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Chapter 3

"Gentlemen, I am so pleased to meet you. Your presence and new business operations have made quite a stir in the city, you know." Anya glanced from the dark hair to the light. "Now I believe you must be Mr. Harris and you are Mr. Montgomery."

They nodded. William was more than a little surprised at Madam Anya, though given what he’d seen so far, he wasn’t sure why. Clearly she knew how to run her business given the setting, very up-scale, but he hadn’t expected her to be that aware of who they were and what they did. He snapped back to attention.

"Mr. Montgomery, have I surprised you?" At the slightly startled look on his face, she laughed. "I like to know a little about my patrons. I see myself as a matchmaker of sorts and it helps me to find the lady most right for your pleasure if I know something about you. Gentlemen, there are a few house rules I would like to go over with you. If you find them unacceptable, I can direct you to other establishments that may suit you better. However, if you are amiable to the conditions, I promise that you won’t be disappointed in your experience. My girls are the best in Charleston."

Both men nodded as she continued.

"I will suggest ladies for you tonight. If you find that you are not compatible, you may request a different girl on your next visit and there will be no charge. I am very successful at finding the right person to satisfy a gentlemen’s needs though."

She proceeded with her practiced spiel. "If you have any special requests, please let me know and I’ll try to accommodate them. I do have a few items that I will not procure. Very young girls, or boys for that matter, are not part of what we offer. We do not allow beatings or physical harm to the girls. If you harm or attempt to harm any of the ladies, you will be asked to leave and never return. Finally, your contact with the ladies is limited to this house. Please do not seek them out or try to call on them socially."

She looked expectantly at the two men and they nodded in acceptance. Before she could proceed, William spoke up. "One thing. I actually have a girl I’d like to request tonight."

Anya looked confused. "Did someone recommend her to you?"

Spike looked a little abashed. "Well, no, I saw her out there in the alley while we were waiting on you. Buffy, I think her name was."

The look on Anya’s face was very off, somewhere between utter astonishment and high amusement. The moment passed and she composed herself. "So you’re interested in Buffy? I’m very, very sorry, Mr. Montgomery, Buffy isn’t," again that odd look crossed her face, "available tonight. She had to step out for the evening."

William leaned back heavily, his interest suddenly waning before leaning forward again. "What about tomorrow night? Will she be here then?"

"Mr. Montgomery I’m sorry, Buffy is not one of my regular girls, I don’t think I’ll be able to arrange for that to occur. However, since you seem to have an enthusiasm for blondes, perhaps Francine would be to your taste. If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you to your room." She turned to Xander, who had yet to utter a word. "And I’ll be back in just a moment to deal with you, Mr. Harris." She gave a quick wink as she walked out the door.

Xander felt as though the lights in the room had just dimmed. Madam Anya. She was beautiful. Those deep brown eyes, those ruby red lips, that tiny waist, the way she’d even put Will in his place. He was in love.

+++

Anya mounted the steps and guided William to a room at the top, knocking softly until the door was opened by a petite blonde dressed in a gauzy robe and little else. "Francine, this is Mr. William Montgomery. This is his first visit with us, so make sure he has a nice time."

Francine nodded and drew William into the room. She licked her lips as she shut the door behind her, taking in the handsome man before her. She loved it when they were as young and handsome as this one, instead of some drooly old man.

Anya turned as the door closed on one customer, descended the stairs and prepared to retrieve the other, pausing for a moment to check her hair and face in the hall mirror. She froze as she stared at her reflection. Why was she primping? Granted, he was adorable, all big puppy eyes, hair a little too long, nicely shaped. But she didn’t get involved with customers, not anymore. It was unwise to mix business with pleasure, even if he looked like he might be quite a bit of fun. She reentered the parlor.

"I want you."

The statement hung in the air as Anya blinked. Shy and retiring seemed to have left the room.

"Pardon?"

"You, you’re the one I would like tonight. Is that possible?"

She shook her head, her heart beating a little faster. Had he read her thoughts? She was normally very skilled at flirting just enough to keep customers engaged, while still remaining off limits. Had she somehow telegraphed her interest? "No, I’m sorry Mr. Harris, I’m no longer . . . active in that part of the business. I merely run the house."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Not ever?"

She shook her head regretfully. "Not ever. I have a lovely girl named Faith who should suit you however. She’s waiting upstairs now."

She turned to walk away and his voice stopped her. "You said we couldn’t call on the girls socially. Does that include you?"

She looked back. Apparently the puppy was persistent. "It would be better if you didn’t. I have no interest in being a mistress again."

"What if I just wanted to see you, take you on a picnic?"

She turned, irritated now. "Mr. Harris, I am not going to sleep with you."

He stepped forward, a little closer. "I understand. But I’d still like to see you again."

She turned and walked away without a word and he followed. She stopped in front of a door near the top of the steps and knocked softly. Faith opened it promptly, wearing a similar diaphanous garment to Francine. Anya spoke swiftly. "Faith, Mr. Harris. He’s new, give him a nice time." Her curt instruction complete, she turned and marched away.

"Is that a no then?"

Her back stiffened and she continued on with giving him a reply. Xander sighed. Well, he’d just have to try again later. He entered the room.

+++

Spike watched as the lovely Francine made small talk, poured him a drink, helped him out of his coat and onto the bed, then began to slowly disrobe. She was very nice, everything shaped just right to be a good handful and she clearly knew what she was about. But somehow he was just not interested.

She ran her fingers down his shirt, teasing him just a little as she dropped to her knees in front of him and asked what he’d like first. And he knew at that moment this was going nowhere. He could probably summon the enthusiasm to have a go with her, but it just didn’t seem worth the energy with the image of the other girl still haunting him. He wanted this Buffy, not some substitute.

Or better yet, he should never have come at all. Agreeing to Xander’s suggestion had been a bad idea. He’d always disliked coming to cathouses, preferring to have a mistress like Dru who he was comfortable with. That was what he needed to be looking for and Anya had made it clear she didn’t want anyone taking her girls off. But if this Buffy wasn’t with her . . .

He sighed heavily and looked down at the expectant girl. "Luv, come up here." He patted the bed beside him. "Something’s come up." At her wicked glance, he caught her questing hand. "No, not that pet. I’m going to have to be off. It’s nothing personal, you’re a fine-looking woman and I’m more than happy to pay the full price. You tell Madam Anya I was pleased with her choice. I’m just going to slip out the back way." He reached in his pocket and pulled out the proper sum and added a bit extra to it as he watched Francine’s lower lip tremble.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No, no. You were doing everything right. I just need to leave."

She stared at him strangely, but accepted the money as he left. He’d didn’t seem impotent at all, in fact she was fairly certain she’d noticed a bit of a tent in his pants when she’d been disrobing. But something had thrown him off. She shrugged her shoulders. Maybe he had a wife at home and suddenly felt guilty. That occasionally happened. Not too often, she chuckled as she thought over how many of her roster of regulars were firmly attached to a ball and chain, though they seemed to have enough lead to make it to her bed. She redressed and grabbed the money. Best to check in with Anya before she figured out Montgomery had left on her own.

~~~~~

Elizabeth stared down at the thin gold band on her left ring finger. One small ring, plain, a little worn now after three years on her hand. She sighed as she slowly removed it and placed it on the dresser next to her silver-backed brush. Maybe Willow was right. Maybe it was time to finally take it off and try moving on. She picked up the brush and stared at herself in the mirror. At nearly twenty, she couldn’t help but feel she looked worlds older than she had when that ring first went on her finger at the age of seventeen. She wrinkled her forehead, arched her eyebrows and twitched her mouth as she looked for the tiny worry lines she knew she was already beginning to develop. She gave up the quest and began her nightly one hundred strokes as she prepared for bed.

Taking off that ring brought back a flood of memories. Being sixteen, almost seventeen, asked to dance by none other than Angel, the devilishly handsome young heir of the Crawfords. All of her friends had envied her that night, as he twirled her around the floor, his concentration on her unbroken. She had felt like the belle of the ball. She snorted to herself as she continued the strokes in the mirror. One was certainly naïve at seventeen.

She completed her nightly preparations and moved to her bed, turning back the covers as she blew out the candle. Her thoughts wandered to the new girl who now slept on a makeshift cot in Fred’s room. How did she somehow become a home for strays? She really should have put her foot down, she hadn’t intended to take another girl into her home. But those big blue eyes and the lost look on the little girl’s face had touched something inside her. There had been no way Buffy could leave her at Anya’s, not with the possibility that some of Glory’s big lugs might try to find her.

She rolled over and punched her pillow. Lumpy thing. Sleep needed to come, the day would break before she knew it and she had to come up with something to do with Dawn. Maybe someone down at the market would know of a good family who was looking for some temporary help. Of course the girl had looked quite delicate. She’d probably be better off trained as a house servant and then sent to Boston. Possibly Willow’s family would be able to find a place.

A soft moan carried on the night air and Buffy punched her pillow again. She was certain that Willow and Tara had no idea that she could hear them in her room and would be mortified if she ever mentioned it to them. She was happy for her cousin, that she had found someone, that she seemed to have love, even if it was from a source Buffy would never have thought to consider. Sometimes she was almost jealous, watching the two of them as they cooed around each other and hearing the passion they seemed to share in the night. Was it even possible that existed for her? Anywhere?

And it wasn’t as though Willow and Tara had perfection. Their relationship never left the walls of the small house and Buffy knew that if any part of polite society ever learned about them, they would be forced to leave the city, and frankly, so would she. What they did simply wasn’t done.

Another moan and a soft giggle caused her to bury her head under the now flattened pillow. What were they doing in there that made them so happy? She wasn’t entirely sure how that part of their relationship worked and she certainly didn’t intend to ask. Angel had never made her want to giggle like that when they’d coupled though.

Yet another thing she’d been naïve about. It had been the kind of thing she’d whispered about with her school friends, read cryptic descriptions of in books she wasn’t supposed to know about in her uncle’s library, and dreamed about late at night. The idea that the act could be more than just procreation, could produce pleasure and ecstasy had fascinated her and she’d been so eager on her wedding night with Angel. She’d been sorely disappointed when he hadn’t shown up, after she’d fluttered around, feeling young and insecure without her mother to give her advice or suggestions, trying to look pretty and desirable for her handsome new husband.

The next morning he’d stumbled in, still a little drunk and reeking of cheap perfume. He’d taken her virginity in a flash, leaving her feeling dirty and vaguely used as he stumbled back out the door with barely a word. It had hurt physically, but she’d known to expect that the first time. But the second was only a little better, and so on and so forth. And emotionally it only grew worse. She knew that was why she had such sympathy for the whores she passed. She knew what they felt like, to be used, to just be a vessel for someone else’s pleasure but never a thought for her own.

Towards the end he’d been rough with her and made her want to cry. Not that she’d ever given him the satisfaction. At first he’d just been to the point, done his duty, waited to see if she’d conceived, then mounted her again. Exactly like the horses her father had raised. Just a brood mare. Except she was defective, and every month she grew a little more depressed when her monthlies had begun. That’s when he’d started to get rougher, drinking more before he came to her, laughing about her shyness after a year of marriage as he yanked away the covers and stripped her naked.

And then he’d died, coming home in a dash from his mistress because his father had discovered a discrepancy in the books and had demanded his presence. And she had been freed. Alone, solitary, but free. And that was the best way to stay. She closed her eyes and blocked out her thoughts and the noises in the next room, waiting for sleep to claim her.

~~~~~

William wandered into the stables and slipped into the stall with the new horse. Parker had been most peculiar about losing him, more so than he’d have imagined over a horse from someone with the resources of the Crawfords. Gordian Knot he’d said his name was. He patted the silky nose and laughed as the animal nudged him, apparently searching for some treat.

"Someone’s spoiled you, old fellow. Were you a pet?"

He reached in his pocket and produced a small lump of sugar, feeding it to the eager horse. He continued to stroke the smooth coat as his mind wandered. The contract from Wilkins had been on his desk when he’d come in, its terms staring him in the face. He gazed at it for a long time, thinking about what it meant. A legal commitment to the Wilkins, no more, no less, he’d finally convinced himself.

He laid his head against Gordian’s neck, soothed by the warmth of the horse which seemed content to be petted. He hadn’t really thought he’d ever marry for love, though the possibility had flashed across his mind more than once in those long months of planning with Xander for this venture. His father’s death had left him with unexpected resources and he’d known he finally had the chance to make himself into more than Lord Darlington’s bastard son. He’d resigned the post of ship’s captain he’d held since he’d left the Queen’s Navy and went to work with a vengeance, putting his affairs in order in England and making ready for a new start.

Drusilla had been easily taken care of. He’d thought he loved her when he’d first taken up with her, and she’d played the part well, showering him with affection, doting on him when he was in town from the long voyages. He’d kept her in fine style, having little else to do with his money then, and she’d reciprocated in the way she knew best. But he’d soon realized she had other visitors when he was gone and the sweet declarations of love were merely part of the illusion she created. So when he’d readied to leave, he’d settled a nice sum on her and broke things off, knowing she could be comfortable or find a new patron if she chose.

And there hadn’t been anyone since. It wasn’t that he didn’t have urges and desires for a soft woman to bury himself in, it was just he’d wanted something more. Something he’d seen between his parents on the rare occasions he’d glimpsed them together.

He knew his father had loved his mother as much as she had loved him. When they were together, this glow of happiness seemed to surround them, and even William, the apple of his mother’s eye, felt a little shut out from whatever it was between them.

But the love between them hadn’t changed the fact that she was just a simple country girl from near his father’s estate and Lord Darlington had been betrothed from childhood to Lady Amelia. The proper marriage had been made shortly before William was conceived and an heir provided by Lady Amelia a few years afterward.

And then Lady Amelia had died. William had thought perhaps his father would marry his mother then, despite her lack of a title or connections, and the glow on his mother’s face had indicated that she had the same hopes. The correspondence had flown between his parents after Lady Amelia was buried, as Lord Darlington made plans to come to the country and join them. But the sickness that had swept through the city had reached the countryside before his father could and the same illness that had removed her rival had taken his mother only a month thereafter.

So he knew firsthand there could be more between a man and a woman than what he would have with, what was her name again? Harmony, yes Harmony, that was it. But sometimes that combination didn’t come along in the person with the right name and breeding. Mostly marriage was just another business deal. This shipping company meant everything to him and he wouldn’t throw it away on the pipe dream of finding a love that might never exist. He gave the horse a final pat and headed into the house to sign the paper.





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