William sat with his mother and father at the dining room table, listening to his father prattle on about some business venture as he sipped his coffee. Every morning the family had breakfast together and it was the most absolutely tedious hour. William was half tempted to get married himself just so he could be released from the hour of monotony.
"So, William, that Buffy Summers that we met this weekend was a delight."
He had introduced Buffy to his parents at the dance after she returned from her little stay with Liam on the balcony. He had hoped he could avoid it for as long as possible but his mother had been watching them dance and insisted that she meet the young woman.
"Yes, she is," William answered steadily.
"She's a fine woman from a fine family," his father said. He peered at him over his coffee cup and remarked, "Seems you took our prior conversation to heart, son. I'm glad to see it."
"I've heard that their home is beautiful," his mother said.
"It is," William answered.
His mother looked astonished as she asked, "You've been there? When?"
"Last week I paid the family a visit."
"You were there last week?" his mother gasped and he began to wonder if his mother's hearing was going. Hadn't he just said he was there the past week? "William, why didn't you tell us?"
"I didn't think you would mind," he said. Why was his mother causing such a fuss? He thought visiting the Summers was just about one of the most socially acceptable things he'd done this past month. He'd hate to see his mother's expression upon hearing of some of the others.
"I don't mind that you visited them; what I mind is not being told! Do you know nothing of social graces, William?"
Apparently not, he thought.
"If they entertained you at their home then we must respond in like. Am I not right, Mr. Pratt?"
"Indeed you are," his father intoned.
"You must send the Summers a note inviting Buffy to our home. Hopefully we haven't waited too long to avoid scandal!"
William's thoughts drifted to Buffy's comment on him not belonging in polite society. Taking in what just transpired at the breakfast table, he couldn't help but think she was right. Polite society made absolutely no sense to him.
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Usually Buffy rather enjoyed her time in the town's various markets, but today all she wanted was to be home in her bed with the curtains closed. What had begun as a mild headache developed into searing pain behind her eyes and Dawn, ignorant to Buffy's plight, was rambling on about the dance and how it had been the most exhilarating night of her life.
"Wasn't it just the most spectacular evening?" Dawn enthused. "All the dancing and beautiful gowns! Did you see Cordelia Chase's gown? It was the most beautiful dress I have ever seen!"
"I tend to avoid noticing Cordelia Chase," Buffy said in a tight voice. "Doing otherwise rarely ends well."
"And you got to spend the entire evening with William Pratt," Dawn gushed. "I think he's the most handsome man I've ever seen."
Buffy smiled a bit at her sister's obvious crush. She had noticed it since he first visited their home, oozing charm and charisma.
"He's a bit old for you, Dawnie."
"Does he have any younger brothers?" she asked hopefully.
"Not that I know of, but I'll ask," Buffy said, giving Dawn an indulgent pat on her arm. "Are you almost finished here?"
"Can we get some taffy?" Dawn asked, using the softer tone that always made Buffy cave. Keeping tradition, Buffy nodded her head and said, "Sure, Dawnie, we'll get the taffy. Then we're heading home, though. It's a long walk back home."
They should have taken the carriage but Buffy thought some fresh air might help her headache. That was what everyone said, anyway. Fresh air was the catch-all-cure for just about anything. Feeling down? Catch some fresh air! Have aches and pains? Some fresh air should do the trick! The next time anyone told Buffy to catch some fresh air in response to some ailment she was going to tell them to catch something else.
Her and Dawn entered the general store where the best taffy was sold and she watched as Dawn pointed out how much she wanted to the man at the counter. The store was warm, unseasonably so, and she flapped her hand in front of her face in an attempt to cool off. It was rather ineffective and only served to tire her arm. She could feel beads of perspiration rise at her hairline and her petticoat almost felt damp against her skin.
She held onto a shelf beside her as pain snapped in her temple, setting her teeth on edge. Her vision was blurred and she blinked rapidly, feeling herself lean heavily to the side as a soft moan fell from her lips. She heard Dawn call her name and then everything went dark.
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The first thing she saw when she came to was the face of William Pratt and as she blinked slowly she murmured, "What happened?"
His face was pinched with worry. "You fainted."
"I-I fainted?" She went to sit up but her head felt much too heavy and she sank back down. She noticed then that someone was grasping her hand tightly and she turned her head to see Dawn beside her looking absolutely stricken.
"Buffy, you gave us all such a fright!" Dawn breathed out, squeezing her hand. "But you're alright now, aren't you?" She glanced at William with wide eyes. "She's alright?"
"Why don't we let big sis tell us," he said gently. "Buffy, love, do you think you can stand?"
"I will try," Buffy said, pushing herself up into a seated position. Her head still felt as if it were too heavy for her neck, but William slipped his arm around her waist and she felt that with his support she could, indeed, stand.
"Easy now," William murmured, arm tightly wound around her waist. "Let's go slow."
With his help she stood, but her legs were too weak to support her, and she slumped against him heavily. Her stomach churned and for one horrifying moment she thought she was going to be sick in the middle of the store.
"Where is your carriage?" William asked Dawn.
"We don't have one. We walked here."
"You walked here all the way from your home?" William asked in disbelief to which Dawn nodded timidly. "Bloody ridiculous."
Buffy might have been about ready to upchuck but she had enough vigor to reply, "We are more than capable of walking a few miles, William. And you should…" she trailed off as she clamped a hand to her mouth, turning to the side as she was convinced that the floor was to be tainted by the content of her stomach. Again, she was mercifully mistaken.
"Well, you aren't now," he said. "Come on, I'll take you to my carriage. Dawn, come on your sister's other side and help me with her."
With the two of them, they were able to successfully get Buffy to the carriage. William lifted her into the seat and sat beside her, Dawn sliding in on the other end. He told the driver to head toward the other side of town and she went to protest when William told her, "My home is closer and you are in no state to be in a jostling carriage for longer than you have to."
"But-"
"Not buts," William said firmly. "You are coming home with me. And lil bit, you're along for the ride, too."
Buffy considered fighting him but decided that she didn't have the strength. Instead she leaned her head back against the seat and willed the nausea to pass. Dawn seemed to have renewed vigor at the prospect of spending an extended amount of time at the Pratt home and began to thank him profusely.
"It's no problem. Besides, Buffy, my mother was just going on at breakfast about how I must invite you over for a visit. I bet even she couldn't have forseen my working so quickly." Buffy only squeezed her eyes shut in response and he asked, "You alright over there?"
"I feel like I'm dying."
"Now, I'm sure it's nothing that serious, pet."
"No, I'm dying," she blathered on, unable to control her tongue as pain dulled her senses. "I'm going to die before I even have a chance to win Liam back."
Delirious Buffy was apparently not against airing their plan in front of Dawn, but he had a feeling that regular Buffy would mind. He leaned in and whispered in her ear, "Buffy, love, I know you're in there somewhere. Pipe down, yeah?"
"He'll never love me again," she cried softly. "Even after I dangle-"
She was cut off by a twisting of her stomach and she leaned forward suddenly and emptied her stomach between her feet. William exhaled sharply and muttered, "Well, that's one way to keep her quiet."
"Buffy!" Dawn cried out.
The elder Summers began to sob softly in both discomfort and embarrassment. William reached over and took her hand in his, rubbing her palm soothingly with his thumb, he leaned in close again and murmured, "It's alright, Buffy. We're almost there."
"I-I'm sorry," she said, hiccupping slightly.
"Nothing that a little soap and water won't fix," he told her softly. "Now, you just hang in there. A few minutes and you'll be in a nice bed sleeping this off."
The carriage pulled in front of the Pratt home and William told Dawn to get out first and then help him get Buffy out of the carriage. Together they successfully got her on solid ground and they made their way up the walkway to the house. His father found them first and murmured, "What in the world?"
"Buffy fell ill in town," William explained. "It was too far of a distance to take her home."
"My goodness!" his mother exclaimed, taking in the sight of the clearly disheveled young lady, her cheeks drained of color. "Take her upstairs immediately! I will have the kitchen staff put on some tea for her."
They brought Buffy to the spare bedroom and Mrs. Pratt shooed the boys away as she said, "We have to change her out of these clothes. Go tell the housemaid to fetch us a clean nightgown."
Dawn and Mrs. Pratt rid Buffy of the soiled gown, Mrs. Pratt shaking her head all the while as she murmured, "Poor thing."
The housemaid timidly entered the room and offered the nightgown. Mrs. Pratt pulled it over Buffy's head and then helped her into the bed.
"You rest now, dear," she said gently. "Don't you worry about a thing. We will get you better in no time."
Buffy nodded weakly, her eyelids already pulling closed.
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William stood outside of the guest room, unsure of whether to go inside. He wanted to check on her but didn't want to disturb her if she were asleep. He gingerly opened the door, praying that it wouldn't creak, and glanced inside. She was asleep, blonde hair fanned out like a halo around her head. He moved forward slowly, careful not to make too much noise. Crouching beside the bed, he took a hold of her hand.
He had been terrified when he had first seen her on the floor of that store. He had been outside when he noticed commotion inside. Never one to pass up excitement, he wandered over to take a look at what exactly was causing such a rumpus. His heart felt as if it would burst from his chest when he saw that it was her.
He reached forward and pushed a lock of hair from her face. Her skin was hot beneath his fingers and he furrowed his brow in worry. He laid the back of his hand on her forehead and frowned. Carefully he rose from his position and left the room, walking downstairs to where his parents were.
"We need to call a doctor," William told them. "She's burning up."
"Are you sure?" William nodded. "Alright, we'll call Dr. Fitzwilliam right away."
"Poor thing," his mother noted quietly. "I'll go have the housemaid fetch some wet rags to cool her down."
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William waited anxiously while Dr. Fitzwilliam was in the room with Buffy. It seemed to take the doctor forever to ascertain what was exactly wrong, but then the door opened and he walked out, snapping his medical bag closed. Mrs. Pratt stepped forward and asked, "Doctor?"
"She has a severe case of the flu," he said. "She cannot be moved for at least a few days."
"That's fine," Mrs. Pratt said decisively. "She will stay here as long as she needs."
"Continue applying the wet rags to bring down her fever and make sure she drinks enough."
"We will. Thank you, Doctor. We appreciate your help."
He nodded and quietly made his exit.
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