It’s 1952 in Oxford University, and Susan Pevensie is leaving the Lady Margaret Hall library for the last time.
Her classmates will be sorry to see her go - ask any of them “Who’s the young woman with dark hair and a blue coat?” and they’ll say “what, you don’t know Susan Pevensie? You must be new.”
But most of her friends don’t actually know that much about her. They’ll agree that she’s compassionate and charismatic, “and brighter than you’d think she’d have a right to be, with looks like hers - how come she gets beauty and brains?” but nobody knows anything about her childhood. Or her family.
“She’s lost someone,” says a first-year student with a permanent air of exam-induced panic, “she came here on an inheritance from somebody, and I’ll bet anything it’s her parents because she never talks about them, but we’ve all lost someone, you know? From the war or not, it doesn’t matter. Nobody’s going to make her talk.”
She’s graduating head of her class with a degree in Politics, Philosophy, and Economics; she wants to change the world, but really who expects her to do that? There’s a Queen on the throne and a dozen-odd women in Parliament, and many think that’s enough. She’ll make the perfect wife for some politician or businessman, at least while she’s young and pretty enough to be seen and not heard.
The shadows are chilly and long this time of year, so she almost misses the older woman leaving the Principal’s office, but the other woman steps directly into her path.
“Hello, Miss Pevensie,” she says. “I’m Agent Peggy Carter. How would you feel about a job in America?”