Jane Walker. I believe that Mrs Walker is our hostess' niece, isn't that right?"
"Their mothers were sisters," replied Mr Walker, as his wife finished her curtsy.
Rose hastily imitated the curtsy and glanced at the wife. "Were? Did something happen?"
Jane flushed and started to open her mouth, but stopped when her husband spoke instead. "A carriage accident," he said, "Several years ago. Both Lydia and her cousin Davinia—that is, Elizabeth Morris' daughter—were killed. I believe that is Davinia's gown you're wearing tonight, Lady Rose."
"And does it not look lovely on her," added another voice, before Rose could figure out if she'd just been insulted. A younger man stepped up and extended his hand to Rose.
"My brother-in-law, Christopher Morris," William said curtly.
She slipped her gloved hand into his, expecting a handshake, but quickly found herself with goosebumps at her first official kiss on the knuckles. She gave a flustered laugh. "Mrs Morris is very kind to loan me her daughter's things."
"Yes, I heard about your troubles in the moor. It can be a treacherous way to go, especially at night. How unfortunate, especially with the Season about to begin. I trust the village seamstress will be able to replace some of your gowns in time, but if not, you look perfectly delightful in my sister's garments. She would have loved to have shared her wardrobe with you, were she here today. Isn't that right, William?"
"I'm sure it is." William Walker gave a short bow and left, pulling his wife along with him. They quickly blended into the crowd, although the tall ruby-coloured feather that adorned Jane's hair could be seen bobbing above the many heads.
"You'll have to excuse my brother. He expected to marry Davinia and had to settle instead for Jane after the accident."
"Oh, that's too bad. Your sister sounds like a lovely person." The Doctor shook hands with Christopher and clapped him on the shoulder. "You have my sympathies on your loss."
"Thank you, Doctor. It will be four years this Candlemas, but I find that I still miss her laughter. She could find the best out of any situation. People adored her. She had hair like yours, Lady Rose, but her eyes were as blue as the sky."
"Like yours," she suggested quietly.
Christopher looked at her for a moment, startled, then gave a half bow. "You are as gracious as I'd heard, m'lady. Is your dance card filled? I would like to claim a dance, if any are yet available."
The Doctor narrowed his eyes at the young man, then started to pull out the psychic paper, intending to show Christopher a dance card without a single waltz or cotillion available. Rose, however, caught his hand and yanked the wallet away from him. He protested, but she gave him a stern look.
"I can handle my own dances, Doctor. Why don't you go and mingle like you planned, yeah?"
He bounced on the balls of his feet for a moment, glancing from Christopher to Rose. Then he grinned. "All right, then. You enjoy yourself and I'll see you later."
"Doctor," she called after him, "Don't forget. I'm saving you a dance."
"Oh... No! That won't be necessary. I'm sure you'll have more than enough admirers to keep you busy. Never mind me. Go on, have fun."
Rose tucked the psychic paper into the tiny satin bag that served as a purse and then faced Christopher with a brilliant smile. "Well then, looks like I'm free for the night. What sort of dancing did you have in mind?"
(To Be Continued...)