William laughed nervously as he sat pinned in Willow’s gaze. "What can I say, I’m a bad rude man."
Willow was unfazed by the attempt at sidetracking the issue. "That remains to be seen. But it doesn’t answer my question."
William sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face as if he could wipe away his frustration. "Miss Willow, it’s really quite complicated."
"I don’t doubt that. However, I believe we have several days before we reach England. So you have plenty of time."
Well. He took in her look of resolve and gave in. "I’m in love with Buffy."
"Yes, I think we’ve all figured that out."
He gawked a bit at that. "Surely it wasn’t that obvious?"
A tiny smirk broke Willow’s severe expression. "My bedroom is next to Buffy’s, William."
"Oh." He had the grace to blush a bit. "But Miss Willow, you must understand, even if we were, perhaps, a trifle hasty in consummating our affection, I realized right away that Buffy was the woman for me, as my bride."
Willow graced him with a smile at that announcement, and then paused, her face falling. "Oh that wretched girl, that was the problem, wasn’t it? She swore she would never marry again after those horrid years with Angel, and now she’s running like a scared rabbit. No wonder she refused to come." She leaned forward earnestly. "You won’t give up will you? Faint heart never won fair lady and so on."
Horrid years with Angel? William made a mental note to pursue that point in greater detail with Willow momentarily, but realized that if he wanted this young woman’s aid and support, he’d have to come clean about the rest of the mess.
"I’m afraid that wasn’t the reason Miss Buffy was angry with me." He pressed on, suddenly eager to get the whole thing aired and hoped that Willow would offer some advice as to how he could mend the broken ties. "Before I met Buffy, I made a deal, a business deal, but it involved a marriage contract. My marriage contract," he clarified as though it wasn’t clear what he meant.
Willow’s eyes grew large as he related the whole sordid affair down to his confrontation with Wilkins and the threats that had been made. "But I’m trying to find a way out, still. I’m sure Wilkins has something he doesn’t want exposed, it’s just a matter of finding it. But if I can’t, then I’ll do what has to be done to protect Buffy. I won’t let her come to harm."
Willow listened in silence to the explanation until William concluded, obviously drained. "That is quite a mess. William, have you explained matters to Buffy?" she asked.
"I tried, but she, well she didn’t much care for what I had to say." He sighed heavily. "Miss Willow, if I can put things right, if I’m a free man, do you think I have a chance at all? Do you think it’s possible for her to forgive me?"
Willow shook her head slowly. "I honestly don’t know. You should have told her, been honest with her. Buffy . . . she’s always hated being someone’s pawn, something to be used. I think that was the worst part with Angel. That she was just a thing to him. But you’re trying, and that counts for a great deal. If you could come to her with no impediments, I think you might win her back."
He beamed. "You really do believe so?"
Her resolve face returned. "Now notice the qualifiers there, William. If . . . and that’s a big if, you can end this thing with Wilkins without some sort of scandal, you may have a chance."
He leapt to his feet and surprised the girl with a swift kiss to the cheek as he helped her up.
"William!" Willow touched the spot where his lips had just landed.
"I can’t help it, you’ve given me hope, and besides, if all goes well, we’ll be family soon, now won’t we? Thank you Willow, for both the advice and for listening. I have a goal and trust me, nothing gets in the way of my goals. Now, before you go, sit and tell me ‘bout this Angel bloke. Sounds like a right prat."
"Is she still moping?" Anya bustled into the room and nodded to the upper floor.
"Yes. She won’t admit it, says she’s just catching up on things she’d neglected, but that’s what she’s doing. She’s been doing embroidery - and you know how much patience she usually has for that."
Anya groaned. "This is ridiculous. I’m going up."
"Anya, she said she wasn’t receiving."
"Piffle. She’s not receiving, that means social acquaintances, not close friends."
Fred eyed her in slight disbelief. "I think that means no one in this case, Anya, but you can take your chances. Heaven knows she needs to talk with someone, and I haven’t been able to get her to mention anything related to him. She’s acting as though nothing happened between them, even though it clearly did."
"She hasn’t told you?"
"No, she won’t mention it all." Fred paused for a moment as though unsure whether to pursue, but her curiosity got the better of her. "Anya, what exactly did happened?"
"He’s engaged to be married, Fred, to that Wilkins girl."
"No!" Fred gasped. "No wonder she’s so broken hearted. I was sure he was in love with Miss Buffy."
"Oh, he clearly is. There’s just this big mess that needs straightening."
Fred raised an eyebrow. "And you’re the person to do it?"
"Among others. Buffy’s helped a good many people over the years. It’s time she got a little happiness in return, don’t you think?"
Fred smiled. "I do. Is there anything I can do to help?"
We’re working on it, I’ll let you know, alright? Now, I’m going up to beard the lionness in her den. Wish me luck."
"Come in, Fred, tell me what you think of this pattern."
"Good morning Buffy."
"Anya!" Buffy looked startled, then smoothed the fabric in her hand. "Well, you can give your opinion then. What do you think of this knot pattern - wouldn’t it look lovely in multiple colors?"
Anya didn’t spare the small hoop a second glance, though she did take in the black attire Buffy had swathed herself in and the rather severe and unattractive knot in which she’d pulled her hair back. "Buffy, what are you doing?"
"Embroidery, Anya. I should think that was obvious," Buffy returned coolly, as she focused on the needle in front of her.
"Don’t play coy Buffy, Xander told me what happened."
"Oh he did? So I take it Xander knows all the details of William and my little tryst. Or are you here to ferret out those details as well? Very well Anya. I’m a fallen woman and can no longer lecture you. Happy now?"
Anya shook her head and seated herself in the rocking chair opposite Buffy. "You know I’m not here to judge you. Buffy, I’m so sorry, I wish I’d known. I would never have encouraged you if 'd realized William had already made such an arrangement. I know that for you that’s a rather insurmountable barrier."
Something about the softness of her voice soothed the raw ache Buffy felt inside. Anya and she might not find middle ground often, but there was a sympathy and understanding in her friend’s voice that spoke of one long accustomed to dealing with the disappointment of the shortcomings of men. And compassion for her, despite her foolishness.
She dropped the pretense of the embroidery. "Anya, why is it so hard? Why did he do this to me? I know better, how could I have been so gullible?"
"I don’t know Buffy. You two fit somehow, as though you were a matched pair. You had an energy that was so rare, though neither of you seemed to realize it." Anya regretfully shook her head, "Well, it’s a crying shame. And even in my jaded view, terribly romantic."
"Romantic?" Buffy snorted. "Contracting to marry a woman is hardly romantic."
Anya waved away that triviality. "Not that part, dear. Him marrying her to protect you."
The hoop clattered to the floor as Buffy sat straight up and leaned forward. "Protect me from what?"
Anya’s hand flew to her mouth. "You mean he didn’t tell you?"
"Tell me what? So help me, Ahn, you’d better begin."
"Buffy, he tried to break the contract, with Wilkins, the night before he left. Offered Wilkins a nice settlement and everything. Wilkins threatened you, threatened to spread it around town that you were Will’s mistress if he didn’t go ahead with everything. Buffy, didn’t you know?"
The world seemed dizzy for a moment as she tried to process this news. "Anya, you’re sure? Did Xander tell you this?"
Anya nodded. "Buffy, William does love you. You at least have that comfort, even if he made some foolish choices. And that’s more than most of us get. Now, will you agree to come out a bit, get some air? You’re starting to look quite pasty. At least come by and visit later, have a game of cards with us. You can’t mope in here forever, Buffy."
Buffy nodded, her mind racing. "Tomorrow then? I’ll be there mid-afternoon."
Anya accepted the arrangement and rose, pulling her fine lace shawl around her. "I’ll be looking forward to it."
Buffy walked Anya out, then slowly returned to her room. The enormity of what William was doing suddenly hit her. He had tried to end things, had tried to free himself. And he cared enough for her to enter into a loveless marriage he no longer wanted to protect her as best he could.
Tears that she thought had dried up for good spilled down her cheeks at the thought of that kind of sacrifice. She knew firsthand the agony of such a relationship, trapped until death parted you from the person you were supposed to long for, yet grew to hate more every day because they seemed more like a jailer than a husband. She couldn’t allow him to do that for her.
The fact that he’d agreed to the deal initially seemed of little consequence now, because she knew deep down he would have walked away had Wilkins not threatened her. In an ironic fashion she was the linchpin to the whole equation.
Buffy stood and looked around the room, her bedroom that had been her haven when she’d fled Crawford Place, with its simple furnishing and light colors. She slowly walked out the door and down the hallway, pausing to admire the cozy nest she and the others had fashioned here. Her tour complete, she gave the old stair newel a final pat, her mind made up. As much as a refuge as this house had been, she needed to find a new home now.
"Fred, could you come with me downtown? I need to go to the Western Union office and send a telegram."
Fred popped round the corner, slightly startled by the sudden emergence of Buffy. "A telegram?"
"Yes, to my old teacher in Boston. And then we have to pack. I’m taking a very long trip."
"Wes, how are you? Did you have a smooth crossing?" Xander clasped the hand of the remaining silent partner in the enterprise of Montgomery & Harris. Wesley Wyndam-Pryce had the most polished pedigree of the lot of them, as the legitimate third son of a duke, who also stood to inherit nothing. He’d been a classmate of William’s at school before Will had run off to the navy, and they’d recruited him as their money man when they’d hatched the idea of the shipping company after Will had come into his inheritance.
"Fairly so, though I’m quite glad to have solid ground under my feet again. I don’t know how you and William stood all those years at sea." Wesley shuddered and polished his glasses as he took in the small office space. "Well, it looks as those you’ve made a good start. I’ve brought the documents from London, I think we’ve arranged an excellent rate of return on the cotton we’ll be bring in, several mills have expressed interest in long-term contracts." He glanced around at the two cluttered desks. "Where’s Will?"
"He just left a few days ago to go back to England, got a rather urgent message from his brother. He should be back in a few weeks. He’ll hurry home." Xander singsonged, "He’s in looove."
"Cupid’s caught up with William, eh? I expected it wouldn’t take long. He’s had that look about him, wants to settle down. One of the local gentry I suppose?"
Xander snorted. "Now does Will ever do things the easy way? No, he’s got himself tangled in a mess of epic proportions." He explained Will’s problems. "Perhaps you can help us try to sort it out."
Wesley shook his head. "If I can, Iwill. How does Will manage to get into these dilemmas?" He eyed his friend closely. "Now I suppose you are still footloose and fancy free, Xander?"
Xander grinned. "Oh no. I’ve been nailed straight through the heart, must be something in the water. In fact you’ll have to come round with me, I’m about to go see her now. I’ll see if she can’t get you set up with one of her girls. Just wait, we’ll have you shackled next."
"Xander, do not tell me you’ve taken up with some doxy!"
Xander’s face darkened. "Only gonna tell you this once Wesley, and that’s because you’re a good friend. Anya’s not a doxy, nor tramp. She’s an enterprising businesswomen, something you should appreciate, and as soon as I can convince her, she’s going to be my wife."
Wesley threw up his hands. "My apologies Xander, I didn’t realize you were so serious about the young lady in question. Then by all means, let us be off so I can meet her. My goodness, what is it with this country? Will’s bowled over by a widow who was his housekeeper, you’ve taken up with a madam, are there no places to meet, well . . ."
"Respectable women?" Xander laughed. "We’ll see what we can find you, Wes. But for tonight, I believe Anya can make sure you’re taken care of. Ask her for Faith."
"Faith? What a lovely virtuous name."
Xander just laughed as he turned the horses for Anya’s.
Buffy sat at her writing desk and nibbled at the tip of her pen. This was the last of the letters to finish off before she left. The first few had been easy, just little notes about various social obligations and so on. This one was more tricky, because she’d suspect the truth. That Buffy was running away.
She dipped her pen in the ink and began.
Dear Anya,
She paused again. Of course this wasn’t really the last letter she needed to write. There was one more. One to William. She owed him at least that, to try to make him understand that she realized, now, what he was trying to do for her, and that she couldn’t let him take that step. But she had more time for that later. Her glance fell on the bed she’d shared with him and she looked quickly away. It would be easier then, when she was away from here in Boston.
She sighed and returned to her note. Just a few short lines to say that she was headed to Boston to visit with family and she thought she’d make it a lengthy stay.
Of course that wasn’t quite the truth. She didn’t really want to stay with her mother’s family up there, they were as cold in their own way as her father’s side of the family had been at times. No, she was going to a place where she’d felt welcomed before and hoped she’d be welcomed again. Where she could be useful. Miss Greenlee’s School. She’d received the telegram this morning, agreeing to speak with her about a possible position.
It had given her pause, when she’d held that small scrap of thin paper in her hand. This was a major change, an upending of her life as she knew it. But then, hadn’t that been happening since the morning William had caught her sneaking across his backyard? This was just the best course of action for her now.
‘The path of least resistance, the easy way out,’ some treacherous part of her brain noted.
No, it was the smart move. Away from temptation and heartbreak and pain. ‘And love.’
She bit her lip and focused on the note instead. Just a few more lines, not to worry, would write when she was settled, wished everyone the best. There, she was done.
Fred would go to William’s for now, help out in place of the lost housemaid for which she’d never managed to find a replacement. She should be fine there, Xander would look out for her. The house was ready to close up for now, and would stay that way for a few weeks until Willow and Tara returned. She was happy she could provide a shelter for her friends here. It had certainly been a haven for her. She gave a final glance around and picked up her small traveling valise to carry with her on the long train ride as she arranged her veil.
She was ready to move on.