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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. 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....

Comments? Please let me know.





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