Title: Reflection Of Love
Author: Pattyanne
Disclaimer: None of the BtVS
characters belong to me.
Feedback: Yes, please.
Summary: AU. Buffy discovers a mirror
in her attic. The same mirror that was
owned by William Cathcart over a
hundred years ago. But who is the
young man she sees in the mirror, and
why are they able to communicate?
Part one...
The house she had once been so happy in was
unbearably lonely now.
Buffy had lived in this house for almost fifteen
years. She'd come to live with her grandmother when
the small plane her father had been piloting crashed
into the ocean, killing him, her mother, and her younger
sister.
Nana was the only family she had left. At the age of
almost seventy-six, she'd been in wonderful health. Ac-
tive in her church and highly opinionated about certain
social issues, almost to the point of militancy, the old
lady had been referred to as 'feisty' by the people who
knew and loved her, and 'slightly off her rocker' by
those who only saw her eccentricities.
Now, she was alone. Her grandmother was resting in
peace at Roseland Memorial Park, the victim of a sudden
and massive coronary that had shocked her physician of
almost twenty-five years.
Wandering around the house, decked out in a black dress
she would never wear again, Buffy puttered. Putting things
that had been moved around during the reception back into
their proper places, carrying plates out to the kitchen and
scraping uneaten food into the trash, erasing messages of
sympathy from the answering machine...and stopping every
now and then to sit down and cry.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was her house now, Nana's attorney had informed
her solemnly. Even though she'd moved out of it almost
two years ago, and she should never have done that,
should never have left Nana alone. Had she been here,
maybe she could have prevented the heart attack.
She should have been the one keeping the garden
in check...doing the grocery shopping...walking the
elderly terrier that was now lying on Nana's bed,
whimpering softly in an agony of grief that all of Buffy's
gentle attentions couldn't assuage...and climbing those
damned three flights of stairs to fetch the spectacles
Nana had left in the attic.
The last letter she had received from her grandmother
had been mainly about that very attic. The old lady
hadn't stepped one small slippered foot across it's
threshold in more years than she could remember, but
she'd been searching for a box filled with cards and
letters she'd received from her dear Maxwell during the
war. Once she had begun looking, the attic and all it's
treasures from the past had drawn her back time and
time again.
The attic.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Her heels clicked hollowly on the wooden floor
as she climbed that endless staircase.
The door squealed when it was nudged open,
sounding as though it was in pain.
The only natural light came from a small, stained
glass window at the far end of the room, the side
facing the street. Dust motes danced in the
crimson and sapphire rainbows the sun produced
as it penetrated the window.
It was surprisingly neat up here. Nana had made it
sound as though the room was a cluttered minefield
that she had to wade through cautiously. She must
have been making some serious headway, because
there were nicely stacked boxes against the walls,
leaving a large clear space in the middle of the hardwood
floor. Various odds and ends of furniture were draped with
dropcloths. There were old dressmakers dummies,
a Victrola, a broken crystal radio set up, and racks
of vintage clothing.
Behind one of those stacks of boxes, there was a
large object covered by a heavy moving blanket. Curious,
Buffy pulled it away from the wall and lifted one edge
of the blanket.
It was a mirror. One of the old fashioned, free standing
kind that was taller than she was. Oval in shape, with
an intricately carved dark walnut frame surrounding the
glass, it swung around on a hinge, and there was another
piece of mirrored glass backing it.
She dropped the blanket onto the floor and examined the
mirror more closely. She was by no means an expert
when it came to such things, but she could tell just by
looking at it that it was very old. The quality of
it's craftsmanship was something rarely found in the
present world of snap together particle board furniture
and futons.
Plus, the thing weighed a ton.
As she stared at her face in the mirror, appalled at how
tired and pale she looked, a sudden ripple of the reflective
surface caught her eye.
She blinked hard, and the glass smoothed out again.
Curious. She was obviously in need of a full nights
sleep.
Draping the blanket back over the mirror, she left
the attic.
TBC.....
Part two.....
She was sitting in the middle of the attic floor, sorting
through a box of old photographs when she heard the
music start.
It sounded almost like a piano, but not a
modern one. More like the old fashioned kind she'd
heard played in so many movies.
"What were they called?" she murmured absently,
having recently fallen into the habit of talking to herself
to banish the quiet. "Spinets or something?"
More to the point though....where the heck was the
music coming from? Lovely though it was, it wasn't
originating from the house. There was no musical
instrument of any kind on the premises, and she knew
that she hadn't left a radio playing.
Although it sounded close, she trotted downstairs
anyway and looked outside. The neighbors houses
didn't have the kind of proximity that would allow you to
hear music being played inside, and there were no
cars parked on the street with their radios blasting.
By the time she went back up to the attic, the music
had stopped.
"Huh. Weird."
Actually, it was kind of disappointing. The music
had really been beautiful. Something classical, she
was quite certain of it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lilybelle was whimpering at the door.
Buffy looked up and smiled, patting the floor next
to her. "Come on in, baby. Keep me company for
a while."
The little white terrier trotted over to her side and
settled for a nice long belly scratch. She gazed up
at Buffy with melting brown eyes, wanting to give
all the love and loyalty to her that she had given to
Nana.
"I know...I miss her, too," Buffy said, fondling the
dogs floppy ears. "But, don't you worry. We'll stick
together. I'm not leaving you alone here."
Lilybelle rolled onto her tummy and snuggled
against Buffy's thigh.
They passed a few moments in companionable
silence. Buffy began sorting the photographs into
piles by date, while Lilybelle drifted off into an
afternoon nap.
The peace in the attic was broken when the dog
suddenly lifted her head and growled softly.
Buffy had never heard a sound like that come out
of her grandmother's friendly little terrier. "What's
the matter?" she asked.
Thinking she'd scented a rat, Buffy watched
as Lilybelle jumped to her feet and started nosing around
the boxes stacked by the antique mirror.
"Come here, baby," she said, snapping her fingers. "I
don't want you to get bitten. I'll get some traps at the...stop
that!" The dog placed her front paws on the mirror, pulling
the blanket off, and yelping when it covered her with a soft
"thwump".
Buffy's laughter at the animal's predicament was cut
off abruptly at the sound of a voice calling out someone's
name.
"William? Are you home, dear?" It was a woman's
voice, soft in timber, with a definite English accent.
And....it was emanating from the mirror!
"Coming, Mother." Another unseen voice answered the
first one, and when Buffy heard it, she felt a strange shiver
of awareness chase up and down her spine. Goose-
bumps prickled her skin.
The second voice was male, clearly young, with the
same cultured English accent.
Buffy rose to her feet and slowly approached the mirror.
Lilybelle was wriggling her way out from under the blanket,
and Buffy picked it up and tossed it to one side. The dog
looked into the mirror and yipped.
"Did you hear it, too?" Buffy asked, staring at the reflection
they made in the glass. Raising one hand, she lightly touched
the cold surface....then jumped in surprise when the music
she had heard before began to play once again.
Logically, she knew she should be terrified. She'd seen
enough horror movies to know that having inanimate objects
speak and play music was not a good thing.
She considered herself to be a sensible person. Had the
voice whispered "Get out", she'd have taken it's advice and
would have already been out the door and down the
stairs.
But the young man's voice was quiet and gentle, and
there was nothing either frightening or threatening in
his tone.
"That's lovely, William," she heard the woman's voice
say. "You play so beautifully. I could listen to you for
hours."
"Me, too," Buffy added, examining every inch of the
mirror, both glass and frame.
She noticed it looked a little cloudy around the very
edges. Yesterday, she had attributed this to the
mirror's obvious age.
Now, of course, things were different.
As she ran her fingers along the top of the frame, the
music began to fade.
"No," she said urgently, tapping the glass sharply. "Come
back."
Nothing happened, and she felt a little foolish. This
wasn't a television set that you could bang on for better
reception.
The music slowly dissipated completely. Buffy slapped
her hand against the wall. "Damn it!" she swore
softly.
Disappointed, she sighed and turned to leave. She hadn't
gotten more than a couple of feet when she heard the
young man speak again.
"Is there someone in here?"
Buffy whipped around and stared at the mirror, her
eyes growing huge when she saw that it was no longer
just an auditory conduit.
Gradually...a picture was beginning to form in the
center of the glass.
Oh, my. This had to be William.
And, judging from the look of the furnishings she
could pick out....his bedroom.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Buffy smiled as she watched the young man glance
around his room, a puzzled expression on his face.
He was adorable. A bit over average height, and slenderly
built, he had a mop of light brown hair that looked as though
it wanted badly to curl if he didn't tame it with some pretty
vigorous brushing.
Wire rimmed spectacles were perched on his well
formed nose. They obscured the color of his eyes, but
she was getting a fairly clear look at his face, and was
completely fascinated by it.
He had features that could almost be referred to as
pretty, with bone structure that a super model would
kill for. His lips were full and sensual looking, making her
wonder what it would feel like to kiss them.
His manner of dress was decidely odd. He was
wearing some sort of suit that consisted of more pieces
than she'd ever seen before. The shirt had a high
starched collar, and there was a ascot tie knotted
around his neck. His jacket was short waisted
in the front, with a slightly longer back. A low cut,
double breasted vest with four buttons at the
bottom completed his ensemble.
His clothing looked like something out of a Merchant-
Ivory film production.
Something really....old.
"What the hell....?"
TBC.....
Part three....
At the age of twenty-six, William James Cathcart
felt as though he was more than ready to take the
first steps towards making a proper future for himself.
He was a young man of property, and there had been a
sizable fortune settled on him by both his paternal and
maternal grandparents. His education was not lacking
in any way, and he was well studied in classic literature,
and poetry, as well as history and mathematics.
His mother, although she'd been heavily opposed by his
late father, had also seen to it that the artistic side of his
nature had been cultivated as well, and he had a marked
talent for painting and music.
Now, he was at the point in his life where the next
obvious progression would be towards courtship and
an eventual marriage.
Unfortunately, his shy and tentative manner was
proving to be somewhat of an impediment to a normal
course of developments.
Money and property were all very fine, and intelligence
had it's place, he thought, staring at himself in the mirror.
But the young ladies in the circles he traveled in were
not always satisfied by such things. They wanted more
from a man, things that they'd only read about in the
popular 'penny dreadfuls' of the day.
In public, of course, they all expressed nothing but
contempt for the vulgar reading material, stating
that they would never dream of lowering themselves
to so much as place a hand upon them.
In private, they devoured them cover to cover, then
spent a good deal of time at social engagements
huddling in the corners and giggling over the more
risque ones.
Consequently, their expectations as to what they
wanted in a man were hardly realistic. From dashing
highwaymen to swashbuckling pirates, each new
novelette reinforced their girlish fantasies.
Very few men were able to match up to their romantic
imaginings, William least of all. He considered himself
the very opposite of their literary heroes, and since he
DID have money and property, he could only conclude
that it was his ordinary appearance and dull personality
that caused them to turn up their noses.
If only he was not so...unprepossessing. A bit taller,
perhaps, or wider in the shoulders. If his hair wasn't
such an ordinary shade of brown, and his eyes not as
myopic, forcing him to wear spectacles.
Were he not so plain, then surely Cecily might be
willing to look beyond his foolish, dreamy nature...and
the dreadful poetry it caused him to compose...and
see him as more than just a social nuisance to
be tolerated and made sport of.
But, since there was nothing to be done, dwelling
upon it was utterly without purpose.
He was what he was...and would always be thus. It
simply wasn't in him to change. Pretending to be
something he was not would be futile and...even-
tually...humiliating.
Sighing, he turned away from the mirror and went
downstairs to join his mother for tea.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When he returned to his room, he was in a better
state of mind.
Upon finishing tea, he and mother had retired to
the main sitting room where he had entertained her
on the harpsichord for a while.
Playing always soothed his intense emotions when
they were caught up in a storm of uncertainty and
self doubt. In fact, he had been feeling so much more
at ease that he'd given in to his mother's request and
read her several selections of his prose.
As always, Mother had praised him to the clouds
and back, instilling a vigorous burst of self confidence
into a heart still bruised by Cecily's rejection, and a
soul still smarting from the taunting of his peers.
Intending to spend the rest of the afternoon answering
mail and glancing over the monthly household accounts,
he seated himself at his desk.
He was quite engrossed in his work when he heard
the sound of a small dog barking. Startled, he lifted
his head. Where on earth....?
There were no dogs living in this house. His allergies
and his mother's health problems would not allow for
it.
He listened sharply, but when the sound did not
repeat itself, he deduced that it simply hadn't
happened.
Turning his attention back to his books and
papers, he nearly catapulted himself from
his chair when he heard a muffled voice say
something he couldn't quite make out.
It sounded like a girl. A girl...in HIS room!
But that wasn't possible. The only girls who ever
entered his room were his mother and the maids.
William stood up, searching with his eyes.
"Is there someone in here?" he called out.
The last thing in the world he expected was an
answer to his question!
TBC....
Part four....
The picture in the mirror was becoming sharper
and more focused. Buffy could see the rest of the
room with far more clarity, and it puzzled her as much
as William's clothing had.
Heavy, ornate looking furniture dominated the
bedroom. It was just the sort of antique pieces that
her mother had liked so much. But they didn't look all
that old.
The bed was massive. A fourposter behemoth with a
brocade canopy, it had several fat looking pillows piled
up against the dark walnut headboard, and there was
a heavy down quilt spread over it's surface. There was
a large roll top desk, covered with sheets of paper in
total disarray, a dresser, an armoire, and a...a wash-
stand with a china pitcher and bowl, and a cabinet
underneath.
"Is there someone in here?"
His voice pulled her out of her thoughts.
"Yes, hi! I'm here. Sort of, I mean," she blurted
out before thinking. "Gosh, this feels weird. Kind
of spooky...don't you think? If I didn't know better,
I'd think I was on Candid Camera. Or maybe that
other show on MTV...the one with the practical
jokes. Not that they're funny, but still..."
The man whirled around and stared straight ahead,
almost as though he was looking into her eyes. His
face was white with shock, and he whipped off his
glasses and rubbed his eyes. "What...what sort of
witchcraft is this?" he demanded. "Show yourself!"
Buffy sighed. "I can't. I mean, I don't know how. And
it's not witchcraft. I am NOT a witch."
William was walking slowly towards her. Could he
somehow see her, as well?
"Hi!" she said again, raising one hand and wiggling
her fingers in a friendly manner.
"I...uh..." he stammered, staring more intently. "Who
is...is speaking?"
"That would be me," she said, trying to sound very
non-threatening. He already looked a little nervous and
she didn't want to scare him out of the room. "I'm
Buffy."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When he heard the girl speak, William's heart began
to race and his hands grew clammy. Not because there
was anything frightening about it, but because it sounded
familiar in some way.
She spoke with an odd accent, using words and
phrases that he had no knowledge of. Her voice was
soprano in register, almost child like in it's eager friend-
liness, and for some strange reason...he wanted to
speak with her.
He had already been able to deduce that her voice
was emanating from his mirror, and when he decided
to get closer, he noticed that the glass had gone
a bit cloudy.
Then, it began to clear and he found himself looking
into the face of the loveliest girl he'd ever seen...although
she was dressed in the most scandalous fashion.
It appeared that she was garbed in a pair of mens
trousers with the legs cut off. Her slender legs were
completely bare from her mid-thighs down to her toes,
and she wore no shoes or stockings.
His face felt warm and he was quite certain he was
blushing.
Her upper body was in a piece of red fabric that seemed
painted on her. It had no sleeves, and the midriff ended
just above her...Good Lord...her navel! It was brazenly on
display...a shallow little indentation in a waist that appeared
to be so tiny that he could surely span it within his hands.
The girl was nearly naked! And she was quite undisconcerted
by it!
Her hair was...oh, it was glorious. A thick, shiny mass of
honey and golden brown, she wore it loose, contributing to
her already unconventional appearance. It tumbled around
her face in soft looking waves that made his fingers itch to touch
it.
Shocking! Absolutely shocking!
But...lovely, as well.
As he moved closer, he was able to see her face more and
more clearly. It was just as beautiful as he would have
expected an angel to be. Her skin was fair and flawless,
with a golden glow he'd never seen on any of the girls he
associated with, as though it had been just lightly kissed
by a summer sun.
She had large green eyes framed with lush, dark lashes
that gave her a luminous gaze...and a rather forward stare.
When she smiled and waved her small hand, she displayed
perfectly straight, white teeth. Not one of them was even the
slightest bit out of place.
"I'm Buffy," he heard her say, and he automatically started
to put out his hand, forgetting completely that she was on the
other side of a mirror.
Struck dumb by her beauty, he stammered out his own
name, all thoughts of Cecily Underwood disappearing from
his brain permanently.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He was even cuter close up, Buffy decided. She
just loved that thick, tousled head of hair, and the
boyishly bemused expression on his...startlingly
attractive...face.
And his eyes were blue! A beautiful shade of blue
that she suspected probably changed colors with his
moods. He looked very intelligent, and a little
whimsical, both at the same time.
Maybe it was the clothes. Where in the world
did he live, that people still dressed that way?
Well...there was only one way to find out!
"So," she said brightly, "Where are you from?" It
sounded like a pick-up line in a bar, but it was
all she could come up with.
He looked surprised, as if he wasn't accustomed to
being asked such questions by a woman.
"Uh...from London," he finally replied. "My home is
in...in Belgrave Square."
Buffy grinned widely. "London, England?" she asked,
then felt foolish. Of course it was London, England.
William nodded. "That's correct."
He ducked his head, shyly...and Buffy just wanted to
hug him, it was so adorable. This was so much fun, that
she was no longer wondering just how the hell it was
happening. She honestly didn't care anymore.
"If...if I may be so bold as to ask..." he began un-
certainly.
"Sure. Go ahead. Ask me anything!" **Like if I have a
boyfriend...or if I might be available some evening.**
"Where are YOU from? I...I don't wish to seem
vulgarly curious, but you're most oddly dressed and
I wondered..."
"I'M oddly dressed?" The words were out before she
could stop them. "Have you taken a look in a mirror
lately?"
He frowned. "I happen to be looking in one at this exact
moment," he replied. "And, for some reason, I'm seeing
you and not my own reflection. However, I can assure you
that my manner of dress is completely...."
"Wait a minute!" she yelped, holding up one hand. "You
see me...in a mirror?"
"Well, I...yes. The mirror in my..." His cheeks reddened
again, and he cleared his throat. "My bedroom."
Buffy felt a shiver run down her spine. "William...I'm
looking in a mirror, too. I can see YOU in it, but not
myself. It's like...like a television screen."
"A...I beg your pardon? What kind of screen?"
"Television," she enunciated clearly, thinking he had
simply not heard correctly. "You know...TV."
He just looked at her, blankly, shaking his head. "I'm
afraid I don't understand. What exactly is a...a TV?"
She snorted a laugh. "What...you don't have TV in
England? I know that's not true. I've seen Master-
piece Theater, and...and...."
His expression was sincerely bewildered. It was clear
that he didn't have the slightest notion what she was
referring to.
"You're serious, aren't you? You've never seen a
television program?"
"Quite serious. What is it?"
Buffy shook her head. An idea of exactly what might
be happening was beginning to form in her brain, but
it was so ludicrous...so completely inconceivable...that
she couldn't bring herself to take it seriously.
"I'll...I'll tell you later," she said absently. "Um...you
had asked me something before..."
He thought for a moment. "Ah, yes! I had asked you
where you're from, then we went off on a tangent about
our clothing and...you didn't answer."
She took a deep breath. "I'm from California," she said
briefly. "Sunnydale, California."
"California? In the United States?" He seemed
excited by the information. "I've always wanted to see
America, but my mother isn't up to traveling and I
couldn't leave her alone here. Is it...very savage?"
Buffy shrugged. "Depends on where you go," she
murmured. "William," she asked quietly, "this is
probably going to sound like I'm insane, but could you
tell me what year it is...where you are?"
He laughed. "Well, I should imagine it's the same
year where you are, of course. Eighteen-hundred and
eighty. Do you...are you all right?"
Buffy staggered backwards and sat down on the
floor, her legs having given out.
"Miss Buffy?" He sounded frantic. "Are you well? Do
you feel faint?"
When she finally gathered her wits about her, she stared
at him, wide eyed. "William...it's not eighteen-hundred
and eighty where I am," she said, her voice shaky.
"What do you mean? How could it not be?"
"I don't know how. All I know...for a fact...is that the
year is...two-thousand and four. It's a hundred and
twenty-four years later than you think."
Her heart was booming in her chest like a kettle
drum.
The mirror. Somehow, it had connected them not only
across the ocean...but across time as well!
TBC.....
Part five....
Well, the girl was obviously deranged, William decided, taking
a step back from the mirror. Lovely in face and form, but
mad as a March Hare.
"This is insane," she muttered.
Yes. His thoughts exactly. No sane person would dress in
such a way or invent such ludicrous tales. From the future,
indeed!
And yet....
Was this not already the most unbelievable situation he'd
ever found himself in? Something he would never have
imagined possible just moments ago?
Because whether or not he accepted her bizarre suggestion
of time travel, he WAS conversing with her through a piece
of mirrored glass. If such a thing was truly happening,
could ANYTHING be too far fetched?
"You believe me...don't you?"
Did he? Could he make such a leap of faith?
She was back on her feet now, close to the mirror once
again. Her smooth brow was furrowed, her expression
worried, and he suddenly felt a desperate need to comfort
her, to ease that particular distress.
"I...I suppose I must," he replied, tugging nervously at
his cravat.
"Because for a minute you were looking at me like
I just escaped from the nut house."
"From...from the what?"
"The nut house. You know...the cracker factory. Laughing academy?
Loony Bin?" She sighed at his continuing confusion. "The place
they put the crazy people."
"Oh! You mean the asylum for the insane?"
"Yeah. But I'm not!"
"I never imagined that you were," William said gallantly.
Buffy smirked. "Oh, come on...not even for a second?" she
asked, placing both hands on her hips.
William found himself smiling back. "Well...perhaps for a
moment," he confessed. "But if what you claim is true..how
can such a thing be?"
**************************************
It was a good question, and Buffy was unable to answer
it without causing even more confusion for the poor boy.
How could she explain this to him? She believed and
accepted it by virtue of the fact that she'd been raised in an
age of fantastic possibilities. Things that were commonplace
to her would seem like unimaginable fairy tales to William.
What if she were to tell him what the next hundred years
had in store; of electricity and automobiles...of splitting
the atom...of space travel? Wouldn't that all seem just as
preposterous as what was happening now?
And not only had she grown up in an age of true miracles,
but she'd cut her teeth on fantasy and science fiction.
When a person has seen dozens of movies and read
countless books, from Jules Verne and H.G. Wells all the
way up to Stephen King and William Gibson, they're
slightly more inclined to believe in the utterly unbelievable.
"I don't know," she finally said. "I can't explain it...and I'm
not sure I want to."
"What do you mean? Why would you not want to?"
Looking into his gentle blue eyes, Buffy shivered as a wave of
excitement passed through her. She felt more attracted to
the young man on the opposite side of the mirror than she'd
ever felt to any flesh and blood male that had passed through
her life.
This experience was the most amazing thing that had
ever happened to her. Strange and inexplicable, yes...but
amazing and wonderful as well, and she didn't want to
question it too closely.
"It's just...well, if it's magic," she said, lowering her voice to a
whisper, "then I don't want to disturb it. I don't want to do
anything that might make it go away."
On the other side of the mirror, William stepped closer. "Magic?"
he asked softly.
Buffy smiled. God, he was adorable.
"Oh, William...don't you feel it, too?"
*********************************************
Yes, he felt it. He wanted to shout the words out loud.
He'd felt it the moment he'd heard her voice, the instant he'd
seen her face.
It WAS magic. It had to be. Even if there was a logical and
scientific explanation for this occurrence, William was convinced
it would still be secondary to its true nature. Nothing this wonderful
could be anything other than the most fantastical enchantment.
Miss Buffy was right. Some things were better left unexplained.
William had no idea why HE had been chosen to be on the
other end of this splendid encounter, but he had no intention of
turning away from it.
"I do feel it," he said earnestly. "And...it's magical."
If possible, her smile became even brighter at his words. Her
green eyes...well, they sparkled. There was simply no other
way to describe it. Like starlight...or the sun dancing on
water...or...or diamonds! No...emeralds. What rhymes with
emeralds?
He began automatically cross referencing in his brain, searching
for words he could use to describe this golden haired angel in
prose...then he met her gaze and those thoughts were put
aside.
This could very well end as suddenly and unexpectedly as it
had begun, and he was not going to waste any time trying
to come up with pretentious phraseology designed to impress
his peers with his intelligence. He didn't want to write about this
girl.
He wanted to talk to her, spend time with her, learn all there was
to know about her.
Especially why she dressed in such a provocative fashion.
Was that the way young ladies were garbing themselves
in the year two thousand and four? If so, he couldn't imagine
how a gentleman could possibly concentrate on the daily
business of living.
Why, he was finding it difficult remembering to breathe with
her standing before him in such...abbreviated garments.
"You're staring."
Her voice shocked him out of his trance, and his face
flushed with shame.
"Oh...I...I do beg your pardon," he stammered. "It's just
that...well, I...I...I'm sorry."
How atrociously rude! To stand here and gape at a lady in
such a forward manner! This cad-like behavior was completely
unlike him. Mother would be.....
"It's all right. William...come on...look at me. Please?"
Even in the extremes of his embarrassment, he could refuse
her nothing. Reluctantly, he lifted his eyes to meet her direct
gaze. "Miss Buffy...I don't know how to..."
"William," she cut in. "It's all right for you to look at me."
She tilted her head a little, giving him the cheekiest smile
he'd ever seen.
"Do you like looking at me?"
Her hands were clasped behind her back, a position that
thrust her breasts forward enticingly.
All the blood that had rushed to his face, now redirected
itself to points south.
"Do you?"
Oh, good lord! She was speaking to him...and she obviously
expected a coherent answer.
"Yes," he said, his voice sounding strained to his own ears. "I
think you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
***************************************
Highly pleased at his compliment, Buffy was equally thrilled
by the expression in his eyes.
The lovely blue of his iris had darkened behind his spectacles,
giving them an intensity that could easily steal a girl's breath
away.
She would give anything to be able to reach through that mirror and
remove those spectacles, to smooth that unruly lock of hair back
from his brow, to trace her fingers over the high arch of his
cheekbones.
Would it shock him, if he knew what she wanted to do with him?
After all, wasn't 1880 part of England's 'Victorian Age'? A time
when, if she remembered her history properly, everyone was operating
under a strict set of moral standards imposed by the queen, its
prudery taken to sometimes ridiculous extremes.
It was a time when you couldn't even SAY the word 'leg' in
mixed
company, let alone expose them.
No wonder he'd been staring. Had he ever seen a woman's bare
legs before? Or any OTHER part, for that matter? If
not...maybe it
was time he did.
It was a tantalizing thought.
Just how innocent was he?
TBC.....
Part six....
"Thank you," she said, responding to his complimentary
words. "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."
"Oh, I can't believe that," William replied, forcing away his
embarrassment at being caught staring so brazenly.
Her apparent disregard for his rudeness was making him feel
much more at ease about the incident, although it wasn't helping
the physical reaction he was having. He suspected that as
long as she stood before him half undressed, that state of
affairs was unlikely to change.
As badly as he wanted to conceal it from her, to turn away
from her shining eyes and knowing smile, he couldn't make
himself do it. What if he did...and she disappeared?
No. He would suffer through it as best he could and pray
that she wouldn't notice his problem.
********************************
Since she couldn't think of any other way to kick things off,
Buffy decided to fall back on tried and true methods.
"So," she said, bundling up the blanket that had fallen from
the mirror and plopping down on it, "tell me about yourself."
He only hesitated a moment before copying her action, sink-
ing down to the floor on his side of the mirror.
"I...I don't really know how to begin."
"Okay, that's understandable. I mean...this IS a pretty
freaky situation. Makes sense that you'd be thrown
for a loop."
He looked almost comically perplexed. "I understand 'freakish
situation', but...'thrown for a loop' ?"
"Well...it's slang," Buffy explained. "It means that this
thing that's happening is so...bizarre...that it's natural to
be somewhat...somewhat..."
"Befuddled?" he offered.
"That's as good a word as any."
"And do all Americans in 2004 speak in this manner?"
"Pretty much, yeah. Anyway," she continued, "how about
if we take turns asking questions and get to know each other
a little better?"
William nodded agreeably. "A sensible suggestion."
"Right. You start."
"Oh, no. Ladies first," he insisted.
Figuring that he would probably die of shock if she asked
him what was REALLY on her mind, Buffy began with easy,
non-aggressive inquiries. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-six. And you?"
"Twenty-five. Got any hobbies?"
"Well, I don't know that I'd refer to them as hobbies, but
I write poetry...sometimes...and I sketch, mostly landscapes,
and not very well."
They sat and conversed for a good half an hour, exchanging
questions and answers. For the most part, the questions
were kept light and impersonal, making Buffy anxious to cut
to the chase.
"See how easy this is?" she asked, smiling when he did. "So,"
she added, trying to sound casual when she asked her
next question, "have you...got a girlfriend?"
*****************************************
It wasn't difficult for William to determine the gist of her
question, even though the term 'girlfriend' was unfamiliar.
"Not...precisely," he said evasively.
"A handsome guy like you? I'll bet all the girls are after
you."
His cheeks flushed, William shook his head. "I can assure
you they're not."
"Come on," she coaxed. "There must be someone special.
Someone YOU like."
Blushing all the way to the tips of his ears, he ducked
his head a bit. "There is one young lady that I have...ad-
mired. But she has no interest in me."
"Well, how do you know? Have you told her that you
like her?"
"You mean...have I spoken plainly of my feelings?"
Buffy nodded, surprised when she saw him swallow hard,
as though trying to dislodge something painful from his
throat.
"What's wrong?" she asked, pretty sure she already
knew. "Was she mean to you?"
Buffy could feel the hair on the back of her neck prickle
with irritation. The thought of some stuck up Victorian
Miss Priss being unkind to this sweet and gentle young
man made her wish there was something she could
actually do about it...something like a good, old-fashioned
cat fight would do nicely.
For his part, William was beginning to regret ever
having said anything to Cecily in the first place. He now
felt that he had gotten over her with such unseemly haste
that perhaps his feelings truly hadn't been all he'd thought
them to be.
"Not...not until recently," he explained haltingly.
"And it didn't go well?" Buffy pressed.
He shook his head, staring at the floor, uncertain as to how
much of his humiliation he wanted to reveal. If he admitted
to Miss Buffy what a fool he'd made of himself, she
might also want nothing to do with him.
Even though their acquaintance was of decidedly short notice
and limited to the boundaries the mirror imposed on them,
making it impossible for them to ever do more than converse,
he was oddly unwilling to say anything that might make
him seem unpleasing in her eyes.
"Well, if it wouldn't be too nosy to ask...what did you say
to her?" When he looked up with startled eyes, she quickly
added, "I was just wondering...I mean...maybe I can help. You
know...give you a woman's perspective on where you might
have gone....wrong?"
"Oh, I...I couldn't impose upon you like that," he demurred.
Buffy couldn't believe what she was doing. Was she actually
going to give a guy that SHE liked tips on how to attract
other girls? How stupid was THAT?
Still...it wasn't as though she could have him anyway. Not
through a pane of glass and a hundred year plus separation
in time. As attracted as she was to William Cathcart, it would
be mighty selfish behavior on her part to withhold any help
she could possibly provide.
**Sometimes doing the right thing really sucks!**
"You're not imposing. I want to help," she said, hoping she
sounded more sincere than she felt. "So, you came right out
and told her how you feel about her?"
Unable to see any way out of it, William sighed and
nodded.
"What did you say?"
After a long pause, his face hot with embarrassment, he
said, "I wrote her a poem describing her beauty and
declaring my...admiration."
Buffy stared at him, her mind reeling at this little nugget
of information. She'd never heard of anything so poignantly
romantic. The closest SHE'D ever come to having a man
praise her in verse were the prefab rhymes found on the
insides of greeting cards.
What kind of moron was this woman, anyway?
Did she have any IDEA how many women would give a
year off their life to be in her shoes?
"Well...what did she say to you about it?" Buffy asked,
her protective instincts getting riled up all over again.
"It was more what she DIDN'T say," he admitted. "I'm
afraid she considers me...beneath her."
"That BITCH!" Her hand flew up to clap over her mouth,
but it was too late. The word was out, and couldn't be
taken back. Horrified at what she'd said, she looked at
him through wide eyes.
What must he think of her? He was accustomed to
being around ladies who probably never uttered ANY sort of
profanity, and here she had all but shouted one. Worse, she'd
insulted the girl he admired, the one who had inspired him to
write poetry about her.
Now he would probably hate her, would look at her in shock
and disgust, would think of her as a low class, foul mouthed
piece of trash, a gutter dwelling little...
Her silent litany of self abuse took a screeching right turn
when she saw the look on his face. He didn't appear to be
appalled or revolted in any way. He actually looked very....amused!
In fact, he looked to be trying not to laugh out loud.
Amusement aside, Buffy tried to mend fences.
"Oh, I'm really sorry," she said, ashamed of her out-
burst. "I don't know why I said that, but...but I shouldn't
have. It was...it was rude and mean, I know. I just...it
pissed me...made me angry when I heard what she'd
said to you."
The smile that graced his handsome face was the
sweetest she'd ever seen. How any woman could resist
this shy and charming young poet was completely beyond
her.
She wanted so badly to be able to hold his face between
her hands and kiss the lovely curve of his lips, to pull away
slowly, opening her eyes to find that his were still closed, to
wait for them to open and gaze into hers as she leaned forward
for another...lingering...
"Please, don't feel you need to apologize," he said, jerking
her right out of her daydream. "I daresay, I found it quite
amusing. I do so enjoy the brash way you express yourself."
Well, that was something anyway.
"I guess it's pretty different from what you're used to," she
replied, tucking her hair neatly behind her ears.
"Very different," he agreed. "That's what's so wonderful about
it."
Relief flooded through her. "So...you're not mad at me for
insulting what's-her-name?"
William laughed a little. "No, of course I'm not. And your offer
to help is very kind."
"Help?" She'd totally forgotten about that!
"Yes. You offered to give me a...how did you put it...a
woman's perspective on what I might be doing wrong
in regards to Cecily."
Cecily? So THAT was the bitch's name!
"Yeah. I did say that, didn't I?"
Buffy didn't know why she sounded so dejected. The situation
hadn't changed. She couldn't have William.
But she didn't want Cecily to have him either, damn it!
Chiding herself for her dog-in-the-manger attitude, she
pasted a bright smile on her face.
"I said it...and I meant it! We'll get you on the right
track with good old...."
"Cecily," he supplied helpfully.
"Yeah, her. And...and who knows? Maybe she really does
like you, too," Buffy said, trying to sound encouraging about
that possibility. "Maybe, she was just nervous...or shy."
**Or maybe, she's a great big bitch!**
"Sometimes girls...when they like a boy...don't always know
how to let them in on it. Especially back in your day when
everybody is so....repressed."
"Repressed?" He tilted his head, a gesture so charming that
she nearly missed what he was saying. "Is that what you think?"
But there was no missing the look in his eyes! Even behind
his glasses, they seemed darker and more intense all of a
sudden, and they were pinned on her in a way that made her
body sit up and take notice.
**This is unbelievable. He's just LOOKING at me and it's
getting
me hot.**
What had happened to the bashful and blushing young man
she'd been talking with?
The only thing she could conclude was that there was quite a bit
more to William than she'd imagined. Victorian gentleman he
might be, but there was an obviously deep seated core of
natural sensuality that he probably wasn't even aware of, and
it was beginning to break through the barrier of his reserve.
Buffy wanted more than anything to help it along. All she
needed to do was figure out how.
TBC....
Feedback is soooo nice!
Chapter 7:
Part seven...
Buffy spent the next three days "loosening up" William
Cathcart.
On the night of their initial meeting they had both been
reluctant to call it quits. What if they were to say goodnight
to each other and go their separate ways, then find out
the next day that their mirror was no longer in service?
But since neither of them could spend the rest of their life
sitting in the same room in front of a mirror, they had finally
given in and promised to meet again in exactly eight hours.
Strangely enough, even though they were over a hundred
years apart and on different continents, the actual time of
day was the same. This made no sense, since England was
at least eight hours or so ahead of the United States, but
nothing about their situation made sense anyway, so they
didn't question it.
At ten o'clock the following morning, Buffy had flown up
the stairs and into the attic, fingers crossed and heart
hammering loudly enough to wake the dead. She'd stood
outside the attic door for a moment, trying to calm down
and prepare herself for possible disappointment.
Then, holding her breath, she'd opened the door and
stepped inside.
The relief she'd felt made the air rush out of her lungs in
a deep sigh.
William had been waiting for her, sitting on the end of
his bed with his hands clasped and an anxious expression
on his face; an expression that had blossomed into a wide
smile when she'd walked into the room.
He'd confessed that he hadn't slept well at all,
afraid to close his eyes lest the sight of her attic in the
mirror fade from view. The only thing that had finally
allowed him to drop off, he had told her, had been the
realization that if the mirror was going to stop working,
he didn't have the first clue about how to keep it from
happening.
When a chiming clock in his bedroom struck the hour
of noon, a maid had knocked lightly on his door. Without
thinking, he'd bade her come in. The words were no
sooner out of his mouth before he'd jumped to his feet and
dove across the room, but it was too late. The maid
entered, carrying a silver luncheon tray.
Fully expecting the girl to drop the tray in shock at
the sight of Buffy and her attic displayed in a mirror,
William desperately began cobbling together some kind
of feasible explanation.
That explanation turned out to be unnecessary, as it
quickly became clear that the maid saw nothing unusual
in the mirror. She even paused a moment to look into
it, tucking an escaping lock of hair back under her cap,
before leaving.
Buffy and William had exchanged surprised looks. Ap-
parently, they were the only ones the mirror was showing
its magic to; just the two of them and, for some reason,
Lillybelle.
At least that's what they'd theorized, since Buffy had no
intention of inviting anyone up to her attic to test that
theory. She lived in a world where that sort of thing would
have the government showing up on her doorstep to con-
fiscate the mirror and whisk it off to some secret installation
where they could "study" the phenomena.
Delighted at the new turn of events, Buffy had run down
to the kitchen and fixed herself a sandwich so they could
'dine together'.
They'd talked while eating. He had told her things about
Victorian England that she'd never even heard of, and she'd
reciprocated. Since she couldn't possibly have squeezed
in everything that had taken place in the last one hundred
and twenty four years, she'd stuck to the big highlights; both
world wars, the invention of the automobile, air travel, the
miracles of modern medicine, and the sinking of the Titanic.
His jaw nearly hit the floor when she told him that man
had been to the moon and was now eyeing Mars.
Her description of movies and television fascinated him,
so much so that she decided to bring the TV and VCR
into the attic and show him what she was talking about.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"What it is titled again?"
Buffy turned the television so that the screen was more
easily viewed, then popped in a videotape.
"Well," she sighed, blasting through the coming attraction,
"unfortunately my grandmother had a pretty limited selection
of movies here. She tended to stick to the really old ones
and a lot of musicals. This one is called Man of La Mancha.
It's about this old man, Don Quixote, and...."
"By Cervantes?" he asked.
"That's right. Have you read it?"
"Not for quite some time. But I enjoyed it very much."
Buffy settled herself down in a rocking chair she'd brought
from her room and punched the 'play' button.
Watching William was actually more fun than watching
the movie itself. He looked so completely amazed and
delighted with what he was seeing.
Surprisingly, he remained very quiet. She'd half expected
him to ask endless questions about how the gadgetry
worked, but he didn't seem terribly interested. He was far
more captivated by the story and the songs.
Must be the poet in him, she decided.
Although the actors singing ability left a great deal to
be desired, he made no comments about it.
But when Don Quixote began singing his tribute to the
lady he worshiped, William actually moved closer to the
mirror.
"I have dreamed thee too long,
Never seen thee or touched thee
But known thee with all of my heart
Half a prayer, half a song
Thou has always been with me
Though we have been always apart"
Buffy couldn't take her eyes off him. His expression
was so....full of yearning.
"Dulcinea...Dulcinea
I see heaven when I see thee,
Dulcinea
And thy name is like the prayer an
angel whispers
Dulcinea....Dulcinea"
She had never particularly liked old musicals, but
watching William drink in this new experience was
beginning to change her mind about them.
"If I reach out to thee
Do not tremble and shrink
From the touch of my hand on thy hair
Let my fingers but see
Thou art warm and alive
And no phantom to fade in the air"
He turned his head to look at her, then glanced away
quickly when he saw her staring at him.
Not wanting him to feel uncomfortable, she forced
herself to watch the movie.
"Dulcinea....Dulcinea
I have sought thee, sung thee,
dreamed thee, Dulcinea
Now I've found you and the world
shall know the glory
Of Dulcinea....Dulcinea"
When the song ended, Buffy pushed the pause button.
"That was a pretty song, wasn't it?"
William nodded, obviously still enraptured by it. "It was
truly lovely," he murmured. "To possess the talent...the
gift...for writing something so deeply passionate." He
sighed. "Perhaps if I'd been able to express my feelings
so beautifully....."
He let the words trail off, making Buffy wonder if he was
thinking of Cecily and wishing he'd been able to write
such a thing for her.
Just the thought of it made her feel queasy.
Firmly shoving the unappealing thought of William and
Cecily out of her mind, she thumbed the 'play' button
on the remote.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"To dream the impossible dream
To fight the unbeatable foe
To bear with unbearable sorrow
To run where the brave dare not go"
His attention once again captured by the music,
she turned her gaze on him again.
"To right the unrightable wrong
To love, pure and chaste from afar
To try, when your arms are too weary
To reach the unreachable star"
Boy! She'd thought he'd looked impressed before!
Now he seemed....enchanted.
"This is my quest
To follow that star
No matter how hopeless
No matter how far
To fight for the right
Without question or pause
To be willing to march into hell
For a heavenly cause"
His head was tilted slightly to one side, his lips
parted just a little.
"And I know, if I'll only be true
To this glorious quest
That my heart will lie peaceful and
calm
When I'm laid to my rest"
Buffy had heard this song many times before, but it
had never sounded quite like this to her ears.
"And the world will be better for
this
That one man, scorned and covered
with scars
Still strove with his last ounce of
courage
To reach the unreachable star"
When the movie ended, she hit 'stop' and
ejected the tape.
"Oh, Buffy," William breathed fervently. "Such stirring
words. I'm...I'm quite...overwhelmed."
She smiled. "You MUST be. That's the first time
you've used my name without saying 'Miss' first."
Immediately, his cheeks turned red. "Oh. I...I'm
so very sorry. Please...please forgive my familiarity,"
he stammered.
Just when you think a guy can't get any more adorable,
he does something to raise the bar, she mused.
"William...stop apologizing. I don't mind. In fact, I'd
rather you just call me Buffy. Okay?"
He ducked his head shyly. "Well...if you're certain
you don't mind, then...then I suppose..."
"Good!" she interjected. "Now THAT'S settled, tell
me what you think of the movie."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Although he assured her that he didn't want to leave
her company, William had to excuse himself to take
the evening meal with his mother. He could get away
with having luncheon served in his room, could even decline
afternoon tea, but his mother expected him at breakfast
and supper, and if he'd remained in his room she'd no
doubt call for a doctor to find out what was ailing him.
Buffy understood, and told him so, but being apart from
him was curiously painful. It was a feeling that frightened
her a little.
She was coming to care for this boy too deeply. Falling
in love with him would be remarkably easy and a major
mistake, since there was no possibility of a future with
him. Technically, he didn't even exist anymore. They could
never touch hands, or kiss, or...or anything.
But, God...he was so sweet. How could she NOT love him?
Just because 'Cecily the Stupid Bitch' didn't find him
everything SHE wanted in a man, didn't mean that Buffy
wouldn't snap him up in a heartbeat if she'd been able to.
William was gentle and romantic, and she had a feeling
that if she could step into his time, push him down on a
chair, remove his spectacles and unfasten his shirt...she
would be mightily pleased with what she found hidden
beneath all those clothes.
Feeling a sudden need to distract herself from these
thoughts, she ran downstairs and grabbed her purse
and keys.
It was time to pay a visit to the local video store.
TBC
Next...