The Watchmaker's Daughter: Chapter Three

[amberfocus]

Title: The Watchmaker's Daughter (3/10)
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
Ch.2: http://amberfocus.livejournal.com/562696.html


Chapter Three: The Way Things Are

John Smith found his life to be adequate. Adequate was not a word he’d expected to use to describe his adulthood when he was still a child, but adequate was what it turned out to be. His education had been achieved through a lot of hard work, but he’d definitely been no star. His first job as a teacher had left him thinking that there must be more to life than that. His current position offered very little in the way of interest to him and he was beginning to think it had been a mistake to leave his previous job, despite the higher salary.

He couldn’t really remember why he had thought it was a good idea to move halfway across the country. At least when he’d lived near a city there had been things to do to rid him of his boredom. Here, however, the only thing to do was take a walk on the moor or visit the nearby village. The highlight of the latter was that it did have a small shop that sold books. If it weren’t for books he’d probably go insane. Judging by his dreams lately, he was halfway there.

His sleeping journeys of late had taken him to magical lands with futuristic technology and fantastical monsters. He flew through space in a machine that could travel through time. He’d seen metal men and beasts that wore human skin like people wore clothing. He’d owned a metal dog that could speak to him. He’d journeyed to the center of the Earth and it had been nothing like the book by Jules Verne, Voyage au Centre de la Terre in the original French. The creatures he’d dreamed of were terrifying and yet he hadn’t been terrified. He’d been excited.

His personality when awake was calm, quiet, and reflective, but not when he was asleep. There he was daring and lived for adventure. In fact it was quite safe to say that he thrived on it. To be honest, he was jealous of his alter ego. Not because he wanted to live such an exciting life, for that was impossible, but because of the girl who shared that life with him. Of course, she was just as imaginary as the rest of it, but in dreams she felt so real.

He was lonely, that was all. He was lonely so he dreamed of someone who could take that feeling away. He told himself that he needed to find a woman to share his life with. She didn’t have to be young and blonde and beautiful, like the one he dreamed of. He knew that the adventurer might attract someone like that, but in real life he’d have to settle for someone…adequate. And there was that word again.

He didn’t want adequate. He wanted a spitfire. Someone who would stand up to him and tease him and adore him. She didn’t have to be stunning, though that would be nice. A handsome woman would do just as well as a beauty, but she needed to have spirit. He wouldn’t have much luck with that in a boy’s school. The only adult in his life with any gumption was his maid and that was completely unthinkable. One did not cross class lines like that. Anyway, as a role model to young boys he could be fired for such inappropriate behavior.

Matron Redfern had been kind to him, but he got the feeling that she thought of him as a bit foolish, mostly because he bumbled around like an idiot whenever she was near him. He seemed to have two personalities when it came to women. The help he ignored or instructed and with women of own his class he was tongue-tied.

He sighed and went to his desk to pull out his journal and look at the pictures he had drawn. The girl was near the back and when he found her page, he outlined her face with his index finger. His heart gave a sudden, lurching ache and he felt emotion welling up from his stomach and into his throat. He missed her. How could he miss someone he had never known? But he felt he did know her, and knew her intimately. He blushed at the thought, remembering that some of his dreams had been extremely carnal.

A knock on the door brought him out of his thoughts. “Enter.”

The door opened and his maid came in. “I’ve brought your breakfast, sir.”

He closed the book and made no move to rise. After his carnal thoughts about the girl in his dreams, he did not want Martha to see the state he was in. “Just set it on the table,” he ordered.

Martha did so and then went to throw open his curtains and let the sunshine in. “Beautiful day,” she commented.

“Quite,” he replied.

“May I have a word with you, sir?”

“About what, Martha?” he asked.

“About one of the students, sir,” she said.

“Rochester giving you a hard time again?” he asked, not showing much interest. “Boys will be boys.”

“No, sir. I can handle him, sir,” she said. “It’s Timothy. The other lads are rough on him and he’s—.”

“What, Lattimer? The boy needs to toughen up,” John interrupted.

“He’s being bullied!” Martha protested.

John looked to the ceiling for patience. “He will need to learn to handle it. I am sure, as a female, you’ve no idea of these things, but boys need to fight and earn their place. He’ll be fine in another year or two when he gets some size on him.”

“Meanwhile, he gets beaten, is that it?”

“You overstep yourself, Martha!” he said, his ire rising. “It is not your job to concern yourself with such things.”

The girl took a deep breath and then another, before schooling her features. He could tell she was still upset by the tightness around her mouth. “Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Do you need anything else, sir?”

“You may go.”

She did, slamming the door behind her. It was a good thing for her that she’d been employed by his family for so long. He was a patient man, but any other maid and he’d be having a word with the headmaster about dismissal.

He got up and went to the table, sitting before it to begin his breakfast. He couldn’t help wishing that he wasn’t eating alone, that the pretty girl from his journal was sitting across from him. Rose, he suddenly remembered. Her name was Rose.



Rose was having a lovely time with Onna and Onna seemed to be having a lovely time herself, though Rose was pretty sure the child would find delight in the workings of her own mind if she were left alone. The village was quaint, but larger than she’d expected. A series of brick and lumber buildings lined the street. Large windows were crowded with goods. For some reason she had thought there wouldn’t be much available to purchase, but the sheer plenty in the stores reminded her of some of the places back home.

A wooden boardwalk ran in front of the stores to keep pedestrians off the filthy cobblestones. Dust, garbage, and horse manure littered the road, and several chickens scratched through the droppings searching for larvae to eat. Rose wrinkled her nose. The smell was pungent, but no worse than a few of the places she’d visited with the Doctor.

Rose had expected to find a cobbler, but Onna had looked at her strangely when she’d said that. Apparently that sort of shoemaking was rarely practiced anymore. Most shoes came ready made from the factories. Rose was able to find a pair of shoes that fit her feet well enough without the shop owner catching sight of her trainers. Onna had slipped them into a market basket without question, but had given the shoes an odd look.

After that, they’d move on to a dressmaker’s store and Rose had purchased another readymade dress that came close to her size. The seamstress fitted it to her body and also had some appropriate underthings in the back room for Rose to try on. She helped her when Rose explained her injury and the woman seemed quite taken aback by Rose’s bra and knickers, which she again attributed as the fashion in London. The lady didn’t look as if she quite believed her, though she did mumble something about them looking far more comfortable than what was available in the shop.

There was little for the dressmaker to change and she quickly took in the waist on the dress, chatting away to Rose and Onna as if they were old friends. Rose thought that Onna just might be friends with everyone she met. When the first garment was finished, Rose slipped off the other dress and had it altered as well. Onna carried her packages for her and Rose followed along to the last shop on that side of the street. “You’ll need a hat.”

“I suppose I will, but I do dislike wearing them.”

“It’s expected,” said Onna. “That’s a pretty one, right there.” The girl was pointing to a deep blue concoction of velvet that had a complicated series of ribbon bows atop it. “It’ll look good on you. Besides, Matron is coming today and Matron always wears hats when she is outside.”

“Have you met Nurse Redfern?” Rose asked after they’d purchased the hat. Onna nodded. “What’s she like?”

“She has very gentle fingers. She stitched up my hand once when I cut it on some tin. She doesn’t put up with any nonsense, yet she’s a kind woman. Sad though. She’s been widowed a long time. She lost her husband years ago and never really got over it. Mr. Jenkins says she knows as much as a doctor, but she couldn’t find a medical school that would take a female student for anything other than nursing.”

“That’ll change eventually. One day women will be allowed to do anything men do.”

“Do you really think so?” Onna asked with giant eyes.

“I do. I’ll bet women will be able to vote by the time you have children your own age,” she said.

Onna had to think about that. “I don’t know about that, but I would like to go away to school. We can’t afford it. It’s all Mum can do to keep Tim at the boy’s school since Dad passed.”

“Is he your brother?”

“Yes. He’s one of the top pupils at Farringham,” she said proudly. Most of the other boys don’t like him though.”

“Why ever not?” Rose asked.

“They think his ways are peculiar,” Onna said. “And he doesn’t come from a rich family and he’s smarter than all of them. Rochester, one of his dorm mates, refers to him as the filth.”

“That’s awful.”

“That’s life,” Onna said with a shrug, as if she were used to such things. She probably was.

“You don’t go to the village school, do you?” Rose asked.

“No. I have to work. But Mr. Blythe sends home my lessons with my sister and I do them at night by the fire. Then Millie takes them back to him to mark.”

“Mr. Blythe sounds like a nice man,” Rose said.

“He was very sorry to see me leave school. I’m still learning though. Mother says education is very important, even for girls. Mr. Jenkins agrees with that and lets me look at his books whenever I want. He doesn’t have very many and most of them are on watchmaking and gemstones.”

“Do you ever get to play?” Rose asked.

“Of course I do. Well, a little. I have one weekend off each month.”

They had arrived back at the jeweler’s shop and Onna led them around to use the back entrance where the stairs to the second floor were. She helped Rose put away her purchases. “Do you need anything else from me, Miss Tyler?” the little girl asked.

“No, thank you, Onna.”

“Then I’ll take my leave of you.” She gave a quick curtsey.

Rose smiled and watched the girl go. It wasn’t long before Mrs. Jenkins appeared with more of her medicinal tea, which Rose was grateful for. The day’s activities had taxed her arm. “Nurse Redfern should be here soon. You’re pale as a ghost. You should rest until she gets here.”

“You’ll hear no argument from me,” Rose said. She fixed the tea to her liking and smiled over the first cup before lying down on the couch.



She woke to a soft shake of her ankle and looked up into the plain, but comforting face of a woman of perhaps thirty-five. She had good cheekbones and kind eyes. Rose thought that with a little subtle makeup and a modern hairstyle she’d be pretty. “Miss Tyler?”

“Are you the nurse?” she asked carefully, reminding herself to speak properly.

“Yes. I’m Joan Redfern from the boy’s school. Onna Lattimer came with a message for me this morning. You’ve hurt your shoulder?” Rose sat up and put her feet on the floor. The nurse sat down beside her.

“It was dislocated. P—my father put it back in the socket, but it’s still painful.”

“I can imagine. Let me check it.” With very gentle fingers the nurse felt around the shoulder socket and the collarbone. Rose couldn’t help a little yip of pain as she hit a particularly tender spot. “Well, your father did a good job getting it back into place, but you’ve stretched the ligaments. You’ll need to wear a sling to keep you from using it.”

“For how long?”

“Several weeks. Four at the very least. Six would be of greater benefit.”

“I won’t be able to work.”

“No, you won’t. Tell me, Miss Tyler, do you like to read?”

“Yes, quite a lot.”

“Well, I’ve got several books and I wouldn’t mind loaning some to you while you convalesce,” she said. “Come to the school tomorrow. There’s nothing wrong with your legs, and walking on the moor might do you some good. Bring Onna with you. She knows the way. Onna?”

The little girl appeared in the doorway. “Yes, Matron?”

“Can you go ask Mrs. Jenkins if she has any calico? I need to fashion a sling for Miss Tyler’s arm.”

“At once,” Onna said with a nod. She was back shortly with a length of fabric and some scissors.

Nurse Redfern cut the cloth to the right length and then tied it in place at the back of Rose’s neck and helped Rose slip her arm into it. “I’d like you to wear this for all your waking hours, but you may remove it to sleep. And continue on the medicinal tea Mrs. Jenkins has been giving you until the pain becomes manageable.”

Rose nodded. “Thank you for coming,” she said.

“You are very welcome.”

Pete appeared in the doorway as Mrs. Redfern rose to her feet. “Hello,” he said. “I’m Pete Tyler. I’ll be escorting you back to the school. How’s my daughter?”

“As well as can be expected. She’ll heal.” She looked back at Rose. “Good day, Miss Tyler.”

“Good day,” Rose repeated, her shoulders relaxing as she no longer had to worry about pronouncing her words correctly.



Joan Redfern’s mind was full of the minutiae of her day as Peter Tyler walked her back to the school in the twilight. He seemed a good man, with a ready smile and lovely blue eyes. He wasn’t much of a talker. She was fine with that. She could do with more quiet men in her life. She had liked his daughter almost on sight, though something had been a bit off about her. She wondered why Miss Tyler wasn’t married. Most women of her age had long since settled down and had a baby on one hip. The girl was extremely attractive. Perhaps she hadn’t wanted to leave her widowed father by himself.

She sighed and looked up at the stars. They were beautiful. She liked living in the countryside. Mr. Redfern had preferred city life and it had made it possible for her education, but she’d never been comfortable in the hustle and noise. Though she’d dreamed of being a doctor like her father, nursing was all society had allowed her to aspire, too. She was grateful for that education now, for she had been able to provide for herself since his passing. How she missed him.

“How long’s it been then?” asked Mr. Tyler.

“Since what?” she asked, startled out of her thoughts.

“You’re thinking of your husband.”

“What? How—?”

“I’ve come to recognize that particular type of silence.”

She smiled. “Ten years,” she said.

“You were young.”

“Not really. I was older than most of my friends when we married.” They fell silent again for a few minutes and she concentrated on the squashing noises her feet made as they walked across the open moor. “How long has it been for you?” she finally asked.

“Three years,” Mr. Tyler said. “Love of my life, was Jacqueline Tyler, and as difficult a woman as ever lived.” There was great affection in his voice. “I still wake up some mornings forgetting she’s gone.”

“At least you have your daughter. She must be of some comfort to you.”

Pete coughed. “What about you, Mrs. Redfern? Any children?”

She tried not to think of the little bundle she’d placed in a box and watched them lower into the ground. It had been for the best, everyone had told her, the birth coming as it had two months after Thomas had been killed. But the little girl had been perfect in every way, alive even on the day she gave birth. She had felt her kick that morning. She had been breach though and by the time she was delivered the umbilical cord had been wrapped around her neck. She had grieved longer for that poor dead babe then she had even for Thomas. The child would have been Onna’s age. Perhaps that was why she favored the girl.

“No,” she finally said. “No children.”

“I’m sorry.”

“There are plenty of children for me to concern myself with at the school,” she said practically. “What about you, Mr. Tyler. Do you have more children?”

“No.” He chuckled softly to himself. “The one was a great surprise.”

“She seems a biddable sort.”

He laughed outright at that. “That’s the medication she’s on and the pain in her shoulder. Believe me, she’s a very high-spirited young lady. But then history is never made by well-behaved women.” He sounded proud.

They fell into silence again, but working at Farringham for as many years as she had now, she appreciated a bit of quietude. By the time they reached the school she had almost forgotten that she had a walking companion.

“Here you are then,” said Pete.

“Thank you for the escort.”

“Thank you for coming to see my daughter.”

“Of course.”

They bid each other good evening and he waited until she had entered the building before taking his leave.

“Good evening, Matron,” said the new maid who had come to the school with the quiet history professor at the start of term. He was an odd duck, that one. “Beautiful night, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes. Marta, was it?”

“Martha.”

“Martha. Yes, a lovely night, though cold.” She headed toward the staircase that would lead up to her small apartment, her mind full of her conversation with Mr. Tyler, and thinking absolutely nothing of walking away from the maid.

Ch. 4: http://amberfocus.livejournal.com/565498.html