Faint Heart/Fair Maids

A William Fiction

Author: Jody E.

Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me...well, actually most of them DO! But William and Cecily are borrowed from Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. I merely toy with them for my own amusement. I have also shamelessly stolen a scene or two from Fool for Love…you will know it when you see it.

Chapter 1

A London Suburb 1879

"William," the weary voice stopped him at the doorway, "Could you please fetch me my shawl? I feel a slight chill."

"Certainly, Mother." William, his escape thwarted, brought the soft blue shawl over to his mother who sat in her rocking chair, staring listlessly out the window.

He looked out the window at the gray sky, "Do you think it might snow again, Mother? The weather has been quite cold these past few days."

His mother sighed, as though trying to work up the strength to reply. "I believe it may, indeed, William. Perhaps you should stay indoors this afternoon."

`Nonsense, Mother," William replied heartily, "The fresh air is quite bracing and good for the constitution. You should try it. Doctor Savage said that it would do no harm. We could go out for a walk."

She smiled sadly, "No, I don't think so, dear. Not today. But you go. I will be fine here. Perhaps, Betsy could bring me a cup of tea?" William went over to the bell pull, and rang for the maid. He waited for her to come in to the parlor, ordered the tea and a plate of cakes.

"You should be all set now, Mother."

"Thank you William. You are too good to me."

`Nonsense, Mother." He leaned down and kissed her pale cheek. She was not really ill, except for a slight anemia, but when Williams' father died, it was as if her very essence had been drained away, leaving a fragile shell of a woman who could barely go through the motions of living. It was a tragedy, thought William, especially since his father had died nine years ago, when William was fifteen, and Mother had shone no real improvement in all this time. William didn't mind for his own sake for he had his memories of the vivid laughing woman who had made his childhood such a joy. But he minded for the sake of his fourteen-year-old sister, Amanda, who had largely missed the mother William had known and instead had grown up with the distant ghost in the rocking chair.

His reverie was broken by a loud clattering in the hallway. Too loud to be Betsy with the tea, it could only be one person. Sure enough, a moment later Amanda burst into the room, her new ice-skates dangling from her hand.

"William! Just the person I've been looking for! Good afternoon, Mother." Amanda bent over and dutifully kissed her mother's cheek. Her mother murmured a greeting.

William laughed, "Amanda, how noisy you are! And why are you bandying those skates about? Don't tell me that Miller's Pond has finally frozen over."

"It has indeed. Constance told me this morning. And you promised to teach me to skate! It is a perfect day for it."

"Now Sprite, that was rather presumptuous of you. Perhaps I have other plans." William tried to look severe, but as usual with Amanda, it was a total failure.

`Nonsense! You never have other plans. Except to sit by the fire with some moldy old book! Or take one of those dreary walks of yours. "

William suppressed a sigh. She knew him all too well, alas. His social life had been pitifully lacking since he had left University and come home to work in his Uncle's bookshop. Perhaps living with mother was draining his energy as well. He really did need to make more of an effort to see some people his own age. Amanda, as much as he loved her, did not quite fill the bill. Perhaps skating was just the sort of outing he needed. It was all the fashion these days amongst people of his class, and Miller's pond was quite the meeting place. Still, it would never do to give in so easily.

"Perhaps, Sprite, if you were a bit better acquainted with those moldy old books, your school work wouldn't be in such dire straits."

"William! You promised me that we needn't talk about school until after the New Year! This is my holiday!"

"Fair enough. I promise. No serious discussion until January First."

"The second! The First is New Year's Day! The house will be full of callers."

William shook his head and smiled. Amanda would never be a scholar. She was quite intelligent, but couldn't seem to sit still long enough to complete her work to her teacher's satisfaction. She would much rather be out of doors, trying to play cricket with the boys or climbing trees and ripping her stockings. Mother had lost control of her long ago, not having the energy to keep up. William had been both father and mother to her for so long that, even now, they spoke as though their mother were not even present, and had no say in the matter.

"Well, I suppose we had better skate, then." William announced.

Amanda ran up and gave him a big hug, and he affectionately pulled her long chestnut braid.

Mother finally stirred herself and spoke up. "William, are you sure it's safe?"

She had not been sure that skates were a good idea, and had held off long after most of Amanda's chums had received them. Finally, this Christmas, William had managed to convince her that even the most elegant ladies were skating now, and that it was perfectly safe.

"As safe as houses, Mother. Besides, I will be there to look after her."

Mother sighed. "Amanda dear, please try not to rip your clothing. Betsy has her hands full with your mending, as it is. I cannot believe you came home from school without a single whole stocking."

At that moment Betsey came in with the tea things. William and Amanda kissed their mother, and each snatching a fairy cake from the plate, hastily made their exit.

Bundled in greatcoats and mufflers, William and Amanda raced to the pond. Despite her skirts, Amanda beat him as she always did. William was no athlete. Organized sports had been the bane of his existence at school. As a young boy, his left-handedness, slight build and myopia had not helped make him a popular choice on the playing field. But as he had gotten older, he had improved himself with a course of physical fitness he had read about in a book. The strict regimen, which involved cold baths, running miles each day and lifting dumbbells had taken care of the slight build, though he would never be particularly tall. There was no help for the spectacles, however, and he would always look like the shy bookworm he was. He had no idea that he had a certain grace and that his regular features made him rather attractive. All he saw when he looked in the glass was a light brown mop of untamable curls and the ever-present spectacles. When he took the spectacles off, all he saw was a big blur.

One thing which William could do well, was skate. He had surprised himself by picking it up so handily. It was like dancing, only there was no female partner to embarrass you and cause your palms to sweat, and make you forget your steps, and tread on her toes. No…skating was just pure movement, like poetry on ice. He and Amanda sat on a bench while they fastened their skates. It was a perfect day, cold and crisp with a smell of snow in the air. The ice was crowded on this Saturday afternoon. Most shops and businesses were closed for the Holidays, including his Uncle's bookshop, so entire families were there on the ice, with Mothers and Fathers pulling little ones on sleds.

The young fashionable set was also there in full force, William realized. He recognized a few of the men from his school days, and a couple from University. He had been to the best schools as they had been, up until his father had lost most of his fortune, and then his life. Fortunately, his mother had been an only child and had inherited a little money of her own, She had managed to send him to King's College for three years, so they weren't exactly poor, but he was no longer a part of their set, if indeed he ever had been. William watched them skating together, the ladies in velvet cloaks, trimmed with fur, the gentlemen in handsome greatcoats and beaver hats. William looked down at his own coat and that of his sister. They were good quality, sturdy and well made, but they lacked….style. Well, William thought fiercely, he was making a decent salary now. No reason why they couldn't dress with a little more panache.

"William…have you fallen asleep?" Amanda poked him in the side. "I'm ready to skate."

"At your service, my lady." William arose, and with a bow and a flourish took Amanda's hand and led her onto the ice, the others forgotten.

Amanda was a natural athlete and within the hour was skating as though she had been practicing all her life. William let her join Constance, and her school chums who were giggling together in a clump. It was a shame, William thought, watching her youthful exuberance. Soon, she would have to give up her girlish frocks for ridiculous gowns with corsets and bustles and would have to tease and torture her beautiful hair into puffs and curls. All for the sake of fashion.

Still, the results could be rather pleasing, William thought as a couple of fashionable young ladies skated past him, their cheeks glowing in the frosty air. They smiled at him as he slowly twirled in front of them, and inspired by their interest, he began to skate backwards, a little trick he had taught himself last winter. The ladies were looking at him with great interest. One was even calling out to him, but William couldn't make out what she was saying. By the time he realized that she was warning him to watch out, it was too late: he had crashed right into Vicar Harrington and his wife, who were enjoying a bit of post-prandial exercise. The three of them fell together into a heap. Poor William scrambled to his feet, mortally embarrassed, and tried to assist Mrs. Harrington in getting back on her feet. This was quite difficult, as she was rather stout, and her skates were quite wobbly. With the vicar's assistance, they finally managed, but the effort caused William's suddenly recalcitrant skates to fly out from under him again and before he knew it what happened, he was sitting on the ice looking up into the laughing faces of the very ladies he had been trying to impress. He blushed scarlet, as one of the ladies reached out her hand to help him up. She had light brown hair and a mischievous look in her blue eyes. As he got to his feet with her kind assistance, William happened to glance at her companion. She was almost as tall as he was, with dark brown curls and somber dark eyes. William thought that she was the most beautiful creature he had ever beheld.

He looked around for the vicar and his wife, to offer further apologies but they were already skating away, Mr. Harrington helping his wife toward the benches. He would send Mrs. Harrington flowers on the morrow, William decided. And perhaps these young ladies as well, for trying to warn him and coming to his aid.

The light haired lady laughed, "My goodness. That was rather amazing! Are you in one piece?"

"Y-yes, thank you. Though I'm afraid I may have injured poor Mrs. Harrington."

"Oh, I'm sure she hasn't been too badly damaged. Lots of padding, you know." This was from the dark haired beauty.

Her friend laughed, "Oh Cecily...you are heartless!"

Cecily. What a poetic name. Cecily of the raven hair and ebony eyes. William was entranced. He bowed to the ladies. "I apologize for my clumsiness. William Atherton at your service."

The light haired one laughed again. "Oh you are awfully formal for a man who has just been in such a fearful collision. I am Elizabeth Waverly and this is my dear friend Cecily Addams. "

Cecily smiled at William politely, but then turned to Elizabeth and said, "Honestly Beth. Must we stand here all day? Your brother is waiting for us with hot cocoa, and I could use some." She smiled coolly at William. "It was a pleasure. Only next time when somebody yells `watch out,' I suggest you…watch out. Come, Beth." She turned and started to skate away. But Elizabeth was staring at William curiously.

"Excuse me, but weren't you at school with my brother John?"

"John Waverly? Captain of the cricket team?"

Beth laughed. "That's the one, and still mad for the game, though he's supposed to be in business, you know. Stocks and all that. With father."

"I know Waverly. Nice chap." If one didn't accidentally hit him in the head with a cricket ball, that is.

"Well, come join us then. I'm sure John would be delighted to see you."

William very much doubted that John would be delighted to see him. But the girl of his dreams was skating away from him, and this might be his only opportunity to see her again. "Faint heart never won fair maid," he lectured himself.

"I'd be delighted to join you, " He said, and they skated off together towards the benches.

Chapter 2

William approached the crowd with some trepidation. Had they witnessed his shameful performance on the ice? A tall man with wavy brown hair and an impressive mustache skated over to them.

"Bethy! There you are. We all thought you had fallen in!" He noticed William, "I say, aren't you the champion bowler, knocking over Vicars left and right like ten pins?"

Well, William thought, there was the answer to that question. He blushed, but attempted to keep his head.

"That was I, I'm afraid. Your, er, sister, was kind enough to lend me a helping hand."

Cecily came up to them, "I do believe he was trying to launch Mrs. Harrington out to sea."

"She does rather resemble a battle ship." Elisabeth quipped. "The HMS Harrington!"

"More like a battle axe!" Replied John. He looked at William. "Come have a drink. We always appreciate somebody who can take the Vicar down a peg or two. Maybe you knocked a bit of the fire and brimstone out of him, and he will go a bit easier on us poor sinners tomorrow."

Waverly didn't seem to recognize him from school, which was rather to the good, William thought. He held out his hand. "Thank you. William Atherton."

John shook his hand. "John Waverly here. My friends call me Wavy, because of my hair." He led William over to the men who were passing around a flask. He called out to them. "Listen up. This is Will Atherton, a very dangerous man. He's the one who sent Vicar Harrington and the missus for a spin. Oh, and stay out of his way when he has a cricket ball in his hand."

A chorus of laughter and applause greeted William, and he flushed with pleasure. Apparently the cricket ball incident had been remembered but forgiven. Someone handed him the flask. It was warm to his touch and contained a hot toddy of some sort. Not cocoa, which the ladies were having. William was quite unused to strong drink, but he took a gulp, and felt the heat sear down his throat. He was immediately warm all the way down to his toes. He handed the flask back.

"And what do you do, old chap?" asked one of the other gentlemen, introduced as Michael.

"I manage a book store for my uncle. The Mighty Pen, in Bloomsbury, perhaps you've heard of it? It will be mine eventually."

Another chap spoke up, "Of course. I bought most of my books there when I was at Kings. You were there as well? You look familiar."

"Yes. I did a course in Liberal Arts."

"Oh yes, I recall. You wrote poetry, did you not?"

"Occasionally. Not very well, I fear."

"Oh nonsense…your verses were legendary. Were they not, James?"

The fellow named James, with ginger hair and mustaches, just laughed. William laughed also. He was amazed at how easily he seemed to blend in with this sophisticated crowd. Just then Elizabeth came over and said to the group, "Come, gentlemen…we need some masculine opinions. We are discussing the Twelfth Night ball. It is barely a week away, and we need a theme for the fancy dress."

The ladies were sitting on the benches, removing their skates, as the short day would soon be ending. William was amazed at how much time had passed. Guiltily he looked around for Amanda, whom he had quite forgotten, but she was still happily talking with her friends. William joined the men on the benches.

"We need a fresh idea. Something daring and original." Said Elizabeth, looking at William.

"Why do you need a theme?" asked William, "If it's to be a masquerade?"

"Because, without a theme, all of the ladies tend to show up dressed as Cleopatra, and the men as pirates. It's quite dreadful." Cecily remarked.

"We had quite an amusing ball for the Queen's Golden Jubilee last June. We did famous couples from history." This from a sprightly blonde, " Michael and I went as The Mad Hatter and Alice!"

Cecily raised her eyebrows, "Not that they were exactly a couple, Felicity. But the costumes were well done."

James remarked, "William, here, owns a bookshop. Perhaps he can suggest something new."

"I-I don't actually own the shop as yet." William temporized.

"Oh, come now, don't be modest, William. Give us your ideas." Elizabeth regarded him with sparkling eyes.

William would have rather liked to see Cecily as Cleopatra...It would suit her dark hair and eyes. But he tried to think of an original idea for a masked ball.

"How about famous characters from Shakespeare? It certainly suits Twelfth Night." He could imagine Cecily as Juliet. But would he dare Romeo?

`Sorry. We did that one last Hallow E'en." Cecily replied. "It was quite tiresome, actually. All those heavy velvets and brocade. Though the men did look jolly in tights."

"Please not that again, "laughed Michael.

"Greek gods and goddesses, " suggested Felicity. "I would adore to be Aphrodite."

"But then everybody would look the same, all togas and laurel wreaths."

"Well, there's always Tarts and Vicars," suggested Elizabeth with a twinkle.

"No, no no!" Exclaimed John, "No more cassocks!"

Everybody laughed.

"Given up the priesthood for good, have you, Wavy, old chap? Then watch out for the Devil! He will be after you next." Michael pretended to prod John with an imaginary pitchfork.

"Actually that has become rather a popular topic at the bookshop," William spoke up suddenly, quite surprising himself.

"What's that?" asked Cecily.

Emboldened by her interest, William explained, "W-why the occult and the supernatural. We have an entire section of it, which has become quite popular lately. Uh…Speaking of the devil, that is."

"The Supernatural," said Elizabeth, her eyes alight. "You are referring to ghosts and goblins and witches, are you not?"

"And Wizards. And Frankenstein's monster." Added Felicity, "What fun that would be!"

"Surely that would be more appropriate to Hallow E'en, "Said Cecily dismissively.

"But that is months and months off," complained Elizabeth, "I'd like to do it now!"

"We could get my cousin Daphne to dress as a Gypsy and tell fortunes!" Exclaimed a thin redhead.

Elizabeth laughed and explained to William, "Melanie has a cousin who is convinced she has the second sight. We call her Daftne, because she is as daft as a loon. Would she do it?"

"Of course, if it means getting invited to the ball. It will be great fun."

Cecily was at last convinced, and everybody started chattering excitedly. William looked up and saw Amanda approaching. He stood reluctantly, and began to bid his new friends goodbye.

"You will come to the ball, won't you?" It was Elizabeth asking. "Let me give you our address." She removed a card from her reticule and wrote upon it with a small gold pencil, and gave it to William with a smile. "It begins at half eight."

William smiled. "I should be delighted. Thank you, and it was a pleasure making your acquaintance. And Miss Cecily's also."

Cecily smiled coolly. "Goodbye."

William and Amanda returned to the bench on which they had left their boots. Hastily, they removed their skates and headed for home. It was growing dark, and they would be late for Tea, which would irritate Mother. William was silent on the walk home. Half listening to Amanda's excited chatter, his heart was too full to speak of what had happened, but the thought of seeing Cecily again and perhaps dancing with her at a ball, was overwhelming.

That night, unable to sleep, William arose. Sitting down at his escritoire in his dressing gown, he began to write; the image of the dark eyed beauty in her skating costume, demanding expression. At King's, William had begun writing poetry, but when he had haltingly read it in front of the class, they had laughed. One student had even accused him of murdering the iambic pentameter, leading to a nickname, William the Bloody, which even now filled him with shame. So he had given up the attempt. But now, in the soft glow of the gaslight, William realized that what he had been lacking was inspiration! He would write of Cecily, though never by name. Let her be, like the Dark Lady of Shakespeare's sonnets, a mystery.

The Ormolu clock on the mantle in William's room had just struck one, when there was a fearsome pounding at the front door. There were no servants in the house, and Mother must not be disturbed, so William dashed downstairs, grabbing a poker from the fireplace as a weapon, if necessary. An unfamiliar middle aged man stood at the door, a distraught expression on his face. He apologized profusely for the lateness of the hour, and introduced himself as George Fellows, father of Rosalind, one of Amanda's friends. William invited him in at once, but he remained in the doorway. He said that Rosalind had never come home from skating that afternoon. They hadn't realized it at first, because she had planned to visit another friend for the evening. It was only when he had gone `round to pick her up that he discovered that she had never arrived at the friend's house. He had been canvassing the neighborhood, and all of Rosalind's friends for some clue as to where she could have gone. William bade him come in while he fetched Amanda, which he did, as quietly as possible. At the sight of her in her wrapper, long brown braid hanging down her back, William was almost overcome with the thought of losing her, and being forced to call on her friends in the dead of night. He vowed to himself that he would protect her, come what may.

Once downstairs, a frightened Amanda told Mr. Fellows that she had seen Rosalind on the ice, but that they had left as it was getting dark, and she had not seen her since. As Mr. Fellows left, no happier then when he had arrived, Amanda burst into tears. William comforted her as best he could. The Police would take care of it on the morrow. Rosalind would be found and all would be well. But just in case there were ruffians about, or white slavers, Amanda must promise him to go nowhere unaccompanied. London was no fit place for a young girl, William thought. He was most anxious for the new school term to begin, so that Amanda would be safely away in Surrey. William fixed Amanda some warm milk and added a dollop of brandy, which they kept for medicinal purposes, and she at long last fell asleep. William himself remained awake for the rest of the night.

Chapter 3

When William had told his new acquaintances that he managed The Mighty Pen, he had been exaggerating somewhat. True, his unmarried uncle had made William, the only nephew, his heir. But Charles Atherton was only forty-five years old, and had no intention of giving up the ghost for many years to come, and he also had no intention of giving control of his successful shop to some young college whippersnapper. So he had brought William in at the bottom, as an assistant clerk, whose duties mostly consisted of cataloguing and arranging stock. Shy William actually preferred not dealing with the customers, and rather enjoyed working with the books that he loved. Plus, the quiet of the stockroom gave him privacy to read and to write his poetry, though he was not doing that now. Instead he was staring numbly off into space. That morning he had escorted Amanda to the funeral of Amanda's friend Rosalind. Her pale, lifeless body had been found near a hole in the ice, in the very pond upon which they had all skated so merrily the day before. The police surmised that she must have gone back to skate by herself, and had fallen in where the ice was thin. She must also have somehow cut her neck on the jagged ice, for her throat was torn, and her body curiously bloodless. At any rate her death was quickly ruled, "Death by mischance," and the case closed. Poor Amanda had been grief stricken. Rosalind had not been one of her dearest friends, but a friend non- the less. At least the fear of kidnapers and white slavers had abated, and William felt a bit easier. Still the funeral of a young person is never a happy occasion, and William's tender heart was anguished at the thought of such a thing happening to his precious Amanda.

He was started from his gloomy thoughts by the sound of the bell at the shop door. Uncles Charles and the two head clerks had gone out to lunch, leaving William in charge in charge of the shop, since the holiday traffic was light. William dashed into the main room, only to find Elizabeth Waverly and Cecily Addams looking about.

Truth to tell, William had put his dreams of Cecily at the back of his mind in his worry over Amanda, but now seeing her here, in his shop, caused his heart to beat furiously, and a blush to rise in his cheeks. The Twelfth Night ball was mere days away, and he had not even considered his costume. He must remedy that situation immediately. He bowed to the ladies.

"Good afternoon, Miss Waverly, Miss Addams. I trust you had a happy New Year?"

Elizabeth laughed. "Miss Waverly? You make me feel quite elderly, William. Please call me Beth, and I'm sure Miss Addams will be heartbroken if you don't call her Cecily. "

"Heartbroken, " echoed Cecily absently, as she looked about the shop.

"Our New Years was quite pleasant. Did you attend the fireworks over the Thames? They were magnificent."

"Ah no," William replied, " My sister was unwell, and my Mother finds that sort of thing rather too stimulating." He didn't feel up to explaining about Rosalind; it was too upsetting.

"Pity," said Cecily, still looking about. "Ah! This is what I told you about, Beth." She went over to a window display of tabloid magazines, also known as "penny dreadfuls," for their lurid stories and illustrations.

"Oh my goodness, " said William, blushing furiously, "Those really aren't suitable reading matter for ladies such as yourselves."

"Nonsense," said Cecily, "We are merely doing research for our costumes. Look, Beth, `The Mummy's Curse!'

Elizabeth picked up another. "'The Kiss of the Vampyre!' Sounds positively dreadful. But look at the illustration." A gruesome fanged creature of the night was embracing a fainting woman, with a rather startling décolletage. "Are there female vampires, do you think?" She asked William.

"Well, er, actually we do have a book, Carmilla, by Sheridan Le Fanu, about a female vampire, but it is extremely unsuitable. I would instead recommend Varney the Vampire by…."

"Oh, we don't have time to read entire books. Our seamstresses await inspiration as we speak." She gathered up an assortment of penny dreadfuls, " These will do just fine." Cecily handed over a few pence, and she and Elizabeth prepared to leave.

"Have you given any thought to your costume, William? "Asked Elizabeth.

"Oh, I cannot possibly give away my secret, " said William, hoping that he sounded convincing.

Elizabeth laughed, "Well, then we shall all be in for a surprise. Until then, Au Revoir."

"I will see you then. Goodbye, Beth, Cecily."

William went into small occult section of the bookshop. Another fact that William hadn't mentioned at the skating party was that he himself never read such literature. He had read Frankenstein, years ago, and the story had so filled him with horror, that it had given him nightmares for days. William hated violence and had no love for the supernatural. The other clerks had smirked over Carmilla, but mainly because of the shocking scenes of lust between two women. William blushed at the thought of even mentioning such a work to innocents such as Elizabeth and Cecily. What had possessed him? And what, pray tell, had possessed him to mention the subject of the supernatural at the party discussion in the first place? Now he was committed to dressing as one of these creatures, and he had no idea where to begin. He looked through the volumes on Witchcraft, Magick and a volume of short tales by the American author, Edgar Allen Poe. Finally, he chose a slim novelette, The Vampyre by John Poilidori. He leafed through it but there were no illustrations. What did a vampyre even look like? William sat down with the book and began to read, looking for some description of the mysterious evil Lord Ruthven. Apparently he looked fairly human but with dead grey eyes and pale skin, untouched by blush of human emotion. He was even considered quite handsome and was rather a ladies man. Vexation! Well, perhaps much could be achieved by makeup, William decided. Perhaps fangs made of wax. Would it work? Perhaps he would do better with wizard's robes. Or a ghostly shroud. And what of his spectacles? As soon as he arrived home this evening, he would ransack the attic. Amanda would help him. It would amuse her and take her mind off her loss. He thought of Cecily. What would she wear? Ah...if only he could somehow find a costume that would compliment hers, like Alice and the Mad Hatter. Alas, that was unlikely. William was still musing when Uncle Charles and the two clerks came bustling into the shop, laughing merrily from wine at lunch. William replaced the book on the shelf and retreated to his stockroom.

Chapter 4

Twelfth Night, the fifth of January was clear and cold. William stood before the looking glass adjusting his cravat. He and Amanda had found an old black formal suit, which had belonged to his Grandfather. It was the most aristocratic outfit he could find, to best suit Lord Ruthven. Amanda had daubed his face with white grease paint, bought at a theatrical supply shop on Drury Lane. They had slicked his hair back with pomade, which darkened it and accentuated the lines of his face. The fangs were achieved with wax, though William had no idea how he would be able to eat with them. Traditionally, however, dinner was served quite late, and he could remove the teeth before then. The best find, however, had been Grandfather's monocle. If he could keep it in, no small feat, he could see well enough to keep from crashing into the furniture, and still maintain his illusion. He tucked his spectacles into his waistcoat pocket, however, as an emergency measure. The last macabre touch was lips lined with rouge, a stark contrast with his white face, as though he had just dined on fresh blood. It was grisly, but

he hoped that it would do. No point in becoming carried away.

He had hired a carriage for the evening, since the Atherton family didn't have one of their own anymore. Mother had gone to her bed early, the excitement of the holidays having worn her out, so William didn't have to explain his costume to her or alarm her in any way. Amanda was almost as excited as he, wishing that she were old enough to go. Amanda placed a wilted rose in his lapel. She explained that his character was so evil, his very presence killed all that he touched. William felt a chill at her words. He took one last look in the glass. Goodness…he would be giving himself nightmares! He hastened out the door into the waiting carriage.

William's carriage pulled up at the entrance to the Waverly's mansion shortly after the appointed hour. The magnificent house was lit with candles and torches, instead of gaslight, giving an eerie light. Elizabeth and her brother John were at the entrance, greeting their guests. Wavy was dressed as a warlock, in a black robe inscribed with strange symbols. Elizabeth was dressed as a female vampyre, in a long black lacy dress. Her pale makeup resembled William's own. She greeted him warmly.

"William, is that you? How delightfully gruesome. And we match!" She held out her dance card. "You must promise me at least one. A Polka? Or perhaps a waltz."

"Miss Elizabeth, you look much too lovely to be evil. "William said gallantly, surprised at how well their costumes did match. He took the small booklet from her hand and wrote his name down next to a polka, noting that her card was already half full. He bowed. "I will leave you to greet the rest of your guests."

William wandered into the ballroom. The house was lovely with the gaslights dimmed and candles everywhere. He was suddenly overcome with shyness. What was he doing in this place in this absurd costume, where he knew hardly anyone? With whom would he dance or even talk? And most importantly, where was Cecily? He must find her before her dance card was filled up, if he were to have any chance with her at all. He thought he heard the sound of her voice, and turned and saw her over by a cluster of potted plants, which were draped alarmingly with cobwebs. She was talking to a young man, and writing his name on her card. A waiter walked by with a tray of champagne cocktails, and William snatched a glass and drank it down to calm his nerves. As he walked over to her, William noticed that she was dressed all in gauzy white, with face painted to match. Her dark hair and dark eyes, lined with kohl were a dramatic contrast. The only drop of color she wore was a red gash at her neck. A ghostly apparition to be sure, but one by which William wouldn't mind being haunted.

She smiled at him. "Ah William. Good evening. I see you have decided to emulate Lord Ruthven. Or is it Varney?"

"Lord Ruthven, to the best of my somewhat limited ability. I take it that you are familiar with those works?"

"Such things were very popular at school. Though strictly forbidden, of course."

"Did you also attend King's? I daresay I would have remembered you there."

"I would have been somewhat behind you, being only nineteen. But I didn't attend King's. I was finished in Switzerland. I came out last Spring. Oh excuse me, the orchestra is beginning to tune up and I have promised this first dance." She glanced at her card.

William flushed at his faux pas about King's. Of course she would have attended finishing school in Switzerland or France. No bluestocking co-ed was Cecily Addams. She no doubt thought him a fool. But bravely he plunged ahead.

"Oh, Miss Cecily, "William burst out, "Would you do me the honor of a dance?"

"Oh dear…I have promised all my waltzes and polkas, but I see there will be a Virginia Reel and a Quadrille later. Would you care to partner me in one of those? "

William's heart sank. Reels and Quadrilles were group dances, and hardly romantic. Cecily was studying her card.

"Oh, there is a Galop after the Reel, I could put you in there." A Galop was a form of waltz, and most definitely a partner dance.

"Oh, that would be wonderful. I will see you then." He bowed and walked back into the crowd, heart soaring.

As he was drinking a second glass of champagne behind a pillar, and wondering what ever to do with himself, William noticed two young ladies standing against the wall. They looked like sisters and were dressed alike as witches. They didn't notice him there and were talking together quietly, and William couldn't help but overhear. The older one sighed dramatically, "They never have enough men at these things!"

Her sister agreed, "Beth Waverly did promise to invite every unmarried man she saw, whether he was eligible or not."

"Hmmm. Doesn't help much if they all insist on dancing with Cecily Addams!" She waved her dance card, "I've hardly got any dances at all."

"It is very vexing, to be sure. All of their set do well for themselves. Don't think Beth Waverly sheds any tears for the likes of us."

"I see Millie over there all by herself also, and with the first waltz starting up, too."

"And it is a Strauss, my favorite."

William listened to this exchange with a sinking heart. So he had undoubtedly been invited to the ball because they needed extra men, and it didn't matter whether or not he was " eligible." The Waverlys had probably been dragooning men off the streets! He looked at the two sisters and felt pity for their wallflower plight. Well, he thought defiantly, if he was invited as an extra man, then let him fulfill his obligation to his hostess. He walked over to the sisters and bowed, "May I have the honor of this dance?"

For the next hour William danced with Leora and her sister Lenore. He never could tell them apart. `I don't know which witch is which,' he thought to himself giddily, after drinking yet another glass of champagne. He also danced with the stout Millie, and her friend Ethel, who had a face like a horse, but it didn't matter in the slightest. He was having a wonderful time, and had quite forgotten to be an awkward dancer. It was all a matter of self-confidence, was it not? Occasionally he would see Cecily or Elizabeth dancing past, and he couldn't help but notice that Cecily danced with many different partners. He saw no sign that she favored anybody in particular, which filled him with hope that she was free to someday possibly return his feelings.

Then Elizabeth came to claim him for their polka. She was flushed with dancing and champagne, and her laughing face contradicted her gloomy costume. She said, "Oh, William I am much too exhausted to prance about at the moment! Let us talk a walk instead. Have you met my parents?"

Mr. and Mrs. Waverly were present of course, to chaperone, but William hadn't met them as yet. Elizabeth brought him over to where they were sitting, watching the scene with a few of their friends. They were not in costume of course, regarding such things as fit only for the younger generation. The elder Waverlys regarded William with interest. In fact, William felt as though he were being examined under a microscope. Mr. Waverly questioned him about his prospects.

"A bookstore, eh? Well, I suppose people need books. Never had much use for `em myself. " Thus he dismissed William's livelihood. The predatory gleam in Mrs. Waverly's eyes died out as William spoke, and The Waverlys soon excused themselves. Elizabeth led William over to the table where hors d'oevres were being served, and helped herself to a canapé. She shook her head. "Please excuse my parents. Their attitudes are from the last century! They refuse to comprehend that I am capable of making up my own mind and will not be bound by their outmoded sensibilities. "

William was confused. About what had she made up her mind? At that moment Cecily came up to them, breathless. "The orchestra is taking a break. I must take some coffee before attempting the quadrille. I fear that I am too tipsy to concentrate on the figures, and will make a dreadful fool of myself." She helped herself to a cup from the large silver urn on the table.

Elizabeth asked, "Have you visited the fortune teller as of yet? I hear that she is a tremendous success. "

Cecily fanned herself "Gracious, no. I have been way too busy. Is she very good? Let us go now."

Elizabeth asked William, "Are you coming? It might be quite amusing."

William did not believe in such things as fortunetellers, but if Cecily were going, wild horses would not keep him away. He hadn't eaten anything before the ball, being entirely too nervous, and the champagne on an empty stomach was making him feel oddly reckless. Why not have his fortune told by Daphne the daft?

Chapter 5

The Waverly's dark paneled library was the perfect setting for the fortuneteller's "tent." Grandfather Waverly had been a Colonel in the Army, and had been stationed, at one time or another, all over the Empire. He also had done quite a bit of big game hunting. He had decorated this room himself. Therefore, wild boar and lion's heads looked down upon curio cabinets filled with quaint and unusual artifacts from around the globe. Some, like a genuine shrunken head from Borneo, and the skull of a gorilla, looking astonishingly human, were quite gruesome to look upon. Set up in the middle of all this was a tent created out of paisley silk brought back from India. And in the tent was seated Daphne, a quite ordinary looking girl with hair of a violent shed of red and freckles covering her entire face, neck and arms. Against her hair and complexion, the gypsy costume looked quite bizarre. She seemed to be having a jolly time of it, however, reading palms, and predicting vast wealth, sea voyages and tall dark strangers. Michael and Felicity, who had recently become engaged, were there. Michael was dressed as Death, with a large papier-mâché scythe, and death's head mask. Felicity made a lovely Devil in red pajamas and horns. Daphne studied their palms and intoned in a spooky voice that they would live long and happy lives and have ten children.

"Ten!" exclaimed Michael. "The devil I will!"

"The Devil you will indeed!" quipped Elizabeth, her reference to Felicity's costume causing a general laugh. Apparently the break in the music had attracted most of Elizabeth's set to the library. William recognized James, dressed as a demon out of Hieronymus Bosch, and Wavy himself, who had a blonde Mummy on his arm.

Elizabeth was next, and she stepped up and extended her hand to Daphne, who studied it carefully. She intoned, "You will marry a handsome man, and live a long and healthy life. See how long your lifeline is? Oh...you will have two husbands…see there?" She pointed to lines on Beth's hands.

Elizabeth shrugged, "As long as they aren't both at the same time…" Everybody laughed.

Cecily came up next and thrust her hand at Daphne. Daphne looked at it, and William, who was watching the proceedings with great interest, suddenly saw Daphne go dead white, her freckles standing out in stark contrast to her skin. She stared at Cecily's palm as though she had seen a ghost, then looked up at Cecily's face and seeing her ghostly makeup, almost leapt up out of her chair in shock. William stepped forward, concerned, but with great effort Daphne composed herself, and forced a ghastly smile to her lips. "Y-you will live a long and happy life."

Cecily seemed unaware that anything was wrong. "And my husband?"

"Beware! Your cruelty will come back to bite you!" Daphne gasped out, as though against her will. "I-I mean, you will marry a tall dark handsome stranger. And go on a sea voyage."

Cecily stared at her, "Are you quite all right?"

"Would you care for some coffee or tea, or a cold drink?" It was Elizabeth, remembering her duties as hostess.

"Perhaps a cold drink, would be…it is a bit warm in here."

"Would you care to rest for a while?"

"No!" said Daphne, "I must continue! You!" She said, pointing to William. "You were next, were you not?"

With some hesitation, William sat down and stuck out his hand awkwardly. Daphne took it, and immediately dropped it. "Your hand! It is as cold as ice!"

"I'm sorry," Said William, unsure of what was proper in this occasion. "Let me warm it up for you."

He rubbed his hands together, but in truth, they didn't feel cold to him; on the contrary, they felt hot and sweaty. He wiped his palm on his trouser leg and held his hand out again. Daphne took it with an unexpected expression of revulsion. She looked down at his palm. She immediately dropped it again, and stood up suddenly her face stark white with terror. With a small scream, she fell to the floor in a dead faint. William stood up in horror, as Elizabeth and John rushed out to fetch Daphne's Cousin Melanie and some ice. William and James helped lay her out upon the carpet in a more comfortable position, while Cecily pulled her skirts down modestly around her ankles. Cecily took out her fan and fanned Daphne's face, while they waited for her to regain consciousness.

James laughed to William, "I say, old chap. You certainly have a way with the ladies. First the vicar's wife and now Daphne!"

William stammered, "I assure you, I did nothing…"

Cecily looked up from fanning Daphne, "Oh, she is given to these sorts of fits. Ever since she was a girl. She has been acting quite oddly ever since we arrived. It must be the excitement. Beth really should have known better than to invite her."

William felt a little better at Cecily's words. Daphne was beginning to come to, as Elizabeth rushed in with Melanie at her side and a glass of cold water. Daphne sat up, and drank the water gratefully.

Melanie announced, "I think that is enough fortune telling for this evening. Besides, Nigel has just announced that supper is being served."

Elizabeth agree, "Yes, come and dine…you will feel much better." They helped Daphne up and James escorted her out of the library. Michael and Felicity left as well, leaving William, Elizabeth and Cecily.

"Will you escort us in to supper, William?" Asked Elizabeth.

William was grateful that Elizabeth also didn't seem to hold him responsible for Daphne's strange fit. He was feeling a bit shaky himself, and the prospect of supper, especially in the company of Cecily was extremely appealing. He offered his arm to both ladies and they left the library for the massive buffet laid on in the dining room.

After a plate of lobster salad and some excellent curry, William felt much better. He knew that he would have a wretched headache tomorrow from the champagne before and the wine at supper, but he didn't care a whit. Right now he was seated with the two most beautiful women at the ball, and he felt himself the envy of all men. The irrepressible Daphne seemed to have recovered and was eating with rather unladylike gusto, William was relieved to see. Nobody seemed to make much of her fit…apparently it was the norm for her. In addition, William's part in the incident seemed to have grown. He overheard one girl tell another that Daphne had predicted a horrific death for him, and then had flung herself into his arms. He actually saw several of the ladies looking at him with pity, as though he were about to succumb before their very eyes. William might have worried, but all that Daphne had actually said was that he had cold hands…hardly a prediction worthy of nightmares. And now she was eating as though she hadn't a care in the world.

William decided to sit out the Quadrille and the Virginia Reel. He much preferred to watch the intricate figures. Elizabeth decided to sit them out as well, and she sat beside him, as the dancers lined up, and the music began. William watched Cecily, her grace and poise as she did the intricate steps filling his heart with wonder. This would make a lovely poem…was there a rhyme for Quadrille? Elizabeth's voice brought him back.

"William, a bunch of us are going to the theater Friday night. The Bassets are here from America doing Bric a Brac at the Savoy. I hear it's wonderfully amusing. Anyway, James has to be out of town that weekend, so we have an extra ticket. Would you care to join us?"

As far as William knew, a Basset was a breed of dog, but he was overwhelmed to be invited on such an outing. He had assumed that tonight's ball would be the end of his association with The Waverly set. He couldn't imagine, especially after the Daphne incident, receiving any further invitations. He hastened to reply. "I would love to."

After the Reel, Cecily came over to claim William for the Galop. Finally…the moment for which he had been waiting all evening, in fact all week. He had Cecily in his arms. Odd, how all of the confidence which had been building in him all evening, suddenly evaporated. He felt tongue tied and unable to speak. And his feet seemed to have grown several sizes since his last dance, with the horse faced Ethel. He stumbled through the Galop like a boy at dancing lessons. Thank heavens he had removed his monocle as well as his fangs at supper and was now wearing his spectacles, so he could at least see properly. Cecily didn't seem to notice his awkwardness. She smiled at him, and his heart wanted to fly up and out of his body. There just weren't words big or beautiful enough to describe her. The music came to an end all too soon, and the ball was over.

William bowed as graciously as he could to Cecily and managed to stammer his thanks. As the orchestra began packing up their instruments, William went to thank Elizabeth and Wavy for inviting him. On his way out towards his waiting carriage, he noticed Ethel talking to Michael near the cloakroom. But as he came closer, William saw that it wasn't Michael at all, but rather another man wearing a Death costume. This man was much taller and broader than Michael was. He turned around, and for one brief moment, William thought he saw the man's eyes glow yellow. But surely, that wasn't possible! No skill with makeup could achieve such an effect. Too much champagne, William chided himself, shaking his head. But wasn't it lovely that Ethel had found somebody to escort her home? Throwing on his greatcoat, William went out into the cold night.

Chapter 6

As predicted, William did have a fearsome headache next morning, but the day being Tuesday, he still managed to get himself to the bookstore on time. Fortunately, there wasn't much business, and no new stock to catalogue, so William managed to stay out of sight most of the morning, drinking tea and scribbling verse. Uncle Charles was sympathetic to Williams' plight, and kindly left him alone much of the day.

Uncle Charles was rather an odd duck, William thought, watching him bustle about the shop towards closing time. A very handsome man with dark hair and startling blue eyes, he was never at a loss for an attractive woman on his arm. He favored widows, and escorted them to all social functions, which they never would have been able to attend alone. Yet, he never showed any inclination to marry any of them and settle down. In fact, on family occasions, such as Sunday Dinner, he preferred to bring his long time head clerk, Arthur. Arthur lived alone and had no family in England, so Charles felt sorry for him and invited him often. In fact, William had gotten so used to seeing Arthur around the dinner table he had come to think of him as part of the family. Arthur was fair-haired, with sharp features and a subtle wit. He was quiet and bookish, not unlike William himself, but he dealt with the customers with a calm assurance that William envied.

After the excitement of Twelfth Night, it was difficult to get back to the drab world of caring for Mother and getting Amanda packed off to school. He had given Amanda the much-dreaded lecture, and she had promised to attend to her schoolwork this term. As a kind of bribe, William had promised her a new frock, from Elisabeth and Cecily's fashionable dressmaker. Though still a tomboy in many ways, Amanda was growing up, and was feminine to the core and she swore that William would find her grades much improved by term's end. He kissed her and put her on the train with a heavy heart. He missed her noisy exuberance about the house. Without her, the place was as dull as a tomb.

On Friday night, he went with much excitement to the Savoy theatre to meet the Waverlys and their crowd. Arriving a little early, he found Michael and Felicity in the lobby, avoiding the cold. A few minutes later, Beth and Wavy appeared with Cecily and a petite blonde girl, last seen by William dressed as a mummy. She was introduced as Evelyn Fain. The Waverlys were the bearers of some disturbing news. It seemed that a friend of one of Elizabeth's cousins had gone missing. She was a youngish maiden lady, who had lived alone, since the death of her mother, and no one had discovered her absence for days.

"I do believe you met her at the ball," said Elizabeth to William. "Her name is Ethel Abbington. She is a friend to my cousin Mildred, whom I believe you also met. "

Of course, William thought. He had danced with both of them that evening.

Wavy laughed, "That's right, Old William, here, danced with Horsey, Millet Pudding and the Weird Sisters! Not to mention putting mad Daphne into a swoon." He swept into an elaborate bow, "I salute you… you are far more gallant than I."

Elizabeth pouted at her brother, "As host, John, you really should have danced with them yourself. You owe William a debt of gratitude for taking them off your hands. He was just being kind."

William was confused, "Millet pudding?"

Elizabeth laughed, `Oh…just our little nickname for Cousin Millie. She does rather resemble a pudding, don't you think?"

William was at a loss for words. He had found Millie and the others quite charming, but it was true…Millie did resemble a pudding, and Ethel a horse. And one could well imagine Leora and Lenore intoning, `Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble.' He was spared from answering when Cecily spoke up.

"But what about Ethel's mysterious disappearance? Do tell."

"The police seem to think that she ran off with a lover. She was last seen with a tall dark haired man, on the night of the ball."

William had a sudden memory of seeing that man with Ethel, and of his champagne induced hallucination of glowing yellow eyes. He shuddered.

"A lover? Ethel? Come now, that's absurd." This from Michael, "What man would want her, except perhaps a jockey?"

Beth tried to suppress her laughter at Michael's remark, "Oh come now Michael, she isn't as bad as all that."

Wavy joined in, "No seriously…has anyone inquired to see if she is registered for the Grand National?"

"John, don't be ridiculous! The Grand National isn't for months!" Beth clasped her gloved hand over her mouth in a vain attempt not to laugh, but finally gave into it, as did the others.

William laughed also, uneasily, though he wasn't sure he entirely got the joke. He looked at Cecily. She wasn't exactly laughing, though her eyes sparkled with mirth. She shook her head. "Beth...you are impossible. What if she has met with foul play?"

This sobered everybody at last. "Well, I certainly wouldn't want anything awful to have happened to the poor thing, We shall just have to leave it in the hands of the police. I am sure they are most competent."

At that moment the ushers opened the inner doors, and Ethel forgotten, they joined the crowds who were taking their seats in the legendary theater.

Chapter 7

Over the next few months, William began to realize that up to now he had led a very sheltered life. After Father had gone bankrupt, and died of heart failure, William had taken on the responsibility of a semi-inva