John Giggled.
"Shh!" Rose snapped, authority sewn into her lowered brow.
He curled a finger over his lips, a smile growing around it. He hiccuped.
Against all that is her will, Rose giggled.
John allowed his own to escape.
Rose couldn't stop the joy from curling in her stomach, John's twinkling eye revealed in watching her defeat.
Fruit they shared in the Green Room that looked like peaches, were definitely more than peaches. Now they're drunk. The sun bid ado hours earlier, leaving them little time for their current state of affairs.
Down to her instinctive bone, Rose has been on enough stealth missions that sneaking back into Farringham is akin to brewing tea. Her footsteps mocked the leaf littered ground. She approached the backdoor, only halting to gauge activity in the windows. John, not expecting her to stop there, planted his face flat into her back. Mumbling something into the fabric, she felt chills pingpong along her spine in response to the unintentionally intimate movement of his lips.
Allowing him the prolonged inebriated movements it took to right himself. She found reason in this to sober.
They were suppose to return an hour apart, as they did every day of the break.
It lessens suspicion of what a professor and his maid might be up to. Nevermind the notion would be nowhere near the truth.
John lost his footing when Rose swiveled to face him. He tumbled into her arms, and staring wide-eyed at the ground, he stated gravely, "Rose. I don't think those were peaches."
The corner of her mouth tilted up as she did her level best not to roll her eyes. They were delicious, brilliant, Rose, Try it!
And they ate, and ate...
Rose lowered John to the doorstep. "Can't keep you straight," she said. Wobbling. Dropping the rest of the way down herself.
It sent their heads spinning. John's more so than usual, not that it had been correctly placed to begin with.
A memory ghosted into his eyes. Rose ducking similarly with him beside a bush. The sight before them; a grand mansion.
They've got visitors, he had said.
February the first, she responded fondly. Mum's birthday.
John jerked his head, the movement spiraled his brain into disarray.
And there is one guaranteed way of getting inside, excitement thrummed in his veins as Rose turned that look on him.
Apple cheeks curving a smile into her eyes as she said, psychic paper.
Overhead a light flickered against the windowpane. Rose scooted them back against the door, bated breath as she willed it to pass.
She met his gaze, his memories boiling an expectation of her expression, that dissolved upon her concerned frown.
"Someone's still up."
"I should think you." He blinked hard. "...revel in danger."
"Rocastle's just warmed up to me, ta."
"I see." His head thumped against the door. "As a resident, your actions bear consequences."
Rose pushed in the door. It creaked of a horrible nightmare, enough to clinch their teeth in unison. They twisted around the narrow opening so as to not agitate the door further.
Footsteps crept at the end of the hall. Rose grabbed fistfuls of John's suit. All the urge to run surged sprinting energy into her hands. John choked on his collar.
"Sorry!" Rose splayed her hands wide.
John wobbled, then blinked out of sync, rasping out, "I have an idea."
"Wh-"
With surprising precision, John shuffled Rose into a nearby broom closet. Finger combing his hair after shutting her in, he smiled at the oncoming lantern light.
"Mister Smith?" An older man inquired. He cupped his heart, exhaling pent up anxiety. "Good heavens, man, I thought you to be a spector. What has you haunting these halls in the dead of night?"
"Ah," John itched his ear. "Apologies. I've suffered from ill dreams. Had to air out those cursed visions and thought a walk could be the cure."
"You thought not." He swept John away. "Back to your quarters at once. This is a school not a nursery."
"Yes." John quickly agreed, looking longingly over his shoulder. "Right. Sorry."
Receding steps nudged Rose out. She surveyed the immediate area before tip-toeing to bed.
The next day Farringhams week-long break finally came to an end. Students bustled through the school to partake in breakfast. All casting glances at the still figure in the hall.
John stared into the broom closet, a worrisome crease in his brow. He shut the door. Then opened it again as if the contents had changed in that moment of concealment.
"Mister Smith, good morning," Matron Redfern greeted.
Not turning, he nodded, "yes, good morning, Matron."
"Do anything of merit over the break?" She asked, slightly bemused.
"Oh yes!" He beamed, finally meeting her eye. "I, myself, find the world to be more glorious than one could possibly expect. It seems the life of a student only ends when you stop looking for more to discover, Matron, it is the most incredible thing."
Matron chuckled into her curled fingers, his energy infectious. "You would do well to pass that enthusiasm onto your students."
"If only." He glanced up and down the hall. "By any chance, have you seen Miss Rose?"
"Miss Rose?" Matron Redfern raised her brows, "well."
"Yes, she was," he opened the broom closet again. "She was… Nevermind. I'm ready to get on with the day." He clapped his hands. "The sooner I fill these boys' minds, the sooner I can fill my own."
"I do love your fervor." She smiled. "Can I just say? Lately you have been all the lighter on your feet. It is refreshing."
"Thank you," he preened, tugging his lapel. "In a sense, I have been liberated." He jutted out his index finger, announcing "knowledge awaits!" Before turning and heading off.
Rose sat on John's bed with a huff, his breakfast tray in hand.
Cane over his shoulder, John recited to the classroom from a textbook, "Advanced with little impediment. The French were all but spent, with only two battalions of the old guard remaining."
Rose swept the crumbs off her skirt, sipping the last of his tea before departing with an empty tray.
Hidden away in the shadows of the school house, Latimer had been rammed into the side of the building.
"You think yourself clever?" Hutchinson towered over Latimer, a sneer marring his face. Baines stood safely aside. Watching with a smirk. "That paper you wrote looks nothing of my handwriting. It's not something for me to hand in."
"Sorry, sir." Latimer quivered, keeping his gaze downward. "I'll mend it right away, sir."
"The hell you will! Language professor returned it to me. That paper is marks off my grade, you imbecile!" He wound up for a punch.
"Oi!" Rose chimed in, marching up the dirt path. "What do you think you're doin?" Jenny fretted at her back, beckoning her to turn a blind eye.
Startled, Hutchinson jumped back. Yet scoffed as he came eye to eye with a housemaid. "Oh, come if it, wrench. This has nothing to do with you."
"It's gonna be something if you think I'll sit back and watch you knock around your homework lackie." She crossed her arms and flicked a loose hair out of her face. "That's right, I heard you. And if you plan to follow through, so will your professors."
He shoved Larimer, and cracked his knuckles. Barely paying her any mind.
Baines laughed in her face. "The help? You think they'll believe you?"
She wet her lips, thinking quick. "The help, yeah," she shoved Hutchinson away by the shoulder into Baines. "I sweep the floors, deliver the food, and do your laundry." Her voice lowered menacingly. "If the professors won't believe me, your colleagues would to love to see your tighty-whiteys, cause someone never learned how to properly wipe, did they?" She grinned from ear to ear, leaning in closer. "All those brown nuggets." Her upper body shook with a round of threatening chuckles. "And your mum was so kind as to write her precious boy's name on every pair. I think I'll run them up the flagpole. They'll talk about you for generations."
Hutchinson paled, running off and shoving a surprised Baines along.
Rose erupted into laughs.
Jenny clutched her chest. "Good. Lord! Rose! Think of your station!"
She caught her breath, "there are more important things. Mind." She smirked. "If they snitch, all bets are off. His dirty little secret will be for all to enjoy."
Jenny shook her head. "You're terms fly right over my head at times, Rose. Honestly." She gathered herself and headed for the door. "You've the backbone of a wolf."
Rose clammed up at the word. "Why do you say that?"
"Thank you," Latimer meekly voiced. "I'd be a goner if not for you."
Rose watched Jenny walk away before clapping Latimer's shoulders. "You're a sweet kid. But small. Easy pickings for the rest of the lot."
His attention slowly drifted down to her apron pocket. She covered it, the Doctor's watch. "What's it then?" She raised a brow.
He averted his entire body. "Sorry. Nothing, ma'am."
"Yeah? Cause I've been watching you." She raised a brow. "You once told me not to bother wiping the outside windowpanes with the sun blarin'. Next day, storms are rolling in. I think," she hushed her volume. "You've got the sight."
"The sight?"
"You can see things others can't." Her face fell heavy with her heart. "I knew someone like you. Gwyneth, her name was. It's why you were easy to spot."
He zoned out momentarily, concern straightening his back. "Will that happen to me?"
She blinked. "What?"
"Your friend. She…"
"No!" Rose palmed the air, "gods no, those were… extenuating circumstances."
"Rose!" Jenny called.
"Tell you what though, you want to repay that favor? Meet me in Mister Smith's quarters tomorrow after class." Rose skipped backwards. "Alright?"
"Tomorrow," He hesitantly nodded. "Sounds good."
A/N
My, my, my, my, my,
It's been awhile.
I'm not going to pretend like anyone remembers this fic, so hello! As you can probably, maybe, tell, we're finally about to introduce The Family. Fingers crossed!
