Reflection of Love
folder
BtVS AU/AR › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
8
Views:
6,022
Reviews:
73
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
BtVS AU/AR › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
8
Views:
6,022
Reviews:
73
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
part 3
Title: Reflection of Love
Author: Pattyanne snapkik@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: None of the BtVS characters belong to me.
Feedback: Love some, thanks.
Summary: Buffy has inherited a house, with an antique mirror in the attic, a mirror that belonged to William Cathcart over 100 years ago.
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.bit 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...eventually...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...
Author: Pattyanne snapkik@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: None of the BtVS characters belong to me.
Feedback: Love some, thanks.
Summary: Buffy has inherited a house, with an antique mirror in the attic, a mirror that belonged to William Cathcart over 100 years ago.
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.bit 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...eventually...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...