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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.

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Chapter Three

You could grow accustomed to almost anything if you had no other choice. Buffy found out this the hard way. Although she would have thought that 1879 England would never be anything but alien to her within a week of her arrival she was pretty well acclimated. This didn�t mean that she necessarily fit in with the place. Buffy figured it would take a lot longer than a few days for her to learn all the ins and outs of Victorian etiquette. But at least she could understand them when they talked to her now; she knew where all of her undergarments went without having to ask first (which went a long way in helping her to blend in). And before the end of two weeks she had even manage to land herself a job.

This surprised no one so much as Buffy herself. She had been in constant fear that she would not find a place for herself by the end of her one-month deadline and would end up on the streets. She had certainly not acquired any skills at the Institute during her time there, having failed spectacularly at all her lessons. Luckily for her, the advent of gainful employment had less to do with skills and more to do with her experience. In a conversation with her sewing teacher Buffy had mentioned something of her experience taking care of her mother while Joyce was ill. Really, she spoke of it only in passing when the teacher had asked her how her mother had died. But it was enough to give her teacher some amount of faith in her potential, and the woman remembered it a few days later when a servant of Mrs. Anne Hartley came to inquire about hiring a caretaker for his ailing mistress.

Buffy wasn�t as thrilled by this as one might imagine. While it was a relief to know she wouldn�t have to end up as a 19th century prostitute, she felt she had seen enough sickness and death to last a lifetime. And she didn�t know the first thing about being a nurse. With Joyce it had mainly been following the doctor�s orders about medicine and seeing to it Joyce was comfortable and well-fed. But she had a feeling caring for a Victorian woman suffering from consumption would be somewhat more difficult. Especially given the fact Buffy didn�t even know what consumption was.

Not that she mentioned this to anyone. She knew the volunteers at the Chapman house would not grant her the luxury of refusing the position and they would certainly not be happy to hear that she was having doubts at her own capabilities. As Dorothea reminded her a dozen times a day, the reputation of the Institute depended on the workers it produced�and they would not tolerate anyone tarnishing said reputation by being less than exemplary in their new employment. Which meant that ready or not, Buffy was going to become a nursemaid.

They gave her the evening to pack her things, but no one bothered to tell Buffy about the family she would be living with in such a short time. All she knew was that there were only two of them, an elderly woman and her adult son, and that Buffy would be sent to them as a sort of nurse. The woman was an invalid and needed someone to care for her basic needs. From what Buffy gathered, they were a wealthy family who lived in London�s more fashionable area. �New money,� Dorothea called them, always with a disdainful little sniff. Though she herself could be called nothing more than working class, Dorothea had a low opinion of people who had recently come into their fortunes. Old money�family money�was different. It was class and breeding. But new money was gauche.

Buffy didn�t give a damn about gauche. What mattered to her was what kind of people they were and how they would treat her. The other women at the Chapman Institute had told horror stories about the high class Londoners. Some of the wealthier set saw their servants as less than human, the girls avowed. Many of them claimed to have been forced to work from before dawn until long after midnight, often without meals. There were women who were cruel and abusive; men who forced themselves on their female servants for sexual satisfaction. And they all agreed there was nothing to be done about it. It was all part of life in the servant class and must be borne.

But despite these ominous warnings, Buffy set off the following day with a certain amount of hope. The Hartleys had been kind enough to send a carriage to take her to their home, which apparently was something special. At least all the other women at the house seemed surprised and a little envious when they saw the black closed carriage and beautifully dappled gray horse which drew it.

The coachman maneuvered through the busy London streets with expertise. A young man in fancy livery, he glanced back at Buffy several times before venturing to speak to her. When he did his voice was open and kind.

�You look as if you�ve no idea what to expect.�

Buffy returned his smile, grateful for the distraction of conversation; she was growing more nervous with each passing block.

�To tell you the truth,� she answered, �I don�t really know what to do. I�m new here�from America. I�m afraid I might do something wrong and upset the Hartleys and I can�t really afford to do that.�

�Ah, you�ll be all right,� he assured her. �Mrs. Hartley is the sweetest woman alive; she won�t hold it against you if you make a few mistakes. But if you want a bit of advice to get you started, I can help you with that, too.�

�Please do! I need all the help I can get.�

�All right. Once we get there I�m to drop you off at the carriage block before driving to the buggy house. Now that�s in front of the house, but you don�t want to enter by the front door. Walk around to the garden back of the house and ring the bell-pull at the back door. A kitchen maid will answer. Don�t ask her anything or say anything beyond telling her your name and that you wish to speak to Mr. Edward. He�s the butler. Ms. Fitzpatrick is the housekeeper; she�ll be the one who�ll tell you what to do. But as Mr. Edward is over all the servants it makes a better impression if you ask to speak with him first. He might introduce you to the other staff before turning you over to Mrs. Fitzpatrick or he might not. But it�s Mrs. Fitzpatrick who will then take you to Mrs. Hartley.�

�What about the man?� Buffy asked. �Dorothea told me Mrs. Hartley has a son�?�

�Mr. William Hartley. He won�t be there, he�s gone on business. Anyway, it isn�t him you have to impress. You won�t be spending much time with him. Just be very polite to Mrs. Hartley. She�ll tell you to call her Mrs. Anne, but don�t dare do it until she says so.�

Buffy leaned back in the plush leather seat, falling silent as she tried to remember all that the coachman had told her. Outside the carriage�s window the cobbled streets were filled with people. They had left the seedier part of the city behind. All the houses on this street were freshly painted and rich with ornate gingerbread scrollwork. Well-kept lawns and carefully sculpted hedges abounded while short wrought-iron fences marked clearly the boundaries of each property. Buffy figured that no matter how you looked at it, she had taken a step up in the world�this world, anyway. And the Harteys could not possibly be worse than Dorothea.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The Hartley house was so imposing it was hard not to feel intimidated at first. Buffy went around to the rear of the building like the Matthew, the coachman, told her to, yet once there she paused, dazzled by the ornate garden, the fountain, the rockeries and sculptures. Despite it not being the largest house on the block it was definitely among the most opulent and she shivered inwardly, wondering what the inhabitants of such a house would be like.

She rang the bell and within moments the door had opened, a tall and distinguished looking man appearing from behind it. He was quite elderly�maybe as much as seventy�yet his carriage was upright, his step lively. Buffy could tell by his outfit that he must be Mr. Edward, the butler. This surprised her a little; Matthew had said a maid would answer the door at back.

�Yes,� the butler said, looking at her questioningly. His faded grey eyes were stern but not unkind, and there was even a bit of a smile around his lips.

�My name is Elizabeth Summers,� Buffy told him shakily. �I�m here to care for the lady Anne.�

It was the line taught to her by Dorothea and she was surprised that in her nervousness she was able to remember it at all. Mr. Edward inclined his head slightly and stepped back from the doorway, indicating she should enter.

�Of course,� he said. �I was expecting you. I am Mr. Edward, the butler of this house.�

Buffy wondered if she should shake his hand, but before she could decide Mr. Edward turned and motioned her to follow him. He led her through the expansive kitchen area swiftly, barely giving her a chance to look around at the stone floors and granite counters, the heavy coal ovens and stoves. There were other people in the room�many of them�but Mr. Edward didn�t introduce her.

Out of the kitchen in the hallway were a narrow set of stairs that led them out of the basement-level and into the Hartleys� living quarters. At the top of these stairs a short, plump older woman was waiting.

�I thought I�d heard your arrival,� the woman said in a heavy Irish accent. She smiled warmly at Buffy.

�This is Miss Summers,� Mr. Edward told the woman. �Miss Summers, this is Mrs. Fitzpatrick, the housekeeper. And here I shall take my leave of you. Mrs. Fitzpatrick will show you the house and explain your duties.�

He nodded briefly, smiled, and was gone before Buffy could think of a response.

�Well, now,� Mrs. Fitzpatrick said. �I think now we�ll have a bit of a tour and then introduce you to Mrs. Hartley. Have you any experience being a ladies� nurse?�

�Not exactly,� Buffy admitted. �But I did take care of my mother when she was sick. She passed away not too long ago.�

�That�s too bad.� Mrs. Fitzpatrick�s face was full of sympathy. �Was it consumption?�

�No�it was something else.�

�Well, you�ll find Mrs. Hartley to be an easy charge. She�s still able to get around; what she really wants is a bit of company. Poor thing. Since she got ill she�s not had a great deal of visitors, folks being afraid of catching her sickness and all.�

�Will she get better?�

�No, not her. The doctor said her lungs are hopelessly diseased. She won�t be long for this world, I�m afraid. But she has some good days as well as her bad. It�s Mr. William who�s taking it badly; he�s very much attached to his mother.� She sighed. �Ah, well. Let�s get on, shall we?�

Buffy followed obediently at Mrs. Fitzpatrick�s heels. The latter was a much better tour guide than Dorothea had been at the Chapman house, and she seemed quite proud of the splendor of the home they were in. She made it a point to call attention to the velvet draperies in the parlor, the expensive hand-blown glass knickknacks on the shelves. The rich woodwork and expensive fabrics were impressive, and Buffy couldn�t help but notice how much cleaner this house seemed to be than most. Despite the daily ritual of scrubbing and sweeping and dusting, the Chapman house had always seemed dull and a bit grimy. Buffy knew how much work must go into keeping this house immaculate. No wonder the Hartleys employed so many servants.

It wasn�t until Buffy saw every room and was introduced to every other member of the staff that Mrs. Fitzpatrick finally took her to meet Mrs. Hartley. The lady was sitting in a rocking chair in her bedroom, knitting on what looked to be a piece of lace. When she saw Buffy she smiled warmly.

�My dear child,� she said, once introductions were made. �I�m so pleased to meet you. Won�t you sit down?�

�Thank you.� Buffy sat awkwardly in a chair across from Mrs. Hartley.

�I suppose Mrs. Fitzpatrick has told you a bit about why you are here?�

�A little.�

�Good. Well, I should tell you I don�t need a great deal of looking-after. Not enough to employ a full-time nurse, at any rate. But William was quite insistent that I should have someone with me in his absence. It was he that hired you, not I. He wanted to be here himself to welcome you, but unfortunately he had to attend to some business at our estate and wasn�t able to stay beyond yesterday morning. He had been planning to catch a later train, but there was a problem with the tenants and he couldn�t wait.�

�Tenants?�

�We let out land to farmers in the country. Our own estate is there as well. William visits it as often as he can to make sure the overseer is attending to everything correctly, but he hasn�t been able to for quite some time. And then there was a problem with the tenants paying their rents this month, so��

Buffy looked at her new employer curiously as she spoke. Anne Hartley was an older lady, though just how old it was difficult to tell due to her illness. Her hair was grey and her face lined and very thin. It was obvious that her sickness had sapped much of her strength and youth, and yet her spirit seemed unfazed by the death that awaited her. Her blue eyes were tranquil and sweet. And despite the fact that she was many years older than Joyce, there was something in Anne that reminded Buffy strongly of her mother.

This feeling was especially pronounced when Anne leaned across the space separating them and grabbed her hand. �Oh, I am so glad you�re here! I can do much for myself yet� and if I couldn�t there are the servants. But it has been quite lonely with William away so much at his business and no one else to talk to. I want you to see me not as a mistress but as a friend and call me �Anne� right from the start. What do you think?�

And Buffy overwhelmed at the kindness of this motherly woman, could only nod in gratitude.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~
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