Borrowed Words, Act II, Scene II (5/7)
Christian waited in the park where he had told Rose to meet him. As the minutes ticked by and she didn’t show up, he didn’t know what to do with himself. What if she had changed her mind and left with the Doctor? Christian wrung his hands in despair at the thought.
When he saw Rose approaching finally from the other side of the park, Christian nearly leapt for joy. Although she didn’t look especially happy today, Christian was overjoyed that she had come at all. Nervously, he fingered the folded note in his pocket. After much consideration, he had finally decided to try writing on his own. When she came to his side, it took all his courage to hand the paper over to her.
Rose smiled lightly as her hand closed around the note, but she surprised him by placing it in her dress pocket.
“You’ll not read it?” Christian asked fearfully.
“Not that,” Rose answered. “I’m just going to save it for later.”
Christian breathed a sigh of relief as he guided her to an open air carriage. “I thought we might take in the scenery of the park,” he suggested.
Rose seemed to like the idea and allowed herself to be handed up into the coach. Christian sidled in next to her and gripped the reigns expertly. He looked down at her before clucking to the horses and moving them on down the even dirt path.
When a few minutes had gone by with neither of them speaking, Christian began to grow nervous again.
“You’re quiet today,” he mentioned.
Rose nodded wearily before visibly relaxing. “It’s been a strange morning,” she told him. “A strange few days, really. You’ve showered me with your attentions and spun my head a bit, if truth be told. I’m not used to all of it.”
Christian scoffed as he turned the horses down a flowery lane. “A lady such as yourself must be drowning in suitors,” he remarked. “Your beauty is too…”
Christian floundered for a poetic sounding phrase but failed at his own devices. “Great,” he finished lamely.
Rose narrowed her eyes slightly but didn’t comment on his choice of words. “You’d be surprised how few ‘suitors’ I’ve had,” she replied.
“I would!” Christian retorted. “Why, I’m surprised you and…”
Christian cut out and cursed himself inwardly. Why had he started to bring that up?
“Me and...?” Rose asked.
“I was going to say the Doctor,” he replied, “but worried it would sound rude. I know you’ve been friends and travel partners. I didn’t know if there was a chance you could be more.”
Rose bit her lip and looked out at the numerous couples who were strolling around a quaint duck pond. The last conversation she’d had with the Doctor repeated in her head, as if she were straining it for content. She didn’t understand any of it.
“Rose?” Christian asked gently. He was terrified that she was taking his point too seriously.
“I’m sorry,” Rose answered. “I’m just in my own thoughts today. Maybe I should go home.”
Christian groaned internally, feeling like he’d ruined everything. But he would never disregard a lady. He turned the carriage dutifully and even offered Rose a sympathetic smile.
“I completely understand,” he said. “Maybe today was not a good time for this excursion. If you’ll allow me Rose, I’d like to see you again when you are feeling better.”
Rose stared at her folded hands guiltily and nodded slowly. “I think that would be preferable,” she said.
When Christian stopped the carriage and helped Rose down, she gave him one more uneasy smile and left him standing like a statue in the park. It wasn’t until she was out of sight that he realized she’d given him no meeting place, time or other way of contacting her again.
**
When Rose returned to the TARDIS, she closed the door behind her and rested her back against it. She hadn’t felt like herself today. Sluggishly, she willed her body to move forward until she’d reached her bedroom. Once inside, she collapsed on the bed and moaned gloomily into her pillow. It was odd that on this day, after so much romantic build up, she’d felt disconnected from the Baron. As an afterthought, she felt the corner of his letter dig into her hip bone and fished it out of her pocket.
With a sigh, she flipped onto her back and unfolded the paper that had one paltry line scribbled over it, “Thus do I love thee.”
Rose frowned. “Thus do I love thee?” she repeated. “What does thus mean?”
It seemed like the Baron had forgotten to write the formative sentences that might lead up to such a conclusion. She became so caught up in her analysis that Rose was surprised when she realized what the sentiment of the letter really meant. Christian was confessing his love for her.
Rose half crumpled the note as she held it to her breast, but where she expected to feel rapture there was only dissatisfaction. This was the first time she’d felt critical toward anything he’d written, and she didn’t understand why. Why wasn’t she overcome with palpable emotion at his words? Why didn’t she feel the need to run back to the park that moment and embrace him? Why didn’t she feel…anything at all?
(Next Chapter)