Doctor Who_ Empire of Death - BBC Worldwide [18]
'Why? What year is it?' I asked.
'1863. February 14, to be exact, about six in the evening locally. Valentine's Day.'
I did not know to what this referred. The Doctor explained it was the feast day of a saint, a religious individual from the past who was considered to have been especially holy.
During the twentieth century this feast day would become a special day of celebration among some Earth cultures for those in love.
'People would send each other cards and flowers, often anonymously, to express their love for each other,' the Doctor said.
'Why anonymously?'
'It was a tradition of the time.'
'Rather an odd one. Why tell someone of your love for them without revealing who you are? It makes no sense -
much like this garb.'
'The Doctor had suggested I change into something more appropriate for the period.' The more skin you can conceal, the better - the Victorians could be rather prudish.'
I had tried several floor-length dresses and finally settled on an all-encompassing gown of dark cloth. For reasons defying understanding the makers had sewn animals' bones into the garment, as if determined to torture the wearer by a slow but inexorable crushing of her ribs. Selecting a pair of simple shoes in a matching colour, I made my way back to the control room. Getting through doorways had proved a struggle, due to all the extra layers of cloth fitted beneath my dress, until I hit upon the notion of turning sideways. I asked the Doctor if these Victorians had wider doorways than those fitted inside the TARDIS.
‘Indeed they did. Wider doors, corridors and stairways, higher ceilings - among those who could afford such things.'
The Doctor finished a few last tweaks of the central console's many switches and dials, then removed his half-frame spectacles to regard my clothes. 'Very good! You will be quite the lady in that. Most becoming.'
'What about you? Are your clothes appropriate for the period?'
The Doctor examined his own attire. 'What, these old things? No need to worry. It's one of the joys of being a Time Lord - somehow people never seem to question what I'm wearing. Carry yourself with the right degree of authority and I find you can talk yourself out of any difficulty.'
Only after talking us into it first, I thought, but kept the opinion to myself. 'So why do I have to wear this?' In 1863
most women were seen but not heard.'
'Only most?'
'Well, you haven't met Queen Victoria!'
'And you have?'
'That's a good question. 'When you've travelled to as many times and places as I have, keeping track of them all can be rather a challenge.'
By now the central column was juddering to a halt. The Doctor gave a broad smile as he made a few last-minute adjustments. 'Here we go!'
The cortege made its way slowly from Windsor Castle to the gardens of nearby Frogmore House, travelling towards the estate's Long Walk. A pair of guards on horseback led the procession, followed by a series of carriages containing the Queen, members of her retinue, Doulton and the two visitors.
The general insisted on travelling in the same barouche as Her Majesty, so he was best placed to react if anything untoward should happen. He kept a loaded pistol by his side at all times when in the presence of the Queen. There had been at least two assassination attempts that were public knowledge and Doulton believed only further vigilance would prevent some other assailant being more successful.
James Lees and Baroness von Luckner travelled in the last carriage, another pair of guards following on horseback.
The Baroness was enjoying the fresh air after being stifled by the stale corridors within the castle. One of the Queen's maids was travelling with them as chaperone, preventing the Baroness from issuing any final instructions to her ward. They had travelled together for more than