Part 4

And I manage it. When I wake up, I find I reached page 14. Ellen has come to find me, and she's standing in front of me looking very unsure of herself.

"I'm sorry, Miss. The Master told me to invite you to come and eat. I didn't know you were asleep."

"It's fine, Ellen," I answer, stretching. "I shouldn't have slept here anyway."

My stomach makes a noise that seems totally out of place given my elegant style of dress. "It sounds like food would be a good idea."

She giggles at that - a strangely childlike sound that makes me realise just how young she is. I feel a kinship then – like me, she had to face adult responsibilities too young, but unlike me, she would have expected life to turn out as it did.

She leads me into a dining room where William is waiting at one end of a long table. He gestures to the chair next to his, and I go to sit there. He lifts the lid off some dishes and gestures for me to help myself.

"Ellen cooks for us, but she's got enough to do without serving us too. We normally do that for ourselves. You don't mind, do you?"

"Of course not," I answer, checking out the food. It's some sort of stewed meat, and there are potatoes and some vegetables in another dish. I serve myself, and William does the same.

"How is your mother?" I ask.

"Better. She's tired now; the coughing takes such a lot out of her. She wants me to go out tonight, but I can't. I won't leave her with just Ellen. She's a good girl, but she's a child. She does so much for us already, and she needs to have some time to herself."

"Where were you planning to go?"

"Oh, it's just a poetry reading. Some people I know get together every couple of months, and we share our work. Not that I share anything, no. I couldn't. But I like to listen."

"Then you should go. I'll be here. I'll sit with your mother if you think that would help."

"No, thank you. I mean, I'm sure it would help, but I'll stay at home tonight anyway."

I decide not to push it. He seems determined not to go, and I don't want to talk him into something he's not sure of. If there's any irony in that feeling, I choose not to think about it.

We make small talk during the rest of the meal. He tells me little bits about his childhood, and I listen, soaking up the details. The more I get to know William, the better I can see how he fits Spike. It's as if you took William and gave him confidence - as a veneer anyway. The way Spike was - the bad boy image - that was his armour. You get the feeling that there was a lot of unhappiness for him between the man I see now and the man I grew to love. Now, he seems guileless and eager to trust and believe the best in people. Spike? Yes, there were elements of that still, but it was as if he'd been hurt so often that he had to try to hurt first.

After dinner, I offer to sit with his mother so William can sleep for a while. He certainly seemed to spend a lot of time trying to hide yawns during our meal. He agrees reluctantly, insisting that he'll just nap for an hour and then come to let me get some sleep, citing my recent traumatic experience as evidence of my need for rest.

Mrs. Spencer is asleep when I creep into her room. There's a chair beside the bed, and a book open at its side. One glance inside is all I need to tell me that it's a book of William's poems. He must have forgotten he left it there. I can't help myself - I take a look inside. There are several poems that seem to have been written for someone called Cecily. Spike never mentioned her, but she must be important to him. The last entry is just a few lines, and its style is different to the others. For a start, the ones to Cecily refer to someone dark, while the most recent is about someone bright and golden. I realise with some surprise that it's about me, and I close the book quickly and replace it on the table.

My sudden movement seems to have wakened Mrs. Spencer. She opens her eyes, and then smiles.

"Did William decide to go out after all?" she asks.

"No, he refused. But he was tired, so I said I'd sit with you so he could get some sleep."

She takes my hand at those words. "Oh, my dear, I'm very grateful. He's so devoted, but it does him no good to be tied to me. He should be out, meeting other young people, perhaps a woman who can make him happy. His inclination is to lead a quiet life, but it is possible to be too quiet. He needs to love someone. He always has. Yet … our situation means that few of the young women he knows socially would consider him a good match. They don't see beyond the shy young man with too little money tied up in a house that he won't sell so as not to break my heart. He's selling books to pay for the physician, you know. He tells me that he'll buy them back one day, but I can't stop him."

"He's a good man," I agree, echoing what I told Spike towards the end.

"He is."

She seems to doze a little, and we sit quietly like that, until she says firmly that she feels able to sleep properly now, and that I should go to bed. Her tone is clear, and I decide to do as I'm told. My room is only two doors away in any case, so I'm not going too far.

I'm wakened next morning when Ellen comes in to open my curtains.

"Good morning, Miss," she smiles at me. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did, yes. How is Mrs. Spencer this morning?"

"She's a lot better. She'll take her breakfast in her room, but she wants to come downstairs later."

"Good."

"There's a pair of shoes," she says, pointing to the floor next to the bed. "Mrs. Spencer sent out for them yesterday, even though she wasn't well. She estimated your size, but you'll have to try them once you're dressed. I've brought warm water for you to wash. Do you want me to stay?"

"No, Ellen, I'll be fine."

"Good, because I'd like to check on Mrs. Spencer again before I go downstairs."

She leaves then, and I pull off the nightgown I'm wearing, and give myself a wash. It seems strange to stand here, washing like this, when I really wish I could have a shower. There are certainly baths in the house, and I make up my mind to ask about having a bath later.

When faced with the dress I wore yesterday, I decide on a simpler route. I ignore some of the petticoats Ellen supplied for me, and go for a minimalist version of the dress. It looks ok to me, so I leave it at that, and go downstairs.

William is in the dining room, apparently waiting for me.

"Mother seems much better this morning, no thanks to me," he announces when I walk in.

I don't answer, just look at him. His face is a mask of guilt.

"I only meant to sleep for a short while last night. I really did. And the next thing I knew, it was morning."

"And is your mother upset about that?"

"No, of course not. She's just too tolerant of me."

"Not tolerant at all. She loves you. And, if she's better, maybe that's because she had some time undisturbed."

"Do you think so? Do you think that maybe all the nights I've spent time in her room I've actually been making her worse?"

Way to go, Buffy. Talk about putting your foot in it.

"I'm sure your mother would have said something if you being there was a problem."

"Maybe," he admits grudgingly. "But I'm failing in my manners. How are you this morning, Miss Buffy? Have you had any memories return?"

"No," I lie. "Still nothing."

"We contacted the authorities when I first found you," he goes on. "They couldn't work out where you'd come from, and I'm sure, if someone realised you were missing, that they'd have been in touch. You really are quite a mystery."

He gestures at me to serve myself. It's a strange mixture of rice and … fish? It certainly smells of fish.

"I'm sorry there's no choice available," he apologises. "We always have kedgeree on Fridays. You do like kedgeree, don't you?"

"I can't say I've ever tried it, or at least, I have no memory of trying it."

"Oh, it's quite tasty," he says. "Of course, I have Ellen add a little extra spiciness to it - it enlivens the taste buds in the morning."

I take a small helping, and gingerly raise some to my mouth. Definitely rice, and smoked fish, with bits of hard boiled egg, and there's a distinctly spicy flavour there too. It's not excessive, though, and it works well. I smile my approval, and William noticeably relaxes. I make a mental note that Spike's preference for spicy food dates back longer than I'd have supposed.

Over breakfast, he apologises for the fact that he has to go out this morning.

"I've got a meeting with someone. Truth be told, he's my godfather, and he's the man who invested my inheritance from my grandfather. He wants to talk to me about the fact that I've been taking some of the capital. I know I shouldn't, but how else can I keep Mother comfortable? We need to keep the carriage, because without that, Mother would never get out. And Ellen is such a comfort to her. When she's indisposed, she would be most uncomfortable if she had only me to rely on."

"She said you'd been selling your books."

"Not my books, really. Most of them were in the house long before I was born. Yes, I enjoyed them, enjoyed knowing they were there, but really, how many books can I read at one time?" He pauses then, before adding quickly, "Do you think you could bring yourself to sit with Mother while I'm out?"

"I'd like to," I answer, meaning it.

"Oh, good. It's so lonely for her, being alone all the time. She'll probably want to do some embroidery. Perhaps you'd like to help with something."

"Perhaps," I mutter, wondering just what I'm getting myself into. To tell the truth, I've had more experience stitching up minor wounds on me than I've had with embroidery.

"Tonight," William continues, apparently not noticing my discomfort, "is a party I really must attend. It's given by a frightful bore, and for myself, I'd just snub him and be done with it, but his mother is a friend of my mother's, and there would be words if I didn't go. Once, it would even have given me a little pleasure," he adds, before turning his attention to his food. He swallows a mouthful, then pours himself some tea before adding, "Another of Mother's friends, Mrs. Hardcastle, is coming to sit with Mother tonight. It's all been arranged for some time. I, er, was wondering. I mean, I understand if you wouldn't want to, but I thought it might help. I mean, perhaps someone there will recognise you. And, what do you think?"

"I think I'd know better what to think if I understood what you were talking about," I answer, trying to be as gentle as I can. He's obviously nervous, but I really have no clue.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm an ass, I really am. I didn't make it at all clear, did I?"

He pauses then, taking a deep breath, and another mouthful of tea. "Would you do me the honour of accompanying me to the party tonight? As I meant to say, it would be good for you to be seen, as someone may have met you elsewhere, so we could place you, and perhaps you'd start to remember. But, if you don't want to, I'd …"

I don't give him a chance to continue, interrupting with, "I'd be honoured to go with you. And that has nothing to do with hoping to get my memory back."

He gapes at me for several seconds before his face changes to the most genuine smile I've seen since I arrived here.

"Good, good. I spoke to Mother, of course, and she said she would have something suitable for you to wear. And the shoes have arrived, haven't they? Ellen said something. And considering all the things she does in this household, Ellen is a very capable Ladies' Maid - she can help you ready yourself. Not that you need help, of course, to look beautiful. I mean, …"

I can't help myself. I know that in this time and place, young ladies and young gentlemen do not touch when they're alone in a room - in fact, it's probably not even considered appropriate that we are alone like this, but I put my hand on his and thank him for the compliment. Far from calming him, this action seems to send him into a paroxysm of spluttering, and he quickly apologises and leaves the room, arguing that he must go or risk being late for his appointment.

Mrs. Spencer and I spend a very pleasant morning. She sews, and as she does so, she talks. She is very happy that I agreed to go to the party with William, and makes it clear that he only had courage to ask me because she had assured him there was a good chance I would say yes.

"He is too shy for his own good," she comments. "And it's largely my fault. When my husband died, and the truth of our financial situation became obvious, I largely retired from society. We lived quietly. I had a few friends who still associated with me despite my circumstances, but most of those I had considered friends, well, let's just say, I had my eyes opened. Mrs. Hardcastle, who is coming to sit with me tonight, has been loyal throughout. Of course, she married below her, so she is excluded from much of the company that excludes me and barely tolerates William."

When the opportunity arises, I ask about the possibility of a bath. She tells me she'll ask Ellen to make sure the boiler is on early enough that I can bathe before dressing tonight.

"And talking of tonight, I think we should go upstairs and choose you something to wear. That dress suits you so well that I'm sure most of my other gowns will fit. There's nothing new, of course, but I was never one for excessive detail in my clothes, and that means that they don't date as much as they could. My most recent gown will look beautiful on you, I think. William bought it for me when he came into his inheritance. I've only worn it once, and it really is quite beautiful. It's teal silk, with some lace, and as I said, it's simple enough to be, well, not too lacking in fashion."

We go upstairs, slowly, as Mrs. Spencer gets out of breath easily, but she bats my hand away when I try to help. Once in her room, she throws open a door to reveal a huge, walk in closet. A huge walk in closet that's depressingly empty. She picks out a dress from the back of the rail, and holds it up for me to see it. It really is the most beautiful colour. It's teal, but depending on the angle of the light, it seems to be both blue and green at the same time.

"Would you like to try it?" she asks, and I agree. I assure her I can manage without Ellen, and go back to my room to put it on. It's one use of Slayer flexibility that I had never considered, but I'm grateful that I can do all the catches without help. I return a few moments later, keen to see my appearance in the large mirror in Mrs. Spencer's room. It's really a very good fit. It's surprisingly low cut, with just a bit of lace saving it from being too revealing for the time, and the length is perfect.

"It fits you better than it did me," Mrs. Spencer says, smiling. "By the time it was delivered, I'd lost some weight, so it was looser than it should have been. William didn't seem to notice, and I didn't say anything since he would have insisted on paying to have it altered."

"Now, what are you going to wear with the dress?" she asks, but the question isn't addressed to me. She's moving to the other side of the room, and pulling open a drawer to reveal a box. She opens it, and sorts through some jewellery. "None of it is very grand," she admits. "The jewellery was the first casualty of our straitened circumstances. I did keep this, though. My husband used to promise me he'd buy me the real thing when he'd made his fortune. Poor thing, he was a younger son, and his fortune was just a fraction of his brother's. Even so, it would have been more than enough for us to live comfortably, but he wanted more. He gambled it on some risky business ventures, and lost most of it. He bought me this set at a village fair near our country house the year we married. I had just discovered I was to have a child, and we were so happy."

She holds out a necklace and hair clasp with matching stones which, were they emeralds, would probably be worth a very large fortune. She clasps the necklace around my neck, and pulls my hair up with the comb.

"I couldn't borrow these," I protest. "They're too important to you."

"The most important thing in my life is my son, and having you on his arm tonight, looking as beautiful as you're going to, is going to make him so happy. I shouldn't say this, I know, but I think he's half in love with you already. All I ask is that you don't break his heart."

"Believe me, Mrs. Spencer, that's the last thing I intend."

"I knew it, my dear. I just wonder how things will be when you remember who you are."