Chapter 9

Everything was different. Elizabeth lay, half awake, struggling to make sense of the host of unfamiliar sensations that assailed her senses. Even before she opened her eyes she knew she wasn’t at home. The bed was much larger, had too many pillows and it didn’t smell of lavender and flowers like hers did. There was a hint of brandy and burned out candles, and something else, old and slightly musty. She took a deep breath and relaxed sleepily against the comforter.

It was very quiet. No birds sang as they usually did outside her window, and there was a still heaviness to the silence which was broken only by the sounds of someone breathing. She held her breath, listening, and still heard it. So, it was not hers. And although she had come a long way since last night, she was strangely unafraid.

She let her eyes slowly flicker open as she remembered.

There’d been a man, what was his name? And there’d been something wrong with him, but he’d seemed nice. And she’d told him she was Buffy, because she couldn’t be Elizabeth any more. Elizabeth, the girl who’d always did as she was told had become a murderer. Judge and jury to Caleb. And the justice had been swift and harsh, and now she’d taken a human life, what was there that she wouldn’t be capable of?

The feeling induced such a panic in her, swiftly banishing her relaxed state, that for a few seconds she just lay and tried to breathe it away. Tried to breathe away the feeling that somewhere she would have to pay for what she’d done. That there would be a price, in this life or the next. Last night she’d truly thought she was going to hell when the coach had appeared mysteriously and most poetically at precisely the moment it needed to, but this didn’t feel like hell, and William, she remembered him now, wasn’t the devil. She was sure of that.

As she stared at the dark canopy over the bed, she remembered that there was someone else in the room, so she let her head roll to the side towards the sound and saw him, in the chair beside the bed.

He looked uncomfortable, his head cradled in his arms, his body bent awkwardly. And his face relaxed in sleep made him appear much younger than she remembered. He stirred a little, as if aware of her scrutiny and she watched in fascination at the sight of another human being waking up, coming into the world as if for the first time. It was strangely voyeuristic, as if she was privy to some secret, and she wondered what she looked like when she woke up. It was something you never saw yourself do, she realised.

And here, she had all the time in the world to just be. There were no duties that required her attendance, no mama calling her, no Dawn jumping excitedly on the bed eagerly demanding to know what she'd been doing. Here, in this strange place, in the still quiet of the morning, she had time to do this. To just lie, pressed into the soft, feather quilt and look at him. Her saviour, her unlikely champion.

His hair was the strangest shade. Almost white, hanging in a wavy curtain across his face, and much longer than was the fashion outside this place. And she’d been right about his face. She tilted her head a little to get a better view. It was striking, the kind of face that once seen was never forgotten. And his skin. Last night she’d been a little scared of him, but in the early morning light she could see that he had the appearance of one who might have been badly burned.

She let her gaze follow the line of his body to where his shirt gaped open and she nearly closed her eyes as she remembered that she was a young lady, and genteel young ladies didn’t stare at men’s bare chests. But she didn’t. His raw, red skin looked painful, and she wondered if it was. If he had to live with this everyday of his life. She’d felt sorry for herself, thinking that she was most hard done by, but here was someone who had no escape. He couldn’t run away from this, just had to endure it.

She wriggled into the comforter, feeling pleasantly warm. She liked this William who had rescued her so gallantly, and saw in him a kindred spirit. As he moved again, she fervently hoped that she could be friends with him. If it was possible to be just friends with a man. That was something outside her experience and expectations, for she had always seen boys as annoyances because they would not take her seriously and let her join in their games, and men as potential husbands. Then she realised that he’d opened his eyes and was quietly staring at her, and she couldn’t turn away now that he’d seen her looking.

Their eyes locked for a moment. He frowned a little, as if puzzled by her presence, then a look of recognition and the ghost of a smile flickered across his face as he seemed to register who she was. As he sat up his shirt gaped open and he grabbed at it, closing it and muttering something that sounded like an apology. He glanced at her again, a little more self-consciously this time as he hastily fastened the buttons. Then he ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it back from his face and leaned back in the chair.

"You slept well?"

His voice had a sleep roughened edge to it, and he pitched it at a low whisper that was somehow in keeping with the intimacy of their situation. It was the first time Elizabeth had woken up with someone of the opposite sex, and it did cross her mind that this must be what it was like waking up with a secret lover - wickedly exciting. And when she replied, she was surprised to find her voice coming out the same, and she almost didn’t recognise it.

"I think so. Did I disturb you? I am apt to toss and turn."

"No."

He said it a little too hastily, making her think she might have. After all, she’d deprived him of his bed and consigned him to an uncomfortable night in the chair.

His bed. As they lapsed into silence, sharing a quiet moment she thought that she owed this man, who’d given her sanctuary from the world, a great debt, and that perhaps, in keeping with the sense of unreality that pervaded the moment, it was strangely fitting that she had woken up in his bed.

~{~}~{~}~

There was a woman in his bed, and it wasn’t a dream. The woman of his fantasy. But even though she was a mere two steps away, it might have been a thousand miles for all he could act upon it. William shifted uncomfortably, his early morning erection throbbing with need. It wasn’t just going to go away. Not with her looking at him, her gaze unwavering. He checked the buttons of his shirt again, feeling an unfamiliar self consciousness at her frank scrutiny. He walked naked before Tara without a second thought but Buffy was from the outside world. And didn’t he hide from that? She would judge him with different eyes, and now more so since his skin was such a mess.

He found himself wondering what he looked like when he first woke up, and if his hair was in place. And whether he looked as sleep-tumbled as she did as she reclined drowsily against his pillows, her hair an endearing mess of tangled strands, which he desperately wanted to smooth back from her face. He found himself melting into her heavy-lidded gaze and even though he’d buttoned up his shirt, he almost felt naked before her.

He levered himself out of the chair, stretching out the stiffness in his arms and moving toward the washstand, his head still full of dreams that had felt so real. She looked so inviting, sleepily watching him. She was Buffy, the girl he’d rescued from God-knows-what, but the poet in him couldn’t help but see a girl with untamed hair gazing languidly at her lover, who might have just left her bed, leaving her waiting for him to return. And he hadn’t realised just how hard this was going to be.

He splashed his face with water, trying to engage his mind on more practical matters, such as what she was going to wear, since she’d brought nothing with her, and then he had the image of her in his mother’s clothes, and that made things even worse. He kept his back to her as he struggled for control of feelings that he didn’t know what to do with. His body was telling him to go back to the bed, and touch her, feel her, taste her, and that she wouldn’t mind because he could tell that she wanted it too, but his mind was warning him against such a rash move. She would never feel safe with him if he frightened her with his clumsy approaches. He’d heard the expression, perfect gentleman, but had never appreciated what it entailed, until now.

It felt at that moment as if he had a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other, both giving him advice on how to do this. He gave a little laugh as he realised that he was so shy around her that the angel would always win. It was amusing given the reputation that he had so carefully nurtured for himself. And that was strange. His mind went off at another tangent as he dried his face.

She did not seem the slightest bit perturbed by the legend. Why was she not more scared of him? Had he wanted to, he could have had his wicked way with her by now, might have even convinced her that she owed him that, in return for his hospitality. Didn’t she know that could have been a possibility? Or perhaps she was something of a sophisticated woman to lie so easily in a strange man’s bed, and to go with someone that she knew nothing of. That, or a complete innocent, unaware of the effect such actions would have on a man.

Or maybe he was simply someone who didn’t inspire fear. He wasn’t sure whether he liked that or not. True, he’d told her that she had nothing to fear from him, but she’d seemed to see it instinctively, and that’s why she’d gone with him. She knew he’d never hurt her or force her to do anything against her will.

"William, I..."

He turned as she spoke, hurriedly clearing his mind of the jumble of images but still wondering if she might come to him willingly one day. He never found out what she was going to say because suddenly the bedroom door opened to reveal Tara, followed by Ethan.

William looked up in alarm at this uncalled for intrusion. Tara was standing, her arms folded and nodding at Elizabeth as if showing Ethan proof of something he had not believed. Then Ethan in turn walked right over to the bed to where Elizabeth now lay frozen in place, and stared at her with something akin to disbelief.

William froze too, the towel in mid air, and for a moment no one spoke. Then Ethan snorted and turned back to Tara.

"Had to happen sooner or later." He leaned in closer causing Elizabeth to shrink back against the covers. "Looks like someone got a bit rough with you lass, how much to keep yer mouth shut?"

"It’s not what you think." William remembered to move at last and flew across the room. He attempted to get between Ethan and Elizabeth, but Ethan held him off easily, grabbing him by the arm and turning him away. He leaned in close to him and spoke in a voice of barely contained anger.

"I will sort this for you my Lord. State she’s in, could cause us a lot of trouble. What were you thinking?"

William struggled to free himself, twisting to see Elizabeth’s look of alarm, and the look she gave him told him that this was his moment. If he didn’t stand up to Ethan now, then he never would, and he’d never be master in his own home.

And there was something else. He’d always bowed down before Ethan in the past because it hasn’t really mattered one way or another, but now it mattered because she was counting on him. There were issues other than who was master in the house. The look she gave him asked a thousand questions and they flashed through his mind one by one. He’d promised her his protection, said she’d be safe with him. Well now it was time to prove it. And because he had to do it, he did it. It was as simple as that. Buffy needed his help and he would have died rather than let her down.

"Let me go, Ethan." He said it calmly, his voice commanding authority for the first time in his life, and to his surprise Ethan did let go of him and took a step back. He folded his arms and nodded towards Elizabeth who still hadn’t moved or said anything.

"Who is she?"

"I don’t know." William straightened his shirt and moved himself between Ethan and Elizabeth. "And I don’t care. Found her on the cliff path last night, and she needs a place to stay." Then he lifted his chin and looked Ethan square in the eye. "Do you have a problem with this?"

Ethan looked from him to Elizabeth. "She’s covered in blood."

"It’s not hers." William reached behind him and caught Elizabeth’s hand, giving it a squeeze. He wasn’t sure who needed the reassurance more at that moment, as Ethan continued his impassive stare.

"It’s my house Ethan, and I say she can stay."

Ethan took a deep breath and shot a glance at Tara before continuing.

"Think, master. If the blood is not hers, then whose is it? Will there not be people looking for her?"

"Possibly." William felt Elizabeth’s hand tighten about his. "But surely no-one will know she’s here?"

Ethan stared at them both for a moment, then made a big show of backing down, holding up his hands and bowing his head.

"You are the master, we will do whatever you say." And it was just a show. William heard the words, but he also heard the contempt that weighed them down. He wondered if Buffy heard it too. Ethan may be backing down, but if he was true to form he wouldn’t let this go.

"Thank you Ethan. You may go, and Tara?" He turned to Tara who had stood quietly throughout the whole exchange, looking almost as startled as Elizabeth. "She will need some clothes to change into, can you see what we might have in the house?"

Tara nodded and scuttled off as if she was relieved to be let out of the room. Ethan shot them both another contemptuous look and spun on his heels and strode away.

As soon as he was out of sight William sagged against the edge of the bed, his knees almost giving way with the release of tension. He was aware of Elizabeth sitting up as he sat down and her hand resting gently on his shoulder.

For a moment he just leaned against it, his eyes closed tightly as he breathed an inward sigh of relief at having passed this test of manhood. She gave his shoulder a little squeeze and he turned his head to her and gave her a tentative smile. Had he disgraced himself in front of her, he knew he never would have been able to look her in the eye again.

"He is a bully, I think."

Elizabeth craned her head around to look at him and he shifted his position so that he was facing her. She had a strange way of making him feel at ease, he thought, always seeming to know the right thing to say, as if she could see deep inside what he needed. She’d let him carry her into the house because she knew that her earlier slight had hurt him, and she was doing it now. Smoothing his ruffled feathers and helping him to re-establish his sense of self. Part of him knew that she was doing this because she still needed his help, and any woman would flatter a man to get what she wanted. But another part of him desperately wanted to believe that there was something more to it.

"Yes, but only because I let him be." He realised that now. Ethan took advantage of him because he had always lazily abdicated responsibility to him, the arrangement had suited them both really. That it no longer did was sure to cause complications.

William looked down at her hand, which he was still holding, a little awkwardly now because of his twisted position. "You always seem to know the right thing to say. Are all women like this?"

She gave a little laugh and twisted her legs around so that she was sitting next to him. "I have know bullies. You did well, William, and it will not be so bad next time."

Next time? He looked up and caught her gaze. She was nodding encouraginly Of course there would be a next time. This single incident wasn’t going to command him the respect he needed to truly be master here, and he didn’t relish the forthcoming battle with Ethan. But he did know that having Buffy by his side would give him the courage he needed to do it, and that whenever he wavered she would be there to spur him on.

She hadn’t answered his question about other women and he did not press her on it. This was enough, that he had all that he needed right here in this one woman.

Another silence as they sat side by side, hands still entwined. But the silences weren’t awkward as some are prone to be. They were rather times of contemplation that seemed to be naturally punctuating their growing relationship. As if each of them had to stop every short while to process and make sense of what had just happened. She had shown great faith in his ability to look after her, but he knew that of the two of them, she was the stronger person. If Ethan had laid a hand on her, and he had not rushed to her defence, then he had no doubt that she would have stood up for herself. And he knew that she was capable of that because of the blood which she was covered.

His hand strayed to one of the stains on the front of her dress and he wondered if she would ever tell him what had happened. She didn’t flinch. Just sat very still and let him trace the outline of it, but neither did she say anything, so he let it go and instead turned his attention to her hair, catching one of the loose strands.

"Your hair is a mess."

She laughed at this. "You need lessons in complementing a lady, William. That is not the way to a woman’s heart."

His hand stilled, and without looking up he said, "Then teach me, Buffy. This is all so new to me."

Elizabeth suddenly let go of his hand and shuffled away from him. "I have nothing to teach you. You are kind and honest, and I am wicked and deceitful."

She looked up at him quickly, then away, and he was shocked by the pain he saw in her eyes. All the while he’d thought of nothing but his own needs, of how rescuing her would enhance his life but he hadn’t truly realised that she was going through something he couldn’t begin to comprehend. Yes, he’d wanted to save her, and he wanted her on a more basic level, but she was as broken as he’d been and this brave face she was putting on was just that. A front to cover whatever she was struggling with, and here he was, demanding more of her. Asking of her things she didn’t yet have to give.

She gave a small sniff, which turned into a sob and all he could do was gather her in his arms and hold her. And the way she held him back told him more than words ever could. He pulled her into him and just let her cry, for that was all she wanted from him at that moment. And the crying, this baring of her soul, was strangely more intimate an act than anything they’d done so far.

He held her tightly because she needed him to be solid and unwavering and he could do that for her, but as he rested his chin on the top of her head and listened to her drawing in ragged breaths as she released this dreadful burden she was carrying, his thoughts strayed to the future. To a time when she might be healed and want to go back to the real world and leave him here all alone in the dark once more.

And he was already feeling the pain of saying goodbye.

Chapter 10

Alex couldn't avoid the blow that floored him. Ethan was across the kitchen in what seemed like two strides, his fist raised and a look of murderous rage on his face, and all Alex could do was curl into a ball and wait for him to finish. He hadn’t even told him what he’d done wrong this time, although he guessed it was to do with the coach and the woman they’d brought back to the house.

As he slipped in unconsciousness he thought that one day he was going to kill his father, and end this torment once and for all.

~{~}~{~}~

Elizabeth cried for a long time, and when she felt that all her tears had been used up she continued to shake, dry- eyed, until she was too exhausted to do anything else but just lie against William, who continued to hold her patiently. When she finally stopped she felt empty inside, but not in a hopeless way. It was almost as if she had needed to release everything that had built up over the last few weeks, and now that she had, there was a space inside her that could be filled with new, better things.

She slowly came back to herself with a renewed sense of hope in the future, and lifted her head sheepishly, suddenly shy at having made such a display in front of him. There was a big wet stain on the front of his shirt, and he hadn’t said a word the whole while. And he did not seem to want to judge her in any way. Never before had she met anyone who accepted her so readily as he did, and the realisation almost made her want to start crying again. As she felt his arms tighten about her she thought that this was how it would be if the world was a perfect place. That someone would know what you wanted without it having to be asked for, and that they would give it willingly whenever it was needed.

He shifted slightly as he seemed to realise that she was finished but they stayed as they were, entwined in each other’s arms. Elizabeth was far too comfortable, and all the energy seemed to have drained out of her, so she concentrated on absorbing some of the incredible warmth that was radiating from him, and listening to the steady beat of his heart. This was what people were searching for when they sought partners she thought. This feeling of completion and companionship. It wasn’t just to fulfil an obligation to society or to have children and heirs to fortunes, although she suspected that many married for just that reason. She’d never felt it before now. This feeling of complete trust in another human being.

"Thank you William."

"For what?" He seemed genuinely surprised in his response, as if he did not realise just what he was giving her.

"For just letting me be." She moved a little so she could look into his face. "You’ve just accepted me without question. How is that?" Then she looked away and spoke very quietly. "I could be a murderer for all you know."

"I don’t care." His response was too quick, with just a hint of panic, as if he felt she was about to run away again. He took her face gently and turned it back to him. "I’ve already said I don’t want to know, just let it go."

She contemplated him for a moment. "I think I have to an extent."

"Then the tears have helped?"

"Yes." She raised her hand and traced the line of his cheek, watching as he leaned his face into it. "But only because you were here to catch them for me. Does that make sense to you?"

He closed his eyes and she felt him shiver as her finger reached his lips and continued it’s exploration.

"Tears can make you feel so hollow inside, but when you have someone to share them with it’s different.

"Umm..." His eyes opened and looked at her, with a slightly dazed expression. "What did you say?"

"I was talking about tears, oh." Elizabeth suddenly realised just what her hand had been doing and why he was looking at her in the way that he was. She quickly stopped herself, as she felt her face reddening, and clasped both hands together, dropping them resolutely in her lap as if to avoid all further temptation. It was not like her to be so bold, or was it? She was learning so much about herself in so short a time that it was starting to confuse her.

"Tears?" He blinked several times as if to shake the expression of longing from his face, but it was still there.

She shot him a sideways glance wondering if he’d minded her touching him. With his skin being as it was he might be overly sensitive about things like that, but he did not seem to have objected. And had seemed to be enjoying it. She wondered how he’d react if she did it again, and whether Caleb had been right about her after all. Was she just a temptress at heart who could drive men to do foolish things? She already knew that William would do anything for her, but was it because she was a woman and he desired her, or because he genuinely wanted to help her?

"I just wanted to say thank you. For giving me what I needed."

He looked confused again. "It is my pleasure to help you, Buffy. You were giving me far more than I was giving you."

"You are a strange one, William. How did you get to be so wise?"

"I read a lot." He tilted his head to one side and looked at her most endearingly. "Would you like breakfast?"

At that Elizabeth’s stomach growled so loudly that she brought her hands to her face and blushed into them, mortified.

William grinned at her. "I’ll take that as a yes, come, can you walk?" He extended his hand and she took it, allowing him to pull her up from the bed.

She tested her weight on her injured ankle and took a few steps. "It does not seem so bad today, I think I shall manage."

"Good." He looked a little disappointed that she did not need to be carried, but he covered it with another smile. "When we’ve eaten I’ll see about getting you out of those clothes. Umm, I mean Tara will..."

As he said the words he turned the reddest Elizabeth had ever seen anyone go, and it was in that moment that she realised just what she’d found in this man. Like a bolt from the blue it struck her, as she watched him struggle for composure from the embarrassment of his faux pas, and it felt as if all the jumbled thoughts she’d been having about him had come together at once in one perfect moment of realisation.

He is the one.

What she’d been seeking all her life was here, in a place she’d never have thought to look. As she followed him out of the room, limping slightly, she wondered why. Why was she being given this when she didn’t deserve it. Such a reward, after what she’d done, did not make sense in the natural order of things and her mind drifted back to the thoughts she’d had on waking. Whatever happiness she had out of this was going to cost her dear. There would be a price, there always was.

~{~}~{~}~

They found Alex slumped across the kitchen table, his head in his hands, blood trickling between his fingers. As they approached he lifted his head and glared at William.

"Look what you made ‘im do. You and your stupid schemes." He wiped at his eyes, leaving them streaked with blood, and continued talking, more to himself than to them. "I’ll kill the bastard one day, I swear, I will kill him."

William just stood there looking, making no effort to help, and saying nothing in response to Alex’s declaration. Elizabeth noticed that he did not seem as shocked by the scene before him as he might have been. Almost as if it was something he had been through many times before and he was beyond being surprised or horrified by it.

She took a step towards Alex and looked back at William. "Should we not help him?"

William raised his shoulders in a gesture of resignation. "I’ll fetch Tara, she will patch him up."

Elizabeth walked over to the table and sat down by Alex. "Who did this to you?" As she spoke she made to place a hand on his shoulder but he twisted away from her, pushing her off. At this William took a step forward but she stopped him with a wave of her hand.

"Was it Ethan?"

Alex nodded miserably, then rounded on her. "And it’s your fault too. Why did you 'ave to come here and make things worse?"

Elizabeth bit her lip as she contemplated his words. The poor lad looked in such pain and she supposed it was as much her fault as anyone’s. Ethan had indeed been very angry with William and probably more so that William had stood up to him, and Alex had taken the brunt of his rage by the looks of things.

"Does this happen often, Alex?"

He looked at her incredulously, as if she should know the answer to that. "Bastard always takes it out on me, never on 'im." He pointed at William who still hadn’t moved or made any kind of response to what was going on beyond wanting to fetch Tara.

Elizabeth picked up a linen napkin from the table and held it towards Alex. "Can I clean that for you?"

He favoured her with another glare and snatched it from her, pressing it to the cut above his eye. "Leave me alone, just get lost, will you."

But Elizabeth wasn’t going anywhere. She looked from Alex to William, unable to believe that such brutality should be tolerated. "William, why do you allow this to happen? It is a great injustice, can you not see?"

William’s face fell at her implied criticism, and he lifted a hand and let it hover in mid air before dropping it in resignation. "He’s Ethan’s son, I can’t stop him if he wants to discipline him."

"But this is beyond discipline, can you not see it? Where there is injustice you must make a stand." Her voice was almost breaking with the emotion of what she was feeling as she continued. "People like Ethan would rule our lives if we let them, and they justify their behaviour by telling us that it is our fault that they behave as they do." She rose from the chair as she warmed to her subject, unaware of the figure she cut in her blood-stained dress, her face blazing with passion.

William and Alex were by now both staring at her as if she’d grown two heads, and she could tell that they thought she was quite mad to rant so, but seeing Alex in the state he was had angered her beyond belief. How dare Ethan do this? To make someone’s life so miserable, and to use them so reminded her so much of Caleb, and what she might have gone through had she married him, that she wanted to find Ethan and tell him exactly what she thought of him. Luckily she realised the folly of doing that and knew that it would probably earn Alex another beating.

What she did not realise however, was the effect that her words were having on William. He was looking more and more stricken as she continued with her tirade, and suddenly he turned on his heels and ran out of the kitchen, slamming the door after him.

Elizabeth stopped in mid sentence and stared at the door.

"Why did he leave?"

Alex gave a snort and dabbed at his torn lip. "You really don't know? He doesn’t stand up to Ethan because he’s afraid of ‘im. We all are. How would you like to be shown up as a coward?"

"But I didn’t mean that." Elizabeth looked frantically at the closed door. "Surely he did not think I was calling him a coward?"

"What were you calling ‘im then?"

"Nothing...I..." Elizabeth didn’t know what to say. The beautiful rapport she’d built up with William had been destroyed yet again, and now she had to go and put it right. It seemed that relationships were so much easier to destroy down than create.

"He’s a bit sensitive, highly strung, you know? Trouble is, Tara tells ‘im the sun shines out of his backside and he believes it. And don’t be too ‘ard on ‘im over Ethan. It’s just the way things are."

Elizabeth sat quietly absorbing Alex’s words, sensing that he had probably just made the longest speech of his life. He went back to dabbing at his lip and eye, groaning occasionally, while she thought about rushing after William and apologising. He had stood up to Ethan just this morning and that should have been enough for now. And she had supported him and encouraged him then.

"Is Tara your mother?"

"Yes, William’s nurse too, we’re the same age."

"And she is Ethan’s wife?" As she spoke Elizabeth took the cloth from Alex and continued cleaning his wounds. He made no attempt to stop her this time, and she continued with her questioning, thinking that she should find out as much as she could about this strange household of which she was now a part. It had shocked her to encounter such brutality so soon after what had happened with Caleb and she knew now that she must tread carefully even here, in this place that she had begun to think of as an idyllic sanctuary. It had it’s secrets too, she suspected.

"So, are Ethan and Tara married?"

"Not as far as I know." Alex winced as she rubbed a little too hard.

"I need some water, where is the sink?" She looked around and spotted it before Alex had a chance to answer. As she worked the pump and wrung out the cloth she wondered how they managed, just the four of them in so large a house. She’d seen no sign of any other servants, yet the rooms she’d glimpsed looked tidy enough. She went back to Alex who was now beginning to look decidedly worse for wear. His eyes were closing and his face swelling alarmingly.

"You must go and rest Alex," she said as she finished tending to him. "You are in no state to do anything today."

He looked up at her groggily. "And who will do my chores?"

"I will. And if Ethan has a problem with that, tell him it was my idea. I am quite willing to work for my keep here. I do not expect you to wait on me."

Alex peered at her through the least swollen of his eyes and raised himself slowly from the chair. "You’re goin't' cause trouble, aren’t you?"

Elizabeth smiled. "Probably."

Alex nodded. "Good. And you’ll find ‘is lordship in the library ‘aving a sulk no doubt."

He shuffled off without saying thank you for her efforts, but she hadn’t really expected him to. She ought to find William now and tell him that she hadn’t meant to make him feel inadequate, but just as she was also leaving the kitchen Tara bustled in, a worried look on her face.

"There you are my dear, I have been looking for you all over. And was that Alex I just saw leaving? Come, come, William has told me all about you. We must get you changed."

Elizabeth opened her mouth several times during Tara’s speech but failed to get a word in edgeways, so she allowed herself to be led from the kitchen and taken over by the sheer force of Tara’s personality. She was in truth looking forward to changing into fresh clothes and sleeping in her corset had not been such a good idea as her sides were now starting to ache where the stays had rubbed her. It had not been appropriate to take it off last night however, she thought with a slight blush. Corsets required a lady’s maid and she could hardly have asked William to help her with it.

That thought made her blush again as she followed Tara slowly up the grand staircase, wondering what they might possibly have in the house that would fit her. She wasn’t very tall and certainly not as stout as Tara, so her clothes would not do. As she walked down the long gallery and tried to ignore the staring eyes of the portraits that lined the walls, she knew that there would have been many female occupants of the house in the past and she wondered just whose clothes she was going to end up in.

~{~}~{~}~

William sat slumped in a chair pretending to read a book. His eyes were taking no notice of the script before him however, but were rather trained on the library door, through which he was desperately hoping that Buffy would appear. He’d been foolish to walk out on her as he had, but her words had hurt him, in part because what she had said was true. He had just stood by all this time and let Ethan brutalise Alex, because if it was Alex that was being beaten up, then it meant that Ethan left him alone. He’d taken his fair share of beatings, but as he’d grown older the focus of Ethan’s rage had shifted to Alex and he’d been content to stand by and let that happen. That he’d done this seemed to have upset Buffy greatly, touching some raw nerve in her, and he did not know how to put things right again.

And he’d been so happy when they’d left his bedroom to go down to breakfast. Feeling that he’d made a real connection with this woman who’d so unexpectedly come into his life. But as he’d run up the stairs just now he’d caught a glimpse of his face in a mirror, and of how horrible he still looked, and a bout of self pity had overtaken him. She'd made him forget that. What chance was he going to have with her if she thought him a coward? Women valued bravery in a man, he’d read that often enough in books. They looked for champions who would protect them and fight for them, and although Buffy was, he suspected, quite capable of fighting her own battles, she at least needed to be able to see him as an equal if he was to earn her respect.

He swept back his hair, which he had forgotten to tie back and tried to concentrate on his book, wondering if Tara had found her. She could not be comfortable in that blood-stained dress and needed to get changed, and Tara would be delighted to have a young lady in the house who she could mother.

His mind then drifted to what Buffy was going to look like when he next saw her and he prayed that she would not appear in one of Tara’s gowns, but rather that she’d be wearing one of his mother’s dresses, which he’d suggested rather hopefully to Tara might fit her. There were wardrobes full of clothes in the house, mostly moth-eaten by now, but some reaching back to the reign of Charles the second when the first part of the house had been built. They would probably fall apart when touched, but his mind was already visualising Buffy in them, along with a rather saucy story he’d read involving Nell Gwynn.

He fervently hoped that she wasn’t going to be too cross with him after the incident in the kitchen. She was more of a firebrand than he’d imagined under her helpless-looking female demeanour. It had taken him somewhat by surprise, and although he didn’t like to admit it, it had scared him a little too. She’d mentioned that she might be a murderer and it honestly hadn’t crossed his mind until that moment that she might have done anything so terrible. But now that he’d seen the passion of which she was capable, a small seed of doubt had been planted in his mind that maybe she had been telling the truth and was carrying a burden far heavier than he could ever imagine.

He looked up at the door once more. Where was she?

~{~}~{~}~

Elizabeth turned herself slowly around as she surveyed Tara’s handiwork in the full-length mirror, almost expecting to see someone else, so unlike Elizabeth did she feel in this old-fashioned gown.

She wore no corset, which was a blessed relief, and the muslin it was made of was so light and gauzy that it almost floated around her as she moved. Underneath she wore a chemise which made her feel a little more decent, but compared to the clothes she usually wore, she felt almost naked in this regency gown. It was cinched under her breasts with a large ribbon and the neckline plunged so low that it left nothing to the imagination. This had caused Tara to go into a frenzy of tutting and she’d then produced a short jacket -like affair that would cover Elizabeth’s blushes.

The sense of freedom was incredible. Elizabeth moved this way and that, her hair, which Tara had brushed out for her, swinging in a heavy curtain over her shoulders while Tara watched, arms folded and a satisfied expression on her face.

"I always wished Alex had been a girl, then I could have dressed her up to my heart’s content," she declared. And that had made Elizabeth felt a little sorry for Alex. Did no-one want the lad? His mother hadn’t spared him a second glance as he’d left the kitchen, and now she was saying that she’d wished he’d been a girl. Still Elizabeth did not feel it was her place to comment on such matters that did not concern her as yet. She had caused enough trouble with her outspokenness as it was. And then she remembered William and that she was supposed to be making good the damage her words had done.

She caught Tara looking at the bloodstains on her old dress, quickly bundling the garment in her arms as she noticed that she was being watched. She had not commented on them at all, rather seeming so excited to have a girl to fuss over that she was willing to ignore the fact that she had arrived covered in someone else’s blood.

"Where will I find the library Tara?"

Tara stopped what she was doing and looked up at her. "You are looking for William?"

"Yes, I think he would like to see the dress, do you not?"

"I am sure that he would, he is a man after all." Tara gave a little laugh at this, then her face became more serious. "Be nice to him Buffy. He is somewhat sensitive and easily hurt, and I love him dearly."

Elizabeth placed a reassuring hand on Tara’s arm. "I can see that you do, and I have to tell you that I bear him nothing but profound gratitude for what he has done for me."

"And what would that be?" Tara glanced briefly at the soiled dress, then back at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth looked away. "I cannot tell you. Please do not press me on it."

Tara sighed. "Very well, he told me not to ask you, but it might be easier for us all if we knew."

"No, believe me, it would not." Elizabeth’s heart started a slow steady thudding that she was sure Tara could hear. She was ill at ease with all this deceitfulness, but thought that if anyone should know what she had done, it should be William first. She owed him that much.

"The library?"

For a moment it looked as if Tara wasn’t going to tell her but then she walked out of the room, indicating that she should follow, and gave her the instructions, commenting that she should really be resting her ankle, then making her an offer to escort her there herself which Elizabeth hastily declined. She had after all spent the night in William’s company so there was hardly any need for chaperoning now. Tara looked only mildly disapproving, then shrugged her shoulders, confirming Elizabeth’s suspicions that the normal rules of society did not apply here. Then she picked up her skirts, which were slightly too long for her, and which Tara had promised she would shorten in due course, and made her way down the stairs.

She had been quite some time with Tara, perhaps William would think that she really was angry with him and didn’t want to see him. The thought made her speed up her step, so that between her limp and the long skirts she nearly tripped over more than once. At last she found herself outside the library door and she took a deep breath as she reached for the handle. Why did she feel so nervous all of a sudden? Her mouth felt dry and her heart was still thumping quite painfully in her chest. Surely he would accept her apology for her earlier outburst? He did not seem the type to bear a grudge.

Or was it the thought of him seeing her in this dress? Every action she undertook of late seemed to be changing her into another person, and this almost more so than what she’d done to Caleb. It was as if she’d donned a disguise that had made Elizabeth disappear. She’d changed her name, her clothes and her hair and there wasn’t much of Elizabeth left at all any more.

And it didn’t just make her look different. She felt different. As she thought about it, her nervousness ebbed away and she began to feel more loose and relaxed and quite sensual. She’d heard the word, but had never appreciated it’s meaning until now. The softly caressing fabric made her skin tingle. Was this how a lover’s hand felt as he slowly slid it over you?

She opened the door just as that rather scandalous thought flitted through her mind and it couldn’t help but have reflected in her face, for when he saw her William stood up abruptly and dropped the book he was reading on the floor.

"Do you like it William?" She opened her arms slightly and stood in front of him.

It was meant to be an innocent question asked purely for the purpose of ascertaining his opinion, but it didn’t come out that way at all. The dress seemed to have possessed her so that she pitched her voice just a little too low for so innocent an enquiry. And her hips swung just a little too much as she twirled for his inspection. She knew she was doing it. Knew that her eyes glittered with promise and that her lips pouted more than they should, but she couldn’t stop herself. Did not want to stop herself.

She’d known this man for less than a day and here she was flirting with him. She hadn’t been wrong in her realisation in the bedroom. She’d had the same feeling when she’d opened the library door that here was someone very special who could make her happy, and that she ought to recognise it and just be happy. As she watched his expression turn from stunned amazement to something else, she thought that there could be nothing wrong in taking happiness when it was offered as a gift like this. So often people had the chance to be so, and even though it was right under their noses they did not act upon it.

Again that thought crossed her mind that she did not deserve this and that she would pay, but she pushed it aside. So she would pay, but later. Right now there was only this.

"You haven’t answered my question." She gave another wriggle which she knew would cause the gown to hug her curves as it moved. "What do you think?"

"I think..."

She saw him swallow hard, almost as if he was having trouble speaking and she nodded him encouragement. "Tell me, William."

"I think..." He looked down and briefly closed his eyes before opening them again, and staring at her with a look of such need and longing that the feeling of power it gave her at that moment almost made her feel dizzy.

"That you are the most beautiful thing that I have ever laid eyes on."

Chapter 11

William’s statement seemed to hover in mid-air between them. She appeared pleased with the compliment, her eyes were shining and her lips curved into a smile, but it seemed as if she was waiting for something else. As she stood expectantly before him he wondered what more he could possibly add that would better express his feelings at that moment. She was simply, the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He knew that his experience of beauty was limited but he couldn’t imagine anything surpassing this.

Even if she hadn’t had hair the colour of ripe corn, that hung in a silky mass over her shoulders, and eyes so large he could have drowned in them, and lips that were so inviting that it was driving him crazy wondering what they’d taste like, he would have still found her beautiful. His statement hadn’t come solely from an appreciation of what he could see on the outside, although that was undoubtedly very nice to behold. The dress fit her perfectly, except that it was a little too long, and the jacket where it gaped open afforded him a tantalising view of her cleavage, leaving his mind frantically scrabbling to fill in the rest of the picture.

All these things he could appreciate as a man, but there was something else. Something that other men would not see, he realised, because only he knew what it was.

The loosened hair made her look much younger, giving her a certain innocence that hadn’t been there when she had been wearing the bloodstained dress. And that in turn made him feel more her equal, more worthy of being her protector. But at the same time, her smile and the way she moved spoke to him more eloquently than any words could. They were like a secret between the two of them and he suddenly didn’t ever want her to give any other man the look she was giving him now. She’d said, ‘Do you like it?’ But he’d heard, ‘Do you find me desirable?’ And, ‘Do you want me William?’ She was flirting with him, drawing him in, and he was mesmerised by her.

He’d taken a step towards her before he realised that if he kept walking there would be consequences. What would he do when he got to her? He knew what he wanted to do, but it would be most improper, and he was painfully mindful that he shouldn’t take advantage of this woman he’d sworn to protect. And if he didn’t take himself off to some quiet corner soon and give himself some relief from these physical feelings she was evoking in him, then he was going to burst.

And still she stood before him, the smile growing more enigmatic, almost as if she realised what was going through his mind. Come here, she said, although her lips didn’t move, only her shoulders as she twisted them coyly, her hands folded before her.

Where did women learn all these moves? Was it just something they naturally knew, or was it something that happened when you were in the company of that special person? He thought that maybe he should be doing something other than staring at her like the idiot he must undoubtedly look, but he couldn’t for the life of him think what. He was happy to just keep looking at her, if he couldn’t do anything else, and then she seemed to take pity on him and gave a small laugh.

"I take it that you approve?" She gave another wriggle and then moved towards him, her expression softening. "Are you alright, William? You look so serious."

"No...yes...it’s just that, that...you overwhelm me, Buffy." He clasped his own hands together and looked down as he felt his face reddening. And when he spoke it was no more than a whisper. "Are you still angry with me?"

"No of course not." She was at his side, her hand on his arm, her face raised to his as she attempted to make eye contact. "Look at me William. I spoke out of turn in the kitchen, about things I have no understanding of. It was an injustice, but it was not your fault and I was wrong to blame you for it."

"No, you were not. I have stood by all this time and let Ethan beat Alex, because then he left me alone. What does that make me?"

Elizabeth sighed. "William, come, sit with me." She pointed to the small sofa in front of the library fireplace, and he let her lead him there and sit him down beside her. Keeping hold of his hand, she curled her legs under her and made herself comfortable. She contemplated his hand for a moment and then she looked up at him.

"I promised Alex I would do his chores."

William made to protest at this. She was undoubtedly a lady and ladies didn’t do chores, that was what servants were for, but she silenced him with a finger on his lips.

"No, I will earn my keep, but there is something else we need to do if I am to live here."

William held his breath. For a moment he thought she was going to tell him what had happened to her, and he really wasn’t ready to know. He wanted her to save it for a time when he was so besotted with her that anything she told him would make no difference to how he felt. He probably already was at that stage, but he couldn’t be sure.

"Don’t tell me Buffy." He turned her hand over, contemplating it as she had his. So small and soft. "I’m not ready to know."

She nodded at this. "I can’t speak of it yet, although I do not doubt that you, of all people, would understand. Tell me about yourself. I don’t want to upset you again as I did in the kitchen. Why do you have so little contact with the outside world?

She should know. If she was going to stay she needed to know it all. All the sordid details. Needed to know how pathetic he really was, and just what she was letting herself in for if the promise he’d seen in her eyes was real. She hadn’t run from the sight of him, but what about the prospect of being forever in the dark with someone? Of not being able to enjoy walks out on a sunny day with him? His mind was making huge leaps to the future, and where he’d thought solely of love and physical release, now he thought of the practical aspects of the relationship he was already having with this woman in his mind. Would it be fair to ask it of her? She seemed so much a creature of light, even though she’d chosen this for now.

He reined in his thoughts, feeling he’d already run too far ahead of himself on this, took a deep breath and prepared to tell her everything.

~{~}~{~}~

For a moment William’s expression was so grim that Elizabeth feared the worse. What on earth was he about to tell her? The disturbing thought did cross her mind that perhaps the vampire legend was actually true and he was about to confirm all the tales people told about this place, but she dismissed that it at once. Then she found herself panicking that maybe he did have something dreadful wrong with him and that he was going to die of it, and that she would have to watch him do so, and she already couldn’t bear that. A small knot of fear tightened in her stomach as she waited for him to speak.

"I can’t go out in the sun. My skin, it burns very easily and it makes me sick. That's why I never go out during the day." His face, which had been very tense while he was talking, relaxed somewhat when he finished as if he was relieved to be able to tell someone about this at last.

Elizabeth too, felt the relief flow through her as his words registered. It was not nearly as bad as had she had feared.

"Oh." She smoothed her thumb over the back of his hand. "And your skin is always like this? Is that why you hide from the world?"

"No." He looked a little embarrassed and turned away slightly. "I did something foolish, but it will heal. And when I found you, that was my first trip beyond these walls"

She continued stroking him, much as Caleb had done to her that first time he’d taken her hand, only where Caleb had been trying to seduce her, she sought only to comfort and soothe.

"You poor thing. You must have been so lonely." She couldn’t begin to comprehend what his life must have been like, trapped in this house. "But could you not have covered yourself up, perhaps worn a hat?"

He gave a small laugh. "It isn’t that simple, Buffy. I wish it was. Tara was so terrified that I was going to catch fire or something that she never let me out, and after a while it just became a way of life."

"And the vampire legend? How did that come about?"

"It goes back a long way. There have always been legends associated with this family, it just suited my father to keep them alive."

"And you also?"

His hand tensed, and she felt him pull back slightly. "It gave me a status I never could have hoped to have earned, and it kept people away. I couldn’t bear them thinking me a freak of nature."

"Oh, William, who would have thought that? You cannot help what you are." But even as she pulled him back to her and said the words she knew that he was right. There were people enough who would have laughed and stared and ridiculed, all because they did not understand.

"But you were out last night. What were you doing?"

"Rescuing you Buffy. Is that your real name?"

"No." It was Elizabeth’s turn to pull away. "I think I’d better go and start Alex’s chores. The poor lad is in enough trouble as it is." She twisted her legs to stand up but William tightened his grip on her hand.

"Don’t run away from me Buffy, I’m sorry I asked that. Let me help with the chores, your ankle is still paining you I think."

He looked so appealing when he tilted his head and smiled, as he was doing just then. Had he been out in the world he would have had women swooning at his feet with that look, Elizabeth thought. It said, ‘I’m just a little boy,’ but it hinted at something else. Something slightly wicked and exciting. And had he had more experience of women she had no doubt that he would have put it to devastating effect, leaving a swathe of broken hearts in his wake.

She laughed suddenly at the thought of her tongue - tied William playing the rake, but it was not just amusement at the thought, it was also relief. Relief and a strange sense of satisfaction, that apart form Tara and his mother, she was the only other woman to have seen that look. She’d never been jealous before, but now she was feeling jealous of women who didn’t even exist, and when had she started thinking of him as her William?

He stood and pulled her up with him, his expression having changed to a rather mystified one at her laughter, and Buffy felt herself warming inside. This easy companionship was such a gift, and they fell in tune with each other so readily. Yes, it would be easy to be happy with this man because he would always give her everything she wanted, and she would be so content that she would never demand too much of him. He opened the library door as they left and she gave him a gracious smile of thanks, then she linked arms with him and let him help her along the corridor to the kitchen, because she knew it would please him to do that.

Their own little world, their own rules, and she was learning fast. The incident with Caleb was at the same time the worst and the best thing that had ever happened to her. Unforgivable because she had taken a life, but putting yourself outside society gave you so much freedom, she thought. It wasn’t that she didn’t care any more, but what she’d done gave her a status, not one to be boasted about, but a status nevertheless. Where most women would have just given in and accepted their lot, she had somehow risen above that and fought back. Of course she’d never intended to kill Caleb but she would have fought him even to her own death, she realised that now. Knew what was inside her and what she was capable of. And here, in this little haven, perhaps she’d be able to work out exactly what she wanted from life.

She’d always thought it would involve a large country house, beautiful gowns and a handsome husband. Well, here was the house, albeit quite a spooky one, and the gowns were beautiful even though they were a little musty and very old. And the handsome husband? She stopped that thought in mid - track. There were chores to be done and she couldn’t sit around all day indulging in her girlish fantasies.

William gave her another quizzical look as he opened the kitchen door for her. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again when they were met by a smiling Tara who was kneading dough. She beckoned them into the kitchen, wiping her floury hands on her apron.

"Is no one breakfasting this morning? Alex has disappeared, and do not give me that face William." She bustled over to a large pot of what looked like porridge and began stirring it vigorously.

"Buffy, perhaps you can persuade him to eat something, some days I quite despair, and you can see that he is far too thin. Just look at him, you must agree with me."

Elizabeth bit back a giggle at the look on William’s face. He was a little on the thin side, but nicely shaped nevertheless. At least she thought so. Tara obviously looked at him with a mother’s eyes. He took a step back as she waved the wooden spoon at him.

"Don’t you dare leave this kitchen until you’ve eaten, young man. I don’t care how much wine you took last night." She turned back to her pot and continued with her stirring while Elizabeth watched in amusement as he tried to sidle back out of the door while her back was turned.

"Buffy, make him sit down, and do so yourself. I hope you like porridge."

She said all this without turning around, as if they were going over familiar territory. William raised his eyes in resignation, sighed and indicated Buffy a chair.

"She’ll nag us to death if we don’t."

The both sat down and Tara served them with huge bowls of sticky looking porridge covered with what looked like cream and sugar. Elizabeth had to admit that it looked and smelled very good and she was extremely hungry. She picked up her spoon and then remembered that she ought to wait for William to start. He didn’t seem about to give in, however. He stared at the bowl for a moment, then pushed it away.

"I have a headache." He scraped back his chair, and Buffy could swear that his bottom lip was sticking out in the manner of a petulant child. Then he pointed to Buffy’s dish. "Carry on, you must be hungry."

Tara raised the spoon again.

"Please join me William." Buffy gave him what she hoped was an appealing smile. "I wouldn’t feel comfortable eating alone." She looked at Tara who gave her a nod of approval and then back at William who was beginning to look very put upon, as if it had just dawned on him that having two women in the house also meant twice the amount of nagging that he was going to be subjected to.

"Very well," he grumbled, pulling his chair back in. "But I don’t like porridge."

Buffy was, by now, finding it very hard not to burst into laughter at the exchange. Poor William. To be shown up so, in front of a young lady he was so obviously trying to impress. And she hoped he would not hold it against her for siding with Tara’s in this. She needed to put herself on Tara’s good side if she was going to stay here, and feeding William was obviously the way to Tara’s heart.

Tara resumed her kneading at the end of the vast kitchen table while William stirred his porridge, spooning it and letting it drop back into the plate without actually putting any of it in his mouth. Elizabeth on the other hand was ravenous and had almost finished the plateful when she remembered the chores she had promised to do.

"Tara, I have promised to do Alex’s chores today. What does he usually do?"

"You? Alex’s chores?" She placed the dough into a large bowl and carried it to over to the range. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Yes, tell her Tara." William smiled sweetly at Buffy as if he was enjoying getting his own back for her siding with Tara over breakfast. "She is our guest and guests don’t do chores."

"But Alex is in no fit state. Who will do them if he cannot, and you will not let me?" She gave him her most innocent look, which was difficult since she was feeling most pleased with herself at having turned the tables on him.

"I suppose that only leaves me." He pushed his bowl aside, then jumped at the loud snort of laughter that came from Tara.

"What is it now? I am perfectly capable of doing chores. Just because I have not been so inclined in the past, doesn’t mean I can’t"

Tara shook her head and wiped her hands on her apron. "I would not trust you with any chores. Take yourself off for a while, William, I would like to talk with Buffy about women’s matters, fashion and such. Would you mind, Buffy? When you live with a household of men, you miss such conversation."

"I would be happy to, Tara." Buffy picked up the dishes and took them to the sink. William didn’t look too pleased at being sent away, but this would be a good opportunity to find out a little more about this strange household.

"Perhaps you would show me the house later?" This she addressed to William. It would give him an excuse to fetch her in a short while. Much as she wanted to talk with Tara she had a feeling that Tara could 'Talk for England' if given the opportunity, and she did not want to be stuck with her all morning.

As William reluctantly left the kitchen Tara fetched a large bowl of unshelled peas and placed them on the table. "Perhaps you could help me with these while we talk. I so wish Alex had been a girl. Now, tell me what everyone in society is wearing these days."

~{~}~{~}~

William took himself off to the music room, feeling pleased with himself that he hadn’t had to eat any of Tara’s awful porridge. Years of being forced to eat the stuff had given him a real aversion to it, and his stomach was feeling rather sensitive from the wine and brandy that he and Alex had drunk so freely on the previous night. On the other hand, he was feeling rather peeved with Tara for showing him up so, and for stealing Buffy away from him.

He wanted to spend every minute with her, but was beginning to realise that lonely as he was, so was everyone else in the household. He suspected that there was going to be competition for her company, which he’d naturally assumed would be exclusively his. From everyone but Ethan, that was. He couldn’t imagine Ethan having anything to say to her. Nothing nice anyway. He made a mental note to watch Ethan carefully. He hadn’t been pleased to find Buffy here, and William knew he was just biding his time, and that the backing down had been just for show.

He sat himself down at the pianoforte and tried to lose himself in the music. He could usually sit and play for hours on end with no problem, but today he just couldn’t seem to concentrate. His mind kept drifting to what a vision Buffy had looked in that dress, and to the simple fact that she was in the house at all. It was almost easier when she was with him. Now that she was out of his sight he found himself wondering if he’d dreamt her being here, and he wanted to sneak back to the kitchen and check that he hadn’t imagined it all, that she really was in there talking to Tara.

His fingers missed the notes yet again and he gave up. There was only one thing that he could do to relieve these feelings right now, and perhaps he’d feel better afterwards. Not so tight and wound up. He definitely needed to release some tension soon as it couldn’t be good for him to be around Buffy in the state that he was in right now.

He made his way to the library, chose two books from his father’s special collection and then sneaked along to the attic stairs. He opened the door and pulled it to behind him. He’d do what he needed to do, then he would go and rescue Buffy from Tara.

~{~}~{~}~

Tara was most insistent that Elizabeth tell her everything about fashions, the Court and the season, even though she had no real knowledge of what was current in England and what was not, due to just having returned from America. Tara seemed so starved for gossip that no detail was too trivial for her. She sat, wide eyed, as she shelled peas, and nodded and repeated "You don’t say, " over and over again as Elizabeth tried to think of anything that she might find amusing. After half an hour, and two cups of tea, Tara’s enthusiasm showed no sign of waning, but Buffy found her thoughts drifting to William.

Why hadn’t he rescued her? She had given him permission to do so. Perhaps he wasn’t skilled enough at conversation to have picked it up? And what possible excuse could she give to bow herself out of this conversation? Unexpectedly an involuntary yawn escaped her, reminding her of what a late night she’d had, and Tara picked it up immediately.

"You poor girl. Here am I prattling on and you look quite exhausted."

"Please do not think me rude." Elizabeth gave another slightly more polite yawn, patting her mouth as she did so. "I had such a late night that I fear I am as you say, exhausted."

"Then you must lie down for an hour or so." She hauled herself out of her chair and smoothed down her apron. "Now, which room shall we put you in? There are so many, but they are mostly closed up, and the bed linens will need changing. Come, come, dear, we will soon sort it."

Elizabeth followed her suddenly feeling a sympathy for William, for when Tara was in mother-hen mode she was quite ferocious. When they got upstairs, Tara thought for a moment then led the way along the picture gallery, past numerous doors, one of which Elizabeth recognised as William’s, and then she stopped two doors up from his bedroom and turned to her.

"Shall we put you in here?" She didn’t wait for an answer, but swung open the door with a flourish and held up her arm. "What do you think? They say at least two kings have slept in this room."

It was magnificent. Elizabeth stepped inside, taking in the opulent rococo furnishings and the huge canopied bed, all a little faded now, but speaking eloquently of past wealth and grandeur. The ceiling was painted with some scene depicting cherubs, and the walls were decorated in similar fashion. A heavy gilt mirror hung on one wall and there were double doors leading onto what looked to be a balcony.

Elizabeth had never seen anything quite so grand, even as travelled as she was, she had never stayed anywhere like this. Tara chuckled at her look of amazement.

"You would think that William would want to sleep here. After all he is a lord, but no, he has never cared for it. Prefers that gloomy room of his, and will he let me tidy it for him..."

Elizabeth yawned again, stopping Tara in mid sentence. She was never going to get rid of her at this rate, and Tara looked contrite.

"I am so sorry, here am I prattling again, but I am so excited to have you here my dear. Now, let us see what state the quilt is in."

She made a big show of beating the quilt and Elizabeth could swear that she saw dust coming out of it, but Tara seemed satisfied.

"It will do for now. I will make sure all the linens are changed before tonight" She went over to the window and drew the heavy curtains as Elizabeth sat herself on the bed and slipped off her shoes.

"Thank you Tara, you are most kind, and William is indeed lucky to have you."

"He is such a sweet boy." She plumped the pillows, causing another cloud of dust to arise. "But then I think you have noticed that already, have you not?" She spoke in a conversational manner, almost as if they were discussing the weather, but Elizabeth heard the deeper meaning behind the question.

"As you say, a sweet boy, and most gentlemanly." Elizabeth lay down, thinking how much more comfortable this dress would be to sleep in than the one she had worn last night. It almost felt like a night gown.

"Well, you have a little sleep and I will call you when luncheon is ready. I hope that you do not mind that we are an informal household and that most meals are taken in the kitchen. Although with you here, perhaps William will be more inclined to use the dining room. I cannot remember the last time the table was set."

Elizabeth closed her eyes, deciding not to continue the conversation, then perhaps Tara would leave her alone. She felt Tara watching her for a few moments, then she at last took the hint, tiptoeing out of the room and closing the door softly behind her.

She lay for a good few minutes until she was sure that Tara was out of earshot and then got down from the bed. Opening the heavy door she looked up and down the corridor, then slipped out and made her way to William’s room. That would be a good place to start, and in truth if he wasn’t there she probably wouldn’t be able to look for him any further. Tara seemed to have gone back downstairs so she would risk bumping into her if she did the same.

She knocked softly on William’s door and waited. No answer, so she knocked again. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t already been in there, in fact she had spent the night in there so she opened it and peered round, her curiosity getting the better of her. She had always been told that it would get her into trouble one day, but what was this compared to what she had done?

There was something that she wanted to see, now that she knew the room was deserted. What looked like a journal left open on his writing desk. He’d been writing in it last night while she’d been drifting off to sleep she had a vague recollection of him doing so. And she couldn’t resist having a peek. She knew it was wrong to snoop into someone’s private things and had no idea how she would explain being here if he returned unexpectedly, but she just couldn’t resist it. It beckoned her, still open as he’d left it and she thought she’d just take a look at a few pages. Maybe it would give her more insight into his character?

He may not have had much interaction with the outside world, but he did not appear a simpleton, by any means, in fact she suspected that he was quite a complex person. Since she’d met him he had been in turn a knight in shining armour, shy and inexperienced and a petulant and defiant little boy with Tara at breakfast. And there were probably other facets of his personality that she had yet to see.

She ran her finger down the page as she read his beautiful copper -plate script. Her writing was nowhere near as polished as this, and she smiled sadly at the sentiments that he expressed. He was wrong, she thought. She would ease his loneliness. Then she turned back a few pages and her brow furrowed as she read his most recent entries. He had wanted to die? So that was what was wrong with his skin. And these things were indeed private. She quickly set the page back to what it was and slipped out of the room, disturbed by what she’d read, and fervently wishing now that she hadn’t done it. Those were things he needed to tell her himself, when he was ready to do so. He could have done so this morning, but had chosen not to, and she had no right prying as she had.

In her haste to get back to her room she turned the wrong way and found herself at the end of the corridor in a part of the house she had not yet seen. Realising her mistake, she turned back, then she saw a door, slightly ajar to what looked to be attic rooms. She had indeed wandered a long way from her bedroom, the house was so big, but since she was here it wouldn’t hurt to do a little exploring. The expression curiosity killed the cat, went through her mind as she climbed the steps, but this was not like reading the journal. What harm would come from peeking into a few bedrooms? And the view from here would be magnificent, perhaps she would even be able to see the sea.

As she reached the top of the stairs she was faced with yet another corridor, and then she heard the strangest sound coming from one of the rooms. Gasping and stifled moans and for a moment a chill ran down her spine as she thought it might be a ghost. A house this old had to have them. But then as she listened she thought that it sounded rather like someone in pain, and she wondered if this was where Alex slept and he was having some sort of seizure.

Would it be proper to go and enquire how he was? She had after all tended to him this morning, and from the sound of him he was in quite some pain. She stood outside the door, her hand poised to knock. Perhaps she would, he had taken a terrible beating, part of which she was the cause of and it would be showing proper concern. She gave a light rap on the door and to her surprise the sound stopped dead. She held her breath, and for some reason she had the distinct feeling that the person on the other side of the door was doing the same. And then she thought that perhaps Alex had collapsed or something worse and that perhaps she ought to go in and see so she cautiously opened the door and peered in.

William was the last person she expected to see. He was half-lying on the bed, and when he saw her he sat up abruptly and just stared at her for a few seconds, before grabbing the book he had obviously been reading and slapping it onto his lap.

Elizabeth was pleased to have found him, but thought it most strange that he had come up here to read. Why was he not in the library? She smiled pleasantly and stepped into the room, wondering why he was looking so startled. Perhaps she had made him jump with her sudden appearance?

"What are you doing up here?" She looked around the room. It was sparsely furnished, as if it might have been a servant’s room at one time and did not look very comfortable at all.

And he still hadn’t answered her, in fact he seemed to be frozen in place, the book still clutched to him.

"Is everything alright, William?" She was getting a little concerned now. He didn’t look startled so much as shocked, she realised. But why would he be shocked to see her, and what on earth had he been doing that warranted hiding up here?

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