The Watchmaker's Daughter: Chapter Two

[amberfocus]

Title: The Watchmaker's Daughter (2/10)
Author: amberfocus
Characters/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, thetesh
Summary: 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.

Ch.1: http://amberfocus.livejournal.com/562357.html


Chapter Two: The Jeweler

When they arrived on the edge of the village, Rose was uncertain it was of a size to be helpful, but she kept her doubts to herself. Pete insisted that she hide in the woods until he had a chance to bring her some clothing. Despite the evidence of his own eyes he was unwilling to trust the perception filter on her key. He made a shelter for her and she laid down, her body exhausted with the strain on her shoulder.

“I’ll try not to be long.”

“Find some food, if you can,” she said. They’d drunk from a stream an hour ago so at least that need was met, but it had been hours since their stolen breakfast.

“Rose, do you have anything at all on you we could use for money?”

Rose thought and then reluctantly pulled a necklace out from under her shirt. “This pendant is made of gold. The diamonds and rubies are real.”

“That’s gorgeous,” he said.

“The Doctor gave it to me. An anniversary gift of sorts. I’d been travelling with him for two years.” She felt her eyes blurring and choked back a hot sob. She couldn’t fall apart. She’d get back to him. That was the thing to focus on.

“We’ll do what we can to get it back,” he said softly, noticing her emotion, but not remarking on it. She pulled herself together.

“Whatever it takes to get back to him,” Rose said staunchly. She removed it from her neck and handed it to Pete.

“I’ll try not to be too long.”

Rose fell into an exhausted sleep and when she awoke it was dark and someone was calling her name. It took her a minute to remember what had happened in the past twenty-four hours. The call came again.

“I’m here, Pete.”

He appeared with a lantern and was carrying a bundle over his arm. “Clothes,” he said. “There was a dressmaker’s shop. I had to guess on the size, so I went a bit big. It can be altered later.” He put the lantern down on the ground, handed Rose the dress and turned his back. She quickly changed into it and slipped the TARDIS key into one of the pockets that were neatly disguised at the hip. Thankfully the buttons went up the front so she didn’t have to stop and have Pete help her. It fit well enough across the chest, but the waist was a little big. Not enough to really matter though, especially if she got the right underthings for the time period.

“You were gone a long time.”

“I was, but I’ve arranged everything. They do have a jeweler and he works on watches. He has the tools I’ll need. He bought the necklace outright and when I showed him I could repair an old pocket watch, he hired me. His hands are getting too arthritic to do such fiddly work. He can’t pay too much, but its room and board above the shop for us. I told him I was a widower and had my daughter with me. His wife is nice and judging from the smells coming out of the kitchen, a very good cook.”

“So I’m to call you what then?” Rose said with an edge to her voice, ignoring the majority of what he’d just said.

Pete pretended not to notice. “Father, I think,” he said mildly. “Dad’s too informal. And maybe see if you can talk a bit more posh. In this day and age with an accent like that they’ll think you’re my low class mistress and not my daughter.”

Rose glared at him, but she knew he was right. If she’d showed up here alone, she knew she’d have had to take a position as a scullery maid or kitchen maid, just like she’d had to be the dinner lady during the whole mess with the Krillitanes. She had no marketable skills for this time period, but with her “father” to vouch for her she might be able to get a job in one of the village shops once her shoulder was better.

“I’ll do my best.”

“And if you could, you know, at least pretend that you have affection for me, it will make our relationship more believable,” Pete said.

“I’m sorry, Pete,” she said. “I don’t mean to be such a cow. My shoulder hurts and I’m lost in a situation with someone I don’t really know. I’ve been through so many weird and unpredictable things travelling with the Doctor, but I always had him to fall back on. I can count on him and I…”

“You don’t know if you can count on me,” he finished for her.

“I…” she said again, losing her words.

“Rose, do you remember going into that cyber factory?”

Rose nodded. “I’m not likely to forget.”

“It was you and me together,” he said earnestly. “You had no reason for going in there. That Jackie wasn’t your mother and I wasn’t your father, but you went anyway, because in a fluke of genetics you could have been our daughter. You backed me up because your heart was telling you to. You said you were doing it for your mum and dad. Well, I’m telling you that you can count on me, because my heart is telling me it’s the right thing to do. We’re in this together. All right?”

“All right,” she said trying to keep the quaver out of her voice. She took a deep breath. “Do you have any money left after buying the clothes?” she asked.

“Yes, quite a bit actually. The jeweler was happy to have it. He thought it would be perfect for a lady he knows who likes such things and treats money as if it were water. If you’re ready, let’s go and get you settled. Mrs. Jenkins said she’d have dinner on in an hour.”

Rose left her old clothes hidden in the woods. There was no sense in taking them with her and if they were seen, someone would ask questions.

Both Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins were old, but Mrs. Jenkins stood straight and tall. Her hair was silver and braided in a large plait that wrapped around in a bun on the back of her head. Her eyes were sparkling blue and she had a ready smile. She was neither fat nor slender, but a nicely in between solid, grandmotherly size. Although Mr. Jenkins’ back was bent, likely from all his years hunched over jewelry and watches, he still looked very spry. He was thin and had once been quite tall. His hair was shockingly white and his eyes were as blue as his wife’s.

Mrs. Jenkins was indeed a very good cook and Rose and Pete were plied with large bowls full of savory rabbit stew and more crusty bread, followed up with a steaming hot, flaky and thick apple pie. The milk they were given to drink had a thin layer of cream floating on top.

“You ought to get that daughter of yours to bed. She’s asleep in her chair,” Mrs. Jenkins remarked kindly.

Rose started then said, “No, I should help you clean up.”

“Not with that shoulder of yours,” Pete said.

“Are you injured?” the woman asked.

“I fell,” Rose said, concentrating on her diction. “Dislocated my shoulder. Father put it back in.”

“But I’d like for her to see a physician. Is there one in town?” Pete asked.

“No, but the next village over has one. We could send for the matron tomorrow if you’re that worried about it. Nurse Redfern. She works at the Farringham School for Boys, but she helps us as we need it. She could look it over for you.”

“I’m fine,” Rose said while at the same time Pete said, “Yes, thank you.” Rose bit her tongue. She knew that a young lady in her circumstances would yield to what her guardian said, but she didn’t like Pete speaking for her. She forced herself to relax. She needed to remember that Pete had her best interests at heart.

“Are you in much pain?” Mrs. Jenkins asked with great sympathy and Rose relaxed a little more into the woman’s ready warmth. “I’ve got an herbal remedy. Ground willow bark tea. It works a treat for the mister when he has his pains.”

“Indeed it does,” said the quiet Mr. Jenkins.

Rose knew that the salicylic acid in willow bark was the same compound as what was used in aspirin, because the Doctor had told her so when explaining about his allergies after he’d first turned into his current form, so she nodded gratefully. “I’ll bring you a pot up to your bed. Just bring it down in the morning. I’ll put a bit of something in there to take the edge off the bitterness.”

Rose and Pete retired to their rooms. There were two bedrooms and a small sitting room for their use. Pete looked as if he wanted to talk to her, but Rose didn’t think she could endure another heart to heart conversation so she went straight into the smaller bedroom and looked in the drawers. He stood in the doorway, watching her as she rummaged about.

“We will find a way back, you know,” he finally said.

“Of course we will. You just need to fix the teleport.”

Pete sighed. “Just,” he repeated. “I have no idea what went wrong with it, Rose. It shouldn’t have travelled in time. It shouldn’t have that ability. It should have just dumped us back where we were like a boomerang if it wasn’t working.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Rose said.

“Nice to see you have some faith in me,” Pete said sounding as if he had no faith at all.

“Pete,” Rose said, softening. “You will figure it out,” she repeated. “Meanwhile, you and I will have to make the best of things. We’ll do this. You’ll see.”

Pete nodded. “Good-night, Rose,” he said.

“Good-night, Pete.”

He shut the door on the way out and she resumed her search of the bureau. Finally she found a long, white nightgown that covered her from head to toe and ended in big ruffled wrists. She climbed into her bed and relaxed for the first time in what felt like days.

A light knock sounded from the door. “Come in.”

“Here you be, Rose.” Mrs. Jenkins put down the pot on an intricate lace doily that sat on the nightstand. She poured out a cup of tea. “Give it a minute to cool before having any. Chamber pot is under the bed. If you use it, leave it out in the hallway in the morning. Our girl will take care of it. Did your father show you the necessary before you came in?”

“No.”

“Well, I’ll show you in the morning. Good-night, dear.”

“Good-night, Mrs. Jenkins.”

The old woman shuffled out of the room and shut the door. Rose sat up and took a quick sip of the tea. She let out a snort of surprise and almost laughed. It was half brandy. Well, at least that would help her sleep. She gulped down the first cup, poured herself another, and was asleep by the time she was halfway through the third.



Rose awoke late with a slight headache and a mouth that felt like it was full of cotton. Pete had requested that no one bother her until she’d slept herself out and she was grateful for that. She dressed quickly and went outside to find the loo that Mrs. Jenkins had referred to as the necessary. It was, Rose thought by the time she’d found it, a good euphemism.

She half-giggled that the old adage of people using catalog pages in the outhouse was true, but had a feeling she’d be missing toilet tissue pretty quickly. She washed her hands at the outdoor hand pump, using the little bag of soap scraps attached to the handle, and then returned inside. She gathered up the teapot, cup, and saucer from her room and then went and found Mrs. Jenkins in the kitchen, rocking in a chair and knitting while she kept one eye on the stove.

“Your father’s already working. I saved you some breakfast. Plate’s over there in the warming oven.” She pointed and Rose went and using a large set of potholders, took it out of the oven. At first she thought the plate filled with fried potatoes, sausages, eggs, and toast would be too much to eat, but she found she was ravenous. Probably it was part of her body’s healing mechanism.

“Thank you,” she said to Mrs. Jenkins.

Mrs. Jenkins nodded. “You need any more of that tea, you just let me know.”

“It feels better this morning.”

“You’re still moving it quite stiffly. We sent our girl to the school. She brought back a message that Nurse Redfern would come to see you after classes let out for the day as long as she had an escort back in the dark. Joan Redfern is a widow, too.”

“I’m not a widow.”

“I meant your father. He said he was a widower. I’m just saying they have something in common. Your father could use a little companionship, I think.”

“I think he’s still grieving.”

“Don’t get huffy, child,” she said reprovingly.

“I’m still grieving,” Rose said.

“How long’s it been since you lost your mum, then? Mr. Tyler didn’t say.”

“Seems like it’s just been days,” Rose said. She felt a little guilty that it wasn’t really her mum she was missing. It was the Doctor.

“It hits us all like that sometimes.” Mrs. Jenkins hefted herself out of the chair and went to the stove, lifting the lid on a pot and giving it a stir.

“Smells wonderful,” Rose said. “What’s in it?”

“Oh, a little of this, a little of that, a whole lot of mutton and herbs and root vegetables. It’s good for this kind of bone-chilling weather. Puts meat on your bones and stays with you for hours. That’ll be supper though. Lunch will be meat sandwiches. Our son Matthew has done quite well for himself. His farm has the best lambs in the county and some of the tenderest beef and he always has some meat for us. His younger boy Joshua keeps us in rabbit and squirrel and any other critter not smart enough to stay out of the reach of his mum’s garden. His older boy, Edward, is away at Farringham, but he did the same afore he was too old and was sent away.”

“Do you know if any place in town is hiring a shop girl?” Rose asked. “I can sew.”

“Well, I can put in a word for you with a person or two, but not until that shoulder heals. Your father will be contributing both in the shop and to the upkeep of this place. The mister and I are getting too old to do some things and our girl Onna isn’t big enough to do some of what needs doing. She’s only ten and we took her on as a favor, but she’s a good little lass, hard worker, sweet-tempered, never talks back, though she will talk your ear off.

“When her father died there were just too many children for her mother to feed without help. Her wages help keep the younger ones at home and the eldest at school. I always make sure she has a fat helping of whatever’s on my table for breakfast and lunch and she takes some of what’s left home to her family.”

“Where is she?” Rose asked.

“Probably down in the shop. She loves seeing how things work and Mr. Tyler seemed pleased to let her watch him fix timepieces.”

“Is there a place in town where I can buy shoes?” Rose asked. “And undergarments? I had to borrow a gown out of the drawer.”

“I can have Onna take you around after lunch. She’s completed all her morning work and I have no tasks for her this afternoon. Just make sure you are back by four o’clock. Nurse Redfern is scheduled to arrive then.”

Rose nodded and then stood up. “Perhaps I should rest a bit more.”

“That’s probably a good idea. I’ll bring you up some more of that tea presently.”

“Maybe a little less brandy this time?”

“That was a night dose,” Mrs. Jenkins said with a wink and a smile. “This is just ground willow bark for pain and valerian root powder to relax the muscles. You don’t need your senses addled in the daylight.”

Rose laughed and went to the sitting room. She picked a book from random off the shelves and settled herself into a comfortable position on the sofa. About 20 minutes later Mrs. Jenkins came in with her tea and bustled back out again. Gratefully she sipped it, found it did not contain any brandy, and quickly added honey from the little jar and milk from the little pitcher. It helped more than she had expected it to.

Rose must have dozed off anyway despite the lack of brandy, because the next thing she knew a little girl was standing in the doorway. “Miss Tyler? Miss Tyler? I’m not to shake you because of your shoulder, but could you please wake up?” Rose opened her eyes. “Lunch is ready and Mrs. Jenkins says I’m to take you shopping after.” The child sounded gleeful and her eyes practically danced.

“You must be Onna,” Rose said.

“I must be, mustn’t I?” she said with a mischievous smile. Rose liked her immediately with her rosy cheeks and bright smile. Her hair was back in two thick dark plaits and her eyes were a lovely, sparkling brown. She reminded Rose, in a way that was almost painful, of the Doctor. He’d said he’d been a dad once and the little girl standing before her was about what she’d pictured a child of his would look like.

“Shall I help you do your hair? Mrs. Jenkins said you’d hurt your arm and you can’t go out with it looking like that.”

“Thank you, yes.”

Onna got a hairbrush from off the dresser and began to stroke it through Rose’s hair. “Your hair is so short,” she said in a tone that was slightly remonstrating.

“It’s the fashion in London,” Rose said.

“Is that where you’re from?” Onna asked. Rose nodded. “Well, here they won’t like it. They’ll consider it brazen.”

Rose laughed. “You should see what they’re doing in America. Nape of the neck with fringe!” She might be off by a decade, but Onna wouldn't know that.

Onna looked shocked, but then said, “You’ve been to America?”

“Yes. Once. It feels like a long time ago now.” Or a long time in the future. Ninety-nine years, to be exact.

Onna twisted Rose’s hair about and managed to get it into what felt like a French twist. The little girl secured it with jeweled pins she’d found on the dresser. “It’s the best I can do. We better go now.”

Rose got up off the sofa and followed the little girl back to the kitchen. “Good afternoon,” Rose said to the table at large. Greetings were given back to her. Mr. Jenkins said grace and then took the cover off a plate of beef sandwiches.

Rose wanted to ask Pete how things were going and whether or not he’d had a chance to work on the teleport, but she couldn’t think of a way to do it without drawing attention to the device. She’d wait until they retired for the evening.

She did stop him as the meal ended and he was going back down the stairs. “I’ll need some money. I can’t keep wearing trainers on my feet. And I’ll need some other things.”

Pete nodded and handed her his wallet. “I can’t take it like this.”

“I have a string bag you can put it in. It’ll go around your wrist.” Mrs. Jenkins brought it to her and the wallet found a new home. “And you’ll need a coat. This one was our daughter’s.” She helped Rose get it on gently over the sore shoulder. Rose slipped the little strap of the bag over her right wrist and Onna excitedly escorted her out of the house, chattering almost non-stop the entire time.

Ch. 3: http://amberfocus.livejournal.com/564039.html