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Forward to Time Past	By : UnbridledBrunette Category: > Buffy/Spike(William) > Buffy/Spike(William) Views: 3754 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter Thirteen
The ball was not turning out nearly as well as Buffy had hoped.

For one thing, the dance card system was doing her no favors at all. For some reason, the only men who asked her to dance were complete social outcasts. If they weren�t as old as dirt, then they were fat, or boring, or stupid, or they had some other disagreeable quality that clearly earmarked them as the �undesirables� of the group. Unfortunately for Buffy, she had no way of refusing their requests to dance, for they could see whether a number was taken just by glancing at her card. She had little choice, therefore, but to spend much of the evening trying to avoid having her feet crushed by overweight, middle-aged bachelors. Even when she sat out a song or two, she got no reprieve. William was nowhere to be seen, so she sat down on one of the small seats in the corner of the room. The older matrons of the group generally occupied this small clump of chairs, and they did not seem pleased when Buffy invaded their territory. They glared at her suspiciously when she sat down and almost immediately began to ask personal questions she did not want to answer.

Where are you from?

What did your father do?

How do you know the Hartleys?

How came you to be in London?

What is the duration of your visit?

Buffy stumbled through these questions as best she could, but, from the sidelong glances those women kept shooting one another, she knew she had not done well. After the interrogation was finished, they turned their backs on her and began to have a whispered conference amongst themselves. She did not have to hear their words to understand what they were saying: What on earth was a good lady like Anne Hartley doing, taking such a common girl as that one into her home?

By this time, Buffy desired nothing so much as to leave that hateful ballroom. Even to slip away to some quiet alcove for just a few minutes. She might have done it, except that her next eager partner was waiting for his dance, making absurd gestures as he beckoned her to the edge of the floor. So she sighed and fixed a smile to her face, ready to spend yet another song trying to avoid being stepped on while her companion clumsily maneuvered his corpulent body in the graceful steps of the quadrille.

As she suffered this, Buffy�s eyes and her mind were on anything but her partner. She was looking for William, who, as a gentleman, should have been dancing every number so as not to leave any of the ladies sitting out. Yet he was still strangely absent from floor, or even the sidelines. He was not in the ballroom at all, and he did not show up until just before the minuet de la cour, almost an hour later. It was his dance, this third waltz of the evening, and he had appeared for the express purpose of claiming it. And even though Buffy was still slightly puzzled by his absence during the first part of the evening, she could not hide her pleasure at his return. When he slid his arm about her waist, she felt that the night might just be salvaged, after all.

True, he was just as awkward on the dance floor as he had promised to be, but somehow this did not matter. And he wasn�t horrible at it. He didn�t step on her toes, nor was he hopelessly out of rhythm. He was just so very tense, struggling to figure out how closely he should hold her and how quickly to move his feet and what to say. It was actually kind of endearing how hard he tried. When he asked her if she was enjoying herself, Buffy rewarded his effort with a soft squeezing of her hand on his shoulder and a brilliant smile.

�Of course I�m enjoying myself,� she murmured into his ear. �I�m with you, aren�t I?�

�You flatter me,� he said quickly. �Though, actually, what I meant was these past two hours. Have you been enjoying the ball? I heard on fairly good account that you seem to have had no lack of willing partners��

She detected a hint of jealousy in his tone and smiled. �Willing, maybe,� she conceded. �But not exactly enviable. I�ve been all right, I guess, but talking to some of these men is about as interesting as watching paint dry. What about you?� she added. �I haven�t seen you all evening, on the dance floor or anywhere else. You haven�t been courting the ladies in some dark recess, have you?� She said it lightly enough, but there was a trace of jealousy in her tone as well. The memory of his ogling Cecily Underwood was still fresh in her mind and the thought that he might have slipped away to do more of it was galling.

He flushed, confused by the insinuation. �Why�no�I would not�that is, I do not��

�Well, then, where have you been? I haven�t seen you in ages. And I looked for you, you know.�

�You did?�

�I was hoping you would come rescue me from the four hundred pound dancing wonder, Neville,� she explained. �He�s been back three times, and each time, he tells me how light I am to hold while at the same time lumbering across my feet like an ox. My toes are just about crushed.�

William laughed at that�really laughed, not just his customary quiet chuckle�and several of the nearby couples looked at them curiously.

�I am sorry, Miss Elizabeth. Although, I must point out, Neville has many fine qualities if not grace on the dance floor.�

�Fine qualities, my aching right foot,� she quipped. �The man has lamed me! I think he broke a nail. You should have come to my rescue, gentleman that you are.�

�I�m sorry,� he said humbly. �I was not aware you were in need of rescuing. I was downstairs in the parlor.�

�What were you doing down there?�

�I was...talking with some of the gentlemen.�

Something about the way he said it led Buffy to believe he was not being entirely truthful. Again, the specter of Cecily Underwood flitted across her memory, and for a moment, jealousy choked her. But of course, Cecily had not left the ballroom in that time; he could not have been with her. And the way he was holding her�the look in his eyes when he spoke�Buffy could not believe he would be more interested in another woman than in her.

Yet neither could she let the matter drop.

�Talking with gentlemen?� she echoed questioningly. �All this time? Why haven�t you been dancing?�

�I�I don�t care very much for dancing.�

So he said, but the almost possessive tightening of his arm around her waist told Buffy differently. He enjoyed dancing very much, if it was with the right person. The thought warmed her, but she could not resist the desire to tease him, he made it so easy.

�Oh, well. If you want to stop then��

�Not at all!� William said. His hand was resting on Buffy�s lower back, and at the first suggestion that she might draw away he braced his palm more firmly in an attempt to keep her with him. However, he underestimated his own strength�or more likely overestimated her desire for retreat�the result being that he pulled her off balance, throwing her forward against his body.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Buffy couldn�t even think about what to do with her feet now. Aside from the fact that she had almost fallen, she was also stunned to find herself leaning into him, her breasts pressed into his chest. Through all the layers of clothing they were both wearing, she could feel the feverish heat of his body; she thought she might even be able to feel his heart beating. When she tilted her head back to look at him, she realized with a shock that his mouth was just a few centimeters from her own.

�Forgive me,� he whispered. And she was dazed by the warm caress of his breath against her skin, by the slight trembling of his bottom lip so close to her own.

�Forgive you�for what?� she asked.

�For making you feel as though I did not wish to dance with you, when in fact it was what I have been looking forward to all evening.�

�Was it?�

�The only thing I have looked forward to,� he amended hoarsely, and she shivered at the intensity in his tone. In his eyes. Somewhere in the back of her mind was the thought that she should not alter the past, that she should not have allowed this to progress as far as it already had. But the thought was vague and faraway. To Buffy, it seemed a concern from long ago, a concern stifled by the greater desire for him to verbalize the longing in his expression. If he would only say it�if he would only do what she knew it was killing him not to do�

He released her abruptly and took a step back, and she realized with a start that the music had stopped and the waltz was over. Stephen-something-or-other, her partner for the next number had already approached them and bowed to her the way polite men did. Buffy returned his smile mechanically and tried not to notice the pained look on William�s face as another man drew her into his arms.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

There were fourteen dances during that first part of the evening and then the �supper room� opened to the guests. It was nearly ten o�clock by then, and Buffy should have been famished, but this was not the case. The dining area was crowded and so elegantly turned out, that she felt in a constant panic lest she break or spill something. Not only this, but because Victorian party procedure strictly dictated that one should not be seated next to the person she arrived with, Buffy was not permitted to dine with William. She ended up at the complete opposite end of the long table, surrounded by people she did not even know. People she was beginning to think she didn�t even want to know.

The fact was that several of the party guests kept looking at her as though she were an animal in a zoo. At first, she was concerned that something had happened to her hair or dress and surreptitiously looked in the back of her soupspoon to check. However, aside from being a little flushed from the heat of the room, she looked almost exactly the same as when she had walked in. She thought, then, that it might be because she was an American and therefore foreign to them, although as she began to overhear bits of conversation she realized this was not exactly all of it. Being American made her a novelty to them, of course. But living with the Hartleys made her a joke. In fact, the more she overheard conversations about her�and them�the more she came to understand that she was seen as being distinctly under their charity. Or under William�s charity. And the Victorian �ladies� made no bones about why they believed he was being so generous.

One red-haired young woman, who sat three or four places down table from Buffy, was especially blunt in her criticism. She was not speaking loud, but the room was fairly quiet, and Buffy had sharp ears anyway, so she could not help overhearing every word.

�I have heard quite a few rumors about Miss Summers and that she is not what she seems. The Hartleys� cook told our scullery maid that she is nothing but a glorified servant, come to help Anne while she is ill. Apparently, she arrived with nothing but the clothes on her back, and William took her up and gave her everything she has. Can you imagine anything quite so distasteful?�

The blond girl sitting next to the redhead made a face as though she had bitten into a lemon.

It�s all so vulgar, really,� she sighed with the flit of one hand. �Yet what can one expect? What other woman would have our dear William? His only recourse would be to purchase one��

The redhead screeched with horrified delight at what was, for 1880, a very risqu� statement. She collapsed into giggles against a third, dark-haired girl�s shoulder and said, �Cecily, do you agree with Catherine? Or do you perhaps lament the loss of your bold suitor?�

Cecily.

Buffy�s head snapped around in their direction. Yes, there she was, Cecily Underwood. The same young lady who had so graciously greeted them when they first arrived was now coloring with anger at her friend�s joke. She lifted her chin haughtily.

�I can assure you, it is of supreme indifference to me what he does.�

The red-haired Catherine gave a shrill laugh. �To be sure! Why else would you invite him, then? One would certainly not consider herself fortunate to be in William Hartley�s affections, yet to be cast out of his affections in favor of a servant girl from across the sea must be��

�I find that to be most fortunate of all!� snapped Cecily. �Do you think I shall miss that fool giving me calf�s-eyes from across the room, while he writes that absurd poetry of his? I would have washed my hands of him long ago, if Mother were not so fond of Mrs. Hartley. As it were, she insisted I invite him to our gatherings. I asked Miss Summers in the hope she would offer him a distraction, and so far this proves fruitful.�

�I should say it has!� agreed Catherine in a scandalized hiss. �Did you note how closely they danced together? She was leaning against him, and their faces were almost touching!�

�Who would not have noticed it?� demanded the blonde. �Though I have never thought much of William, I would never have suspected such impropriety from him as that. Likely, it is the influence of the American��

The American, meanwhile, was endeavoring not to hear the rest of their conversation. She wished she had not heard as much as she had. It made her feel dirty, somehow. These people saw her as nothing but a gentleman�s mistress, a project taken up by William so that he could have female companionship. They were interested in her not because she was an American, but because she was a scandal. That was why none of the women would speak to, her aside from putting her through the third degree about her past. That was why the only men who would dance with her were ugly and single and�and weird. They thought that because of what she was, they could all of them have her if they wanted her. They thought she was for sale. She was sitting at a table with a hundred people who all thought she was a prostitute.

Appalled by the realization, she started to rise. She had to find William. He had to take her home, because she was sure as hell not spending the rest of the evening listening to a bunch of catty women call her a whore.

As it happened, dinner was ending anyway, and Buffy found that leaving was not as easy as she might wish. The crowd around the door was dense, and their progress into the corridor was slow. She looked around for William. Just seeing him, just hearing his voice. would take this dirty, humiliated feeling from her, she was sure. But William was nowhere to be seen. Either he had slipped away from dinner early, or he was caught further back in the throng. She thought then that she might linger near the doorway to the ballroom and catch him as he went in, but as she edged her way into that vast room, a voice suddenly rang out and stopped her.

�Ah, Miss Summers! How are you enjoying yourself this evening?�

The voice belonged to Charles Archer, the �guttersnipe� she had met out on the steps when she arrived. Now he was standing in the near corner of the room with another man, this one rather younger than he was and with a closer clipped, neater mustache and dark hair. He looked familiar, but Buffy had met so many people over the course of the evening that his name escaped her. Not that it mattered. Charles seemed to be doing most of the talking, anyway. He also seemed to have drank a great deal of champagne at dinner, which meant he was talking at a volume twice that of the people around them.

�My very dear Miss Summers!� he boomed, his enormous sandy mustache stretching into a smile as he approached her. �We were wondering when we would get a chance to speak with you!�

While he had not said anything offensive, there was something in his expression that Buffy did not like, and she backed away from him slightly before she answered.

�I have been here all night,� she said brusquely. However, Charles refused to see the implication.

�Of course you have,� he answered gaily. �And now you must allow me to have the pleasure of a dance. I am a fine dancer, as any lady in this room can attest, and it would be the pleasure of my life to lead a lovely creature such as yourself in the next waltz.�

For a Victorian gentleman, he was certainly being rude and overly aggressive about asking her, but Buffy felt it would be easier to endure one dance with him than to refuse. He was a little drunk, and she didn�t want him making a scene. And she knew she could handle anything he could dish out on her anyway. If any part of his body tried to wander somewhere inappropriate then she would take that appendage, break it off, and shove it up his ass for him.

However, despite the obvious intoxication, Archer did not try to grope once they were on the floor, and he was a surprisingly skilled dancer. More skilled than William, although she did not enjoying dancing with him nearly so much, perhaps because he insisted on yammering on at top volume the entire time.

�Miss Summers,� he bellowed as they moved slowly within the crowd. �Tell me all about yourself. I have never had the pleasure of meeting an American before. Do tell me all about your home there.�

Buffy opened her mouth to answer him, but before she could, he interrupted.

�And tell me all about how you came to be with the Hartleys here in London; I am quite interested in knowing. I know they appear to be quite taken with you. Our own dear William is said to be simply mad for you, as a matter of fact.�

�Is he?� Buffy asked. Her tone was light, but her hand clenched his so hard it was a wonder he didn�t cry out with pain. Maybe the alcohol kept him from feeling it.

�Of course he is,� Charles stated firmly. �You must know this. In fact�has he written you any of his poetry yet?�

Buffy stared at him blankly. There was that word again.

�Poetry?� she echoed. In her confusion, she had stopped dancing. Archer clasped her waist more tightly and began dragging her about in the appropriate patterns to keep her from standing in the way of the other couples.

�Don�t tell me you haven�t heard William�s poetry,� he said suggestively as he pulled her around.

�No, I haven�t.�

Archer grinned like a Cheshire cat.

�Oh! But you must!�

As soon as the number ended, he pulled Buffy off the dance floor, leading her over to where he had spotted William standing near the door. That distinctly jealous look was on William�s face again, and Archer noticed it at once and with pleasure.

�William, my good man,� he said smoothly. �Miss Summers has just told me that you haven�t read her any of your poetry! Now, how can you keep such talent as you have hidden? Go on�do favor us with a recitation.�

William, by now standing just a dozen feet away, looked dumbfounded. Buffy glared at Archer furiously, but he spoke again before she could make any retort.

�He does come up with some of the most inventive verses!� he said, in a confidential yet clear-carrying sort of tone, which brought the attention of everyone close by. He tapped the side of his head thoughtfully. �There was one in particular�it was composed at a party rather like this one, if you can imagine! Now, let me see�How did it go�?�

Out of the corner of her eye, Buffy saw William�s face go red and then white in horror.

��something about how Cecily there had skin as radiantly white as a moonbeam sparkling on a mountain stream. Cecily!� he called out to her. �Surely you can remember the verse?�

Across the room, Cecily looked simply livid.

�I haven�t the faintest idea what you are talking about,� she said coldly. �But I suggest you lower your voice, now. You are making an even bigger fool of yourself than the fool poet of which you speak.� She turned her back on them.

Archer laughed easily.

�Ah, romantic disappointment! Well, I suppose you must ask William to tell it in its entirety.� He sighed. �Although, I daresay you should not want to hear his love-poems to other women when I am sure he had written you plenty of your own. I did see him in the parlor earlier, scribbling away like mad��

Buffy�s head whipped around just in time to see William making his way through the crowd and out of the room.

�Oh, I fear that I�ve embarrassed him,� chuckled Archer. �Yet I cannot see why he should attempt to keep his talent thus hidden��

�You know,� Buffy interrupted him swiftly. �Whatever else he has, William has a talent for being pleasant and kind�something you people obviously know nothing about.�

Archer�s eyes glittered.

�Ah, yes!� he answered, and his voice had dropped to a whisper only she could hear. �Do tell me about William�s kindness to you, Miss Summers. I am quite fascinated by that subject.�

�If you think�� she began. Her voice was shaking with rage, but Archer misinterpreted it as feminine weakness and quickly went in for the kill.

�It is not what I think, my beautiful lady.� He leaned in, blowing his hot breath into her face as he added, �It�s what everyone thinks. It is, in fact, one of the reasons you are here tonight. We had to see the woman who had our William behaving like a man in his dotage�the woman who had him so entranced that he must keep her in his household as well as in his bed. You must understand how very odd it is for a gentleman to make a pet out of a servant girl. And you see�well�we had always figured William for something of a poofter��

She had raised her hand without even realizing she was doing so, and when these last words passed Archer�s lips, she struck him, her hand cracking against his cheek so hard that he actually stumbled backward from the force of it. He looked furious, but in the sudden confusion of a new crowd of people entering the ballroom, no one else seemed to have noticed that anything was amiss. And before Archer had sufficiently recovered from his shock to say anything, Buffy was gone.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~
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