Fiction!
Written for miss_nobody as part of a very late whofest prompt. She asked for something shippy for the Fifth Doctor and Nyssa. While the first part isn't at all shippy, the story will certainly go there.
Title: Regency Romance (1/?)
Author: Jennifer Adams Kelley (renn)
Characters: Five/Nyssa, with a buncha Original Characters thrown in for spice
Rating: Oh, this part is certainly a TV-7, and I doubt it will go beyond TV-14.
Summary: A jaunt into Regency England entangles the Doctor and Nyssa into a week of intrigue and a night of romance.
A/N: WIP, yes indeed. Sorry!
"Doctor," Nyssa wondered one day as she wandered into the control room, "which period of Earth history would you say is most like Traken?" She put on a nonchalant air, but couldn't completely disguise the tremor in her voice.
The Doctor, who was buried in the console innards, asked, "Several periods would suit. Why?" She didn't reply right away, so he scooted out and looked over the console rim at her. Her lips were pursed; her eyes were narrowed; her forehead was creased. Even he could tell she was on the verge of crying. To spare her the embarrassment of tears, he merely said, "It all depends on what aspect of Traken society you miss most right now."
"Hard to say, really." She unconsciously straightened her posture, as if standing taller would hide the importance of her query.
"Structure, perhaps? Everyone knowing their place and how to behave in it?"
"We did have rules of behavior, yes."
"Morality?"
"Meaning?" Nyssa's eyebrows pulled together in puzzlement.
"Erm… perhaps not the best choice of word." Far be it from him to raise the topic of sex and the openness thereof, especially around someone so young.
Nyssa smiled slightly at his discomfort. "Traken was a place of true serenity-- mentally, spiritually, and physically."
"Yes, I know, but….. " The Doctor sighed. "I'm not sure any period of Earth history will suffice, Nyssa. Humans excel at warring amongst themselves, even amongst the most peaceful periods."
"I'm willing to take the chance. Although-- I've done some research, and I from it I've narrowed it down. I don't know which to choose, that's all."
"Ah, so I'm your time travel agent, then." He gave her a small, self-depreciating grin.
Nyssa's nose wrinkled in confusion. "If you say so…."
The Doctor stood and positioned himself so he could set in coordinates. "Which periods were you most interested in?"
"The Renaissance…. The Regency… the 1950's…."
"Ooh, that's a touch Eurocentric, isn't it?"
Nyssa offered a small apologetic grin. "Asian, African, or Native American cultures seemed much too alien to me."
"Fair enough." He considered her choices. "You won't want the 1950's. Despite the presence of Elvis, it really was a repressed period. Rigid social rules went hand-in-hand with intolerance."
"Not for me, then," Nyssa agreed.
"The Renaissance would be somewhat too backwards for you. And too smelly."
"I'll take your word for it."
"Regency it is, then." His hands hovered over the coordinate controls. "Pick a number between 1 and 20."
"19. Why?"
"That's the year we'll go to-- 1819."
"What year does that coincide with on Traken?"
The Doctor considered it a moment. "I'm not sure it does."
"That will add to the adventure, then." Nyssa nearly managed to sound enthused.
"So it will." He grinned at her-- a smile so warm, so inviting that Nyssa found herself returning it, all thoughts of loss momentarily fallen out of her mind.
***
John Jenkins considered himself a patient man. He had spent nearly a dozen years in the employ of the Earl of Templemore, after all-- first for the previous one and, for the past three years, the current one. Both Earls treated him with respect, entrusting him with a number of sensitive problems that a normal valet wouldn't have even heard about. Still, this obsession the current Earl had with the Earl of Storringham went a bit beyond the pale. It was one thing to covet another man's Intended; it was quite another thing indeed to plot the other man's death.
Still, Templemore paid him a handsome wage, so who was he to complain? Especially if the death of Storringham would ensure the continued payment of the wage?
Jenkins tugged again on the hackney driver's sleeve. "Simple enough thing, Reg. Storringham appears, you run him over."
"Murder, 'tis."
"Indeed. But you'll make it look accidental, and in return, you'll be paid handsomely."
"Like to see some payment in advance, if you know what I mean."
"Naturally." Jenkins passed over a small leather pouch.
The driver hefted it in his hand, then peeked inside. He whistled. "Cor!"
"You'll do it, then?"
The Driver nodded, adding, "What does this Storringham look like?"
Jenkins shrugged. "Tall, fair, somewhat of an eccentric dresser."
"Sounds like half the coves in the square, that does."
"I'll signal when it's time." He indicated a waiting carriage parked catty-corner from the hackney. "If Storringham's not along in two hours, you can be on your way, no harm done."
"Fair enough." The driver pocketed the pouch.
Jenkins gave him an encouraging nod, then returned to his employer's vehicle.
**
The TARDIS materialized in the mews behind a row of grand houses just off Grosvenor Square. The Doctor guided Nyssa around to the square proper, chatting about the milieu as they walked. She said little in reply, which didn't disturb the Doctor until they had gone approximately halfway around the square. He paused then, looking at her. Her nose wrinkled in disgust. Sighing, he asked, "What's wrong?"
"I thought you said that this time period didn't smell."
"I didn't say that. I merely said the Renaissance smelled worse."
"I suppose that's one interpretation of it."
"You'll adjust soon enough to it."
Nyssa looked unconvinced. "I hope so."
The Doctor gave her an encouraging grin. "Now, which way…?" He glanced about, nearly going left, but at the last minute changing his mind and veering right.
That move was nearly his undoing.
The accident happened so fast that Nyssa couldn't recall clearly afterwards the sequence of events. One moment the Doctor was crossing the square; the next, he lay in a heap in the middle of the cobblestone street, a hackney racing off without stopping. Nyssa immediately rushed to his side, not noticing the sharp pain of the stones stabbing into her knees as she knelt beside him. She checked his pulse, listened for his breathing, then gingerly rolled him over.
He was vaguely conscious and seemingly unhurt, other than the large gash across his forehead that bled profusely. He gave her a weak grin. "Ouch!"
"Anything broken?"
"Can't tell offhand." He closed his eyes, going deeper into himself to check for real injuries.
"You might need this," a new voice said.
Nyssa looked up. A well-dressed gentleman hovered over her, offering a large white handkerchief. He was young, although not in the first flush of youth, and compact rather than tall or stout. His longish auburn hair was carefully swept off his face; his hazel eyes held a hint of amusement even as the rest of his expression radiated concern. She held his gaze for a moment, intrigued. He waved the cloth; she snatched it out of his hand and applied it to the Doctor's forehead. "Thank you," she said, glancing up at him.
"It was an interesting accident," the man commented. "In so much as that it wasn't an accident."
"You witnessed it?"
"Oh, yes. That hackney--"
"Dear God! Aldeburgh! That isn't Storringham, is it?" Another gentleman-- in muted colors, with sandy hair and a haughty demeanor-- hurried up to them. His horror at seeing the Doctor's limp form rang only 94% authentic. "Is he… dead?"
Aldeburgh shook his head. "Not a bit of it. He's obviously hurt, though--"
"Obviously!"
"-- so perhaps you will help me bring him over to my townhouse."
"If you wish." He seemed displeased to be of assistance, but nevertheless aided Aldeburgh in lifting the Doctor up and carrying him across the square and into a modest town residence. Nyssa trailed after them, and watched with both concern and curiosity as the two gentlemen lowered the Doctor onto a chaise in a pleasant, yellow room. Aldeburgh, with a wave of a wrist, motioned her onto an adjoining wing chair. He then turned to the other gentleman. "Did you see what happened, Templemore?"
Templemore shook his head. "Only saw the after-effects. Pity, really. D'you want me to send for a doctor?"
"No, no, I'll handle it, he's my friend, after all."
"Very good. You'll let me know how he fares, yes?"
"Of course."
"Thank you." With a slight nod, Templemore hurried from the house.
Aldeburgh rang for a servant, ordering a tea service and a physician. A butler entered as the maid departed, with heated water and a collection of clean cloths. He made to clean up the Doctor, but Nyssa shooed him away, preferring to tend to him herself. Aldeburgh dismissed the butler with a slight nod. He hovered over his guests. "My apologies for the forwardness of my actions, my lady."
Nyssa's head jerked up; her eyes widened in surprise. It had been very long indeed since anyone had referred to her properly.
He smiled at her reaction. "It's obvious that, no matter the eccentricity of your clothing, you are of gentle birth. As is your… companion?" The last was more of a query than a statement.
"Well, he prefers to be called 'The Doctor'. And I am Nyssa." She offered her hand, as she had seen the Doctor and Tegan do on many occasions.
Aldeburgh, instead of shaking it, bowed over it. "Charmed, my lady. I am Baron Aldeburgh, and I am quite interested in knowing how the Doctor came to find himself bowled over by a hackney."
"As am I. It all happened so quickly…" She sighed, gave the Doctor's forehead one last wipe, and placed the soiled cloth on top of all the others, on top of the clean one she had spread on the rug.
The butler entered the room with a discrete throat-clearing. "The surgeon has arrived, my lord."
"Excellent! Show him in."
"And Lady Aldeburgh requests that you join her and Lady Blessington in the rose salon, my lord."
Aldeburgh's lips puckered together in annoyance. "Very well, Isley. Show Mr. Harrison in." He offered an arm to Nyssa. "Duty calls, my lady."
"Couldn't I stay…?" She wondered.
"Not the thing, especially not with my gossipy cat of a mother-in-law on the premises."
Disappointed, nonetheless she placed a hand on Aldeburgh's arm and gave the prone Time Lord a last glance. The Doctor opened an eye, nodded once to signal his approval, and went back to feigning unconsciousness.
**
Aldeburgh escorted Nyssa up a wide staircase and into a rose-themed sitting room. Two women shared a setee and a pot of tea. The younger was dressed in a becoming light green gown, her chestnut hair done up in a simple swirl on the top of her head. The older woman-- who vaguely resembled the other-- had on an elaborate dark blue gown and a glower that marred her otherwise exquisite fair features. She eyed Nyssa, dismissing her as a person of consequence by a narrowing of the eyes and a raising of her quizzing glass.
Her host patted Nyssa's hand reassuringly as he made introductions. "Lily, Lady Blessington, may I present Lady Nyssa? My lady, this is my wife, The Lady Aldeburgh, and her mother, The Countess of Blessington."
Nyssa made a small curtsey; Lady Blessington gave her another withering look through the quizzing glass. Lady Aldeburgh, however, welcomed her into the room and, settling her on the settee next to herself, poured her a cup of tea.
Once Aldeburgh had his drink and a small plate of biscuits, and had sat in a small Queen Anne chair opposite the ladies, he said, "Lady Nyssa is Storringham's cousin. Apparently they were on their way to call when Storringham had a run-in with a hackney."
Nyssa had no idea why Aldeburgh introduced her as he did; she could tell that his wife was somewhat disbelieving the introduction as well. Lady Aldeburgh, however, merely asked, "How badly is he hurt?"
"We'll know shortly, my love. Mr. Harrison's in with him now."
Lady Blessington sniffened, turning pointedly toward her daughter. "And you wonder why I think that Storringham is inappropriate for your sister."
"Mother, it was an accident. It could happen to anyone."
"Perhaps… but Templemore would at least have a care where he was stepping." She glared at Aldeburgh. "I realise he's your friend, Aldeburgh, but, really, he needs to fix his interest elsewhere."
"Storringhan has much more to recommend than Templemore. He's not in Dun Territory, for one thing. "
"Aldeburgh-- Mother-- please," Lady Aldeburgh begged. "Don't let's start that again. Have a care of who's present."
"Right as always, my love." Aldeburgh turned to Nyssa, amusement dancing in his eyes. "My apologies, my lady."
Lady Blessington raised her quizzing glass again. "Where did you say you were from, Lady Nyssa?"
Nyssa, disliking the rude treatment, returned the withering look. "I didn't say, actually, but, if you must know, I am from the Empire of Traken."
"Empire of…?" Lady Blessington wondered, somewhat annoyed that she had never heard of that.
"One of the Balkan countries?" Aldeburgh suggested.
"That would explain her appearance, certainly." The clock chimed five, interrupting Lady Blessington's character analysis. "Well, I must be off, otherwise I will not have enough time to dress before dinner." She stood, forcing everyone else to take to their feet as well. She gave her daughter a pointed look. "You will be at Lady Chesire's soiree tomorrow night, won't you?"
Lady Aldeburgh nodded resignedly. "Yes, Mother, of course."
"It's vital we as a family put on a brave face for the ton-- your sister Hyacinth's elopement has lowered our cache something fierce."
"Yes, Mother."
"And that's another reason why your sister Rosemary can't be aligned with someone like--"
"Your logic, as always, amazes me, Lady Jocelyn. May I escort you to the door?" Aldeburgh guided his mother-in-law out of the room.
Lady Aldeburgh offered Nyssa a biscuit. "My mother means well," she assured her.
"I'm sure she does," Nyssa agreed politely.
"Now, before Aldeburgh returns and makes a hash of any explanation, why not tell me who you really are?"
Nyssa didn't know what to make of her hostess, so she stuck to what had already been revealed.
"But you're not Storringham's cousin," Lady Aldeburgh pressed.
"I'm afraid not, no."
"Was it Storringham who was hurt?"
"No, it wasn't. It was my friend, the Doctor."
"Hmm." Lady Aldeburgh frowned, puzzled. "Why would my husband lie like that?"
Aldeburgh, returning to the room, shut the door behind him and leaned against it. "Your husband found it quite curious that Templemore's carriage was loitering in the Square, and that Templemore was quite hopeful that it was Storringham who was hurt. I thought a little deception might be just the thing to discover what Templemore was up to."
Nyssa nodded. "But won't Storringham be bothered by this deception?"
"Oh, no, he's off to Yorkshire as of this morning-- a fact known to only myself right now, as he had a letter late last night and sent a note around to me about it. But enough of that. Let's go see how your companion has survived the ministrations of Mr. Harrison." Opening the door again, he saw both his guest and his wife out of the room.
**
TO BE CONTINUED!
Title: Regency Romance (1/?)
Author: Jennifer Adams Kelley (renn)
Characters: Five/Nyssa, with a buncha Original Characters thrown in for spice
Rating: Oh, this part is certainly a TV-7, and I doubt it will go beyond TV-14.
Summary: A jaunt into Regency England entangles the Doctor and Nyssa into a week of intrigue and a night of romance.
A/N: WIP, yes indeed. Sorry!
"Doctor," Nyssa wondered one day as she wandered into the control room, "which period of Earth history would you say is most like Traken?" She put on a nonchalant air, but couldn't completely disguise the tremor in her voice.
The Doctor, who was buried in the console innards, asked, "Several periods would suit. Why?" She didn't reply right away, so he scooted out and looked over the console rim at her. Her lips were pursed; her eyes were narrowed; her forehead was creased. Even he could tell she was on the verge of crying. To spare her the embarrassment of tears, he merely said, "It all depends on what aspect of Traken society you miss most right now."
"Hard to say, really." She unconsciously straightened her posture, as if standing taller would hide the importance of her query.
"Structure, perhaps? Everyone knowing their place and how to behave in it?"
"We did have rules of behavior, yes."
"Morality?"
"Meaning?" Nyssa's eyebrows pulled together in puzzlement.
"Erm… perhaps not the best choice of word." Far be it from him to raise the topic of sex and the openness thereof, especially around someone so young.
Nyssa smiled slightly at his discomfort. "Traken was a place of true serenity-- mentally, spiritually, and physically."
"Yes, I know, but….. " The Doctor sighed. "I'm not sure any period of Earth history will suffice, Nyssa. Humans excel at warring amongst themselves, even amongst the most peaceful periods."
"I'm willing to take the chance. Although-- I've done some research, and I from it I've narrowed it down. I don't know which to choose, that's all."
"Ah, so I'm your time travel agent, then." He gave her a small, self-depreciating grin.
Nyssa's nose wrinkled in confusion. "If you say so…."
The Doctor stood and positioned himself so he could set in coordinates. "Which periods were you most interested in?"
"The Renaissance…. The Regency… the 1950's…."
"Ooh, that's a touch Eurocentric, isn't it?"
Nyssa offered a small apologetic grin. "Asian, African, or Native American cultures seemed much too alien to me."
"Fair enough." He considered her choices. "You won't want the 1950's. Despite the presence of Elvis, it really was a repressed period. Rigid social rules went hand-in-hand with intolerance."
"Not for me, then," Nyssa agreed.
"The Renaissance would be somewhat too backwards for you. And too smelly."
"I'll take your word for it."
"Regency it is, then." His hands hovered over the coordinate controls. "Pick a number between 1 and 20."
"19. Why?"
"That's the year we'll go to-- 1819."
"What year does that coincide with on Traken?"
The Doctor considered it a moment. "I'm not sure it does."
"That will add to the adventure, then." Nyssa nearly managed to sound enthused.
"So it will." He grinned at her-- a smile so warm, so inviting that Nyssa found herself returning it, all thoughts of loss momentarily fallen out of her mind.
***
John Jenkins considered himself a patient man. He had spent nearly a dozen years in the employ of the Earl of Templemore, after all-- first for the previous one and, for the past three years, the current one. Both Earls treated him with respect, entrusting him with a number of sensitive problems that a normal valet wouldn't have even heard about. Still, this obsession the current Earl had with the Earl of Storringham went a bit beyond the pale. It was one thing to covet another man's Intended; it was quite another thing indeed to plot the other man's death.
Still, Templemore paid him a handsome wage, so who was he to complain? Especially if the death of Storringham would ensure the continued payment of the wage?
Jenkins tugged again on the hackney driver's sleeve. "Simple enough thing, Reg. Storringham appears, you run him over."
"Murder, 'tis."
"Indeed. But you'll make it look accidental, and in return, you'll be paid handsomely."
"Like to see some payment in advance, if you know what I mean."
"Naturally." Jenkins passed over a small leather pouch.
The driver hefted it in his hand, then peeked inside. He whistled. "Cor!"
"You'll do it, then?"
The Driver nodded, adding, "What does this Storringham look like?"
Jenkins shrugged. "Tall, fair, somewhat of an eccentric dresser."
"Sounds like half the coves in the square, that does."
"I'll signal when it's time." He indicated a waiting carriage parked catty-corner from the hackney. "If Storringham's not along in two hours, you can be on your way, no harm done."
"Fair enough." The driver pocketed the pouch.
Jenkins gave him an encouraging nod, then returned to his employer's vehicle.
**
The TARDIS materialized in the mews behind a row of grand houses just off Grosvenor Square. The Doctor guided Nyssa around to the square proper, chatting about the milieu as they walked. She said little in reply, which didn't disturb the Doctor until they had gone approximately halfway around the square. He paused then, looking at her. Her nose wrinkled in disgust. Sighing, he asked, "What's wrong?"
"I thought you said that this time period didn't smell."
"I didn't say that. I merely said the Renaissance smelled worse."
"I suppose that's one interpretation of it."
"You'll adjust soon enough to it."
Nyssa looked unconvinced. "I hope so."
The Doctor gave her an encouraging grin. "Now, which way…?" He glanced about, nearly going left, but at the last minute changing his mind and veering right.
That move was nearly his undoing.
The accident happened so fast that Nyssa couldn't recall clearly afterwards the sequence of events. One moment the Doctor was crossing the square; the next, he lay in a heap in the middle of the cobblestone street, a hackney racing off without stopping. Nyssa immediately rushed to his side, not noticing the sharp pain of the stones stabbing into her knees as she knelt beside him. She checked his pulse, listened for his breathing, then gingerly rolled him over.
He was vaguely conscious and seemingly unhurt, other than the large gash across his forehead that bled profusely. He gave her a weak grin. "Ouch!"
"Anything broken?"
"Can't tell offhand." He closed his eyes, going deeper into himself to check for real injuries.
"You might need this," a new voice said.
Nyssa looked up. A well-dressed gentleman hovered over her, offering a large white handkerchief. He was young, although not in the first flush of youth, and compact rather than tall or stout. His longish auburn hair was carefully swept off his face; his hazel eyes held a hint of amusement even as the rest of his expression radiated concern. She held his gaze for a moment, intrigued. He waved the cloth; she snatched it out of his hand and applied it to the Doctor's forehead. "Thank you," she said, glancing up at him.
"It was an interesting accident," the man commented. "In so much as that it wasn't an accident."
"You witnessed it?"
"Oh, yes. That hackney--"
"Dear God! Aldeburgh! That isn't Storringham, is it?" Another gentleman-- in muted colors, with sandy hair and a haughty demeanor-- hurried up to them. His horror at seeing the Doctor's limp form rang only 94% authentic. "Is he… dead?"
Aldeburgh shook his head. "Not a bit of it. He's obviously hurt, though--"
"Obviously!"
"-- so perhaps you will help me bring him over to my townhouse."
"If you wish." He seemed displeased to be of assistance, but nevertheless aided Aldeburgh in lifting the Doctor up and carrying him across the square and into a modest town residence. Nyssa trailed after them, and watched with both concern and curiosity as the two gentlemen lowered the Doctor onto a chaise in a pleasant, yellow room. Aldeburgh, with a wave of a wrist, motioned her onto an adjoining wing chair. He then turned to the other gentleman. "Did you see what happened, Templemore?"
Templemore shook his head. "Only saw the after-effects. Pity, really. D'you want me to send for a doctor?"
"No, no, I'll handle it, he's my friend, after all."
"Very good. You'll let me know how he fares, yes?"
"Of course."
"Thank you." With a slight nod, Templemore hurried from the house.
Aldeburgh rang for a servant, ordering a tea service and a physician. A butler entered as the maid departed, with heated water and a collection of clean cloths. He made to clean up the Doctor, but Nyssa shooed him away, preferring to tend to him herself. Aldeburgh dismissed the butler with a slight nod. He hovered over his guests. "My apologies for the forwardness of my actions, my lady."
Nyssa's head jerked up; her eyes widened in surprise. It had been very long indeed since anyone had referred to her properly.
He smiled at her reaction. "It's obvious that, no matter the eccentricity of your clothing, you are of gentle birth. As is your… companion?" The last was more of a query than a statement.
"Well, he prefers to be called 'The Doctor'. And I am Nyssa." She offered her hand, as she had seen the Doctor and Tegan do on many occasions.
Aldeburgh, instead of shaking it, bowed over it. "Charmed, my lady. I am Baron Aldeburgh, and I am quite interested in knowing how the Doctor came to find himself bowled over by a hackney."
"As am I. It all happened so quickly…" She sighed, gave the Doctor's forehead one last wipe, and placed the soiled cloth on top of all the others, on top of the clean one she had spread on the rug.
The butler entered the room with a discrete throat-clearing. "The surgeon has arrived, my lord."
"Excellent! Show him in."
"And Lady Aldeburgh requests that you join her and Lady Blessington in the rose salon, my lord."
Aldeburgh's lips puckered together in annoyance. "Very well, Isley. Show Mr. Harrison in." He offered an arm to Nyssa. "Duty calls, my lady."
"Couldn't I stay…?" She wondered.
"Not the thing, especially not with my gossipy cat of a mother-in-law on the premises."
Disappointed, nonetheless she placed a hand on Aldeburgh's arm and gave the prone Time Lord a last glance. The Doctor opened an eye, nodded once to signal his approval, and went back to feigning unconsciousness.
**
Aldeburgh escorted Nyssa up a wide staircase and into a rose-themed sitting room. Two women shared a setee and a pot of tea. The younger was dressed in a becoming light green gown, her chestnut hair done up in a simple swirl on the top of her head. The older woman-- who vaguely resembled the other-- had on an elaborate dark blue gown and a glower that marred her otherwise exquisite fair features. She eyed Nyssa, dismissing her as a person of consequence by a narrowing of the eyes and a raising of her quizzing glass.
Her host patted Nyssa's hand reassuringly as he made introductions. "Lily, Lady Blessington, may I present Lady Nyssa? My lady, this is my wife, The Lady Aldeburgh, and her mother, The Countess of Blessington."
Nyssa made a small curtsey; Lady Blessington gave her another withering look through the quizzing glass. Lady Aldeburgh, however, welcomed her into the room and, settling her on the settee next to herself, poured her a cup of tea.
Once Aldeburgh had his drink and a small plate of biscuits, and had sat in a small Queen Anne chair opposite the ladies, he said, "Lady Nyssa is Storringham's cousin. Apparently they were on their way to call when Storringham had a run-in with a hackney."
Nyssa had no idea why Aldeburgh introduced her as he did; she could tell that his wife was somewhat disbelieving the introduction as well. Lady Aldeburgh, however, merely asked, "How badly is he hurt?"
"We'll know shortly, my love. Mr. Harrison's in with him now."
Lady Blessington sniffened, turning pointedly toward her daughter. "And you wonder why I think that Storringham is inappropriate for your sister."
"Mother, it was an accident. It could happen to anyone."
"Perhaps… but Templemore would at least have a care where he was stepping." She glared at Aldeburgh. "I realise he's your friend, Aldeburgh, but, really, he needs to fix his interest elsewhere."
"Storringhan has much more to recommend than Templemore. He's not in Dun Territory, for one thing. "
"Aldeburgh-- Mother-- please," Lady Aldeburgh begged. "Don't let's start that again. Have a care of who's present."
"Right as always, my love." Aldeburgh turned to Nyssa, amusement dancing in his eyes. "My apologies, my lady."
Lady Blessington raised her quizzing glass again. "Where did you say you were from, Lady Nyssa?"
Nyssa, disliking the rude treatment, returned the withering look. "I didn't say, actually, but, if you must know, I am from the Empire of Traken."
"Empire of…?" Lady Blessington wondered, somewhat annoyed that she had never heard of that.
"One of the Balkan countries?" Aldeburgh suggested.
"That would explain her appearance, certainly." The clock chimed five, interrupting Lady Blessington's character analysis. "Well, I must be off, otherwise I will not have enough time to dress before dinner." She stood, forcing everyone else to take to their feet as well. She gave her daughter a pointed look. "You will be at Lady Chesire's soiree tomorrow night, won't you?"
Lady Aldeburgh nodded resignedly. "Yes, Mother, of course."
"It's vital we as a family put on a brave face for the ton-- your sister Hyacinth's elopement has lowered our cache something fierce."
"Yes, Mother."
"And that's another reason why your sister Rosemary can't be aligned with someone like--"
"Your logic, as always, amazes me, Lady Jocelyn. May I escort you to the door?" Aldeburgh guided his mother-in-law out of the room.
Lady Aldeburgh offered Nyssa a biscuit. "My mother means well," she assured her.
"I'm sure she does," Nyssa agreed politely.
"Now, before Aldeburgh returns and makes a hash of any explanation, why not tell me who you really are?"
Nyssa didn't know what to make of her hostess, so she stuck to what had already been revealed.
"But you're not Storringham's cousin," Lady Aldeburgh pressed.
"I'm afraid not, no."
"Was it Storringham who was hurt?"
"No, it wasn't. It was my friend, the Doctor."
"Hmm." Lady Aldeburgh frowned, puzzled. "Why would my husband lie like that?"
Aldeburgh, returning to the room, shut the door behind him and leaned against it. "Your husband found it quite curious that Templemore's carriage was loitering in the Square, and that Templemore was quite hopeful that it was Storringham who was hurt. I thought a little deception might be just the thing to discover what Templemore was up to."
Nyssa nodded. "But won't Storringham be bothered by this deception?"
"Oh, no, he's off to Yorkshire as of this morning-- a fact known to only myself right now, as he had a letter late last night and sent a note around to me about it. But enough of that. Let's go see how your companion has survived the ministrations of Mr. Harrison." Opening the door again, he saw both his guest and his wife out of the room.
**
TO BE CONTINUED!