~Title: When William Met Elizabeth
~Author: LuckyStarz
~Email: PunkPrincess41@insightbb.com
~Disclaimer: Nothing from the Buffyverse belongs to me. I’m just a poor high school student with a lot of free time and a very creative imagination! :)
~Summary: AU. Set sometime in the 1800’s. Buffy wakes up on her 19th birthday to find that she is betrothed to a Count in England, who only wants to marry her so he can inherit his father’s fortune.
~Pairings: Buffy/Spike, Xander/Anya
~Category: Romance/General
~Spoilers: None
~Rating: PG-13
~A/N: A little background info: Buffy and her parents used to live in London (although they’re not British). They weren’t royalty, but they were upper-class. Buffy’s father, Hank, was good friends with Count Charles Edmonton, father of William Edmonton. When Hank died (Buffy was five), Joyce decided to move Buffy to America because living in England was too painful for her.
Also, for those not key to the times, consumption is what they used to call Tuberculosis.
I think that about sums it up, but just keep all that in mind when reading this! And as always, reviews are cherished!!
P.S. Eva you’re the best!!
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~Chapter One: A Surprise Brithday~
Sunlight filtered in through the window, casting a beam of light on the small bed. Beneath the sheets, Elizabeth Anne Summers rolled over and stretched. Groggily, she opened her eyes and smiled. Today was a special day for her.
“Buffy! Are you up yet?” Joyce Summers called from down the hall.
“Yeah, Mom! Be right there!” Buffy shouted back as she slipped off the bed. She walked to the window and pushed it open, allowing a faint breeze to blow in. Then she moved to her washbasin and washed her face. Next to the basin was a small table where Buffy kept most of her belongings. She picked up a brush and ran it through her hair a few times before tying it back with a white ribbon. Then she snatched her mirror and glanced at her reflection, making a face as she did so. Finally, she grabbed her favorite blue dress, changed out of her nightgown, and headed down the hall toward the kitchen.
Joyce stood over the small wood stove, busily frying up eggs. As Buffy entered the room, she turned and smiled. “Good morning, sweetheart.”
Buffy hugged her mother. “Morning.” She glanced at the stove and raised a brow. “Eggs? How come I rate egg treatment?” she asked innocently.
Joyce swatted her on the arm. “Hush. You know perfectly well this is an annual tradition of ours.”
Grinning, Buffy took a seat at the tiny table in the center of the room. “Ah yes, the celebratory morning breakfast of the birthday girl.”
“But of course,” Joyce replied in her best French accent. She finished cooking and brought a steaming plate of eggs to the table. “Happy birthday, Buffy.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Buffy said as she grabbed one.
Joyce smiled and took the seat opposite of her daughter. As she watched Buffy eat, she felt the familiar pride glowing in her cheeks.
They had come so far in the last nineteen years. The move from England had been incredibly difficult. Leaving behind everything they had known and loved, all to start a new life here in America. Sometimes she missed it, her old life back in London. Things were familiar there. But then she looked at Buffy, and she knew it had all been worth it.
“Would you stop staring at me and eat?” Buffy said, glancing at her mother over a forkful of egg.
“I made them for *you*,” Joyce protested.
“Well, I can’t eat twelve eggs all by myself,” Buffy insisted, pushing the plate towards her, “so you get to help me.”
Sighing, Joyce took an egg and began to eat. “Happy?” she asked.
Buffy smiled triumphantly. “Yes.”
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Later that day, Joyce received an interesting letter all the way from England. Her mouth dropped open as she read the name of the sender: Countess Rebecca Edmonton.
“Buffy!” she called. “Can you run into the market?”
“But, Mom, it’s my birthday!” Buffy whined.
“I know, sweetheart,” Joyce replied apologetically. Her eyes suddenly brightened. “But I forgot to give you your present.” She snatched her purse and dug out a few crisp dollar bills. “Go into town and get yourself something.”
Without waiting for further incentive, Buffy grabbed the money and hurried out the door.
After she had gone, Joyce sat down at the kitchen table and opened the letter. In a delicate, flowy penmanship, it read:
Joyce,
It’s been some time since we’ve spoken, and I imagine this letter comes as quite a shock to you. I know it must be a bit painful to hear from me again, but there’s a few things you need to know.
First, I believe, would be the terrible news that my Charles has passed away. He was suffering from consumption and died just shy of William’s twenty-fourth birthday.
Second, is the actual reason for this letter. While going through Charles’ things, I found a betrothal contract signed by both our husbands. It appears their last wishes were for our children’s hands to be joined in marriage. And, although I didn’t know about the contract, I do believe this is the right thing to do.
Finally, I would just like to say that I know you left London because of Hank’s death, but despite that, I hope you can forget the past. Our children have known each other for so long, and I know that William can make Elizabeth happy.
You needn’t worry about a thing either. I have it all worked out, and if you decide to honor our husband’s last wishes, a boat will be arriving in four days to bring Elizabeth here. All you must do is make sure she boards that ship. Of course, you are also always welcome here, even for a short visit.
I know we haven’t spoken in such a long time, but I really have missed you, Joyce. I hope that you can find a way to push past the pain so that our children can be happy.
Sincerely yours,
Rebecca
Joyce read the letter over and over, trying to decide what to do. She had never expected to go back to England. Part of her didn’t want to. She had been running from so many things for so long. But the other part of her was dying to go back. She hadn’t seen Rebecca in fourteen years, and they had been the closest of friends. Besides, she couldn’t really deny her beloved husband his last wish, could she?
* * * * * * * * * * * *
“I’m home!” Buffy called cheerily as she stepped inside the house. Draped carefully over her arm was a long, black velvet dress. It had cost a little more than what her mother had given her, but Buffy had luckily saved up some of her own money helping Joyce mend gowns and had been able to afford it.
“In here!” Joyce called, poking her head out from Buffy’s room.
“I found the most beautiful dress,” Buffy squealed excitedly, rushing down the hall to her room. “I had to use a little of my...” she trailed off as her eyes came to rest on the open suitcase lying on her bed. “What’re you doing?”
“Packing your things,” Joyce said simply as she tossed Buffy’s clothes onto the bed.
Buffy waited, expecting her mother to elaborate, but Joyce said nothing more. “Why are you packing my things?” she asked finally.
Taking a deep breath, Joyce turned around. “I think you’d better sit down,” she said, motioning to the bed. “There’s a lot I have to tell you.”
Warily, Buffy did as she was told. She didn’t like the nervous look her mother wore; it made her palms sweat.
Joyce came to the bed and sat down beside her daughter. Lightly she took her hand, ignoring the cool moistness of it. “We’re going back to London,” she stated firmly.
Buffy’s eyes went wide, and her mouth dropped open. “What? Why?”
“Buffy, there’s a lot to explain, so just listen for a while, okay?” At her daughter’s affirmative nod, Joyce continued. “You remember how close your father and I were with the Edmontons? Well, before he died, your father and Count Edmonton made an agreement. They both cared about you and William so much, they wanted you to always be together, so...they had you betrothed.”
“They had us *what*?” Buffy shouted.
Joyce flinched a little. “I didn’t know, Buffy. Your father and Count Edmonton never told anyone.”
“Then how did you find out?”
“I received a letter today from Countess Rebecca Edmonton. It seems her husband passed away just this last year, and while she was going through his things, she found the betrothal.”
“So you just decided to pack up my things and ship me off to England?” Buffy cried angrily.
Joyce frowned. “Don’t take that tone with me, young lady. I am your mother and I know what’s best for you.” She sighed heavily. “Buffy, it was your father’s last wish to see you married to William. I just can’t deny him that. Besides, you’re nineteen now. Most women your age are already married. It’s time you settled down and raised a family.”
Buffy snorted. “What if I don’t want a family?”
“I’m sorry, Buffy, but I’ve made up my mind,” Joyce said firmly, crossing her arms over her chest. “We’re going back to London. It’s time for you to grow up and live your own life.”
“Why can’t I live my own life in America?”
Joyce lowered her head. “You don’t want this life,” she said quietly. “Do you know how hard I have to work just to keep food on the table? I mean, your father left us money, but most of it was spent getting here and building this house.”
“I can work,” Buffy pleaded. “I-I can work full-time. I’ll get my own job and my own house, then you won’t have to worry about me.”
“It was so hard to watch him die,” Joyce whispered, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. “Just watching his life drain away. It was so frustrating not to be able to do anything. Especially with you there,” she paused and smiled wistfully at her daughter. “You were so young.” She cleared her throat and wiped her eyes. “Afterward, I told myself that I could take care of you. I didn’t need Hank there with me, helping me raise you. I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it. So I left. Rebecca begged me not to go. She wanted me to stay with her and Charles, but I needed to be strong for you.”
Buffy smiled softly, placing a hand on her mother’s shoulder. “You were strong. You made it all the way here and you raised me all by yourself. You did it.”
Joyce cupped her daughter’s cheek, and a tear fell from her eye. “You turned out so beautiful.” She wiped the tear away and sighed. “I’ve spent too many years running away from my past, Buffy. I need to go back there and face my fears.”
“You’re afraid of being without Dad, aren’t you?” Buffy asked gently.
Joyce shook her head. “At first I thought that’s what I was afraid of, but as the years went by, I realized I could make it on my own. I had you to keep me strong.”
Buffy looked confused. “So…what are you afraid of then?”
“I’m afraid to let you go,” Joyce replied. “It killed me to watch your father die. I don’t want you to go through that kind of pain. Unfortunately, there’s no way around it. People aren’t immortal. I can’t protect you from the inevitable, and I would rather see you married to a man who can make you happy than an idiot who doesn’t even care about you. You’ve known William since you were born, and I know he’ll be good to you.” She smiled and took her daughter’s hand. “He’ll make you a good husband, Buffy. I know he will. You just have to give him a chance.”
Despite the feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach, Buffy nodded slowly.
Joyce beamed and wrapped her in a fierce hug. “Thank you.” She got up, wiping the backs of her hands furiously across her cheeks and left the room.
When she was gone, Buffy sighed and looked at her half packed suitcase. “I’ll give him a chance, but I’m not promising to like him,” she said quietly.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
TBC.....
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