Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC. I do not own any of it, nor do I get paid for it.

A/N Thanks for the lovely response on the first chapter of this story. Here is part 2 of the story and a few things begin to unsettle the people in the story.

Warning for some religious themes in the chapter.

Also, I have gradually been uploading my stories to Teaspoon and now 'For Whom the Bell Tolls' is up to date in case you prefer to read it there. There's a link on my profile. There's also a link to the Duchess' dress.

Happy Reading!

The Venetian Tragedy: What You Want

The next morning, the Duchess was up at dawn. It was a very important day for her and for Venice, and she was determined to make sure that it would be a spectacular one.

It often surprised her that even with weeks of planning, how frantic the actual day of the event was. Fortunately, the palace had an excellent staff and extra help for the day. The Duchess really didn't have a lot to do, except supervise and ensure that everything was done to perfection.

The Duke was in meetings the whole morning, so the Duchess set about her duties alone. The ball would take place in the rear ballroom that overlooked the canal. That meant that it wasn't just the ballroom that would be decorated but the yard beyond it as well.

When the Duchess got there after breakfast, she saw the staff already at work making sure the ballroom was spick and span. Chinese lanterns were being hung over the wide arched windows, and over the path leading to the yard. Come evening, it would like beautiful.

The Duke had wished to spare no expense for the ball and had decided that there would be plenty of light and flowers to symbolise the Duchess' return. The Duchess had tried to protest but he had been adamant on that one thing. Giving in, the Duchess had thrown herself into the planning and now it looked delightful. Rhea, who was in charge of this event, approached the Duchess and gave a quick bow. "Is everything to your liking, my lady?" she asked.

"Yes, of course, Rhea," said the Duchess with a smile. "What of the flowers?"

"The florist will be here soon, my lady," said Rhea. "Everything will be done, just as you asked."

"Excellent, I'll be going down to the kitchens to see how the preparations are going," she said, knowing that Rhea would have this in check.

"Of course, my lady," bowed Rhea as the Duchess left the ballroom.

"Madame Rhea, the florist is here."

"Jarrett Vincent, madame," said Jarrett as he was shown to Rhea. "I have the flowers waiting outside."

Rhea gave a quick nod. "I'll have someone help you. Here is a list of the Duchess' request. I trust you have the required flowers?" she asked as she handed him the list.

Jarrett took it and nodded. "I have everything that was requested," he said. "I'll only need another pair of hands to help since I brought a friend of my own as well."

"Friend? What friend is this?" asked Rhea at once, knowing that every extra helper had to be verified by the palace security as per the Duke's orders.

"Nolan Wester, madame," said Jarrett. "He is being checked by security right now."

Rhea gave a quick nod. "Alright then, I'll send Alvin to help you," she said.

"Yes, madame," said Jarrett as he got to work. He picked up the big bunch of red carnations he had brought in and started to put them into sections that would go into the crystal vases around the ballroom. He was so engrossed in his work that he almost didn't notice when a small, feminine hand picked up a stray carnation he had tossed aside for being a little too wilted.

He looked up quickly and blinked in astonishment at the beautiful redheaded young woman who looked mortified at being caught. Her simple white dress with the gold sash told him that she was a maid, but Jarrett hardly cared as he watched her lovely green eyes lower in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," she said, putting the flower back and turning to go.

"No, wait," he called quickly and she turned around in surprise. "I'm Jarrett," he said, holding up a carnation that was infinitely more beautiful than the one she had picked up before.

She blushed deeply, looking as red as her hair as she took the flower. "I'm Rina," she said. "Thank you for the flower."

Jarrett grinned. "It was my pleasure," he said, tipping his head in a slight bow.

Rina bit her lip and smiled shyly. She was about to say something when the Duchess' voice called for her. She jumped a little and shot a look of apology at Jarrett who nodded back even though he was a little disappointed as she went up the stairs after the Duchess.

Jarrett kept his eyes trained on the staircase and couldn't help his little smile when Rina tucked the carnation behind her ear. In his preoccupation with her, he missed the slight frown that crossed the Duchess' face as she looked at him.

"Killing you, Doctor," the Black Guardian said nastily. "That was never the plan. Your people have an infernal habit of returning from the dead. Not to mention that you have had your uses over the years."

"Then why?" the Doctor asked in a calm voice that betrayed the storm brewing beneath it. "Why go to all this trouble? What could possibly be so important that all the Guardians had to band together? What was it all for?"

"It had nothing to do with you, Doctor," said the Gold Guardian before her eyes moved slowly to Rose. "It did, however, have everything to do with her."

"Me?" questioned Rose, shocked. "What are you talking about?"

"By all means, Miss Tyler, you should not exist. The Eternals should have killed Arkytior. She was too volatile, too blinded by her love for the Time Lord to do what was expected of her," said the Azure Guardian stiffly.

"What was expected of her?" asked Rose, feeling dread settle in the area of her stomach.

"She was a manifestation of Time, and it was her duty to obey it," said the Red Guardian calmly.

"Which was what, precisely?" asked the Doctor.

"She was sent by Fenric to kill the Time Lord. And the fool fell in love with him," snarled the Crystal Guardian.

"We would have left Miss Tyler alone, but then you met her and we saw history starting to repeat itself," said the White Guardian sadly. "We could not allow it to happen."

The Duchess slammed the book shut. It was at a good point, and the appearance of the Guardians would have brought forth more information about what was happening with Rose, but her mind simply wasn't in it.

She couldn't stop thinking about the florist that Rina had been talking to. The Duchess was certain that she had seen him somewhere before, but she could not remember when or where it had been. The doctors had warned her that seeing certain places or people might trigger some memories.

She debated if she should call for her husband and tell him she thought that the man downstairs might have had something to do with her disappearance. She discarded the idea as soon as she thought it. It was ridiculous; she was overreacting.

If he had been someone involved with her disappearance, he was hardly likely to brazenly show up at the palace. Perhaps he had been someone she had seen in passing before. It didn't make him a criminal, nor a villain involved with her disappearance.

The Duchess shook her head and sighed. She had to put the matter out of her mind, and focus on the party tonight. She had her duties as the hostess to look after, and she had to make sure that she made a good impression on her guests. No one would ever say that Jessamine Celandine had been slacking on her duties after her return.

She also decided not to mention her brief moment of panic to the Duke. She was certain that her overprotective husband might have the man executed simply for sparking doubt in her mind.

No, she decided as she picked up her book to continue the Doctor and Rose's adventures. It was better left alone.

The Provost was in his chambers, trying to fix the collar on his formal priest's robes with a small grimace on his face. The dark blue robes were rather depressing in his opinion, though the golden lining certainly added some brightness to them. He preferred his usual dark green and gold robes that he wore to service, or even the simple dark green smock he usually wore, rather than these formal robes worn only during special ceremonies and occasions.

Normally, a simple party at the palace would not warrant such a formal attire but it would be his first time meeting the Duchess, and he really did want to make a good impression on both her and the Duke. His church thrived on help from the palace, and he had to maintain good relations with them if he hoped to continue his work in Venice.

He finished getting dressed and appraised his reflection in the mirror. As always he contemplated if he should cut his hair and then shook his head. It was fine just the way it was. A quick glance at the time told him that it was almost time for him to leave. It was only a short walk to the palace, but it was bound to be warm due to it being Saviltride. Not like the heat really bothered him.

"Provost Errapel?" It was his assistant, Luca, at the door.

"Yes, Luca?" asked the Provost as he opened the door and let him in.

"Wilson Fontaine is on the mend," he said with a smile.

The Provost smiled too. "That is wonderful news indeed, Luca," he said. "I want you to call Sister Gough and head to the hospital at once. She might be of assistance to help Mrs. Fontaine. I doubt the poor woman has slept a wink in the past week."

"As you say, Provost," said Luca with a quick nod. "I will pass along your prayers, shall I?"

"Thank you, Luca, and do convey my apologies for not being able to see them today. I will visit them first thing in the morning," he said.

"Of course, Provost," said Luca and took his leave.

The Provost smiled as he adjusted his collar again. He was glad that Wilson was alright. The man had been helping with the building of the new orphanage when his ladder had slipped, causing him to fall and injure himself. The Provost blamed himself quite a bit, since he ought to have insisted on helping rather than listening to Wilson when he'd said that he had it under control. Mrs. Fontaine didn't blame him at all; she had been grateful for all his help in these trying times, but the Provost found it hard to forgive himself. Perhaps now that Wilson was on the mend, he would be able to seek his forgiveness.

Filled with slightly more vigour than he was before, the Provost decided to head to the palace. It only took a short ten minutes until he reached the palace gates and was let in at once. He wasn't the first one there, for which he was grateful and as he looked around for familiar faces, he was surprised to see Jarrett Vincent doing a very poor job of trying to look inconspicuous.

He made his way to him and tapped his shoulder. "Jarrett?" he asked, suppressing his amusement when he jumped quite a bit.

"Provost! You scared me!" said Jarrett as he clutched a hand to his heart.

"You look woefully out of place, young Jarrett," said the Provost with a small smile. "Unlike the rest of us trussed up chickens, you look positively human."

Jarrett grinned a little, never having seen the priest look so jovial. "I have been here all day, Provost," he said. "The flowers all came from my shop and I helped decorate."

The Provost looked around the ballroom appreciatively. "It looks rather beautiful, Jarrett," he said. "But you didn't stay behind to look at your handiwork, did you?" remarked the Provost shrewdly.

Jarrett flushed a little but nodded just the same. "I met someone...but I didn't get a chance to talk to her besides knowing her name," he confessed quietly.

The Provost smiled again. "Ah, young love. Who might the lady in question be?" he asked.

"Her name is Rina. She is the Duchess' maid, I think," he said. "She has to be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, Provost."

"Then what are you doing standing here like a lovesick fool?" asked the Provost. "Go find her and ask permission to court her, Jarrett."

"I only met her today," Jarrett protested half-heartedly.

"So?" asked the Provost. "Time and love wait for none, young Jarrett."

"I thought it was tide, not love," said Jarrett.

"Nonsense," said the Provost, almost absently. "A spatial manipulator keyed into a gravitational thruster can easily control tides."

"What?" asked Jarrett, looking completely baffled.

The Provost looked just as confused. "Huh, I have no idea," he said. "Must have been something I'd read."

"There she is," said Jarrett suddenly and the Provost followed his line of sight. He knew that Jarrett's attention was on the maid in the white dress, but the Provost himself was captivated by the sight of the Duchess descending down the stairs.

Her portraits really had not done her justice. She was dressed in a lovely deep red dress with roses sewn around her waist, and had her golden hair curled gently down her back. The smile on her face was one that set his heart racing and for a moment, it felt like he had two of them instead. She reached the last few steps and the Duke took her hand, and the action felt like cold water being doused over him.

What was he doing? She was a married woman who was clearly in love with her husband. And he was a man of cloth. Priests were allowed to marry of course, even the Provost, but he doubted the courtesy extended to being attracted to married women. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he tried to pay attention to the Duke's speech. He spoke about Venice and her prosperity, and the happiness and light that the Duchess' return had brought.

Despite everything, the Provost couldn't help but watch the Duchess as the Duke was speaking. She was smiling at her husband's words, even as her cheeks turned pink from the love and devotion that flowed from them. The Duke's speech was over and everyone clapped politely as the band started the music. The guests began to mingle but the Provost's eyes stayed on the Duke and the Duchess, and his stomach clenched when the two kissed briefly.

"Provost?"

He jumped and looked at Jarrett who looked a little unsettled. The Provost hastened to look calmer than he was feeling. "Yes, Jarrett?" he asked. "Is there something wrong?"

"You tell me," said Jarrett. "You are the one crushing that rose."

The Provost looked at his hand and jumped a little when he realised that he had nearly destroyed the pink rosebud from the flower arrangement. He let it go like it had burned him and straightened up. "Sorry, Jarrett, my mind was elsewhere. Do excuse me, I must mingle with the guests," he said with as much dignity as he could muster.

"Of course, Provost," said Jarrett with a nod, though he still looked a little concerned. His attention was diverted when he spotted Rina leave the Duchess' side and move towards the exit that led to the gardens. "I'll see you around," he told the Provost absently as he made to follow her.

He heard the Provost reply almost as absently, but Jarrett was engrossed in following Rina. He finally got to the door that Rina had taken and hurried out of it. The garden was only dimly lit, but he saw Rina sitting down on a stone bench. He approached her cautiously and announced his presence with a nervous cough.

She whirled around in shock, but upon seeing him he saw her blush. "Jarrett, I didn't realise you were still here," she said, her voice shaking slightly.

Hoping that it was nervousness and not fear, Jarrett eased himself on the bench next to her, keeping a respectable distance between them. "I had a question I wanted to ask," he said, deciding to take the Provost's advice.

Rina's eyes widened with surprise, and dare he hope, anticipation. Jarrett knew that he didn't have a gift to present to her so she could consider his offer of courtship, but he drew the makeshift bouquet of red and white carnations that he had cobbled together. It was slightly wilted, having been pushed into his pockets, but he hoped she understood the sentiment behind it as he held it up.

"I realise we haven't known each other long," he said nervously. "But I very much would like to know you better, Rina. Will you please accept my sincerest offer of courtship?"

Rina had tears in her eyes as she nodded quickly, accepting the bouquet. Jarrett let out the breath that he was holding and chuckled in relief.

"May I call on you tomorrow?" he asked shyly.

"I would like that very much," she said. She glanced back at the doors to the palace and knew that she had to be returning soon.

Jarrett gave a quick nod. "Until tomorrow then," he said as he stood up and offered his hand.

Rina took his hand and stood up. Before she could lose her nerve, she kissed his cheek and then ran back to the palace quickly. Jarrett stared after her in shock before a giddy smile burst forth on his smile.

With an extra spring in his step, he left the palace to return home. He had a woman to woo tomorrow.

"Provost Errapel, so glad you could make it," said the Duke as he greeted the Provost jovially.

"Thank you for the invitation, Highness," said the Provost amiably enough, reminding himself that he needed the palace's support.

"Of course, there was no question of it," said the Duke. "How is the man who was injured at the site of the orphanage?"

"He is quite well and on the mend," said the Provost with a smile. "I will be seeing him tomorrow."

"Do tell him that the palace wishes him well," said the Duke with a nod.

The Provost nodded. "Of course," he said.

One of the Duke's advisors walked up to him, and called him away. He nodded at the Provost and excused himself. Before the Provost could do anything else, the Duchess approached him.

"My lady," said the Provost with a quick bow, hoping she couldn't see the pink in his cheeks.

For some reason, she looked rather flushed too. "You must be Provost Errapel. I have heard so much about you," she said.

"Nothing bad, I hope," he joked with a smile, feeling surprised when her blush deepened.

"Of course not," she said at once. "I wanted to personally thank you for taking up the orphanage project."

The Provost remembered with a start that the orphanage had been the Duchess' brainchild and she had been working tirelessly on it when she had disappeared. "It is a noble pursuit, my lady, and my only hope is to see it succeed," he said.

"From what I hear, you have been excellent at it," she said, her tongue slipping to the corner of her mouth as she smiled at him. The Provost felt his breath catch and he had to physically clench his fists to stop himself from doing something he would regret. He nearly missed her question due to his internal turmoil. "...wondering if there was anything I could do to help?" she asked.

"Any and all help is appreciated, my lady," he said, trying his hardest to pull himself together. "But as I understand, you are meant to be resting."

"Nonsense, I am perfectly fine," she insisted. "I would love to help, Provost."

He smiled at that and nodded. "I understand. There are a few matters that could use your wisdom," he said.

"Excellent," she said with a nod. "Is tomorrow a bit too soon for you to present these ideas to me, Provost?" she asked.

"Of course not," he said, though a part of him admonished him for it. He really ought to be avoiding temptation and staying away from her but any moment he got to spend with her would be precious to him. "Shall I make an appointment?"

"There will be no need for such formalities," she said, and for some reason she blushed. "I would love it if you joined me for tea in the afternoon."

He knew he really ought to refuse but his rational side seemed to have been silenced by the majority of his brain. "I would be honoured," he said.

She smiled brightly and the Provost wondered, not for the first time that night, how he had ever expected the portraits to outshine the real thing. "Wonderful," she said delightedly. "I shall see you tomorrow then."

"I look forward to it," he said before he could help himself and then cursed the blush rising to his cheeks.

"My lady, the Duke is asking for you," said a maid as she approached the Duchess, and the Provost recognised her as Rina, the woman that Jarrett had been looking to court. He spotted a makeshift bouquet of carnations tucked into her gold sash and smiled to himself. Looked like young Jarrett had mustered up the courage to ask her after all.

The Duchess smiled apologetically at him. "Enjoy the party, Provost. I shall see you tomorrow," she said.

He bowed deeply. "Thank you, my lady," he said as she left with an odd smile on her face. He picked up a goblet of wine from a passing waiter and downed it in three sips, marvelling at how dry his throat had gone.

How was he to survive being alone with her if talking to her in a room full of people had his throat drier than the Sahara. Not for the last time, the Provost wondered if he had a particularly masochistic side to him that he would torture himself by spending time with a married woman whom he was clearly attracted to.

No, he decided firmly. He was a consummate professional and he would act like it. Any attraction he had towards the Duchess would surely be gone by tomorrow.

A/N End of part 2. Thanks for reading.

It was quite a long chapter, and as you can guess, this story is going to be lax on action and focus on the characters quite a bit. I hope it is clearer about who's who this time.

Part 3 will be up soon. Let me know what you thought of this one.