[fic] badly done, Dawn. badly done. (3/?)
fic: badly done, Dawn. badly done. (3/?)
fandom: tvd/btvs fusion in an Austen universe
pairing/characters: dawn/elena as emma/knightly; buffy/tara as the westons; alaric as mr woodhouse; spike as harriet; harmony as miss bates; caroline as jane fairfax; jeremy as knightly/frank churchill
summary: Sometime between the toasts and the first dance, but shortly before the passing of the cake, Dawn turned to her neighbor at the table with all the other bridesmaids in attendance and proclaimed quite cheerfully that this, indeed, was her greatest triumph as a matchmaker. Miss Gilbert raised her eyebrows delicately and reminded the younger girl that no matchmaking had indeed transpired, Dawn was just in possession of a lucky guess. Dawn giggled and pat her old friend on the arm, before looking out at the crowd for her next pet project.
a/n: yes, this story has gone from a predicted three chapters, to four, to ? who the fuck knows. pray for me. what even is happening???
[ chapter one]
[ chapter two]
In their childhood days, before the heartrending loss of Miss Gilbert’s aunt, the three orphan girls made each other into the most delightful playmates, always at each other’s beck and call, always willing for a prank or an imaginary game to share. There were no three girls in the world who loved each other more, every childhood loss, every little victory, was shared between them as a matter of course. They had a sense of ownership over each other that all young children have over their dearest companions at that age. But, of course, time and circumstance change all things, and in due course the trio began to shape itself into separate creatures. Miss Jenna Sommers was known to remark, in the early days of their youth, that they seemed to be less three little girls than one mass of lace and long hair darting to and fro from house to house. Girls, like most things, do at some mysterious point in time, grow and change, and in those moments, these three became very different individuals, no longer content to travel with two shadows on their backs. Of course, once one pulls away, all of the differences that before had gone unnoticed between them become apparent, and the illusion being broken causes not too few scars.
Buffy, in turning more solidly into physical pursuits, chasing after new challenges with an enthusiasm that would have bordered on reckless had she not had such an easy, pragmatic air about her. This twist in personality was, by far, the least painful for the other two to accept, as it was something so deeply ingrained into her personality from a young age. Less than a twist, her new passions seemed to observers as more of a natural coming-of-age. Her two companions did not begrudge her these new pursuits, but rather were her most loyal champions. It was, as it should be expected, rather the shift in Dawn and Elena as they grew, that caused the most pain; that though hidden away, deeply affected their growth into adulthood in ways that their guardians could not protect.
The reader has already become familiar with Miss Dawn’s mysterious book of the occult, the hobby to which she throws her greatest efforts, but though this artefact had long been her personal mystery, the young girl had - in her early years - kept the book secreted away from even Miss Elena Gilbert. In a time when everything was shared and her very personality seemed to be the property of her companions, in this one thing she kept herself separate and secret. These sorts of family skeletons cannot be kept hidden long, and one day during a game of hide-and-seek in the Saltzman home, Elena stumbled upon the dirty old thing. Unknowingly, she brought it out, like a pirate with a rarely discovered treasure, hoping in childlike innocence to have found a new game that they could all share together. Seeing her beloved book so mistreated, Dawn reacted as only a young child could, with tears and a harsh prank that went too far in distancing her from the person she loved most. After snatching it away, Dawn - at the age of ten you will remember - created a language that only Elena could not catch the meaning of; and so began a long history of hostility on Elena’s part towards the object in question. Ever after, she treated the whole experiment with disdain and prejudice, though in her secret childhood heart Elena longed for nothing more than to pour over those pages, head close to her friend’s, divining the secrets of the ages and concocting fantastical stories and myths out of the scraps of information that was held within. Before that ill-fated day, Elena had been their best storyteller, to her they went for the lines to a play, for a new game, for the ending to a story they could not manage, for the hero to all their play-acting.
As with most stories of this nature, there is a terrible twist of fate that cannot be altered, despite this author’s best wishes that none of this had come about; for on this very day of hide-and-seek, Elena had brought with her to their games an object which she held most dear to her own young heart. While Dawn was left a book of mysterious languages and stories of ghosts and ghouls, Elena had in her possession the youthful journal of her own mother, dead so many years before. While Dawn had her shelves of books holding her scrawl unscrambling ancient obscurities, Elena had begun the practice of writing in her child’s hand the story of her life, and of the lives of those around her. She fancied herself a great recorder of human truths and human triumphs; and she longed for nothing more than to share this project with her dearest friend.
All childhood friends must grow apart, for that is the very nature of maturity, one soul cannot live on in two bodies, but must walk alone and hope for understanding and compassion. Buffy went out into the gardens and pushed her body to its limits with a bright smile on her face. Dawn lost herself in the daily tasks of a woman of fortune, keeping her book and many papers a secret hobby. Elena took upon herself, at an age that many argued was far too young, the direct management of her estate - the grounds, house, and tenants her chief priority - while every night secretly dictating the beautiful and whimsical world she still clung to in her deepest heart. All childhood friends must grow apart in their own way, it is seen as natural and useful and not at all tragic; yet it is difficult, in this case, to not still feel a sense of loss, even as these have remained so close, for there is a seemingly impenetrable wall between two such like-minded people.
“Married?” Dawn put down her spoon carefully in her saucer and looked across the breakfast table at her guardian with what she hoped was not too unguarded expression. “Mr. Donovan is married? Why he only left town a month ago.”
Spike, on her left, dipped his spoon into a jar and pulled out a healthy portion of blackberry preserves, slathering it on his muffin as though the conversation at hand was of no interest to him whatsoever. Dawn’s heart yearned for her dear friend and she wished very much that her guardian would have picked a more suitable time to share the contents of his letter.
“He’s asked me to send Patrick over to the house and prepare a few things for his return,” Mr. Saltzman said with a dismissive air. “And he will be Mr. Donovan-Harris upon his return.”
Something twisted, sharp and unyielding, in Dawn’s chest, “Excuse me?”
“Found himself a nice boy to bring home?” Spike said, his mouth full of biscuit and jam. Dawn took a sip of her tea to steady her nerves.
Mr. Saltzman squinted at the letter, “A Miss Anyanka Jenkins and a Mr. Alexander Harris.” He put down the letter and gestured to Dawn with his teacup, “One of those triad marriages that are so in vogue in the city. I wish him well with it.”
“I suppose we shall have to have them for tea, greet them to the neighborhood,” Dawn was very glad that she did not spill a single drop of tea as she refilled her guardian’s cup. “I think just a small chat to start, don’t you Alaric?”
But his mind was already on other business, leaning across the table to get Spike’s opinion on some political something or other. Dawn sat back in her chair, slumping a bit in her distraction, wondering in vain at the ridiculousness of the male species. Elena found her like that, a frown on her face and a biscuit in her hand, when she tromped through in her riding habit - stolen from Alaric’s closet long ago, breeches covering her legs in a most indelicate manner - and couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face.
“What’s wrong, Dawn dear? Are they ignoring you again?” Elena tsked to herself as she pulled out a chair and sat down, helping herself to a cup of tea. “Shameful behavior from two such gentlemen.”
Dawn looked up at her then, blinking rapidly, “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
Elena smiled tightly, her playful manner evaporating into air like a damp fog under the summer’s sun, “Did you hear the news? Our Mr. Donovan has gone and found himself a husband and a wife! The village will never recover from the novelty of it.”
“Not unless you undertake the same task,” Spike pointed out cheerfully.
Dawn wished, then and there, that she could disappear under her chair. “Oh Miss Gilbert will never marry,” she said in a biting tone as she stood up, quite tired of the act of breakfast, “she’s far too particular for anyone to ever be suitable for her. An angel could descend from on high and our friend here would find fault with them.” She swept out of the room, leaving behind a rather ashen-faced Miss Gilbert and two rather amused gentlemen.
When she was quite out of earshot, Spike leaned over the table and pat Miss Gilbert’s hand, “There, there Elena.” Mr. Saltzman was overcome with a bout of giggles and could offer no comfort to his young friend and was very glad that Spike was there to do the honors.
Meanwhile, in another corner of the house, Dawn prepared a basket of vegetables from the garden to be taken to Miss Kendall and tried not to be too snappish with the cook. After an invigorating walk through the countryside, without Spike at her side as she decided to go alone, she felt ready enough to endure an hour of Miss Kendall’s chatter about the perfect and graceful Miss Forbes, and was just about to feel guilty for leaving her friend behind, to be entertained and harassed by Mr. Saltzman using god knew what means, when she is startled by a stranger on horseback jumping over the fence bordering the road mere inches from her face. Dawn would have believed that the whole incident, a blur of black horseflesh and blue and white fabric, had been only a figment of her imagination, had the visage not turned back around and trotted up to her within moments of nearly trampling her to death.
“I’m so sorry,” a laughing girl in a charming blue riding habit and bright blonde hair said from atop a rather large horse. “You caught me by surprise! I did not think that anyone would walk these paths alone.”
Dawn laughed back, “I often walk alone, but rarely observe my surroundings as it is so unusual to come upon on another soul at this hour.”
The girl swept off her hat and bowed in a silly, mock-salute, “Do keep a better eye out.”
Dawn grinned, “I shall.” The woman turned her horse around, and Dawn darted forward. “But!” she called out, “what is the name of the young lady that nearly trampled me on my morning walk? A stranger here is no ordinary occurrence.”
“They call me Caroline Forbes, if you must know,” the girl trotted back around, making a circle around the area where Dawn stood.
“Why! Of course, I know that name as well as my own, have heard it spoken many times,” Dawn felt betrayed, and rather glad of it, that Miss Kendall’s prattle of a perfect, poised person had merely preceded a more wild and playful truth.
“Then you must be Miss Dawn Summers,” the girl exclaimed. “I am so very glad to have met you this way, in the open air, and not in the stuffy apartment of my aunt.”
“Why I am just on my way there now,” Dawn said cheerfully. “Though you will of course best me in a foot race armed as you are.”
Miss Forbes furrowed her brow, a very pretty sight in Dawn’s estimation, “Oh do not speak of me at home. They are not expecting me until tomorrow. It is so much more pleasant to sneak up on relations before they begin to keep an eye out.”
Dawn was very fond of keeping secrets, and this one pleased her in a way she could not fully express to herself, it felt daring and exciting, “Your secret is safe with me, Miss Forbes.”
“Oh, Caroline please!” and with that last word, she was gone, across the field in the direction of the Summers-Maclay property.
Dawn continued on her way to the village, stopping in to visit Miss Kendall for an hour, and bearing her annoying, though well-meaning, excitement over the impending arrival of Miss Forbes with extremely good humor.
“I have always felt,” she said that night over dinner to her family, “that I would have a closer kinship to Mr. Gilbert, as all reports of him suggest that he is a well-behaved and charming person, without the burdensome quality of being perfect getting in the way, but I must say Caroline surprised me on the road today - which is such a secret and you must keep it to yourselves - as being a truly delightful creature. I am so glad that she is finally among us and a secret no more.”
“Will this end the reign of our beloved Spike as your partial favorite,” Mr. Saltzman asked, with a twinkle in his eye that his youngest ward did not make out across the table.
“Of course not,” Dawn sniffed. “A person can have more than one friend.”
The rest of the evening passed in conversation and speculation on the topic of Miss Forbes and the exact meaning of her visit, as her companion Miss Chase was so jealous of her time. The two Mrs. Summers-Maclay took their leave of the house directly after dessert, not staying for a longer chat in the sitting room, which was unusual as they did so dearly love to stay by the fire long into the night, but on that evening both were bursting with questions that only could be voiced away from the house. Immediately upon shutting the door behind them, Mrs. Tara turned to her wife excitedly and demanded to know why Miss Gilbert had not informed Dawn of the presence of her brother in the village, as the young gentleman had arrived very late the preceding night. Buffy trilled with laughter over the shock that would commence when her sister learned that Mr. Gilbert had arrived right under her nose, and on the very same day as Miss Forbes. There bespoke a very serious reason for Miss Gilbert’s silence on the matter, especially as she had brought her brother over to meet the couple just that afternoon. Buffy speculated that Miss Gilbert had attempted to tell Dawn about her brother that day, but had been mislaid by an important event at the estate. Tara argued that surely nothing would get in Miss Gilbert’s way of introducing her brother to Dawn, her dearest friend. And wasn’t it all very odd that it seemed Alaric had mentioned Miss Gilbert’s presence at the breakfast table that very morning? They went to bed with many various presumptions in their mind, but no firm conclusion between the two of them.
Miss Elena Gilbert, from the time that she was a young girl, had such a charming and winsome disposition that she was able, without very much conscious effort on her part, to exact extreme loyalty and devotion from her friends, acquaintances, and even the occasional stranger. Indeed, upon a trip to the seashore with her young brother as a girl, she had caught the attention of a lovely family who took her under their wing within moments of meeting her. The Michaelsons still send an impressive Christmas gift to her home every year. It is in her very bearing, in her smile, in the way that she carries herself, that impresses upon all who meet her a sense of honor and grace, a feeling that you already know her even if you have yet to be introduced, a sense of deep attachment when there is nothing yet between you. To all who know her, Miss Gilbert is the true embodiment of cheery playfulness and honest intent.
To all who know her, save one.
In Dawn’s presence, Miss Gilbert, quite uncharacteristically, transforms into a rather stiff, formal creature, a fact that has been remarked upon by the few friends who truly have the intimacy of favor with the young woman that many only presume. Truly, it could be said that these few friends have made quite a few jokes on the topic at the young woman’s great expense in the past, but as their playful jibes only seemed to increase her discomfort and measured air, it has become over the years an unalterable fact and a joke only outside of her presence. Elena herself, very often comes away from interactions with Miss Dawn as though the younger girl is the only one who sees her true self, the sometimes harsh, biting, exacting personage with the threat of a lecture lingering on her lips the most comfortable skin she wears. At the end of a long and tiresome day, Miss Gilbert is secure in the fact of her red chair in the Saltzman sitting room, from which she can be as pleasant or as belligerent as she chooses without fear of disturbing anyone’s peace of mind. There is, as many women know, a certain burden to being charming and generous that is not easily escapable, even in the presence of a sister or close friend. Perhaps, as the elder Mrs. Buffy Summers-Maclay suspects, this brittleness of behavior is an armor of sorts, put upon in the presence of her sister as a guard; or perhaps both women are correct and the bare flesh of Elena’s personality lay somewhere between the harshly practical taskmaster and the overly kind and playful girl. Mrs. Buffy Summers-Maclay, in a conversation with her bride some short weeks after Christmas, remarked that it would only be upon the appearance of the long-missing Mr. Jeremy Gilbert that any sort of conclusion could be made.
That Mr. Gilbert had no way of knowing what sort of wild conjectures were made upon his person in the years since he had vacated the village of his birth, nor was the young gentleman aware of the position that his sister had wrought within her personal relationships, is to be expected in cases such as this. We can surmise that had the gentleman in question known the effect his visit was presumed to have, he would have laughed rather cheerily over the idea with his sister and dismissed it out of hand. It is one thing to know that one is a goldfish in a bowl, surrounded by an audience waiting for a trick of some kind, and quite another to be thrust into an arena with no warning. Although his sister’s letters to him over the years had mentioned on many occasion the rumors and theories as to his personality and life’s vocation, Mr. Gilbert had dismissed these as teasing anecdotes from his sister’s own mind. In Mr. Gilbert’s memory, Miss Elena was as much a sister as she was a storyteller, as much a landowner as a prankster, as much a gentlewoman as she was a childish imp.
Miss Elena Gilbert had such a charming and winsome disposition that she was able to exact extreme loyalty and devotion from everyone she came into contact with; but none more so than her younger brother, Mr. Jeremy Gilbert. Although never the direct presence in each other’s lives that they may have wished, still the siblings kept in close contact all the years of their lives. Their uncle, Mr. John Gilbert, was by all accounts in the village a man of ill-repute, who kept the younger Mr. Gilbert jealously close to him, dragging him all over strange continents without any thought for the young man’s own desires. Miss Elena and Mr. Jeremy never, even amongst themselves, spoke poorly of their uncle, but as he was the one factor that seemed to keep Mr. Jeremy from their sights, the village hardened their hearts against him. Despite the tangle of separation, there was no one in the world who admired Miss Elena more, and no one who knew her better.
In the morning on his second day home, Mr. Jeremy Gilbert sat at the breakfast table and waited for his sister to return from her morning ride. Despite rising at, in his opinion, at an ungodly hour himself that morning, he had not managed to catch his sister before she galloped off into the rising sun, therefore he had to content himself with rambling about the house aimlessly until a boy took pity on him and found someone to serve breakfast in the garden. It was here that Mrs. Tara Summers-Maclay found him and after a moment’s hesitation, agreed to join him. She had only been walking by on her way to help Mr. Saltzman with a personal matter, and had planned on breaking her fast upon arrival, but curiosity, of course, got the better of her. Which is why, when Miss Elena returned from her morning ride, she found her seat at the table already occupied.
“They are expecting you up at the house,” Elena said by way of greeting, bending over to kiss her friend on the cheek. “Alaric was complaining that you are always late.”
“I am always early, he has never been good at keeping time,” Tara replied primly, a crooked smile on her face. “How did you find the house otherwise?”
Elena scowled and plopped down on the grass at her brother’s feet in a rather unladylike manner, “A ridiculous state, as per usual these days.”
Tara shot Mr. Gilbert a sly glance, “Was Spike up to his usual antics?”
Mr. Gilbert nearly choked on his bacon and hastily recovered with a swallow of tea that Tara already had waiting for him, “Who in god’s name is Spike?”
“Why he is Miss Summers’ dearest friend,” Tara said helpfully. Mr. Gilbert knew in this moment that a jest was at hand, and he was very grateful that the charming woman had accepted his plea for a breakfast companion. “Quite a charming young man, actually,” she continued, buttering a piece of toast with a nonchalant air, “a poet, you know.”
Elena snorted somewhere below the table, “Spike was not there this morning. He seems to have squirreled himself away before I arrived, something about the muse and the sunlight in the garden.”
“What an interesting sounding fellow,” Mr. Gilbert said with a grin at his companion, reaching down to hand his sister a slice of peach from his own plate. “I can’t wait to meet him.”
“If Spike was off writing somewhere, then the breakfast table must have felt quite empty without him,” Tara hedged, now keen with curiosity over Miss Elena’s decidedly belligerent mood.
“It was quite full to the brim, actually,” Elena said, her hand popping up over the edge of the table, looking for more fruit. “Caroline was there.”
“Oh Miss Forbes! So she and Dawn are becoming fast friends, how delightful,” Tara poured a bit of tea into a cup and handed it across the table to Mr. Gilbert, gesturing with her eyes that it should be delivered by his hand to Elena. “I met Miss Forbes and Miss Kendall walking home from the post office last night, she is really quite charming.” Another snort came from the general direction of Miss Gilbert’s form and Tara winked at Mr. Gilbert. “My wife remarked after the meeting that Miss Forbes would make a very fine confidant for Dawn, she is so lacking in female companionship these days, since Buffy and I set up house.”
“If female companionship is what Dawn feels in neglect of, all she must do is seek it out, it isn’t as if you and Buffy moved to the next county. Miss Forbes is a very silly young woman and I fear Dawn will regret making a deep attachment too soon.”
“Can you really think so of someone you have only just met?” Mr. Gilbert intoned very quietly to his sister, a look of great consternation on his face.
“Apparently she is going all the way to the city for a haircut tomorrow morning, the vanity of it is shameful,” Elena responded in a harsh tone. “As I left, the two had picked up the fanciful notion of hosting a ball in the village, they were quite thick as thieves.”
Tara pursed her lips, “Perhaps Dawn has met her match at last and will finally concede to marriage? Buffy and I had thought that Spike… but he is not that sort of man. Despite Dawn’s best intentions, I don’t believe Spike is the marrying kind.”
“No indeed,” Elena said, rising to her feet. “If you’ll excuse me, I must go see to some business with a tenant. Jeremy, perhaps you could escort Tara over to the house after breakfast? You could meet the infamous Miss Forbes and I won’t have to stomach introducing you to the silly creatures myself.”
“Miss… Caroline Forbes?” Jeremy plucked up a strawberry from his plate as he spoke and handed it to his sister. “Is she by any chance the companion to Miss Cordelia Chase?”
“Why, yes. I do believe that she has lived with the Chase family for years,” Tara said, trying to hide the shock in her voice. “Miss Forbes told us that the young girl had been married to a Mr. Liam Angelus. She seems at a loss for what to do with herself now.”
“Did you meet her while you were abroad with uncle?” Elena asked through a mouthful of strawberry, leaning down to pluck a crust of toast off her brother’s plate.
“I had occasion to meet her in passing a few months back. Uncle is an old friend of Liam’s from their schooldays.”
“And what did you think of the young lady?” Tara asked eagerly.
“I…” Mr. Gilbert hesitated a brief moment, gaining him a look of suspicion from his sister. “I only met her in passing you must understand, but she seemed a perfectly respectable sort of person.”
Elena stared down at her brother for a moment and then, after a quick apology and a kiss on Tara’s cheek, was off to fulfill her duties. Tara had the great pleasure of walking with Mr. Gilbert to the Saltzman house, during which she learned all kinds of delightful tidbits about his life traveling about the world with his uncle that she went directly home to share with her jealous wife, and presented him to Miss Dawn Summers. The young man behaved remarkably well in the face of three young ladies, joining in their conversation about a ball with enthusiasm and good humor. Of course, he could not stay long, as it seemed an injustice to keep himself away from his sister for too long. That night at dinner, he lamented in secret to Miss Gilbert that he had not had the opportunity to meet the much spoken of Spike, as the young poet was apparently still at the whim and guidance of the muse when he arrived. The happy event of a meeting between the two young gentleman occurred in the Saltzman dining room just three days later and afterwards Mr. Gilbert seemed so tickled and pleased with Spike very much living up to his reputation, that his sister barred him from her study in short order.
fandom: tvd/btvs fusion in an Austen universe
pairing/characters: dawn/elena as emma/knightly; buffy/tara as the westons; alaric as mr woodhouse; spike as harriet; harmony as miss bates; caroline as jane fairfax; jeremy as knightly/frank churchill
summary: Sometime between the toasts and the first dance, but shortly before the passing of the cake, Dawn turned to her neighbor at the table with all the other bridesmaids in attendance and proclaimed quite cheerfully that this, indeed, was her greatest triumph as a matchmaker. Miss Gilbert raised her eyebrows delicately and reminded the younger girl that no matchmaking had indeed transpired, Dawn was just in possession of a lucky guess. Dawn giggled and pat her old friend on the arm, before looking out at the crowd for her next pet project.
a/n: yes, this story has gone from a predicted three chapters, to four, to ? who the fuck knows. pray for me. what even is happening???
[ chapter one]
[ chapter two]
In their childhood days, before the heartrending loss of Miss Gilbert’s aunt, the three orphan girls made each other into the most delightful playmates, always at each other’s beck and call, always willing for a prank or an imaginary game to share. There were no three girls in the world who loved each other more, every childhood loss, every little victory, was shared between them as a matter of course. They had a sense of ownership over each other that all young children have over their dearest companions at that age. But, of course, time and circumstance change all things, and in due course the trio began to shape itself into separate creatures. Miss Jenna Sommers was known to remark, in the early days of their youth, that they seemed to be less three little girls than one mass of lace and long hair darting to and fro from house to house. Girls, like most things, do at some mysterious point in time, grow and change, and in those moments, these three became very different individuals, no longer content to travel with two shadows on their backs. Of course, once one pulls away, all of the differences that before had gone unnoticed between them become apparent, and the illusion being broken causes not too few scars.
Buffy, in turning more solidly into physical pursuits, chasing after new challenges with an enthusiasm that would have bordered on reckless had she not had such an easy, pragmatic air about her. This twist in personality was, by far, the least painful for the other two to accept, as it was something so deeply ingrained into her personality from a young age. Less than a twist, her new passions seemed to observers as more of a natural coming-of-age. Her two companions did not begrudge her these new pursuits, but rather were her most loyal champions. It was, as it should be expected, rather the shift in Dawn and Elena as they grew, that caused the most pain; that though hidden away, deeply affected their growth into adulthood in ways that their guardians could not protect.
The reader has already become familiar with Miss Dawn’s mysterious book of the occult, the hobby to which she throws her greatest efforts, but though this artefact had long been her personal mystery, the young girl had - in her early years - kept the book secreted away from even Miss Elena Gilbert. In a time when everything was shared and her very personality seemed to be the property of her companions, in this one thing she kept herself separate and secret. These sorts of family skeletons cannot be kept hidden long, and one day during a game of hide-and-seek in the Saltzman home, Elena stumbled upon the dirty old thing. Unknowingly, she brought it out, like a pirate with a rarely discovered treasure, hoping in childlike innocence to have found a new game that they could all share together. Seeing her beloved book so mistreated, Dawn reacted as only a young child could, with tears and a harsh prank that went too far in distancing her from the person she loved most. After snatching it away, Dawn - at the age of ten you will remember - created a language that only Elena could not catch the meaning of; and so began a long history of hostility on Elena’s part towards the object in question. Ever after, she treated the whole experiment with disdain and prejudice, though in her secret childhood heart Elena longed for nothing more than to pour over those pages, head close to her friend’s, divining the secrets of the ages and concocting fantastical stories and myths out of the scraps of information that was held within. Before that ill-fated day, Elena had been their best storyteller, to her they went for the lines to a play, for a new game, for the ending to a story they could not manage, for the hero to all their play-acting.
As with most stories of this nature, there is a terrible twist of fate that cannot be altered, despite this author’s best wishes that none of this had come about; for on this very day of hide-and-seek, Elena had brought with her to their games an object which she held most dear to her own young heart. While Dawn was left a book of mysterious languages and stories of ghosts and ghouls, Elena had in her possession the youthful journal of her own mother, dead so many years before. While Dawn had her shelves of books holding her scrawl unscrambling ancient obscurities, Elena had begun the practice of writing in her child’s hand the story of her life, and of the lives of those around her. She fancied herself a great recorder of human truths and human triumphs; and she longed for nothing more than to share this project with her dearest friend.
All childhood friends must grow apart, for that is the very nature of maturity, one soul cannot live on in two bodies, but must walk alone and hope for understanding and compassion. Buffy went out into the gardens and pushed her body to its limits with a bright smile on her face. Dawn lost herself in the daily tasks of a woman of fortune, keeping her book and many papers a secret hobby. Elena took upon herself, at an age that many argued was far too young, the direct management of her estate - the grounds, house, and tenants her chief priority - while every night secretly dictating the beautiful and whimsical world she still clung to in her deepest heart. All childhood friends must grow apart in their own way, it is seen as natural and useful and not at all tragic; yet it is difficult, in this case, to not still feel a sense of loss, even as these have remained so close, for there is a seemingly impenetrable wall between two such like-minded people.
“Married?” Dawn put down her spoon carefully in her saucer and looked across the breakfast table at her guardian with what she hoped was not too unguarded expression. “Mr. Donovan is married? Why he only left town a month ago.”
Spike, on her left, dipped his spoon into a jar and pulled out a healthy portion of blackberry preserves, slathering it on his muffin as though the conversation at hand was of no interest to him whatsoever. Dawn’s heart yearned for her dear friend and she wished very much that her guardian would have picked a more suitable time to share the contents of his letter.
“He’s asked me to send Patrick over to the house and prepare a few things for his return,” Mr. Saltzman said with a dismissive air. “And he will be Mr. Donovan-Harris upon his return.”
Something twisted, sharp and unyielding, in Dawn’s chest, “Excuse me?”
“Found himself a nice boy to bring home?” Spike said, his mouth full of biscuit and jam. Dawn took a sip of her tea to steady her nerves.
Mr. Saltzman squinted at the letter, “A Miss Anyanka Jenkins and a Mr. Alexander Harris.” He put down the letter and gestured to Dawn with his teacup, “One of those triad marriages that are so in vogue in the city. I wish him well with it.”
“I suppose we shall have to have them for tea, greet them to the neighborhood,” Dawn was very glad that she did not spill a single drop of tea as she refilled her guardian’s cup. “I think just a small chat to start, don’t you Alaric?”
But his mind was already on other business, leaning across the table to get Spike’s opinion on some political something or other. Dawn sat back in her chair, slumping a bit in her distraction, wondering in vain at the ridiculousness of the male species. Elena found her like that, a frown on her face and a biscuit in her hand, when she tromped through in her riding habit - stolen from Alaric’s closet long ago, breeches covering her legs in a most indelicate manner - and couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face.
“What’s wrong, Dawn dear? Are they ignoring you again?” Elena tsked to herself as she pulled out a chair and sat down, helping herself to a cup of tea. “Shameful behavior from two such gentlemen.”
Dawn looked up at her then, blinking rapidly, “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
Elena smiled tightly, her playful manner evaporating into air like a damp fog under the summer’s sun, “Did you hear the news? Our Mr. Donovan has gone and found himself a husband and a wife! The village will never recover from the novelty of it.”
“Not unless you undertake the same task,” Spike pointed out cheerfully.
Dawn wished, then and there, that she could disappear under her chair. “Oh Miss Gilbert will never marry,” she said in a biting tone as she stood up, quite tired of the act of breakfast, “she’s far too particular for anyone to ever be suitable for her. An angel could descend from on high and our friend here would find fault with them.” She swept out of the room, leaving behind a rather ashen-faced Miss Gilbert and two rather amused gentlemen.
When she was quite out of earshot, Spike leaned over the table and pat Miss Gilbert’s hand, “There, there Elena.” Mr. Saltzman was overcome with a bout of giggles and could offer no comfort to his young friend and was very glad that Spike was there to do the honors.
Meanwhile, in another corner of the house, Dawn prepared a basket of vegetables from the garden to be taken to Miss Kendall and tried not to be too snappish with the cook. After an invigorating walk through the countryside, without Spike at her side as she decided to go alone, she felt ready enough to endure an hour of Miss Kendall’s chatter about the perfect and graceful Miss Forbes, and was just about to feel guilty for leaving her friend behind, to be entertained and harassed by Mr. Saltzman using god knew what means, when she is startled by a stranger on horseback jumping over the fence bordering the road mere inches from her face. Dawn would have believed that the whole incident, a blur of black horseflesh and blue and white fabric, had been only a figment of her imagination, had the visage not turned back around and trotted up to her within moments of nearly trampling her to death.
“I’m so sorry,” a laughing girl in a charming blue riding habit and bright blonde hair said from atop a rather large horse. “You caught me by surprise! I did not think that anyone would walk these paths alone.”
Dawn laughed back, “I often walk alone, but rarely observe my surroundings as it is so unusual to come upon on another soul at this hour.”
The girl swept off her hat and bowed in a silly, mock-salute, “Do keep a better eye out.”
Dawn grinned, “I shall.” The woman turned her horse around, and Dawn darted forward. “But!” she called out, “what is the name of the young lady that nearly trampled me on my morning walk? A stranger here is no ordinary occurrence.”
“They call me Caroline Forbes, if you must know,” the girl trotted back around, making a circle around the area where Dawn stood.
“Why! Of course, I know that name as well as my own, have heard it spoken many times,” Dawn felt betrayed, and rather glad of it, that Miss Kendall’s prattle of a perfect, poised person had merely preceded a more wild and playful truth.
“Then you must be Miss Dawn Summers,” the girl exclaimed. “I am so very glad to have met you this way, in the open air, and not in the stuffy apartment of my aunt.”
“Why I am just on my way there now,” Dawn said cheerfully. “Though you will of course best me in a foot race armed as you are.”
Miss Forbes furrowed her brow, a very pretty sight in Dawn’s estimation, “Oh do not speak of me at home. They are not expecting me until tomorrow. It is so much more pleasant to sneak up on relations before they begin to keep an eye out.”
Dawn was very fond of keeping secrets, and this one pleased her in a way she could not fully express to herself, it felt daring and exciting, “Your secret is safe with me, Miss Forbes.”
“Oh, Caroline please!” and with that last word, she was gone, across the field in the direction of the Summers-Maclay property.
Dawn continued on her way to the village, stopping in to visit Miss Kendall for an hour, and bearing her annoying, though well-meaning, excitement over the impending arrival of Miss Forbes with extremely good humor.
“I have always felt,” she said that night over dinner to her family, “that I would have a closer kinship to Mr. Gilbert, as all reports of him suggest that he is a well-behaved and charming person, without the burdensome quality of being perfect getting in the way, but I must say Caroline surprised me on the road today - which is such a secret and you must keep it to yourselves - as being a truly delightful creature. I am so glad that she is finally among us and a secret no more.”
“Will this end the reign of our beloved Spike as your partial favorite,” Mr. Saltzman asked, with a twinkle in his eye that his youngest ward did not make out across the table.
“Of course not,” Dawn sniffed. “A person can have more than one friend.”
The rest of the evening passed in conversation and speculation on the topic of Miss Forbes and the exact meaning of her visit, as her companion Miss Chase was so jealous of her time. The two Mrs. Summers-Maclay took their leave of the house directly after dessert, not staying for a longer chat in the sitting room, which was unusual as they did so dearly love to stay by the fire long into the night, but on that evening both were bursting with questions that only could be voiced away from the house. Immediately upon shutting the door behind them, Mrs. Tara turned to her wife excitedly and demanded to know why Miss Gilbert had not informed Dawn of the presence of her brother in the village, as the young gentleman had arrived very late the preceding night. Buffy trilled with laughter over the shock that would commence when her sister learned that Mr. Gilbert had arrived right under her nose, and on the very same day as Miss Forbes. There bespoke a very serious reason for Miss Gilbert’s silence on the matter, especially as she had brought her brother over to meet the couple just that afternoon. Buffy speculated that Miss Gilbert had attempted to tell Dawn about her brother that day, but had been mislaid by an important event at the estate. Tara argued that surely nothing would get in Miss Gilbert’s way of introducing her brother to Dawn, her dearest friend. And wasn’t it all very odd that it seemed Alaric had mentioned Miss Gilbert’s presence at the breakfast table that very morning? They went to bed with many various presumptions in their mind, but no firm conclusion between the two of them.
Miss Elena Gilbert, from the time that she was a young girl, had such a charming and winsome disposition that she was able, without very much conscious effort on her part, to exact extreme loyalty and devotion from her friends, acquaintances, and even the occasional stranger. Indeed, upon a trip to the seashore with her young brother as a girl, she had caught the attention of a lovely family who took her under their wing within moments of meeting her. The Michaelsons still send an impressive Christmas gift to her home every year. It is in her very bearing, in her smile, in the way that she carries herself, that impresses upon all who meet her a sense of honor and grace, a feeling that you already know her even if you have yet to be introduced, a sense of deep attachment when there is nothing yet between you. To all who know her, Miss Gilbert is the true embodiment of cheery playfulness and honest intent.
To all who know her, save one.
In Dawn’s presence, Miss Gilbert, quite uncharacteristically, transforms into a rather stiff, formal creature, a fact that has been remarked upon by the few friends who truly have the intimacy of favor with the young woman that many only presume. Truly, it could be said that these few friends have made quite a few jokes on the topic at the young woman’s great expense in the past, but as their playful jibes only seemed to increase her discomfort and measured air, it has become over the years an unalterable fact and a joke only outside of her presence. Elena herself, very often comes away from interactions with Miss Dawn as though the younger girl is the only one who sees her true self, the sometimes harsh, biting, exacting personage with the threat of a lecture lingering on her lips the most comfortable skin she wears. At the end of a long and tiresome day, Miss Gilbert is secure in the fact of her red chair in the Saltzman sitting room, from which she can be as pleasant or as belligerent as she chooses without fear of disturbing anyone’s peace of mind. There is, as many women know, a certain burden to being charming and generous that is not easily escapable, even in the presence of a sister or close friend. Perhaps, as the elder Mrs. Buffy Summers-Maclay suspects, this brittleness of behavior is an armor of sorts, put upon in the presence of her sister as a guard; or perhaps both women are correct and the bare flesh of Elena’s personality lay somewhere between the harshly practical taskmaster and the overly kind and playful girl. Mrs. Buffy Summers-Maclay, in a conversation with her bride some short weeks after Christmas, remarked that it would only be upon the appearance of the long-missing Mr. Jeremy Gilbert that any sort of conclusion could be made.
That Mr. Gilbert had no way of knowing what sort of wild conjectures were made upon his person in the years since he had vacated the village of his birth, nor was the young gentleman aware of the position that his sister had wrought within her personal relationships, is to be expected in cases such as this. We can surmise that had the gentleman in question known the effect his visit was presumed to have, he would have laughed rather cheerily over the idea with his sister and dismissed it out of hand. It is one thing to know that one is a goldfish in a bowl, surrounded by an audience waiting for a trick of some kind, and quite another to be thrust into an arena with no warning. Although his sister’s letters to him over the years had mentioned on many occasion the rumors and theories as to his personality and life’s vocation, Mr. Gilbert had dismissed these as teasing anecdotes from his sister’s own mind. In Mr. Gilbert’s memory, Miss Elena was as much a sister as she was a storyteller, as much a landowner as a prankster, as much a gentlewoman as she was a childish imp.
Miss Elena Gilbert had such a charming and winsome disposition that she was able to exact extreme loyalty and devotion from everyone she came into contact with; but none more so than her younger brother, Mr. Jeremy Gilbert. Although never the direct presence in each other’s lives that they may have wished, still the siblings kept in close contact all the years of their lives. Their uncle, Mr. John Gilbert, was by all accounts in the village a man of ill-repute, who kept the younger Mr. Gilbert jealously close to him, dragging him all over strange continents without any thought for the young man’s own desires. Miss Elena and Mr. Jeremy never, even amongst themselves, spoke poorly of their uncle, but as he was the one factor that seemed to keep Mr. Jeremy from their sights, the village hardened their hearts against him. Despite the tangle of separation, there was no one in the world who admired Miss Elena more, and no one who knew her better.
In the morning on his second day home, Mr. Jeremy Gilbert sat at the breakfast table and waited for his sister to return from her morning ride. Despite rising at, in his opinion, at an ungodly hour himself that morning, he had not managed to catch his sister before she galloped off into the rising sun, therefore he had to content himself with rambling about the house aimlessly until a boy took pity on him and found someone to serve breakfast in the garden. It was here that Mrs. Tara Summers-Maclay found him and after a moment’s hesitation, agreed to join him. She had only been walking by on her way to help Mr. Saltzman with a personal matter, and had planned on breaking her fast upon arrival, but curiosity, of course, got the better of her. Which is why, when Miss Elena returned from her morning ride, she found her seat at the table already occupied.
“They are expecting you up at the house,” Elena said by way of greeting, bending over to kiss her friend on the cheek. “Alaric was complaining that you are always late.”
“I am always early, he has never been good at keeping time,” Tara replied primly, a crooked smile on her face. “How did you find the house otherwise?”
Elena scowled and plopped down on the grass at her brother’s feet in a rather unladylike manner, “A ridiculous state, as per usual these days.”
Tara shot Mr. Gilbert a sly glance, “Was Spike up to his usual antics?”
Mr. Gilbert nearly choked on his bacon and hastily recovered with a swallow of tea that Tara already had waiting for him, “Who in god’s name is Spike?”
“Why he is Miss Summers’ dearest friend,” Tara said helpfully. Mr. Gilbert knew in this moment that a jest was at hand, and he was very grateful that the charming woman had accepted his plea for a breakfast companion. “Quite a charming young man, actually,” she continued, buttering a piece of toast with a nonchalant air, “a poet, you know.”
Elena snorted somewhere below the table, “Spike was not there this morning. He seems to have squirreled himself away before I arrived, something about the muse and the sunlight in the garden.”
“What an interesting sounding fellow,” Mr. Gilbert said with a grin at his companion, reaching down to hand his sister a slice of peach from his own plate. “I can’t wait to meet him.”
“If Spike was off writing somewhere, then the breakfast table must have felt quite empty without him,” Tara hedged, now keen with curiosity over Miss Elena’s decidedly belligerent mood.
“It was quite full to the brim, actually,” Elena said, her hand popping up over the edge of the table, looking for more fruit. “Caroline was there.”
“Oh Miss Forbes! So she and Dawn are becoming fast friends, how delightful,” Tara poured a bit of tea into a cup and handed it across the table to Mr. Gilbert, gesturing with her eyes that it should be delivered by his hand to Elena. “I met Miss Forbes and Miss Kendall walking home from the post office last night, she is really quite charming.” Another snort came from the general direction of Miss Gilbert’s form and Tara winked at Mr. Gilbert. “My wife remarked after the meeting that Miss Forbes would make a very fine confidant for Dawn, she is so lacking in female companionship these days, since Buffy and I set up house.”
“If female companionship is what Dawn feels in neglect of, all she must do is seek it out, it isn’t as if you and Buffy moved to the next county. Miss Forbes is a very silly young woman and I fear Dawn will regret making a deep attachment too soon.”
“Can you really think so of someone you have only just met?” Mr. Gilbert intoned very quietly to his sister, a look of great consternation on his face.
“Apparently she is going all the way to the city for a haircut tomorrow morning, the vanity of it is shameful,” Elena responded in a harsh tone. “As I left, the two had picked up the fanciful notion of hosting a ball in the village, they were quite thick as thieves.”
Tara pursed her lips, “Perhaps Dawn has met her match at last and will finally concede to marriage? Buffy and I had thought that Spike… but he is not that sort of man. Despite Dawn’s best intentions, I don’t believe Spike is the marrying kind.”
“No indeed,” Elena said, rising to her feet. “If you’ll excuse me, I must go see to some business with a tenant. Jeremy, perhaps you could escort Tara over to the house after breakfast? You could meet the infamous Miss Forbes and I won’t have to stomach introducing you to the silly creatures myself.”
“Miss… Caroline Forbes?” Jeremy plucked up a strawberry from his plate as he spoke and handed it to his sister. “Is she by any chance the companion to Miss Cordelia Chase?”
“Why, yes. I do believe that she has lived with the Chase family for years,” Tara said, trying to hide the shock in her voice. “Miss Forbes told us that the young girl had been married to a Mr. Liam Angelus. She seems at a loss for what to do with herself now.”
“Did you meet her while you were abroad with uncle?” Elena asked through a mouthful of strawberry, leaning down to pluck a crust of toast off her brother’s plate.
“I had occasion to meet her in passing a few months back. Uncle is an old friend of Liam’s from their schooldays.”
“And what did you think of the young lady?” Tara asked eagerly.
“I…” Mr. Gilbert hesitated a brief moment, gaining him a look of suspicion from his sister. “I only met her in passing you must understand, but she seemed a perfectly respectable sort of person.”
Elena stared down at her brother for a moment and then, after a quick apology and a kiss on Tara’s cheek, was off to fulfill her duties. Tara had the great pleasure of walking with Mr. Gilbert to the Saltzman house, during which she learned all kinds of delightful tidbits about his life traveling about the world with his uncle that she went directly home to share with her jealous wife, and presented him to Miss Dawn Summers. The young man behaved remarkably well in the face of three young ladies, joining in their conversation about a ball with enthusiasm and good humor. Of course, he could not stay long, as it seemed an injustice to keep himself away from his sister for too long. That night at dinner, he lamented in secret to Miss Gilbert that he had not had the opportunity to meet the much spoken of Spike, as the young poet was apparently still at the whim and guidance of the muse when he arrived. The happy event of a meeting between the two young gentleman occurred in the Saltzman dining room just three days later and afterwards Mr. Gilbert seemed so tickled and pleased with Spike very much living up to his reputation, that his sister barred him from her study in short order.