{Previously: A small grey cloud shot forth from Sid's hand and encircled Buffy's head. “Just breathe normally. This will put you into the correct mindset for your adventure.” In a bright flash of light, Buffy disappeared.}
Suddenly Buffy’s memories of Sunnydale became a cloudy dream replaced by knowledge of olden times. In a whirl wind of magic, Elisabeth Sommersby of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania became a reality and Buffy Summers a mere dream. Elisabeth stood before a rather tall Victorian home. The brick architecture rounded arched windows and flowery shrubs in the front yard seemed normal to her, as if she belonged. The clomping of hooves upon cobblestones echoed behind her while the scent of fresh baked bread and flowers wafted in the air. Several trunks and a hat box sat of the ground next to her. A lacey white parasol lay atop the luggage. Nervously, she looked down to see that she wore corseted ruffled dress of pink and white. *I’m here to visit my second cousins Mr. and Mrs. Heath and Rose Sommersby for a very long stay and to be introduced to society. Why do I feel like I’m in a play or something?*
After several taps on the knocker, a young servant girl only a few years older than her opened it and curtseyed. Elisabeth removed a calling card from her purse which she handed to the girl. White, violet and pink peonies adorned the train car shaped card that bore her name and address: her favorite flower and colors with the train denoting how the Sommersby’s made their modest fortune. “Hello, I’m Elisabeth Sommersby.” The knowledge seemed odd to her as if it weren’t her own.
The girl ushered her into the parlor adorned with a red Persian rug, two sleigh sofas and a small tea table. An older stately woman with salt and pepper hair wearing a dress similar to hers but in navy greeted her. “Elisabeth, I don’t know if you remember me. I’m your cousin Rose.”
“Hello Cousin Rose, I do vaguely from when I was a child.” The memories seemed foggy but there. She clasped the woman’s hands. “Thank you for letting me stay with you.” For some strange reason, Elisabeth knew proper etiquette but it seemed like she read it somewhere.
“You are quite welcome, my dear. With my oldest daughter married and living in the countryside, I could use the company.” She joined Rose on the sofa. “Saturday night we’re invited to Lord Wellington’s Ball. Everyone is looking forward to meeting you. You're such a lovely girl. I’m sure you’ll make quite an impression.” Concern crossed Rose’s features. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, why do you ask?”
“Before you came here, you had that nasty fall. Your guardian said you didn’t wake up for a week.”
“Sometimes I feel strange but I’m OK.” *That explains everything.*
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That evening over a dinner of sausages and mashed potatoes, Heath, Rose’s husband, joined them, a slightly rotund balding man jovially chatted with them in the rather dark candlelit room. They discussed the weather, upcoming balls and other social gatherings. “How was work?”
Rose looked at her sharply. “That sort of conversation is not polite for ladies.”
Elisabeth looked down and continued to nibble.
A few hours after dinner followed by more chit chat in the parlor, Elisabeth retired for the evening in her ivory and creamy orange striped small bed chamber. As she combed her long blond hair in the mirror, she giggled at her cotton white nightgown that covered her from head to toe. *You sexy thing.*
The next morning she enjoyed a hot bath to thanking above for the recent invention of indoor plumbing. At first she didn’t realized they had an indoor tub since it looked like a large wooden chest while the commode remained hidden behind a curtain. *During these times, people were ashamed of such fixtures whereas a hundred years later, they were exalted.* Strangely, Elisabeth felt that she knew that but had never experienced it. Moreover, she knew that the attic contained the water tank so the water could be heated and let gravity do the work to provide running water. A furnace in the basement provided central heating through convection. * How did I know that? Is this the result of my accident?*
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By the time Saturday night rolled around, Elisabeth’s cabin fever reached new heights making her anxious for tonight’s ball. Rose approved of her lilac lightly bustled layered dress trimmed in white lace with gloves and fan to match. One of the maids helped her arranged her blond hair into a braided up do with cascading ringlets decorated with miniature silk lilac peonies.
After a brief jostling carriage ride, the pulled up to a grand manor home elaborately decorated in spring time colored paper lamps. The scent of gardenias and roses filtered through the air while lanterns and candles gave the manor a warm luminescence. Within the marble ballroom, Lord Wellington a tall dark haired rather handsome gentleman in his late thirties greeted his guests as they arrived. As Elisabeth offered her hand, his brown eyes roved over her hungrily while his manners remained polite. Gentleman in top hats and tales chatted around him taking note of the Sommersby’s new young charge. She politely moved on with Rose guiding her towards the other young ladies while Heath joined a group of gentlemen his age not far away.
Cecily Newton a beautiful raven hair lady one year older than Elisabeth led the passel of ladies who chatted about the latest fashion and which of the gentry made the best marriage prospect. At first, Elisabeth chatted with them until Cecily steered the conversation towards poking fun at the other ladies who couldn’t afford the latest fashion or accessories. Soon the gold embossed dance cards were handed out. Before anyone else could approach her, Lord Wellington bowed before her and requested the first dance which she graciously accepted. Between the dance requests from Lord this, Earl that and Sir Whatever, Elisabeth’s head spun while a jealous sneer crossed Cecily’s face which she quickly hid behind her peach lace fan.
While her dance partners were polite and handsome, Elisabeth found them bland. All wore their dark hair slicked back, had similarly trimmed mustaches and dressed in almost the same style of long tale tuxes. A vision of orange dwarfish characters that looked alike flashed before her eyes. *Oompa Loompa much. Now where did that come from?*
Then she saw him: wavy light brown hair to run her fingers through, cheekbones to die for, piercing blue eyes that could look right through her, full lips made for kissing and spectacles which she found oddly adorable. This slender built stranger she guessed to be around twenty-four. While she couldn’t define it, he had a something that attracted her and an odd familiarity. Enjoying a break in the dancing, she coyly looked over at him in a silent invitation for dancing. For a brief moment, he glanced up and caught her eye but then he turned to the rest of his group and resumed talking.
Rose approached her. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
“Yes,” she answered. “Who is that gentleman over there with the wavy hair and spectacles?”
“That is William Pratt. Though his family has a modest fortune, he is not titled. One the other hand Lord Wellington has quite the fortune and has taken a great interest in you.”
Elisabeth glanced over again but found he had his back to the crowd talking his intellectual looking crowd.
“In case you’re wondering, we call them the Oxford crew as you can probably tell. We’ll be leaving in an hour.”
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Sunday after a dull sermon from an aged vicar at the nearby chapel, Elisabeth decided to enjoy the sunny afternoon with a long stroll. Wearing a comfortable light green flowered dress without cumbersome skirts and corset, Elisabeth carried her wicker picnic basket along breezing by other Londoners including ladies who greeted her with disapproving looks for her impropriety.
After a bit, she came to a park with a huge lake that twisted around at several points to almost form its own rivers around miniature islands. From her vantage point, she could see beach areas as well as shorelines covered with so many trees that they looked like they grew from the water. Every now and then a skiff would float by. Several ducks quacked as they swam around. Not far away, she spotted a huge oak tree where she put her picnic basket and shoes before skipping off to wade in the water. Now she felt free. Every once in awhile, folks rowed by giving her odd looks but she didn’t care that they saw her hiked up skirt.
Guided by a growling stomach, she made her way back to the tree to relax. From the other side of the tree, she heard someone plop on the ground but they remained quiet. Several azure butterflies flew around the tree with one landing on her picnic basket. Up close, white outlined the blue of the fuzzy looking butterfly. “I’ve never seen a blue butterfly. I wonder what kind you are.”
“Mazarine blue,” a deep sexy male voice quietly responded in a gentrified accent.
“Thank you,” she answered. “We don’t have them where I’m from.”
“I believe they’re only found in England.”
Once her winged friend flew off the picnic basket, she set out her spread. “Grrr, I can’t believe I forgot to bring honey. I’m such a ditz.” She didn’t like tea without honey. Just in the corner of her vision, a manicured male hand held a tiny round honey pot and a wood honey dipper. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he responded.
“Cheese, grapes, or chicken,” she said.
“Pardon,” he responded.
“Which is your favorite?”
“Cheese,” he replied. Elisabeth put a slice of cheese on a napkin and reached around the tree. “You don’t owe me.”
“I just wanna share.”
“Very well and thank you,” he said. “Do you like strawberries?”
“Yes,” she answered. Instantly, her handkerchief came back around with several strawberries. By the time they finished, her anonymous benefactor and she shared half each other’s picnic with her giving him even more so she wouldn’t have to carry anything home. “What’s the name of this park?”
“This is Battersea Park.”
The sun started to set in the sky so she quickly packed. Her cousins expected her home for a traditional Sunday roast. “Later, I have to run.”
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While she enjoyed her small vacation, soon Elisabeth grew bored with each passing day. On Wednesday, she ventured to the city looking at the various shops. Since it wouldn’t due for a single young woman of Elisabeth’s age to be alone, Rose escorted her properly. Several young men passed them tilting their hats respectfully. The cobblestone streets bustled with horse drawn carriages. The wide sidewalks had several ladies pushing baby carriages and couples ambling along. The gentleman always walked on their ladies’ sides closest to the street. Children stood on corners hustling newspapers. Various shops from bakeries, butchers, apothecaries to tailors seemed surreal like she had only seen them in paintings. The fashion houses held the most interest for Elisabeth.
One of the French fashion house boasted fashion forward dresses which scared away older patrons while intriguing the younger ones. Their dresses showed ankles. Elisabeth ventured in despite admonishment from Rose. While she purchased a lovely peacock hat, she noticed they advertised for part time help three days a week with weekends off at minimal pay. With a little manipulation, she got the job to be paid in clothing. That helped the week pass quickly but not Saturday at the opera which she attended with her cousins so they could all enjoy the box seats that Lord Wellington had reserved.
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That Sunday Elisabeth dressed down in another simple dress and left for the park. After wading in the water, she climbed the tree above where she had her picnic basket. Because of the thickness of the leaves, she could barely see the outline of the gentleman who sat opposite just like the Sunday prior. She wondered if it was the same man. With a loud thud, she hopped down to her side of the tree.
“Dear lord!” shouted a familiar male voice.
“That was just me jumping down. I climbed to the top.”
“That’s dangerous, especially for a lady.”
“It’s liberating and I can climb better than any man.” She rummaged through her picnic basket. “That’s why I come here. I’m tired of all the rules.”
“Rules prevent anarchy.”
“Whatever,” she replied. “Rules are so ugh and everyone is so proper. No one ever says what they mean here.”
A sandwich popped up from the other side of the tree. “Propriety restricts and binds us to a set of rules that no one questions and prevents free thinking.”
“Exactly,” she stated. “Everyone keeps pushing me to do what they want.” She bit into the peanut butter and jam sandwich.
“What are they pushing you to do?”
“Well, last night I had to go to the opera with a man I don’t like. Opera and me non mixy,” she said. “Wait a sec; I’m not sure I should tell you. I mean I don’t know anything about you or even who you are. Well maybe I shouldn’t know who you are so we can keep talking, all anonymous like.” She bit into her sandwich and thought a moment. “I know. You tell me one of your secrets but not a bad one.”
“Well, I write poetry.”
“That’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I should be embarrassed because I don’t understand it. Me and Shakespeare don’t get along.”
“Shakespeare is beautifully written but yes a little difficult to read.” He passed her a strawberry Danish. “I think that makes us even with secrets unless you have something sordid to tell me.”
“Nothing dirty, just embarrassing,” she conceded. “I don’t know you well enough to tell you though.”
“Maybe by next Sunday we’ll know each other well enough,” he stated.
Elisabeth read her magazine during which time her companion remained quiet. Every now and then she heard scribbling and a page turning until near dusk when they parted ways anonymously.
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The following Saturday evening Elisabeth along with Heath and Rose attended a game night hosted by Lord and Lady Brooks. In the small manor home, the handsome couple chatted with their guests in the living room adorned with several portraits of them and their three children. As Elisabeth studied the portraits of the happy family, deep down, she knew that a future like that would never happen to her. She was to die alone and young in a warrior’s death because she had no choice. *Why don’t I have a choice? I want happiness.*
“Miss Elisabeth, would you join us for a game of charades?”
She glanced up to Lord Wellington. “That sounds nice.” Through a doorway, she saw William Pratt sitting with a smaller group of gentlemen puzzling over something.
“They’re working on brain teasers and puzzles.” Lord Wellington patted his mouth in a mock yawn. “Intellectual snobs,” he whispered.
*No wonder he wouldn’t speak to me. I haven’t completed any form of education.* Frowning, she followed as he led her to the area where the charades group gathered.
After charades and musical chairs, they played Blind Man’s Bluff. Once all the objects that could be tripped over were removed, they blind folded Elisabeth and spun her around five times. “Stop!” she exclaimed. Everyone stopped moving, most already having found their hiding places. She extended her arms and cautiously stepped forth. A giggle here and a chuckle there alerted her to various presences. Each one she called out by name, pointed in that direction and stated how many feet they were away. Five steps later she felt a solid male chest beneath her fingertips. Lifting the blind fold, she gazed into the smiling face of Lord Wellington.
“You caught me Elisabeth,” he drawled. Nodding over his shoulder to the Oxford bunch, he blocked the doorway where William stood just behind him a few feet away. “Good thing too, you wouldn’t want to disturb them with our silly games.”
Several of the gentlemen glance up in amusement but William looked their way with pure anger before humbly lowering his eyes. “Sure, silly me,” she replied and walked back to the other group.
Towards the end of the evening, Lord Wellington escorted her and her cousins to their carriage. He bowed as he kissed her hand for a slightly extended period of time.
As the carriage pulled away, Rose waved to him. “His intentions are clear and he is a fine catch. You’d do well to encourage him.”
“Whatever,” she muttered as she rested her against the back of the carriage.
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The next day Elisabeth packed some egg salad sandwiches in her picnic basket and raced out to enjoy her day at the park. After she arrived, she placed her basket in her usual spot beneath the tree. Today she wore some boy’s trousers she purchased and a hat to hide her hair in. While she loved all the dresses and finery, she had the urge to run, fight, climb or at least do something so she did. By the time lunch time came, she ran back to her side of the tree. On top of her picnic basket, she found a tiny painting of a blue butterfly.
“Thank you,” she said to the other side of the tree without looking.
“You’re welcome.” Half of a ham sandwich came from around the tree.
She extended half her egg salad. “This is nice having a surprise meal on Sundays.”
“Indeed it is. Today, I have a treat for desert, blueberry torte.”
“But I didn’t bring any desert so I have nothing to share,” she countered.
“I have more than enough.” For awhile they ate in silence. “Are you alright over there?”
Elisabeth couldn’t help but think about the night before. “I hate men….but not you.”
“I’m honored ….I think. Why do you hate men?” Silence followed. “If some sod hurt you,” he started irately.
*This will get sticky.* “No one hurt me.” A small plate and fork appeared from around the tree with a slice blueberry torte. “I can’t tell you. You wouldn’t understand.” The plate started to withdraw. “Alright, I’ll tell you.” The torte returned. “There’s a gentleman I wanted to meet but he refused to ask me to dance because I’m not…..”
“Not what,” he started but paused. “Of high enough status,” he continued.
“It’s embarrassing.”
“Go on tell me,” he pleaded.
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Believe me, I would. I dare not approach the girl I wanted to meet because she desires someone of a much higher station but it doesn’t matter now. So tell me why you think this man isn’t interested.”
“Not smart enough,” she said sullenly.
“Then he’s a git.”
“It’s OK. I mean I like talking to you.” During his silence, she nibbled her torte and realized her faux pas. “I’m sorry. That was too forward or something right?”
“Yes but its refreshing. How about we forget about your problem and mine so to speak?”
“You’re right. Forget that stupid William Pratt ‘I’m so smart’ snob,” she muttered.
Silverware clanking to the ground rang through the air. “Pardon,” he stated. Standing above her was none other than William Pratt.
“Oh my God,” she muttered.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Everything about the trip back in time will be explained later. The first half of this story is Elisabeth and William. The spelling of Elisabeth is deliberate for a reason.
Chapter End Notes:
Please R&R. What did you think of the park scenes or anything? Thank you for your support.