Chapter 3

Funny Seeing You Here

Clara woke early the next morning, but no mail had been left for her. No responses to her advertisement, no eager parents asking for a governess. Just an empty, snow covered street and a draft blowing in the open door that went right through her, freezing her very bones.

With a sigh, she pulled the door closed and locked it against the frigid outdoors. It was still Thursday, she had to remind herself. She still had a day to find the rest of her rent money. All would be well.

She lit a fire, ate some breakfast, and chose not to think about her possible upcoming eviction. Choosing not to think about it, though, seemed to have a funny effect on her brain. The more she pushed the scary, dreadful thoughts away, the faster and more fervently they came. One moment she'd be biting into a piece of bread dreaming wistfully of running away to Paris to try an exquisite little bakery, and the next she was crying into her tea about the landlord coming to steal her home away.

A little before noon, Clara decided she'd had enough of these violent mood swings.

Shaky with nerves, she forced herself to get dressed in her warmest layers and tie her boots on. It was a chilly day out again, more so than yesterday, and her eyes looked back in wanting as she exited the front door. But she turned her head to the street and carried on. It wasn't going to do any good to sit around worrying all day. And anyway, perhaps there were some fantastic decorations up in town. It was only a little over a month until Christmas now.

The streets surrounding St. Paul's were lined with half-raised decorum; wreaths and holly and well arranged lamps that would look absolutely beautiful after sundown. Clara made a mental note to come back after dark. Maybe the lights would lead her to a happier place.

She grinned as a few children darted in front of her to see the new toys lining the store window. Dolls and wooden horses, just like the ones that had filled her own childhood nursery.

Seeing the children and the toys also brought a pang of sadness into her heart. Angelica and Arthur Maitland. What were they up to now that she wasn't there? Was their father around more? Was their economic situation improved at all?

A gust of wind hit hard, making her shiver. She pulled her shawl tighter around herself, pausing for a moment as the cold air passed. As she waited, she heard a familiar voice, with a familiar accent.

"It'll pass soon, darling. Just hold tight."

Clara turned to find the stranger from yesterday standing by the wall of the toy shop, hugging a little girl close to himself. She barely reached his waist, due to how young she was or how long his legs were Clara didn't know.

"Doctor?" The girl asked, raising her head. "Why does the wind get so cold?"

"It's the season changing. I believe it's because we're further from the sun now."

"It wasn't this cold in Italy."

"Ah, I think that's because of the tilt of the Earth."

"How did the Earth get tilted?" She asked, eyes bright and cold seemingly forgotten.

The man quirked his head.

"I'm...not sure."

Clara caught his eye and gave him a small wave. He smiled in reply and, taking the girl's had in his own, walked over to where she was stood.

"Hello again," he said, touching his hat as if debating whether to tilt it or not.

"Hello yourself," Clara said.

"I, er, don't think I properly introduced myself."

He held out the hand that wasn't holding onto the little girl.

"Doctor John Smith. I'm working temporarily at St. Bartholomew's. Your name was...Clara, yes?"

Clara nodded.

"Yes. That's quite a memory you've got."

He smiled bashfully but didn't reply. Clara suddenly remembered something and reached into her pocket, beneath the shawl and all of the layers she wore.

"You forgot this yesterday." She held out his handkerchief. "Thank you, again. Not everyone is that kind."

He shoved the fabric into his pocket with a shrug.

"It's virtually my job description to help people."

The girl tugged on his coat.

"Is she one of your patients, Doctor?"

He chuckled and lifted her up.

"No, darling. Just an acquaintance."

"What's an...aqua…?"

"An acquaintance is someone you've only just met."

The girl's eyebrows furrowed.

"I thought that was a stranger?"

He shook his head with a smile.

"Bill does love asking questions," he explained to Clara.

Clara smiled to let him know it was alright.

"That's good. That means she's got a bright future ahead of her."

Bill turned to Clara.

"What does asking questions do?"

Clara felt the confidence that had been stolen by the landlord return in full force.

"Well; when you ask a question, you can find out the answer. And that's how you learn things. A lot of new things."

"Oh," Bill said, staring deep in thought for a moment. Then she turned back to John.

"Can I go look at the toys in the window, please?"

John laughed, setting the girl down.

"Of course. But stay where I can see you. And make sure the other kids have a chance to look, too."

Bill dashed off to the window, pressing her face against the glass. John watched her with a sad sort of look in his eye, but it was gone by the time he turned to Clara.

"You're very skilled with children," he said thoughtfully.

"I'm a governess. Well, sort of. I'm in between jobs right now."

John's jaw dropped into a grin.

"Not seriously?"

Clara's cheeks flushed pink, but John shook his head.

"I meant...we only just moved to the area. I work long shifts sometimes at the hospital, and I've been leaving Bill mostly with nurses for the past few days. I...I think I could really use your help, if you are available…?"

Clara's eyes widened.

"Yes, of course. I am definitely available!"

She let herself dream, and hope, for a moment. A new job? For a kindly doctor and an inquisitive, seemingly well-behaved little girl? It was all too good to be true. Perhaps the cold was getting to her?

"Brilliant," John said, handing her a card with his name and address on it. "Would you be able to interview tonight? So that we can settle the details and make sure you're a good fit for each other?"

Clara's smile spread from ear to ear.

"That would be perfect, Dr. Smith."

"John, please," he said, lifting his hat to run a hand through his hair.

"John," Clara repeated.

As she walked home, Clara didn't even feel the biting wind nor hear the chatter of those looking down on her filthy boots and torn shawls. She was a woman well on her way to the job of her dreams. If tonight could only go correctly, she'd be singing a new tune and living a different life this time tomorrow.