The Slayer
& The Poet
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Disclaimer: The characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer
belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. Same goes for any characters from Angel
that should appear. Any other characters are mine and may be used for other
fanfic (Just note that they’re mine if you use them.)
The poem She Walks in Beauty belongs to Lord Byron.
Content rating note: This fic is rated PG-13 or
maybe R.
Continuity note: Follows Stanza the
3rd. This story takes place in an AU season 6, in which Buffy
didn’t die at the end of season five. This is only important to know for Buffy
and the girls’ state of mind since this is set in 1880. Spoilers for “Fool for
Love” and a little “Lies My Parents Told Me.”
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1
William fidgeted in his seat
as the carriage made its way up the road. Despite the girls’ words of
encouragement, he felt nervous. This would be the first call he’d made in
almost a month. Of all the members of his social circle, the Pemberton
household was the most mild mannered, but still…
William closed his eyes and
sighed as the carriage went over a bump in the road.
During his visit with the
girls that afternoon, he had told them about his plans to make a call and had
admitted that he was quite nervous. Misses Buffy and
“That means, ‘all right’,”
Miss Tara had said.
Miss Buffy had then squeezed
his hand, causing him to flush, and told him, “You can do it!”
You can do it. You can do
it, William
repeated over and over to himself in his head. The Pembertons will at the very
least be courteous. You can do it.
The carriage stopped and his
driver hopped down to open the door for him. William stepped out and gave his
driver, old Mister Perrywick, a nod.
“Ye’ll be alright, lad,”
said Mister Perrywick.
William managed to give
Perrywick a weak smile as he stepped out of the carriage. He fretted as he made
his way up the stairs to the front door. Maybe they won’t be accepting calls
and I can just leave my card and go, William hoped.
Finally, he was at the door.
William knocked and only had to wait a little while for the maid on duty to
answer. The maid’s eyes widened when she saw who had come calling. “Master
Brighton! Oh my! Please come in, sir.” The maid stepped aside to let William
in.
William removed his hat (it
was a top hat that matched his suit) and held it in one hand while he handed
his calling card to the maid. She looked it over, noting the corner turned
down, and went to notify the family of William’s arrival.
The maid scuttled down the
halls of the house looking for any family member that might be about. Then she
remembered that the Pemberton’s daughter Clarice was having a fitting, and
hurried upstairs to her room. Mr. and Mrs. Pemberton would most likely be
there, as well. They always made sure to look over Clarice’s dresses to insure
that they were befitting their marriageable daughter. The dress must fit
perfectly and the neckline must not be too low.
Mrs. Pemberton was fussing
over her daughter’s finished dress when she heard the knock at the door. “Come
in,” she said. The maid opened the door and handed her the card.
Clarice strained to see the
card from her position on the step stool. Each time there was a caller, she
hoped that the caller would be a man and that he would be calling just for her.
But no man ever called on her. She was pretty, but shy and almost just as
unpopular as William the Bloody.
“Why it’s from Master
Brighton!” Mrs. Pemberton exclaimed.
“W-William??” Clarice asked.
“So he’s finally out and
about then? Calling on all of us, is he?” Mr. Pemberton asked.
“Yes,” the Missus said. And
then she caught her daughter’s anxious look and mistook it. She knew her
daughter was desperate for a male caller and thought that at this point Clarice
wouldn’t be above fancying even the pitiable Master Brighton. Well, at least
he’s a slight monetary step up. And his orchards and vineyards give some
prestige, she thought.
Mr. Pemberton apparently had
made the same assumption, for he said, “Well, we still have the tailor to pay
and the arrangements to make for a new ball gown. Perhaps we should send
Clarice down as a representative of the family.”
The Missus smiled at her
husband and said, “Yes, that is a fine idea.” Then she turned to Clarice.
“Would you like that, dear?”
Clarice blinked and then said, “Yes, that would be fine Mother.”
Clarice was anxious
to see William, but certainly not because she fancied him. Although she
wouldn’t have turned him down if he had been calling just for her. She
was the same age as he was and had never, not once, had a male caller. She
didn’t want to end up an old maid. But as it was, she was anxious to see him
because then she would have something juicy to talk about at the party this
week. Everyone was dying to know what had become of William the Bloody after he
ran out of that party. Crying no less! It was the closest thing they’d
had to a scandal in the longest time.
The Missus sent the maid
back down and gave her instructions to have William wait in the drawing room
for Clarice.
William fidgeted with his
hat while he waited downstairs. It seemed to be taking forever. They’re
probably debating about whether or not to receive me, he thought. Please
decide not to so I can just go home.
Finally the maid came back
downstairs and informed him that while the Mister and Missus were busy, Clarice
was available and would see him in the drawing room. William was mildly
surprised. He gave the maid a questioning look. She motioned for him to follow
her. “Come this way.”
Still slightly apprehensive,
he followed her. Clarice was one of the few people he could engage in small
talk with at parties without danger of being made sport of. She was in the same
boat he was in, popularity wise. Even so, she was bound to have witnessed or at
least heard about his incident at the party and he couldn’t imagine her not
thinking less of him. Would even she make fun of him now?
The maid had him to sit down
in one of the velvet chairs in the drawing room. William held his hat on his
lap and waited. Soon Clarice arrived and he stood up to greet her. He managed a
weak smile before sitting back down. Clarice took a seat in the chair beside
him.
“So…have you been ill,
William?” Clarice asked. She knew he hadn’t been but couldn’t come right out
and talk about the real reason. Too awkward.
William got a slightly
pained expression on his face and then managed another weak smile and said,
“Y-Yes…but I- I’m feeling better now. A-And you?”
“I- I’ve been very well,
thank you,” Clarice replied. Then she wondered what she could politely
ask him that would yield good information for the upcoming party. They sat in
awkward silence for a moment as she thought. “Is- Is this your first time out?”
William paused a moment
trying to decide if he should come up with a polite lie or tell the truth.
Since he couldn’t quickly think up a lie and Charles and the others had already
seen him at the park, the truth would have to do. “No,” he answered softly.
“I’ve been out a few times to see…some n-new friends.”
Clarice perked up. “New friends?? Who are they? How did you meet them?”
Oh, I should have lied, William thought. “Th-
they’re Americans.”
“Americans?! How
interesting~! Please don’t withhold, William! Are they handsome?” asked
Clarice.
William couldn’t help giving
her a look and smiling a little. “They’re ladies,” he said stifling a
chuckle.
“Ladies?!” Surprise, then
disappointment passed over Clarice’s face. “Your new friends are ladies,
William?”
“Yes, they’re heiresses who’ve
come to
Clarice narrowed her eyes. “Really~?”
It sounded made up to her.
William nodded his head.
“What are their names?” she
asked, suspicious.
“Buffy Summers, Willow
Rosenberg, and Tara Maclay,” he answered.
“Buffy?”
“Oh! I beg your pardon.
That sounds too strange to
be made up, thought
Clarice. William has got to be just the strangest man! To have made friends
with three foreign women…Unheard of!
“However did you meet them?”
she asked.
“Ah, um, j-just a chance
meeting,” William answered, trying to avoid giving details. How could he tell
her that, in addition to fleeing from the party, he had to be saved from harm
by a woman afterwards?
“But how? And when? You
haven’t been out since…” Clarice trailed off. William must have met them
immediately after the party. I would lay odds that they took pity on him. I can
understand why he doesn’t want to admit to that~.
William’s stomach tied into
knots. How am I to get around this?! I knew~ I knew this wouldn’t go well
for me~.
“Never mind, William,”
Clarice said smiling. “Just tell me about them instead.”
William gave her a warm smile,
grateful for her mercy. Then he told her all about how wonderful his new
friends were. How Miss Buffy was clever and strong and beautiful. And Miss
Willow was smart and into academics and literature like him. And Miss Tara was
very kind and genteel.
“And are they all beautiful,
or just Miss Summers?” Clarice teased.
“They’re all beautiful,”
William answered with a smile.
It was at this point when
Clarice’s mother popped her head in the room. “Why, Master Brighton, you’re
still here! It’s been nearly an hour!”
“Oh! I- I-,” he stammered in
Mrs. Pemberton’s direction before turning back to Clarice, “Please, I- I do beg
your pardon, Clarice! I- I didn’t mean to go on-”
“Oh, nonsense! I was quite
enjoying hearing about your new friends, William. I don’t mind the time,”
Clarice said. The more she got out of him, the better chance she had in using
it to get in with the in crowd.
“Please, Mother, can’t he
stay a little while longer?” Clarice asked turning to her mum and giving her a
hopeful look.
Her mother smiled warmly and
said, “I suppose. Come see me in the parlor when you’re done visiting with
Master Brighton.” And with that Mrs. Pemberton left.
If her daughter had better
prospects or if it had been anyone else but Master Brighton she would never have
left them un-chaperoned for this long. But she hated to squelch a budding
prospect and Master Brighton was a good man. Although undoubtedly a rather weak
specimen, he would have never done anything unseemly with her daughter. Of that
she was sure. And he does have a good complexion and nice features. Too bad
he’s so horribly out of fashion. Tsk.
William gave Clarice a
questioning look. Why had she wanted him to stay?
Clarice turned back to him
and said, “Before you go, William, there is one more thing I want to ask you.”
“All right,” William said,
his stomach starting to twist up again.
“Is this the first call
you’ve made since…?” she asked.
“Yes,” William answered.
“Why this household?” This
she was asking only for her own curiosity.
“Oh…” William hadn’t
expected that. “Well…” He thought for a moment. “You and- and your family have
never made sport of me like…like others have. I was hopeful that you, um,
wouldn’t start now, I suppose.”
“Oh…” she answered. Poor
William. Now she felt bad for all the times she had called him William the
Bloody. Although she at least had the courtesy to make sure he was out of
earshot.
“Well,” he said getting up,
“I shouldn’t take up any more of your time. Thank you for your kind
hospitality, Clarice. And thank your parents for me, as well.”
“Certainly. You’re most
welcome, William,” she said standing up. “Will you be at this week’s party?”
“No…No, I don’t think I’m up
for that quite yet.”
Good, she thought. It would be
easier to talk about him if he wasn’t there. Clarice had one of her servants
notify William’s driver that he was ready to go and showed William to the door.
As William stepped out and
the door latched behind him, he breathed a sigh of relief. Oh, thank God
that’s over with~! I suppose I can tell the girls it went… fairly well. As
William stepped into his carriage he struggled to calm his nerves and found
himself thinking a thought he didn’t think very often. I need a drink~. A
nice stiff drink and a good book. Yes, that should calm my nerves some.
2
Clarice entered the parlor
where her mother was waiting. It wasn’t long before a high-pitched laugh
emanated from the room.
“William!? You thought I
fancied William?! Oh, Mother~!” Clarice said reproachfully.
“Well, then why were you so
interested in seeing him, dear?” her mother asked calmly, believing her
daughter’s indignation to be affected.
“No one’s seen him in almost
a month. I was just curious to see what he had been up to,” Clarice said.
Her mother sipped her tea
and looked at her. “You know…a man recently jilted can be an easy catch,” she
suggested.
“Mother!!”
“You’re not getting any
younger, you know.”
“Muuum!!!”
“He’s not so bad. You could count on him being faithful, I’m sure. And he’s got a bit more money than we do and has those lovely orchards and vineyards. His family’s made a fine name and not a little bit of money with those, you know.”
“But mother~! William?! William the-” she stopped herself just barely from using William’s inappropriate nickname. “The poetry~! It’s just not possible I could stand a lifetime of that~! It’s awful~!”
“There are worse things than bad poetry, dear. I’ve heard it. I think you’d live.”
“But he’s hardly dashing~! And those clothes and hair and to top it all off, spectacles!”
“He’s got a fine complexion and good bone structure. Maybe you could get him to update his fashion some once you’ve married him. The spectacles can’t be helped, I’m afraid. But that is such a small thing.”
“I’m not that desperate yet~!”
“Well, you should be.”
Mum, how could you~!? Clarice thought as tears began to well in her eyes.
“He’ll certainly be desperate. His own prospects were completely ruined by that unfortunate incident. He’ll be in no position to refuse you should you make it clear you’re receptive.”
Clarice flew from the table and up the stairs to her room crying. She flung herself on the bed. As she lay sobbing into the mattress, she vowed to never be so desperate as to actually pursue William the Bloody Awful Poet.
3
“I wonder how William’s
doing at his call thing,” Buffy said attempting to do needlepoint with Willow
and Tara.
Willow and Tara giggled a
little. “It’s called calling~.”
“I know. Whatever~,” Buffy
said. “He seemed really tweaked about it.”
“I’m sure he’s fine,” said
Tara.
“Maybe if it goes bad you
can hug him and kiss him and make it all better,” Willow suggested, teasing.
“Do you think?” Buffy asked,
not entirely being a smart-ass.
“Hug, maybe,” Tara answered.
“Kiss…probably better not.”
“And you swore up and down
yesterday that you didn’t like-him like him,” Willow said drawing her words out
in a taunting fashion. Buffy had admitted to them that morning that she did
indeed like William.
“Shut it. Or I’ll split your
lip,” Buffy warned.
“William won’t like you if
you’re all violent~,” Willow continued to tease.
“Bite me,” Buffy said.
“And she’s lewd, too~!”
Willow said turning to Tara.
“You better stop it right now
or I’m cramming this thing down your throat!” Buffy said waving the needlepoint
in Willow’s direction.
Willow and Tara laughed
gleefully.
“Now let’s not make fun of
our friend,” Tara said, stifling her giggles. “We are here to help her.”
“Do you have any advice for
our dear Buffy, oh Wise Goddess of Etiquette?” Willow asked her lover.
“God~!” Buffy exclaimed
rolling her eyes.
“Yes,” Tara said.
Buffy smiled and shook her
head. “Well, lay it on me, Wise Goddess.”
“W-Well…You’re trying to get
a little squirrel to come over to you. So no big movements. If you come on too
strong, he might run away.”
Buffy broke out into a fit
of giggles as she envisioned William, with a big bushy squirrel’s tail,
skittering behind a bench.
Tara looked at Willow, puzzled.
“I th-thought that was a pretty good metaphor,” Tara said.
“Oh, it was good, honey.
Buffy’s just got it bad,” said Willow, snickering.
4
As soon as William got in
the house, he made a beeline straight for the liquor cabinet. After grabbing a
bottle of brandy and a glass he made his way to the library. William had a
fairly large library. The room was rather U-shaped with tall, fitted
bookshelves lining the curved walls. A rolling ladder was attached to the wall
of bookcases and could be pushed on a track from end to end. William had been
scolded more than a few times as a child for playing on it.
In the center of the room
were two plush, wine red couches that faced each other and curved in a wide half
circle. Next to them were end tables, some of which had assorted knickknacks on
them like the medium sized metal globe resting on a gold display disk. William
himself had purchased this item. It didn’t spin, but you could pick it up and
look at it and William thought it looked prettier than most globes he had seen.
In the center of the room
was a finely varnished circular coffee table. There were usually a few books or
magazines lying in the center.
The library was pretty much
William’s. His mother hardly ever went in on her own, unless she happened to
want a book. And then she would take it back to the parlor or drawing room to
read. Mother thought the library was a little too stuffy. William thought it
was grand.
William sat down on the far
end of a couch next to an empty end table. He poured himself a glass of brandy,
drank it down, and then sat the bottle and glass aside on the coffee table. He
sighed and waited for his nerves to calm a bit. After a while, he decided he
needed one more drink before he could calm down enough to choose his book.
If seeing the mild mannered
Clarice Pemberton had caused his nerves this much strife, how would he be able
to call on the others or show his face at a party. He groaned as his stomach
twisted at the thought. William absentmindedly poured himself yet another
drink. Stupid bloody society, he thought as the alcohol began to buzz in
his brain. Why does it have to be so hard? William groaned again as he
got up to fetch a book. Alcohol was only dulling the anxiety. He needed a
distraction.
William went over to the
wall of bookshelves and picked out one of his favorites and sat back down. As
he began to read, he had a feeling that he’d forgotten to do something but
couldn’t remember what it was.
5
It was well past the time
William was due to come back and yet Anne hadn’t seen hide ‘nor hair of him.
Even though William almost always greeted her upon his arrival, she thought it
wouldn’t hurt to check with Lucy before she started worrying. Lucy, although
almost as young as William, was head maid and knew almost all the goings-on in
the house. If William was home, she would know.
Anne made her way to the
servants’ quarters and found Lucy. “Lucy, do you know if William might be home
yet?” Anne asked.
“Why yes’m. He arrived home
half an hour ago. Hasn’t he been in to see you yet?” Lucy asked.
“No,” Anne said, her
forehead creasing with worry. “Do you know where he is?”
“Last I saw him, mum, he was
heading towards the library…with a bottle of brandy,” Lucy said.
“Oh, my…Thank you, Lucy,”
Anne said and then was off to the library to see what had happened to unnerve
her son so much.
Anne made her way to the
main double doors of the library. Sure enough, there was her son, sitting on the
couch with a book and a bottle of brandy on the end table beside him.
“William?” she called out as
she entered the room and made her way over.
William looked up at her,
calm for a moment, and then it dawned on him. In his desire to calm his jangled
nerves he’d forgotten to check in with Mother. “Oh, Mother~ I’m sorry, I…”
William trailed off.
His words were slow and
rather sleepy sounding. Anne could tell he’d had more than a couple drinks.
“Did it go so badly, darling?”
“No…not really…It was just…intense.
In an awkward way. It kept coming perilously close to going as bad as I thought
it would. It was unpleasant trying to answer…the questions,” William finished.
Anne sat down on the couch
next to her son and patted his shoulder. “Come, tell us all about it then.”
“Can- can I tell you later?
I don’t wish to think about it right now. It just makes me worry about next
time. And parties,” William said, looking at her dolefully.
“All right,” Anne said, as
she got up. “You can tell me later.” She bent down to hug him and kiss the
crown of his head.
“Thank you,” he said.
6
“So how did your calling go,
William?” Tara asked after William sat down on the park bench in his usual spot
next to Buffy.
William gave her a slightly
pained expression.
“That good, huh?” Buffy
asked.
“Not so bad, actually. The
Pembertons were merciful. It- It was just stressful,” said William.
“Well, it’s not like they would have invited you in and then pointed and laughed,” Buffy said jovially.
“N-No, but I hate answering all the questions. It would be easier if I were quicker at coming up with a polite lie,” William said.
“Polite lie?” Buffy
and Willow queried.
“A face saving lie,” Tara
explained.
“Oh,” said Buffy and Willow.
“Well, your nature is to be
honest, right?” Willow asked rhetorically. “Oo! Maybe you need to plan your
lies. Like a script.”
“Even if I have one planned, I rarely remember to follow through and use it,” William said sighing.
So Spike wasn’t big with the
planning even when he was William. Not that I’m one to throw stones in that
department, Buffy
thought.
“I do a little better with
half truths, but I rarely have the- the guts for out-and-out lies,” William
continued.
“As far as I’m concerned, it
takes guts to tell the truth,” Buffy said. “And being a good liar isn’t
necessarily a good quality. Useful sometimes, maybe.”
“But it’s a talent that’s
easy to misuse,” Tara added.
“So it’s just as well you
kind of suck at it, then,” Willow said.
William stared at Miss Willow,
a little shocked at her language. Not that he hadn’t heard Miss Buffy use the
same expression before.
“What? What?” Willow asked
looking back and forth between her friends.
“Suck. You can’t use the word
suck like that,” Buffy said, glad that the first blunder of the day was not
hers for a change.
“You can’t?!” Willow said.
“No, of course not~,” Tara
said, stifling a laugh.
“Why not?” Willow asked.
“It’s not a swear~.” Buffy began to giggle in the background.
“It has a connotation,” Tara
answered, keeping her voice even. “Would your mother have approved of it?”
“Good point,” said Willow.
“I beg everyone’s pardon, then.” Then after a beat she said, “And I blame the
cowboys.”
“Why did your parents not
keep you away from the cowboys if they swore so much?” William asked.
“The cowboys were
everywhere. They were unavoidable,” said Willow, proudly keeping a straight
face.
“It must be nice to be among more genteel society then,” William said.
“Well, it’s certainly nice to be around a gentleman,” Buffy said, giving William a rather flirty look.
A flush crept up into William’s face and he looked away shyly.
Buffy was struck with an overpowering urge to touch
his hand or arm or something. She began to move her hand towards his when she
heard Tara’s voice in her head say, Squirrel~, Buffy. Squirrel~.
We’re giving him a group hug before he leaves, then, Buffy sent back trying not to visibly pout.
I think we can only get away
with that on special occasions for now, Tara sent.
Buffy mentally growled in
frustration. Grr! Arg!
7
Clarice walked into the
party at Sally Pritchett’s, sure that her day had finally come. Clarice gave
her hat and wrap to the doorman and then began her search for the in crowd.
They weren’t hard to find. They were in the center of the room, as usual.
Clarice took a deep breath. All
right. Here we go.
Clarice walked up to the
edge of the group and waited to be let in. Charles was holding the group’s attention
with what he thought was a highly amusing anecdote and Sally and Sawyer were
right beside him laughing it up. Cecily stood a few paces across, fanning
herself demurely.
Finally, Charles finished
his tale and noticed her. “Clarice Pemberton…Have you something to add to the
conversation?” he asked in his typical condescending tone.
The group made a space for
Clarice and she stepped in. “I…I have some news you might be interested in,”
she said, struggling to sound confident but still sounding a bit meek.
“Well, do tell, Clarice,”
said Charles.
“William the Bloody paid a
call to my household this week,” she announced.
Cecily snapped her fan shut and glared at Clarice. She was sick and tired of the topic of William. To have it brought up by mousy Clarice Pemberton~ It made her blood boil.
“Oh, really~!” Sally said, perking up at the subject. Sally loved a good scandal more than anything. “We saw him at the park earlier this week.”
“Oh?” Clarice asked, a little disappointed she was she wasn’t the first to have seen him after all.
“Yes, but only for the briefest of moments. He claimed to be feeling unwell and ran away,” Sally said, giving off a high-pitched laugh at the end. The rest of the circle joined her in a boisterous round of laughter.
Clarice felt a twinge of guilt for what she was doing, but pressed on anyway. “Yes, he said that he hadn’t been feeling well.”
“What else did he say?” Sawyer said, chuckling.
“He said that he had been out a few other times to see some new friends of his. Americans. Oh, and they are all ladies,” replied Clarice.
“Ladies?!” half the group said gasping.
“American ladies?” asked Sawyer.
Clarice nodded her head yes.
“And you believe him?” Cecily asked, letting her curiosity get the better of her.
Clarice nodded her head again. “The details he gave me were too strange to be made up. And William doesn’t seem the type to…”
“Have the balls to make up such a tale,” Charles said with bold gusto.
The group laughed and tittered. All except for Clarice and Cecily, who were a little uncomfortable with Charles’s vulgarity.
“Well, go on. Tell us these details,” Sally commanded with good humor.
“He said their names were…” Clarice thought a moment. “Buffy, Willow and Tara. I don’t remember their last names, although I think the one called Willow had a Jewish name. And the Buffy girl had a proper name, but he never referred to it more than once…so I forget that too.”
The group laughed again.
“Buffy, Willow and Tara?! What kind of names are those?!” Charles said guffawing.
“Well, they are from the colonies. Not only that, they’re from the western frontier. Perhaps in America those names aren’t, well, quite so strange anyway,” Clarice said.
“Good God~! However did he meet these strange creatures?!” Sawyer asked, eyes gleaming with laughter.
“Well…he wouldn’t come right out and say it but…I think they met him…that night after Miss Cecily’s party. You know the one,” said Clarice feeling another twinge of guilt in the back of her mind.
The group went silent as its members took that information in. Cecily was prepared to leave the conversation if it lingered on that subject too long.
“So they took pity on him, then?” Sally asked, already figuring the answer to be yes.
“That is what I assumed,” Clarice said softly.
“Are they even of a proper class?” Sawyer asked.
“Oh, yes. They are heiresses. And he says they are also beautiful,” said Clarice.
“Hm, how interesting,” Sally said.
“Anything else of interest to tell?” Charles asked.
“No, that’s all I know,” answered Clarice.
The group buzzed about the fresh dirt they had just been given.
As much as Sally valued the information she had received from Clarice, she just couldn’t let her into the inner circle on just a bit of gossip. After all Clarice was still Clarice. Mousy. Shy. And out of fashion.
“Still wearing your hair
down, Clarice?” Sally asked, her voice taking on a reproachful tone.
“I- uh, the- the pins hurt
my head,” she said dumbly. The turnaround had been fast and unexpected. She thought
she was in.
The women laughed gaily and
the men chuckled.
“Well, I suppose that’s just
as well. Without a good curl, it wouldn’t be much better anyway,” said Sally.
The group laughed at her
again and Clarice could see her time amongst the beautiful people was up.
“P-pardon me. I think I am in need of
some punch,” Clarice said tightly and then walked away before they could move
on to her shoes.
Her shoes were black patent
leather Mary Janes. Flats. She couldn’t wear heals because they hurt her ankles
too much. They looked like little girls’ shoes. And that would surely be
Sally’s next point.
Clarice made her way to the
punch bowl, and as she poured the bright red drink into a cup, tears began to
well in her eyes. She willed them not to fall. She would cry later at home, but
she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of her crying here.
And at least I know when to
get out,
she thought. William, in an effort to spend the most time near Cecily, she
imagined, would stay until they said something really nasty and then he would
finally leave.
Clarice looked down into her
punch, seeing her reflection in the bright red liquid. She didn’t think she was
unattractive, but she was no Miss Cecily Addams, that was for sure. She would
never be able to attract the kind of man she wanted with all the other
competition out there. No gallant Prince Charming for her. Maybe her mother was
right.
8
William bustled about the
den, organizing and straightening letters and other documents on the desk. It
was a spring-cleaning day in the Brighton household and while the servants bore
the brunt of the work, William took charge of organizing his personal and
business affairs. William rushed to get it all done so he wouldn’t be late for
his daily meeting in the park with the girls.
Losing patience with the
boring task, he cut corners and crammed a mass of documents into a drawer. Then
he stuffed the last pile of answered letters into the top drawer of the desk
and scurried out of the room.
William stopped by in front
of a hallway mirror and straightened his tie a bit before moving on to the
entrance hall. There, one of the maids was balancing on a tall ladder and
attempting to dust the chandelier.
“Now don’t forget to give the
crystals a good once over as well, Olive,” his mother called out, while she
gazed up at the progress being made.
William made his way over to
her and said, “I’m off to the park, Mother.”
“All right, dear. Finished
with your chores already?” she asked smiling.
“Yes,” said William, giving
him mum a smile and a kiss on the cheek.
As William started for the
door, Anne turned her attention to one of the butlers, Jeffery, and began
giving him an order, only to be interrupted by a fit of violent coughing. Olive
and Jeffery froze in place while William rushed back over to his mother and
fetched out a handkerchief.
Anne felt a rush of
dizziness and clutched at her son’s shoulder as he handed her the handkerchief.
She coughed into it with great whooping coughs. William led her over to a
nearby chair and had her sit down.
“It- it’s probably just the dust,” Anne said in a strangled voice after the coughing finally subsided. But she knew that it wasn’t, and so did William.
“Shall I send for Dr. Gull?”
he asked softly.
“No, there’s really
nothi-…no need for him to come,” Anne said, catching herself before she
admitted the cold hard truth. There’s really nothing he can do.
“Do you want me to stay?”
William asked kneeling down beside her.
“No, go out and see your
friends, darling,” Anne said placing a hand on his shoulder to reassure him.
“Go on now,” she said when he hesitated.
William stood up and gave
her a kiss on the head before going.
On the carriage ride over to
the park, he struggled to put it out of his mind but was finding it hard to
ignore the fact that his mother was getting worse and there was nothing that
could be done.
9
“William, you look
distracted today,” Buffy observed as Willow and Tara packed up the picnic supplies.
“Did you go on a bad call yesterday?”
William looked down and
sighed, his lips parting in a nervous smile. “It’s nothing.”
“What’s nothing?” Willow
asked.
“William seems down, to me,” Buffy said.
“B-Bad call?” Tara asked.
William chuckled softly and
said, “No, it’s really nothing.”
The three girls looked him
over. He was struggling to keep up a smile, but they could see his eyes water a
bit.
“It doesn’t look like
nothing,” Buffy said.
“You look like your dog just
died,” Willow said.
William’s smile faltered at
the mention of death.
“Oh my God! Your dog didn’t
just die, did he?” Willow asked, her eyes widening.
William chuckled again. “I
don’t have a dog.”
“I’m sure no one died,”
Buffy said shaking her head in exasperation. Then, after a beat, she asked, “No
one died, did they?”
William opened his mouth to
speak, paused for a moment and then finally said, “No…Mother has been-…she’s
been sick.” William’s eyes flicked away from the girls and down to the grass.
“Sick?!” they all said.
“Why didn’t you tell us?
What does she have? Is it serious?” Buffy asked.
Buffy wasn’t supposed to be
prying so much, but Tara didn’t have the heart to criticize her. The subject of
sick mothers was a touchy subject for Buffy after the death of her own mother,
and Tara understood, having lost hers as well.
“I didn’t want to burden you
with…with an unpleasant subject,” William said, answering Buffy’s first
question.
“But we’re your friends~. If
you can’t burden us, who can you burden? That’s what we’re here for.
Burden us!” said Buffy.
William couldn’t help but
laugh and covered his mouth with his hand. When he finally stopped and looked
up, the tears in his eyes finally began to trickle down his cheeks even as he
tried to keep the smile on his face.
The girls’ eyes widened with
concern. William’s mother was dying somehow. They could feel it in their guts.
“Is she dying~?” Buffy
asked.
William’s lip began to
quiver a bit as he struggled to keep from sobbing. The girls made sympathetic
noises and rushed to William’s side.
As William struggled to keep
himself under something resembling control, Tara said, “It’s okay, William.”
Willow and Buffy repeated this sentiment as they rubbed and patted his
shoulders. Finally, he broke down sobbing and the girls leaned forward
encircling him in a close hug. He sobbed into the shoulder most directly in
front of him as the girls rocked him back and forth.
When he was reduced to mere
sniffles, they released him and Tara handed him her handkerchief. Buffy and
Willow got theirs out and held them in their laps, at the ready.
William wiped the tears from
his face and then handed Tara back her handkerchief. “Thank you,” he said
thickly.
“What does she have?” Willow
asked. “My parents were doctors and had loads of cures for all kinds stuff and
taught me how to, you know, fix people up,” Willow said, launching into yet
another cover story. Although, it was true her parents were doctors. But
they were doctors of psychology, not medicine. And she wasn’t lying about being
able to fix people up.
Willow had taken on the role
of medicine woman after it became fairly clear they were stuck in this time
period for good. She started off buying medical books of the time, but then moved
on to conjuring facsimiles of medical books from her own time using spells she
had created using the existing conjuring spells as inspiration points. Tara was
torn between being impressed and a little frightened at Willow’s ability to
create new spells. As long as Willow was being responsible, Tara decided to
keep her peace.
Tara, herself, already knew
many old country home remedies and could make poultices and other home
medicines. She knew some acupressure and massage therapy and decided to study up
on the subjects more using store-bought books and conjured ones.
Willow would have just studied up on magical healing if it was all up to her, but Tara was extremely nervous about that since they had both agreed when Joyce was sick that it was too dangerous to undertake. So Willow learned from books how do stitches and sutures and various other procedures and learned how to detect and diagnose ailments and injuries. She learned how to make the medicines of the time and could conjure anything that hadn’t been invented yet that she couldn’t make herself. Although Tara insisted this only be done most sparingly. Tara believed that, for whatever they could, they should do things without magic. Cooking, getting dressed, cleaning the house and so forth, were some of the things Tara insisted they do traditionally. The reason she gave Willow was that since witchcraft was so feared in these times, they shouldn’t do it for just anything and should be very careful when they did do it.
“My parents even traveled to a bunch of places and learned how to make all kinds of cures that regular doctors don’t know about or are too skeptical to use,” Willow continued.
William gave her a dubious look. “Thank you for your offer, Miss Willow, but I doubt there is anything you can do,” he said looking at her gratefully but with definite doubt.
“Please tell me it’s not ‘cause she’s a woman,” Buffy said.
“Oh, no, it’s not really that. I’ve read about women doctors in books about other cultures, mostly tribal, but still…” he trailed off. “It’s just that she has…tuberculosis. And consumption,” he said looking down at his hands clasped together in his lap.
“I can make pills for that!” Willow said brightening. “And the consumption is just like a side affect of the TB, so once I cure that – Bye, Bye consumption! Although, I can’t fix the damage already done by it.”
William stared at her, dumbstruck.
“She’ll have to take the pills for six months, but you’ll see improvement and she’ll stop being contagious quicker than that. A few weeks into it, I think. But she has to take them all for the whole six months, or the tuberculosis will come back as a more powerful strain and will be even harder to get rid of,” Willow said.
She certainly sounds like a real doctor, William thought.
“Can- Can you really-?” William asked, his mind desperate to grab onto the hope dangling in front of him.
“Yeah, sure I can! Right, girls?” asked Willow looking towards Buffy and Tara.
Buffy and Tara exchanged looks and then nodded their heads.
“I would stake my life on it,” Buffy said. If Willow can conjure medical books on future medicine, than surely she can conjure up some stupid little pills, Buffy thought.
William grabbed onto the fresh hope like a life preserver. “Oh, thank you! Thank you, Miss Willow!” he said turning to face Willow directly, grabbing her hands in his own, and causing a jealous twinge in Buffy. “You’re a miracle worker!”
“Well, I try my best,” Willow said beaming with pride.
Buffy unconsciously narrowed her eyes at Willow.
“I can probably have them ready for you in…hmm, let’s see…four days,” Willow said.
“Oh, thank you, thank you! You’re a God-send!” William exclaimed.
“Do you really think you can make all those pills in four days?” Tara asked.
“If you two help me,” Willow said.
“Two? I know Tara can help make the medicine, but what can I do?” Buffy asked.
“You can help get the supplies,” said Willow.
William released Willow and
returned to his previous position. He turned his head to Buffy and Tara and
said, “Thank you, all of you~!”
“W-Well now, we h-haven’t
cured her yet,” Tara said.
“Oh, but I’m sure you will.
I have complete faith in you,” William said. His mind had decided to take the
cure for fact.
“Let’s do another group hug
to celebrate the future cure of William’s mother,” Buffy said extending her
arms.
William extended his own
arms out from the sides of his body as if going ‘ta-da~!’ and gleefully awaited
the hug. And when Buffy and Willow hugged him from each side, he wrapped his arms
around their shoulders and hugged them back. Tara sighed softly and joined in
the embrace. She wished that William hadn’t gotten his hopes up so high. If by
some small chance it didn’t work, he would be crushed completely.
10
That night, the girls went
about collecting the first of the supplies. As Willow and Tara picked out which
ingredients they needed, they would hand them to Buffy to hold while they
continued shopping.
“So basically, my part in
this project is to be Buffy – the Official Ingredient Holder,” Buffy said after
her arms were very full.
“It’s a very important job,”
Willow said keeping a straight face as she added a bottle of some smelly powder
to Buffy’s load of magical booty.
After they were done at the
magic shop they moved on to a house-goods store and bought four large glass
jars with cork stoppers. The jars were just large enough to hold six months of
pills each.
“Now we just have to wait a
few days because pills would take normal people longer to make than a night,
and then it’s show time!” Willow exclaimed.
11
Upon his arrival home,
William immediately came upon his mother in the parlor. She was reading a book
on the big white couch when he bounded over to her and knelt down next to her.
“Mother, I have wonderful news!” he said looking up into her face with a
gleaming expression.
“You’re getting married?”
Anne guessed setting down her book and giving him a hopeful expression.
William chuckled. “Who would
I marry?”
“What about Miss Buffy?” she
asked, playfully swatting him with her bookmark.
“She hasn’t even consented
to have me call on her yet,” William said, quirking an eyebrow at her.