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MATRIMONY. - A lady of great beauty is solicitous to meet an agreeable and respectable gentleman of fortune. Aged 21, spirited, kind, with golden hair. Inheritance of One Hundred Pounds in trust. Letters post paid, to be addressed to R. T., No. 6, Powell.
Rose sighed and placed the newspaper back on the table. Her mother was looking up at her from her breakfast expectantly, waiting for Rose’s reaction.
“I did not ask you to put in an advertisement for me, Mama.”
Jacqueline appeared shocked by her daughter’s tone. “Are you not grateful? Don’t you know how much it costs to take out an advertisement these days?”
The ‘lady of great beauty’ hesitated. “Of course, I am grateful that you care so much for me. I suppose I just don’t have much faith in finding a decent man through the matrimonials.” She was careful to be honest without sounding rude. This was really not worth an argument.
“Didn’t Shireen Costello find multiple suitors through the press?” her mother objected.
Hiding her grimace in a false smile, Rose nodded. “Yes, I suppose she did.” The truth was that Shireen had put in an ad just for fun. She was still stringing on three separate gentlemen, despite having no intention of marrying any of them. Rose wasn’t sure what she wanted, but it wasn’t that.
Ever since Rose had turned sixteen years old, Jacqueline had been preparing for her to be married. Her engagement with James Stone was broken off when the man was arrested, damaging Rose’s reputation nearly as much as his own. There were other suitors later on, once the gossips’ heads were turned by something else, but Adam Mitchell turned out to be a greedy fool and Michael Smith didn’t make Rose feel the spark she was looking for. Her mother said that she was too picky for a lady of her means, but Rose knew that wasn’t the problem. If she was honest, she didn’t feel ready to settle down. Marriage meant signing up for a life of sitting still, decades of nothing but mundane tasks. She preferred her relative freedom. She couldn’t express as much to her mother.
Rose would have been willing to argue about the matrimonial ad if it weren’t for their dwindling finances. Rose was facing either marriage or poverty (for both herself and her mother), so the choice was clear. Soon, Rose would have to learn to sit still. She just held out hope that her future husband would be as agreeable and respectable as her advertisement requested.
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
Miss Donna Noble took a seat next to her friend on the park bench. He was so engrossed in the book he was reading that he didn’t even look up. To remedy that, she swatted his leg with the newspaper she was holding. His bespectacled eyes remained on his book even then, but he did smile. “Good morning, Miss Noble.”
“Doctor, I have an idea.”
That was enough to grab his attention. He placed a ribbon in between the pages of his book and raised an eyebrow at Donna. “Let’s hear it, then.”
“Well, we both know that you’re completely useless on your own.” Before the man could object, Donna continued insistently. “You become sort of reclusive and arrogant when there isn’t someone to keep you in check.”
A much more serious look fell over the Doctor’s visage. “And you’re leaving.”
Donna very nearly rolled her eyes. “You talk about me getting married as if it’s the end of the world. We’ll keep in touch, you know.”
“We’d better.” He smiled again, but Donna sensed that there was trepidation behind the thin veil. “What has you bringing this up, anyway? What is your idea?”
“You,” she suggested, emphasizing the word by smacking the newspaper against him again, “should get married.”
With that, the veil fell and his worry was clear to see. “I don’t see what good that would do. I wouldn’t end up seeing her any more often than you with all my travels and exhibitions.” He shifted his feet aimlessly.
“No, you dunce! Find a lady willing to go with you!” It was starting to get ridiculous just how many times she had hit him with that paper.
“What, like Martha?” He smugly brought up his new research assistant - Donna’s replacement - in the hopes that it would prove he wasn’t as alone as she said.
Donna matched the Doctor’s smugness. “Are you going to marry her, then?”
“No. I don’t see why you are so fixated on me getting married. I was never going to marry you, but you were there for me. Why can’t Martha be?”
Donna let out a heavy exhale. He just wasn’t getting it. “Look, that was different.”
“How so?”
“Let me get a word in and I’ll tell you!” She stared into his eyes until he backed down. Despite what the exchange might look like to passers-by, there was no risk of harm coming to their friendship from an argument like this. It was almost like play-fighting with some aspects of academic debate thrown in. They both respected and each other and understood that differences of opinion were best talked about - not that it could be avoided with Donna’s boldness and the Doctor’s need to express his every waking thought.
Satisfied that the Doctor wasn’t going to interrupt, Donna continued. “You and me, we’re best mates. That’s why I was there for you, not because you paid me to be there. And Martha… Sure, you could become friends with Martha as well, but I don’t think she’d ever be satisfied with that. If you make her your only person, it will only hurt her.”
The man furrowed his brow. “Why would that hurt her?” His mind burned up with what he was sure she was going to say: because you hurt everyone; because you hurt me. But she only shook her head and smiled ruefully.
“Because you don’t want to marry her.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.” That time, Donna really did roll her eyes, since there was no one else nearby to see.
In consideration of the new information, the Doctor stepped onto a new train of thought. Naturally, he shared those thoughts as soon as they formed into words in his head. “Suppose you’re right and I do need someone, and that it can’t be Martha. Where would I even start to look for a person like that?”
She couldn’t help teasing her friend. “A wife, you mean?”
He shot her a look. “A person willing to follow me to the ends of the Earth. But simultaneously someone intelligent.”
Donna nodded in understanding. “Someone who will enjoy going with you and also be willing to stop you from making an arse of yourself? Well, you start by opening yourself up to meeting anybody.” She smacked him one last time with the newspaper, then set it on his lap. He hesitantly picked it up, eyeing Donna all the while.
When his gaze flashed down to the open page, he frowned. “The classifieds? Really?”
She pointed lower on the page than he was looking and corrected him. “The matrimonials.”
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
Rose received the first of the letters after just two days. It was addressed to R.T., so it was clearly a result of the advertisement, but strangely, the return address belonged to a Miss Donna Noble. She curiously cut open the envelope and unfolded the letter right where she was, standing by the door.
Dear Miss R.T.,
I am contacting you with regard to your matrimonial advertisement. As you may have surmised already, I am not an available gentleman. In fact, I am neither available nor a gentleman. However, my dear friend is both. My name is Donna Noble, soon to be Donna Temple, and I am trying to convince my friend to be married.
My friend is a gentleman of means and a doctor of sciences. He is 28 years old and handsome, intelligent, and loyal. And he needs someone.
Why, you are likely asking, doesn’t he write to you himself? Fair question. My answer is that he’s anxious, not that he would admit as much. When I suggested that he look through the matrimonials, he told me that he didn’t want to try to choose someone without even knowing them. It was a pathetic excuse, I know, but I decided to humour him and I offered to write the first letter to get to know you better. I chose you because of one word in your advertisement: spirited. Tell me, is this your perception of yourself or someone else’s?
I am also interested in hearing what you enjoy doing, what you like to talk about, and your favourite types of places. Do you prefer the familiar or trying new things? Are you educated or well-travelled? I look forward to reading your answers and relaying them to the Doctor.
Yours on behalf of the Doctor,
Miss Donna Noble
Rose smiled down at the paper, only more curious than before she unfolded it. She retreated then to her bed chamber, ignoring her mother’s calls of questioning, to write a reply.