amberfocus (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
amberfocus) wrote2014-10-08 11:43 am
amberfocus) wrote2014-10-08 11:43 am
Entry tags:
The Watchmaker's Daughter: Chapter Ten
Title: The Watchmaker's Daughter (10/?)
Author:
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amberfocusCharacters/Pairings: The Tenth Doctor(John Smith)/Rose Tyler, Pete Tyler, Martha Jones, Joan Redfern, Timothy Lattimer, various original characters
Genre: Action/Adventure, Romance, HN/FOB rewrite
Rating: Teen (for now, may go up later)
Betas:
amyo67, theteshSummary: At the Doomsday wall an unexpected twist of fate sends Rose and Pete Tyler back to 1913 instead of to the parallel universe. While the Doctor and Martha are hiding from the Family of Blood at Farringham School for Boys the Tylers try to make a life for themselves in the nearby village.
Author's Notes: Recognizable dialogue is from the episode Human Nature though the characters saying it might be switched about a bit.
Previous Chapters: http://amberfocus.livejournal.com/565160.html
“Where were you?” Martha asked as Jenny came into their quarters seconds before the curfew bell rang. “I waited at the Watchmaker’s for a long time. Rose’s father walked me back.”
“We was supposed to meet at the pub,” Jenny said darkly. “You was going to bring round your fancy new friend for a drink.”
“I’m sure we said—.”
“No, we didn’t. And I just biked across the moors by meself in the dark. No fancy escort for me. Anything could have happened to me. And there I was all worried something had happened to you and here you are sitting there reading, not worried at all,” Jenny said. She said reading like it was inappropriate for a maid to be doing.
“Jenny, I’m sorry. It was a misunderstanding,” Martha said.
“Maybe the misunderstanding was in our being friends. You’ve got your fancy new friend now to go with your fancy speech. You don’t be needing me.”
Jenny moved behind the privacy screen and changed into her night clothes then climbed into her bed. “Please blow out that lamp. One of us would like to sleep.”
“Jenny,” Martha tried again. “I’m sorry you had to ride home alone.”
“Not as sorry as I be,” Jenny said turning her back to Martha and pulling the blanket over her head to end the conversation.
With a sigh, Martha marked her place in the book, blew out the lamp and settled into her own bed. Perhaps Jenny would be in a better mood in the morning.
Things were not better in the morning. Jenny was still short with her, Joan Redfern scolded her for having her head in the clouds, and John Smith was snippy with her when she accidentally tripped over a stack of books he’d left piled on the floor.
All she wanted to do was go back to the TARDIS and wait out the rest of their time in 1913 in peace. Even with the ship effectively powered down, it had enough residual warmth and light that she could live in her room and eat the emergency food in tins.
Of course she couldn’t do that. She had to keep an eye on her charge, making sure no one found out he was actually a Time Lord. She wished she knew the Doctor’s reasoning for hiding from these creatures. Usually he confronted aliens straight on. He stood up to Daleks and yet he was running from what basically amounted to time thieves.
He had claimed he hadn’t had time to explain everything, yet he’d recorded all those instructions. Stupid instructions as it turned out. She didn’t care if the man ate pears every day for the rest of his time as John Smith. In fact, after the way he’d been treating her, she was seriously thinking of serving them to him on purpose.
Martha smiled and then gave herself a good shake. She needed to not let this all affect her so much. She couldn’t help the situation now and she really needed to make the best of it. The one thing she might be able to do is mend the rift with Jenny. Jenny did have every right to be angry. All of the excitement of the night had scrambled her thoughts and Martha had finally remembered their conversation. Jenny had been right about meeting at the pub.
“You look like you need this more than I do,” a young voice said, interrupting her thoughts.
“Hello, Timothy,” she said.
He held out a bundle of cookies wrapped in a handkerchief. “Here. There’s nothing so bad that a half dozen ginger cookies can’t solve, says my mother.”
“Oh, I couldn’t,” said Martha.
“Of course you could. Cook fed me some while I was there so this is extra. She said I could take it to share with my friends, but…well, that pretty much is you in this place. I’m quite sure you have a use for it.” Timothy pressed it into her hand and Martha relented, placing it in her apron pocket. She could use it as a peace offering for Jenny.
“How are things going with the other boys?” Martha asked.
Timothy looked down. “Hutchinson and Rochester are the same as ever. Something has gotten into Baines though.”
Martha started. Did Timothy know? He couldn’t know what had happened to the older boy. Mr. Tyler had been the only one to see it.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“He’s acting off. He’s not…”Timothy trailed off searching for the right words. “He’s just not himself. He’s not as cruel as usual.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Martha asked.
“I’m not sure in this case.”
“Latimer!” The sharp voice of the headmaster came from the top of the stairs. Timothy jumped. “Shouldn’t you be in class?” he asked.
“On my way, sir,” Timothy said. “I was just running an errand for Mr. Smith, sir.”
“Then finish running your errand. And Timothy?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do not distract the maids from their duties. Heaven knows they focus little enough on them as it is,” the headmaster said.
“Yes, sir.” Timothy grimaced. He trotted off to class with an apologetic look towards Martha.
The headmaster turned his disapproving gaze on Martha. “Don’t you have something you should be polishing?” he asked sternly.
“Yes, sir,” Martha said bobbing her head and smiling through clenched teeth before hurrying off to her duties.
Aldous Clark, known to most of the townsfolk simply as Farmer Clark, was walking the perimeter of his newly plowed fields. He had hired a team in from a neighboring farm and wanted to make sure the horses, a newly trained, beautiful pair of Clydesdales, had done their job well. He was pleased with what he saw. Pleased enough that he intended to buy the beautiful horses for the asking price and not try to dicker it down.
He breathed in deeply, loving the smell of newly turned earth. He was, in truth, a gentleman farmer, with a bank account that allowed him the benefits of country life, without ever having to do any of the work himself. No, the backbreaking labor was bought and paid for, but his land, his rich and fertile land, made up for every penny he spent and always made him a tidy profit.
This was the one thing he insisted on doing himself, walking the land and keeping his hand in a little bit. He paused, and breathed deeply again, telling himself he was just enjoying the scents at hand, and that he was not catching his breath from having let his weight go just a bit.
A slight movement caught his eye and at first he wasn’t sure what it had been. The only thing he could see was last year’s scarecrow hanging from a cross several yards away. The scarecrow’s left arm moved upward in a wave and fury filled him. Someone was trespassing on his land. If it was that horrible gang of boys from Farringham School, the ones who’d come in and raided his chicken coop and then egged his house with their plundered goods, he’d be charging right down there and into the headmaster’s office to give him a piece of his mind.
He approached quickly, shaking his finger in anger at whatever child was hiding behind the scarecrow’s face. “That is my property,” he said indignantly as the scarecrow’s hand came down and returned to its previous position. “And you are trespassing on my land.” He was now face to face with the burlap face hiding the real culprit.
“Come on, who’s in there?” he demanded, pulling loose straw out of the belly of the shirt that made up the scarecrow’s middle. “It’s one of you idiot boys from the school, is it?” He pulled more straw free and a sudden pang of discomfort washed through him as part of his mind realized there was a little too much bedding for anyone to be hiding within the scarecrow. “Come on, that’s—.” He stopped as his hand punched through the back of the scarecrow’s shirt.
The majority of the stuffing came out in his hands as he pulled out. “But how’d you do…?” Something unnatural was happening. Every hair on his body stood up on end as the scarecrow’s head twisted to look at him. There was no fury left in him as confusion and fear began to overwhelm him. The scarecrow raised its hand again and he saw others coming across the field.
Whatever this was, it was no boys’ prank. His heart dropped down into his stomach and panic raced through his veins. “No! No! Help me!” he screamed as he was surrounded and the creatures began to attack. “Help me!” But no help was coming. It was the last thought he ever had.
“Miss Tyler?” Onna knocked on the sitting room door.
“Come in,” Rose called.
“Your father would like for you to come down to the shop,” she said. “He wants you to look at something.”
“Okay,” Rose said. She pushed herself up from her chair, trying not to wince at the pain in her shoulder. She hadn’t put on the sling this morning and so had momentarily forgotten to favor that arm.
“Are you all right?” Onna asked solicitously.
“Yes, thank you,” Rose replied, wishing she could go to the TARDIS infirmary and use one of the doctor’s machines for faster healing. But with the ship powered down they wouldn’t work anyway.
She followed Onna down the stairs and through the small hallway that led to the work area of Mr. Jenkins’ shop. “Father?” Rose asked.
Pete looked up. “Ah, there you are, Rose. I wanted you to take a look at this.” His eyes shifted to Onna. “Thank you, Onna. I think Mrs. Jenkins would like your help in the kitchen now.”
“Certainly, sir,” Onna said giving a slight curtsey and bobbing her head before heading back into the main house.
“What do you have?” Rose asked.
“It’s the watch the Doctor brought in,” Pete said.
“You shouldn’t call him that,” Rose said. “Someone might hear and put two and two together. We don’t know where these creatures are or who they’ve got to.”
Pete nodded. “Very well. This is the watch John Smith brought in to have repaired. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
He handed it to Rose. “It’s got a perception filter on it,” she said. The weight of the watch was heavy in her hand. As she focused symbols seemed to swirl on the surface. “I think it’s very old. Even for Gallifreyan standards. I can feel something when I touch it. I just don’t know what.”
“He said it was his father’s.”
“Maybe it was.”
“It’s not a proper watch, though. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with it. Mr. Smith will be expecting a repair, but when I tried to pry the glass out, it electrocuted me,” Pete said.
“I guess you can tell him it can’t be done. It looks old by human standards, too. You could tell him the parts no longer exist to repair it,” Rose said.
“Watchmaking has not changed enough from when it was created to this time period, Rose. It’s not a believable lie,” Pete said.
“Well, you’ve got quite a backlog of watches to work on. If he asks about it, tell him you haven’t got to it yet. That it is in line behind several others that came in first.”
“I suppose,” said Pete.
“Maybe we should put it somewhere safe,” Rose said. The watch had warmed to the temperature of her skin and had a slight glow about it. “I don’t like the idea of it just laying around in the shop for some reason.”
“Take it upstairs and put it in the sitting room cabinet behind the figurines,” Pete suggested. “No one will look for it there. Not that anyone besides Mr. Smith should be looking for it anyway.”
“All right. And then I think I’m going to go out for a walk now that it has stopped raining. I’m going a little stir-crazy with nothing to do but read,” Rose said.
“Mrs. Jenkins offered to teach you how to do needlepoint.”
“She tried this morning. It’s too much fiddly work with my shoulder still bothering me. Anyway, we’re going to be here for a while still so I thought I’d get to know the village better, maybe meet some people. You said something about there being a junior league?”
“Yes. A Mrs. Bradshaw had come round talking about that dance this weekend,” he said. “Maybe you can help out with decorations or something.”
“I thought I was to avoid that dance,” Rose said. “If John Smith is going, I shouldn’t.”
“Ah, yes. There is that,” Pete said. “Well, go hide the watch and then have a nice afternoon wandering.”
“I shall,” Rose said, still feeling like the old-fashioned words felt strange in her mouth. She said good-bye to Pete and quickly took care of the watch before putting on the coat Mrs. Jenkins had loaned her.
As she stepped outside she took a deep breath, then regretted it as the village’s smells invaded her nostrils. Oh, well, she’d smelled worse on some of the planets the Doctor had taken her to. She set off without a clear destination in mind.
Rose spent a few hours poking around in the shops in town. She’d familiarized herself with the dry goods store where she’d bought a green ribbon for Onna’s hair, the haberdashery, and the various market vendors. Then, despite her protestations that she was tired of reading, she had spent an hour in the bookstore. She’d purchased a book that had looked interesting and was leaving when she caught sight of Lucy Cartwright coming out of the dry goods store. School must have let out for the day.
Lucy was dressed quite differently than she’d been on the day she’d come to play with Onna. Her school dress was pink and made out of a high quality fabric. Rose wasn’t quite sure what it was, but she knew it was more in line with the high end dress she’d bought in town than the ones Onna or Mrs. Jenkins wore. The little girl wore a scarf and gloves that matched the dress and her overcoat was a dusty rose. Again, the coat looked quite fancy. The only thing that didn’t seem to match the outfit was the boots Lucy wore, and perhaps that was because of the mud from the streets that were still heavy with water from this morning’s rains. Having grown up without it, Rose recognized when someone had it. Lucy looked like she came from money.
Lucy ducked into the dry goods store and Rose made her way in that direction. When the little girl came out again, she was holding a bright red balloon that bobbed along behind her. “Lucy,” called Rose.
Lucy looked around and spotted her. A smile of pleasure crossed her face. “Miss Tyler,” she said and ran over to Rose.
“My father came back from India last night. He gave me a coin to spend however I want.” She thrust forward the balloon. “I just love balloons.”
“Me, too,” said Rose with a smile. It was nice seeing a child who delighted in something so simple. The kids around the estate back home were too jaded to be impressed by a balloon.
“Are you going back home now?” Lucy asked.
“Actually, I was wondering where I might find Mrs. Bradshaw of the junior league,” Rose said.
“Oh, down at the community hall. But she won’t be in today. She’ll be there tomorrow. It’s the building with the blue awnings.” She turned around and pointed. “That one there.”
“Thank you, Lucy. I guess I will be heading home then.”
“I can walk with you. I’d like to show Onna my balloon before heading home.”
“Miss Cartright!” The deep, masculine voice surprised Rose and she turned quickly to see who had come up behind them. “Who is your friend?”
The man was young, and dressed in a suit, though not an expensive one. He had a mop of brown curls on his head and soft brown eyes. His jaw was strong and square. He seemed to be around her age or maybe a little older.
“Oh, hello, Mr. Blythe. Miss Tyler, this is Mr. Blythe, my school teacher. Mr. Blythe, this is Miss Tyler. Her father is the new watchmaker working for Mr. Jenkins,” Lucy introduced.
“Hello, Miss Tyler,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Hello, Mr. Blythe,” Rose said extending her hand for him to shake. He did so with a firm grip.
“How are you enjoying our little village?” he asked.
“It’s very picturesque,” Rose said.
He noticed the bundle in her arms from the book store. The paper was stamped with the name of the store. “Are you a reader?” he asked.
“Lately, I am,” said Rose.
“She’s recovering from a dislocated shoulder,” Lucy put in. “Where’s your sling, Miss Tyler?”
“I was tired of wearing it,” she admitted.
“Well,” said the school teacher, “I’ve got quite a stash of books at the school if you’d like to borrow some. Have Lucy bring you by after classes one day if you’re interested.”
“I’ll do that. At least if you have a better selection than Matron Redfern at the boys’ school. I’m sick of romance novels and biographies.”
“Mine run more towards adventure fiction,” he said.
“Then I might take you up on that offer,” she said. Lucy was starting to get antsy so Rose made haste to end the conversation. “It was lovely to meet you, Mr. Blythe, but I need to get back now. My father is expecting me before dinner.”
Mr. Blythe nodded. “I hope I see you again soon.”
Rose smiled. “Perhaps.”
They said good-bye and she and Lucy walked on. Lucy waited until he was out of earshot before saying, “I’ve never seen Mr. Blythe flirt before.”
“Oh, he wasn’t flirting,” Rose said startled. “He was just being nice.”
“Mr. Blythe is not that nice,” said Lucy dryly. “He likes you.”
“Well, I’m afraid my heart belongs elsewhere,” Rose said.
“Oh, do you have a beau?” she asked.
“Not exactly,” Rose said. “I can’t really explain. We’re not together right now. He had to go away for a while.”
“Oh. Well, when he comes back, can I meet him?” Lucy asked.
“We’ll see,” said Rose, not willing to make an agreement she might not be able to keep.
As they approached the shop, Onna came outside and exclaimed over the balloon. She and Lucy took off into the woods and Rose went into the house. The exercise had done her good, but the dull ache in her shoulder was sorely in need of a cup of Mrs. Jenkins’ tea.
Ch. 11:
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