A small group of locals

"Ah, this seems like an excellent place!" one voice cut through the clearing. "We'll set up here!"

Posh, upper class, definitely british, Clara thought. Great. And 'set up?!' What was that meant to mean?!

Nervously Clara started to take slow steps forward. So long as she could cross the lake and get to her clothes before too many people were nearby, it would work out. She moved quietly-

Only to see a well-dressed man walk out of the trees onto the far bank, surveying the area with a broad smile on his face. Behind him were half a dozen or so more people, with one unlucky looking chap carrying bundles of blankets and stands under his arms and on his back. He slumped forwards, panting, as they made it there.

"Didn't I tell you there were beautiful sights here?" the same man said. "What better place to spend the afternoon?"

"I say Mr Crosby, I wouldn't have thought there was a spot as tranquil as this hidden away," a woman said, walking out to his side. She fanned herself casually. "What a marvellous find."

Ok, getting back there might be harder. Tentatively, Clara started to shrink back, cheeks reddening slightly. Of all the times and places for them to show up...

This had never happened skinny dipping back home. Ok, it had, but she'd been closer to her clothes then. Still, hopefully they were still accessible... hopefully.

"My word, Mr Crosby, what are those?" another woman came out of the trees, gesturing at something on the ground. Clara's eyes widened.

One of the men walked up and crouched. He picked something up, lifting it high enough that it was visible even to Clara. One of her shoes, then the other, and then he'd lifted up her underwear for a good long second before realising what it was and hastily dropping it.

"It appears to be... clothing," the man said slowly. "Uh. Feminine clothing, though the likes of which I've never seen."

"What a strange thing," the woman said. She glanced around. "I do hope no one's lost it."

"What could cause someone to lose their clothing in a place like this?" 'Mr Crosby' said. "No, I daresay there's something wrong with it. We don't want that spoiling our view, do we? Michaels, there's a good chap."

The man who'd carried their supplies, who'd just laid out what seemed to be a picnic blanket for the ladies, nodded and hurried over. Clara bit her lip to stop from squeaking as she watched him pick up her clothes and, bewildered, carry them away.

This never happened back home! Damn it, she blamed the TARDIS for this. Old box had never liked her...

She backed away still, flushing. Well at least she could get away from here. She hadn't run into anyone on her journey up to the lake, hopefully her luck would hold on the way back.

Squinting, she tried to make out what was going on over there. It seemed to be innocent enough, just a group of people who'd decided to spend their afternoon outdoors. Easels had been set up, apparently for painting the landscape, while one woman was on a picnic blanket writing on a couple of sheets of paper.

Just quality time, apparently. She just wish they'd decided to have it somewhere else, especially the painters. She had no desire to become a nude model.

"Does anyone else see that?" someone said suddenly.

Clara froze; were they gesturing towards her. Nervously she stepped back-

And stumbled, splashing dramatically as she righted herself. A squeak escaped her lips as she realised the group was definitely looking at her.

"My word, there's someone in there!" Mr Crosby said. "Do you need help? Michaels-"

Clara yelped, splashing her way at a much faster rate to the far bank. The last thing she needed was someone sprinting in after her!

She hurriedly pulled herself out of the water, blushing furiously; the revelation of her nudity seemed to shock the 19th century locals into silence.

She tried to run directly for the cover for the trees, only to find the trunks too close to one another for her to get through. Squealing, she crossed one arm over her tits, the other flailing uselessly by her side and splashing droplets of water off of her as she stumbled down the bank.

The first chance she could she darted into the wood, flushed.

Ok. Now to just get around the lake and the group and hope she wasn't seen. Easy. In theory.

"My word," one of the women said.

"I'm sorry Miss Austen, if I had any idea there were such people-"

Wait.

Clara blinked. Oh god, of all the times... Two centuries before her present, England, 'Miss Austen,' a woman writing away... Was that Jane Austen?! Of the historical figures she wanted the TARDIS to take her to meet, Austen was definitely up there.

Any other time she'd have dropped everything to go say hi. And given the TARDIS's... unreliability, this could well be her only chance. Just, did she really want to meet a famous figure while she was stark naked?!