The Vampire as Metaphor...Book III of the (Semi) Complete Works of William Soames Walthrop...
PG-13
Summary: A lost work of one William Soames Walthrop (...aka Spike) as it was delivered at one of Cicely Addams' house parties, shortly before Will's demise. See the reference to it in "Drusilla"...
Disclaimer: All BTVS characters remain the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and all other owner/creators of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer series...
Contributions to the recovery of the lost works of England's third worst poet are always welcomed...
Part IX...
Having requested a moment to wish her dear cousin a good night's rest, Elizabeth left Miss De Russel and found young Dr. Potter alone in his room as she had expected…
Though, eyeing what she could of his rather surprisingly lithe and sinewy form sans coat, waistcoat, and collar before he hastily and sheepishly grabbed a robe...
Perhaps a bit of the unexpected...
Geesh...This little chore might be more entertaining than she'd imagined.
"Hey, Petey…Sorry to interrupt the absolutions..." she glanced about from the doorway. "Willie step out?"
"He had a little business, he said…He'll be back soon."
You bet he does...She thought, contentedly...
"Great…" she stepped in. "Then ya won't mind me waitin'…"
Ummn, but…He blinked at her. Not quite used to the American way just yet…
"Anything wrong?"
Uh… "Well, Miss Springs…We are unchap…"
"Ya didn't say how ya liked my dress…" she twirled a bit, the skirt of the black dress, with bridal lace and white satin bow attached, rising…
Ummn…
"Marie lent me. For the mournin'…Gotta do it in proper style for poor ole unk, right?"
"Yes…Ah...Very…Nice…Is it the usual custom to wear white lace and trimming?"
"Only for special occasions…Peter." she smiled at him. "Anyways, it's a dinner dress, she's fixin' it up."
"Ah…"
"Handy with the needle, that girl…I wouldna thunk it." Elizabeth noted. "You ok?"
"Fine…Yes…" he nervously nodded. Avoiding a direct look...
Gettin' through at last, eh?…she thought, pleased.
Took 'im long enough…She eyed the nearest chair and moved for it. Beginnin' ta think there I was gonna need to get a few belts of whiskey in 'im...
Well, maybe the contrast with Frenchie girl clinched it. Nice ta see pale, consumptive brunettes don't spin his wheels. She gave him a warm smile...That's me boy...
And not too bad a boy at that...She allowed another quick appreciative glance.
Not that I'm gettin' soft or anything...He's vamp fodder...After all gotta be ready take a few losses to win Richmond as the General would say.
"Perhaps, Miss Springs…We being alone…" he'd begun. Turning to see her comfortably seated, removing shoes…
"The dogs is pooped…" she indicated her feet, wriggling toes. "What? Ain't we been alone all day?...Petey…" she grinned at him.
"Yes, but…Miss Springs…"
"Yeah, Petey…?"
"Your corset…"
"What corset, Petey?" she looked down at her chest, her blouse just slightly open…Well within limits of propriety, natch. Though perhaps just enough to occasion some interest…
"That's my point, Miss Springs…"
"Oh, don't need it now…Why, what's the matter?" she eyed him. Then glanced down…
"Did ya think I stuffed or somethin'?"
"Uh, no…"
"Right ya are…All Bethie…100 per..." she gave a grin. "Geesh, Peter…Not like I'm nekkid or anything." Wider grin at his blush. "You must have seen ya sis and other girls without a corset before…"
"Well, yes…But not a stranger…And not in a room, alone…"
"Are we…Strangers, Petey?" she asked, demure pout…
"I'm only thinking of…"
"Your rep's safe with me…" she grinned again. "Are the Brit girls as prissy as all that?" wider grin…
"Some…Not all…" he returned the grin, relaxing a little…
"Now that's better…I knows you're a straight (God, lets hope...) fellar…Saw it right off." she gave a slight frown.
"And you do know I don't go paradin' around for every guy I run across?" stern look…
"Uh, certainly not…I'm sure…"
"Danged straight, boy...But we're friends now. And I know you're a right gent..."
He gave a slight bow, with following grin. Bringing forth another grin from her...
"You got a sense of humor, Petey. I like a guy who don't take himself too seriously..."
"Thanks...Are you sure you wouldn't prefer waiting with Miss De Russel? She must be a bit lonely...:"
She involuntarily gave him a cool look...Huh?
You want me to go? Geesh...
Still, an opening...If played quick...
"I'm lonely too, Peter..." she gave him a long stare...
He blinked at her...
"Miss Springs, I really think..."
"I'm bein' too fast?" she sighed...Pathetically... "I don't mean to upset ya..."
"No, not at all...It's just..."
"I thought maybe you liked me, Petey...I like you." Demure stare.
"Miss Springs...We've just met..."
"I'm not the type to pussy-foot round when I like a guy, Petey...Peter..." she rose. Moving his way...
"Ummn..." he looked about…
For the door...Or help?...she wondered...Inwardly sighing...
Geesh, this is gonna take a little effort. Still, don't wanna scare him off...
"Sorry..." she backed off. "My intents were strictly honorable, Pete..."
"I'm sure..." he gasped a little. "But Miss Springs, it could...If someone else came in..."
"So ya don't mind it, so long as nobody catches ya?" she eyed him shrewdly.
"No...I mean...Well, yes...I mean, no...I...I'm concerned for you. Your reputation...I know...I mean I understand you don't mean...But certain people , Miss Springs..."
"I'll manage, Petey..." she smiled. "And I don't like them people anyway. Just tell me you like me too, a little..." she edged closer now.
"Certainly...Yes...Just...Further away, please..."
"I won't bite. Less you want me to..."
"Miss Springs..."
"Elizabeth...Beth or Bethie if ya like...Do ya like, Peter?"
"Uh..."
She frowned at his recoiling...
"Maybe ya prefer brunettes? Pale ones?"
[Please God, yes...Cicely thought. Staring at the now very animated...William as he read...]
"Miss Springs..." he frowned back. "You've no cause to..."
"Sorry..." she cast eyes down. "I just don' like missin' out on a good thing when I sees it..."
"Miss Springs, I really think..."
"You wants I should go...?" pathetic look...Tears welling...
Ummn...He stared at the sad, reddening face...
C'mon, c'mon...She urged herself. Les' get them waterworks agoin'...
'Sides he could be a lil' nicer. Geesh...Don't he like me? I ain't that hard on the eye, I know that fer sure. She tried to raise eyes just enough to check her image out in the room's one long mirror just above the washbasin cabinet...
A tear ran down. She kept eyes down but managed to catch a glimpse of his suddenly stricken face...
Ah...That's a lil' more like it...
"Miss Springs...?"
She rose...Slowly...Turning face away towards door...Slowly...
"Sorry...I shouldna come..."
C'mon, c'mon...You a Brit gent or no? You gonna let me go like this?...
"Now, Miss Springs..." he stepped over...
Raise hand to takin' positon...One step more toward door...Couple more tears runnin'...Good...
He took the hand, her left... "Miss Springs...Really..."
"I'm sor'..." she sighed, sniffling now, a few more tears trickling...
"You should be..." he said quietly, lifting her face to his with hand on her chin, firmly. A smile on his, she now saw...
Huh?
"Elizabeth...If I may call you Elizabeth? I'm sorry but I have to say you could use some acting lessons."
She stared at his wry smile...
…
Hmmn...Miss Ana, back on duty in the Germania lobby was frowning at the guest book as Willie Smackles entered at the front door, a large-framed man, clearly of the cloth by his garb, in tow...
"Chet..." she waved over a young fellow clerk, his dark hair plastered down with the latest fashionable greasy creme, frowning at his leer...
"When did this get changed? The Sheldon reservation?..."
"A coupla hours ago..." the clerk shrugged, eyeing the register. Where "Mrs. Emmaline Sheldon and party" had been scratched out in favor of "Miss Marie De Russel... "Messenger came by and said Mrs. Sheldon wasn't well and her friend Miss De..." he scanned the writing... "...Roosell.. .Would take her reservation."
"Mrs. Sheldon's never canceled in the nine I've been here. Every year for her fittings in town like clockwork..."
"She did this time..." the lad shrugged again. Another leer... "'Sides, the friend's just as loaded and more my style..."
"De Russel...Never heard of her..."
"From out West...California. And headed back tomorrow..."
"Confided in ya, did she?"
"You bet...I got my ways with the ladies..." Chet gave a confidential smile. "Which I'd be real happy to let you in on, after your time..."
"That'd be great...Only I don't think my Alex'd like it." she smiled back. "And I'd hate to hafta clean up your guts from the walls when he got through with ya."
"Ah..." he glowered. "What ya see in that dick anyways?"
Willie led the man of God to the hotel staircase. Pulling him back from the entrance to the hotel bar...
"Later Sweeney..." he hissed. "I needa sober preacher for this one, not a drunk's chorus of Irish love songs..."
"Mr. Smackles...You might be remembering I'm a man of the cloth..." the addressed and much to his mind put upon Sweeney returned.
"Only so long as the Council don't let Rome find out about them two dames." Willie eyed him. "And that missin' thousand from your parish funds..."
"Smackles...That's an accusation I will not tolerate...By my love of sweet Jesus, twas an accountin' error..." Sweeney's voice rose a bit, then as quickly fell as he realized others might hear the unsubstantiated, yet damaging falsehoods.
Hmmn...Had it really been a full thousand? Saints preserve us, what the hell did I spend it on?
"Just remember what you owe the Council, Father." Smackles pulled him along. "And if you wanna keep that collar, look sharp..."
"A guy who can wipe up the floor with the likes of you..." Ana smiled again at Chet. "Another one, eh...Where in California?...There's no home address..."
"Guess she didn't write it down. Hey, she paid up front..."
"Never register without the address, ya moron..." she glared. "When she comes down I want it..."
"She's off tomorrow morning with the others. Ask him..." Chet pointed to Smackles, now leading Father Sweeney up the stairs. "They were all at dinner tog...Hey..."
She'd headed to the stairs, calling to Willie who paused, Sweeney turning back to look at the source of sound, a bit apprehensively...
Phew...Not her...For just a moment, thought perhaps ole Willie here'd brought the damned hussy baggage along to emphasize his point...
Or, were there the two of them there last night? Jesus, me memory…Need a bit of the Lord's finest to straighten me faculties out, tis certain…
"Sir?...Could I speak with you a moment?"
Smackles, now a bit apprehensive himself...
"Yeah?" Cautiously...
"Do you know a Miss..De...Russel?"
"Hold it there, Father..." Willie held Sweeney firmly by the hand. "Wouldn't want ya to fall and break your neck..." The large Sweeney wincing in the smaller and slighter man's vise grip...
"Ya mean the black-haired number from dinner? I don't know her...Just an acquaintance of my...Uh...cousin...Can't help ya...Sorry."
"I see...Sorry to bother you...And you, sir..." she nodded to Sweeney. Who gave a solemn smile and return nod...
"Bless you, my child..." And the Lord kill that devil's passion in me hart for ye. Ye wild rose of...
"If you do happen to see her...?"
"She run out on her bill?" Willie asked.
"No, certainly not...We just need her California address...For the record..."
And the record is the record...As my Alex would say...
"Gotta cha...If I'm seein' her, I'll tell her. Come on, Father Sweeney, we ought to get upstairs..."
"Excuse me...Father? Are you staying with us?" Ana turned her attention to the large man...
"Nah...My ole friend the Father's just here for my cousin. A little consoling for the loss of her unk today. Les' go, padre...Poor kid's in need of some serious religion..."
"Of course, of course...Do excuse us, child..." Sweeney smiled benignly at Ana who nodded, pasting a discreetly sympathetic look on her features.
Ah...Sounds to me like that Springs girl's made a landin'. Not exactly seemin' the type to shed buckets for a dead uncle. She returned to the main desk, a thoughtful look...
"Chet...Tell the night dick to keep an eye on the Springs girl and that Potter guy. And to see the priest there leaves before midnight. I don't like the smell of things...Includin' you, get off...!" she pushed the clerk back from where he come up behind her, placing an arm on hers...
Not noticing the late arrival of one of the evening shift's younger cleaning girls...Looking a bit wan, if unusually determined.
Find Miz De Russell and keep clear of the blonde lady, Miz Springs, that's it…The girl reminded herself.
Miss De Russell an' Miss Springs, she mentally corrected herself, remembering Vladimir's friendly correction earlier.
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