Studies in Romantic Fiction IV

Ravenwood

"I swear to god, this isn't what it looks like!"

"Like I trust a vampire who swears to god."

"Alright, then I swear to, I don't know, the devil, or something. I swear on Satan's creepy little goat-legs that this is absolutely not what it looks like, Jen," Clara got back to her feet awkwardly, still holding the ring in her hand. "What are you doing here? How did you know where I was?"

"Why are you proposing to Jane Austen, is a better question!?" Jenny demanded.

"Shh! Keep your voice down, she's sick," Clara indicated Jane.

"I don't care if she's dying, you-"

"She is dying!" Clara shouted at her. Now they were both making a scene. It was probably stressing Jane out, but no doubt Cassandra downstairs was eavesdropping on every word and marvellously enjoying something going wrong for Clara.

"So you're going to marry her out of pity, then? What is it, her dying wish?"

"Oh my god!" she exclaimed in horror, "Right, you. Come here. I'm sorry about this, Jane." Clara apologised over her shoulder as she grabbed Jenny by her arm probably tighter than she should have done and dragged her out of the room. She pulled her across the hall and into some other bedroom she assumed was Henry's going by the state of it – Cassandra could never stand for things to be messy, and it was quite damnable in there. "You total – you – you've got absolutely no idea how angry I am with you right now!" Clara hissed furiously.

"Oh, you're angry!? How do you think I-"

"I am this close to hitting you," Clara said, holding up her finger and her thumb barely half a centimetre apart, "Right around your pretty face, just thumping you."

"How have I done anything wrong?" Jenny was even smug about this, somehow.

"Because it's for you!"

"What's for me?"

"The ring! This bloody engagement ring!" she brandished it in Jenny's face, "This is for you!"

"…No," she said.

"Yes. It's got an inscription. It says 'Your two hearts beat for both of us' in it. Does that sound like it's something I asked for with Jane in mind? She hasn't got two hearts." Jenny stared at the ring, and suddenly – though she had had so much to say up until that point – she fell completely silent. Clara clenched her fist around it to keep it out of Jenny's sight; she did not want her to look at it. "I was showing her it and I dropped it and knelt to pick it up. That's all."

"…Why were you showing her it?"

"For the same reason I've been showing it to Nios. Because I love you so much that the thought of marrying you causes me too much happiness to be able to contain it, and I want to tell everyone how wonderful you are. I was just telling Jane. She thought you sounded great, by the way, but no doubt she thinks you're some lunatic now for pulling this stunt. I hope you're proud of yourself. This is why I didn't tell you where I was, because I knew how you would react about me going to see her – but what was I supposed to do? She finished her last novel for me and dedicated it to me and sent it to me through time, passing it down through her family for about as long as you've been alive, begging me to come and visit her one last time because she knows she's going to die. And she is going to die, she's got a week left to live," Clara lowered her voice considerably, "What would you do if it was Astrid?" Jenny was still wordless, because Clara was right. Clara watched her, and then sighed and put the ring away again, which Jenny noticed.

"What are you doing?"

"Putting it away."

"Why? Aren't you going to ask me?"

"Ask you what?"

"Ask me… you know…"

"No, I don't bloody think so. If you must know, I'm actually having second thoughts right now, because you clearly don't trust me. We saw each other – what? Three, four hours ago? And in that time you've convinced yourself I'm having an affair? Why would you even say yes if you think so low of me? Do you think I would throw away six years like that?"

"Clara…"

"I don't want to hear it right now, to be honest."

"It's just – you've been acting strange! Like you were hiding something! I thought you were trying to make up for something, like you did something bad."

"No, I just really love you and was struggling to keep me proposing a secret. But you've ruined that now, haven't you? And as if you think I would ask you to marry me with my dying ex-girlfriend in the next room. I declined your calls because I'm in 1817 and they don't have phones and I was outside when you were ringing. I did text you."

"You didn't."

"I did, I texted to ask what was wrong, if you were alright," Clara said, getting her phone out to prove she had done this. But in fact, she hadn't. The message was still there, with her usual reams of heartfelt emojis because she sometimes couldn't put her affection for Jenny into words and resorted to sending pictures, sitting in the box waiting for her to press send. Clara sighed and showed it to her. "Alright, I tried to text."

"Oh."

"What's the matter, Jen? Why have you reacted like this?" Clara asked, because now she was worried about Jenny's state of mind. Clara knew she had a bit of an issue with jealousy, but this was ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous. "Is something going on with you?"

"…Look, I don't want to blame James, but… did you know he and Sally have split up again?"

"Yes," said Clara stiffly.

"It's just that – I was talking to him and I was asking him about you, because you were acting strange, and he was answering, but he was talking about Sally, and he's saying this stuff like 'women are nice to you when they're trying to make up for something or are about to argue with you.' I shouldn't have listened to him, I don't know why I… this is my fault. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all this. God, it's…" She pressed her hands into her eyes and looked phenomenally upset. Clara stepped forward and put her arms around her in a hug. She didn't forgive her for her behaviour, not yet, and she was still angry, but it wasn't nice thinking that your significant other was having an affair.

"It's okay," she said, "I'm not cheating on you. But I can see how it would be stressful, me coming here without saying anything about it. I just knew you would have an overreaction like this, but not this bad. Maybe you're working too much? You're just too suspicious of people now." Jenny pushed out of the embrace to narrow her eyes at Clara. "What?"

"You do think I work too much."

"I didn't say that."

"You did!"

"No, I'm just making suggestions – you're fine to work as much as you like, Jenny. I couldn't deprive the mean streets of London from having you around to make them safer," Clara said.

"You don't want me to work less?"

"I wouldn't complain if you wanted to work less, but I don't mind. I mind if you become so bogged down in a quagmire of criminals, evidence and police work that you don't even trust me to tell you the truth about if something was making me upset. That you see me with an engagement ring and the first thing you think is that I'm cheating on you rather than I'm going to propose to you. I was just telling Jane about how oblivious you are to other people's feelings, too."

"…Have I ruined everything?"

"That depends what you mean by 'everything.'"

"Our relationship."

"No, I don't think so. Not quite."

"…How were you going to… you know? Do it?"

"Over breakfast this morning. That's why Nios was cooking and why I wanted you to take the weekend off work," Clara explained, "And then I changed my mind and thought I might bite the bullet and just make reservations at a restaurant – Nios said a seafood restaurant, she suggested that. There's a table booked for half past seven tonight."

"Oh. Can we still…?"

"I'll think about it. While you try to work out how to apologise and explain your behaviour in a way that doesn't make me think you've totally lost your mind." They stopped talking, with Jenny unable to decide what she wanted to say next, what would make everything better. Clara looked at the floor and tried to subdue some of her anger, but she had been telling the truth about having second thoughts because of Jenny's apparent lack of trust. "I'm going to go back to talk to Jane. Are you going to come and meet her properly without screaming at me?"

"I don't know…"

"I want you to meet her properly. Prove that I wasn't lying when I was just telling her all about how wonderful you are."

"…If you really want, then…" Jenny couldn't actually bring herself to say she wanted to meet Jane Austen, but her silence was enough. Clara held out her hand for Jenny to take, which she did. After all, Clara would forgive her eventually, but she was going to make her suffer a bit first. Stew in her guilt for a while longer, until she was so apologetic she exploded.

Clara pushed open the door into Jane's room slowly so as not to startle her, not like Jenny had done kicking it down like it was a murder suspect's flat, and dragged Jenny over to the edge of the bed.

"No – I'd rather stand," she said, tugging her hand free of Clara's. Clara shook her head at her and then returned to her place in the chair at the bedside. Jenny hovered in the shadows just behind her, trying to ignore the fact that Jane Austen was studying her.

"Right, whatever… Jenny, this is Jane Austen, my ex-girlfriend, emphasis on ex." Jenny grimaced. "And Jane, this is Jenny Young, my current girlfriend who is very sorry about barging in here like a psycho and accusing me of infidelity."

"Who could blame her? You are a prize flirt. I am charmed to make your acquaintance, Miss Young."

"It's Inspector Young, actually, I told you. She's with the police," Clara said, "I think she prefers Major Young, though."

"Do not try to tell me that women may be soldiers as well in the future, Clara dear. I can stand them marrying each other – but soldiers? With their inherent weaknesses?"

"Never had you pegged for a sexist."

"Pegged?" she asked.

"I mean, I never thought you were a sexist," Clara said. That had always been the problem, things lost in translation. She generally blamed Americanisms slipping into British use.

"If women are not inherently weak then explain my condition. I am only forty-one, you know."

"Medicine's rubbish right now," Clara shrugged, "And maybe you're just pathetic." She laughed slightly. "You're always ill."

"And do you never fall ill?"

"Not for years! When was the last time I was ill, Jen?" Clara asked her. She didn't need to ask her because she knew the answer, but wanted Jenny to at least try to involve herself, instead of standing around brooding. If Jenny could stand around brooding forever then she probably would.

"It was when I broke up with Jack," she said, "I came over and you were full of cold and I had to force you to take the day off work. It was Bonfire Night, 2016."

"See? Years ago."

"You were quite sick though," Jenny pointed out.

"Not as bad as you when you got the flu."

"It was a lot worse than the flu…" she muttered.

"Tell me, if you will, what is it like to be the Doctor's daughter?" Jane asked Jenny, taking her by surprise. But Jane didn't have any gripes with her; all the animosity was something Jenny had imagined for herself.

"I couldn't say, I've never been anyone else's daughter to compare it," Jenny said, and Jane laughed. Jenny was stunned; what had she thought was going to happen? They would get into a fight over Clara? An old-fashioned duel? With swords and pistols? Clara wouldn't be surprised. "I don't know. Everyone tells me I'm just like him."

"You live in his shadow, perhaps?"

"She's two-hundred years old, she's got her own shadow now," Clara quipped, "I think she's way more impressive. She's an acrobat, did I mention?"

"You did."

"She was in the circus. Did the high-wire, in outer space."

"Why did you ever leave?"

"Me?" Jenny asked. Jane and Clara both frowned at her. "I mean – obviously me. Well, just, you know, the usual reasons. Somebody got murdered and it was very nasty business. Then someone else fell in love with me, but they were really mean about it. Shouted at me and said I was so obsessed with my father that I couldn't see what was in front of me. And everyone thought I was a human, and I didn't like being mistaken for a human."

"Obsessed with your father?" Jane asked.

"He abandoned me. Thought I was dead, left me on this planet, never looked for me. Only reconnected recently. He's still trying to make up for it, I think he will be for a long time."

"And why were you ashamed to appear human?"

"I was a lot younger, I was only in my twenties. There's going to be a terrible war, from 1939 to 1945, and a lot of atrocities will be carried out by both sides. I couldn't stand it. I left. It was before I learnt that more or less every species go to war like that."

"But you were a soldier?"

"I believed in the cause that time," Jenny answered rigidly. She hated talking about herself, Clara could tell. No doubt she wouldn't say a word if she didn't know that Jane would be dead within a week. "I defected eventually. There was an incident." She was referring to the Polaris Death Charge, but there was no point bringing all that up. Even Clara barely followed the politics of that conflict. "Sometimes you have to do grey things in order to make a difference for the better."

"It's totally hot when you're all ambiguous like that," Clara told her. She blushed slightly. Clara didn't think Jane noticed this.

"Grey how?" Jane inquired.

"I don't like to talk about myself," she finally said.

"The best kind of person is one who doesn't like to talk about themselves. Clara has hardly said a word about herself during the duration of her entire visit today. Everything she says has been about you," Jane told her. "Which is a stark change from the ordinary."

"Are you implying I'm vain?" Clara asked her.

"Not implying, stating."

"I'm vain? I'm not the one who names all of the prettiest, kindest, most popular characters in all of my stories after myself, am I, Jane? Jane Bennet, Jane Fairfax, to name a few?"

"Coincidence."

"Of course it is."

"You, dear," Jane addressed Jenny again, "Seem to be a person with a great many stories she will never tell to anybody. I suppose I will have to believe you about being a military man, you have all the habits of a war hero. Modesty in the utmost."

"And you seem to tell too many stories," Jenny said quietly. This, again, made Jane laugh. She was very good-humoured, really. After all, she was on her deathbed and still managing to hold a conversation. Clara sighed, and began to think about things again. She took Jane's hand gently when she next spoke.

"I'm not sure how much longer I can stay," she said, conscious of Jenny. "But if you want me to, you know, just say the word. Or if you want me to keep coming back every day, until-"

"I won't hear of it," she said, "I wanted to see you one last time, dearest. I do not wish for you to bear witness to my decay, which I am holding off with great effort at this moment. The doctors have said I may only have days. Cassandra and Henry are both here, after all. I could not bear if you saw me leave this world, especially when you yourself have faced and defeated death before."

"You can't defeat it, there are always side-effects," Clara said, "Are you sure?"

"Perhaps you will stay a while longer, just today? Tell me more about your time away, your adventures – I do love to hear of them. Give me some wonderful scenes to imagine while I lay here in my bed. I am afraid I am too weak to even so much as draw back the curtains and take in the sunlight."

"Sure, Jane. Whatever you want. I'm here."