No reviews on the last chapter (I mean, not that I'm fishing for them, I'm just not sure if any of you guys like this Pride and Prejudice thing. If you don't, PLEASE don't hesitate to tell me, and I'll cut it out right away). This is the second out of three installments. There are some moments in this and the next chapter that could definitely be construed as Whouffaldi, just so you know. And I PROMISE that after the next chapter of this I'll give you guys some great Whouffaldi fluff to make up for this garbage I'm forcing you to read right now. Anyway, if you would rather that I continue with the fluff rather than the next installment of this story, let me know, and I will. oh right - and those of you who haven't read Pride and Prejudice may want to read the summary at the beginning of the last chapter!
Let the Whouffaldi-ish nineteenth century action begin!
Elizabeth was waiting for them as they approached the house, and welcomed them with a cheerful wave. "Mother already knows you are coming, so you may enter without fear of disturbing the household."
Clara smiled gratefully at her as she and the Doctor entered the house. Mrs. Bennet was waiting by the door to receive them, but the smile dropped off her face as soon as she saw who her visitors were. "Good Lord, Lizzy, you failed to mention exactly who was coming!" she exclaimed in horror. "This man has no place in my household!"
"As if I wanted one," the Doctor murmured in Clara's ear.
Elizabeth looked shocked. "Mother! He is our guest!"
"He is your guest, not mine," came the sharp reply. "His manners are atrocious. Keep him out of my sight."
Clara groaned. "I'm going to have to make you some flash cards so you can remember your manners, Doctor. You're making a bad impression on everyone."
An attractive young woman with silky blond hair and bashful blue eyes came forward and placed a soothing hand on Mrs. Bennet's shoulder. "Calm yourself, Mother. I suggest that you go and rest upstairs until the ball. We shall attend to the guests ourselves."
With a final sour stare at the Doctor, Mrs. Bennet scuttled away to take her daughter's advice. The blond-haired woman smiled apologetically at the Doctor and Clara. "You are most welcome here," she assured them.
"Jane, I presume," the Doctor announced, reaching forward to shake her hand.
"How did you know?" she asked, her forehead wrinkling in confusion.
The Doctor realized he had made a blunder. "Erm, well, it says so on your necklace," he answered feebly.
"What necklace?"
He cast a desperate glance at Clara, who shook her head slightly. She wasn't going to help him out of this situation. Thankfully, he was saved from having to answer by the arrival of two young girls who burst into the room at top speed. "We've come to meet the guests," the elder of the two explained breathlessly.
"Are you an officer?" the younger of the two asked the Doctor impertinently.
Clara raised an eyebrow. "Alright, enough of that. He's mine."
Elizabeth, mortified, introduced her two younger sisters as Kitty and Lydia. "Pay no notice to them. They're just overexcited by the prospect of the ball." While she spoke, Jane led the girls into the kitchen. "I suppose you two would like some tea," Lizzy continued. "And perhaps you would like to wash your face, Clara."
"I should like that very much indeed," Clara replied, frowning at the Doctor. "Thanks."
Elizabeth led the Doctor into the kitchen while Clara headed straight for the washroom. After making herself as presentable as possible, she followed them into the kitchen, which was a pleasant, low-ceilinged affair that sported a cheerfully crackling fireplace and a round table around which everyone was seated. The Doctor had already seated himself (as far away from Lydia as possible), so Clara dropped into a seat next to him.
Jane, as the eldest, took it upon herself to serve everyone. Clara accepted a mug of steaming tea as well as an airy biscuit dripping with jam. The Doctor took tea as well, but refused the biscuit. "I don't suppose you've got any chips?" he inquired hopefully. "Chips would be nice."
Clara kicked him under the table. "1800's," she mouthed discreetly.
"I suppose you're right… never mind," he murmured.
After serving everyone at the table, Jane seated herself and turned to the Doctor and Clara with enthusiasm shining in her eyes. "You will have to forgive the absence of my sister Mary and of my father. They are otherwise engaged. In the meantime, Elizabeth tells me you come from Blackpool – that is quite a distance. Can you give us any news of the goings-on there, or anywhere else, for that matter? We have so few travelers through here, situated off the main road as we are, and we know so little of other places."
"Oh, yes," Lydia cried. "Have you been to Meryton? Have you seen the officers?" She would have kept going in this vein, but Elizabeth quickly shushed her.
"One-track mind, that one," Clara whispered, just loudly enough that only the Doctor could hear. Then she raised her voice to address the entire group. "Sorry, there's not much to tell. Blackpool's a pretty boring place." Until the next century, anyway, she thought to herself. Just you wait till then. They'll have an amusement park and everything. "What about here? Anything important going on?" She sipped at her tea and nodded approvingly. It was the best tea she'd had in her life.
"Well, Mr. Bingley's ball is rather the talk of the town at the moment," Elizabeth replied obligingly. "It's all anyone can talk about. That and the officers stationed in Meryton…" She shot a reproving look at her two younger sisters, who either didn't notice or didn't care.
"Forgive me, but I couldn't help noticing that you aren't exactly prepared for a ball," Jane told Clara. "If you'll agree, my sisters and I can aid you there. Perhaps you can borrow a dress from Lydia." She discreetly avoided the topic of Clara's height in saying this – Clara was exactly the same height as Lydia, and all of the other Bennet sisters were much taller than her.
Lydia pouted petulantly for a second, but even she had enough grace to refrain from complaining. Clara was touched by the Bennet sisters' kindness, and gratefully accepted their offer. The talk quickly turned to speculation about the ball and a discussion of what color would match best with Clara's hair and eyes.
The Doctor watched the proceedings as he sipped his tea, both disgruntled and disgusted by the topic of the conversation. He did not know what to do with himself. Normally, by now, an alien would have jumped out of the cupboard or an explosion would have blown up half of the town. For once, nothing extraterrestrial (except for him) was present, and it was rather unsettling.
"Goodness gracious," Elizabeth exclaimed suddenly. "The ball is in two hours. How time flies. Jane, I should think you should start getting ready now. You'll want to look your best tonight for Mr. Bingley."
Jane's cheeks reddened. "I'm sure there will be other ladies at the ball to attract Mr. Bingley's attention."
"Yes, but none will be so nice, nor as sweet, as you," Lizzy teased her.
"I do wish I could come to the ball," Lydia moaned dramatically. "It is the greatest slight of my life that Mother will not let me go."
"At least you'll have me for company," Kitty consoled her soothingly. "And perhaps we shall be permitted to visit Meryton instead." Lydia's face brightened as she considered this prospect. The two girls excused themselves and ran from the room in the highest of spirits, probably to request permission to go to Meryton.
"Well, that's them gone," the Doctor commented rudely after they had left. "Suddenly the average IQ of this room just increased by a hundred."
Clara seemed to find this tremendously funny, but neither Jane nor Elizabeth understood the joke. "I must say I don't understand half the things you say, Mr. Smith," Jane remarked.
"Scotland," Clara answered. "It's like a different planet sometimes. Very much like a different planet." She glanced covertly at the Doctor to see if he had picked up on her little joke. He had, and he evidently wasn't amused.
"Quite," Jane answered doubtfully. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I should start getting ready for the ball…" She offered Clara a parting smile and gracefully exited the kitchen.
Excitement shone in Elizabeth's eyes. "Shall we go choose a dress for you?" she asked Clara eagerly.
"Yeah, why not?" The two woman got up and trailed after Jane, chatting animatedly, leaving the Doctor on his own.
He glowered after them. "This is ridiculous," he moaned to thin air. "Absolutely ridiculous."
"Pink. There's so much pink. It looks like a roll of bubble gum exploded in here! Why is there so much pink?" Clara was thoroughly unimpressed by the state of Lydia's closet. Most of the clothes were a hideous shade of baby pink. Only one of the dresses was a decent color – a deep gold – but the dress itself was covered with so many ridiculous ribbons and baubles that Clara shuddered just thinking about it, let alone looking at it.
"Why, it is the most fashionable color at the moment," Elizabeth cried in some surprise. "To be honest, I haven't quite taken a fancy to it myself, but Lydia certainly has. What is the current fashion in Blackpool, if not pink?"
"Erm… I dunno, red, I suppose…" Clara trailed away uncertainly, not knowing enough about nineteenth-century fashion in England to continue. "But I am not wearing any of these. They're all hideous."
"I would offer you one of my dresses, but…" Elizabeth paused, not sure how to address the problem of Clara's shortness, and finally settled on, "I think you would perhaps have a difficult time of dancing in a dress so long."
"I don't suppose there's any chance I could just wear this?" Clara asked hopefully, gesturing to her knee-high green and black plaid dress and black stockings.
Elizabeth shook her head gently but firmly. "Best not to."
Clara sighed. "Oh well. I guess I could wear one of these monstrosities if I really had to. I just really hope the Doctor hasn't got a camera."
Just outside the door, leaning against the wall where he'd been eavesdropping, the Doctor closed his eyes and frowned. Dresses, dresses… Didn't he have some dresses in the TARDIS? Left over from that wacky wardrobe exchange thing he'd taken Amy and Rory to once on Titanus-7B? The dresses would be too tall for Clara, considering that Amy was practically made of legs, but he did have a sonic screwdriver. It would be the work of a minute to make a few adjustments.
Oh, Clara. The things I do for you, the Doctor sighed to himself. He silently tiptoed downstairs, opened the front door, and slipped outside.
One and a half hours later:
"You look great," Clara assured both Elizabeth and Jane, feeling annoyed at herself for being just a tiny bit jealous of their dresses. She couldn't help wishing that Lydia's outfits had been slightly less pink so that she could have borrowed one of them. She was, however, pleased with her hairstyle. With the help of Elizabeth, she had tucked her rich brown locks into a swirly bun that sat on the top of her head, leaving her bangs across her forehead.
Jane smiled thoughtfully at her pale blue ballgown, tucking a stray strand of hair back into her intricate hairdo. "I do hope Mr. Bingley thinks the same."
Clara had to refrain herself from telling her that he certainly would. Being involved in the events of a book without giving any of them away was harder than she would have thought.
Elizabeth led the way to the bedroom door, her silky emerald gown swishing gently on the floor as she walked. "I apologize that we couldn't find you a gown, but I think everyone will be able to overlook your current outfit. Don't worry."
Clara smiled and followed her and Jane downstairs. "Doctor, I hope you're ready to – Doctor?" She frowned as she entered the kitchen. Where was that infuriating man? He'd completely vanished.
She spun in a circle in case he was behind a door, waiting to jump out and scare her (it had happened before), but no one was there. She stamped her foot. "Ugh. I hate that man sometimes."
Elizabeth and Jane cast shocked looks at each other behind Clara's back – it was practically the equivalent of sacrilege to speak that way. "Clara, I don't mean to pry," Elizabeth began hesitantly, "but why do you say that? And… why do you call him Doctor instead of Mr. Smith, or John?"
Clara opened her mouth and then closed it again, not sure how to answer the first question. She hadn't actually expected anyone to ask either of those questions, so she was unprepared to answer them. Then again, according to the book, Elizabeth was an asker of unexpected questions, so maybe she should have expected them. "Well," she answered finally, "I don't really hate him. In fact… I love him. A lot. He's my best friend. And I call him Doctor because that's what he is – a doctor."'
Neither of the girls seemed satisfied by these answers, but they never got the chance to dispute them. For, at that moment, the front door swung open with a crash, and the Doctor suddenly stood in the doorway.
Clara gasped and held a hand to her mouth, tears welling in her eyes. "Oh, Doctor…" she breathed.
He was holding a beautiful crimson dress with gold trim and puffed sleeves. Scarlet ribbons adorned the bodice, joining together to form the shape of a rose. More ribbons, these ones outlined in gold, circled the dress's skirt.
"I got you a dress," the Doctor stated gruffly. "Found it in the back of the TAR- " His eyes flicked to Jane and Elizabeth. "Carriage," he amended.
Clara took it from him and held it in the air, her mouth open in admiration. It was the most stunning piece of clothing she'd ever seen. She slowly turned her head to face the Doctor, who was watching her silently. In that moment, she loved him with every fibre of being – that crazy, impossible man who dragged her off to every corner of the universe and who could pull dresses out of hats. He was her Doctor, and she was never letting him go. "Thank you," she breathed. "Thank you so much."
Suddenly ridiculously excited, she beamed at him and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before darting upstairs to change.
The Doctor's mouth twitched in a smile as he held a hand to his cheek. Normally he wiped off or shrugged away Clara's silly little tokens of affection. But he let this one stay.
When he looked up, he found that Elizabeth and Jane were staring at him with both awe and approval. He cleared his throat brusquely and turned away. When he glanced over his shoulder a few seconds later, he found that they had gone outside to hail the carriage.
Clara reappeared a few minutes later and performed a slow twirl, her dress swishing around her ankles. "Good thing I wore flats instead of heels, or I'd be in so much trouble. What do you think? How do I look?"
"Well, you look fifty instead of sixty," the Doctor commented dryly. "And you could do with some makeup."
The smile dropped off her face. "Great. Thanks."
He sighed. "You look fine." Actually, he thought she looked gorgeous, but he wasn't about to tell her that. Not ever.
"You know," she murmured thoughtfully, "I just realized something. This dress fits me exactly. Exactly. Did you measure me in my sleep or something? That's a bit creepy."
The Doctor cleared his throat. "I think the carriage is waiting. We'd better go."
There was a mischievous twinkle in Clara's eyes as she slipped a hand under his elbow. "Come on then."
He smiled at the eagerness shining in her eyes and escorted her outside.