Tempesta di Amore

Rating: Mostly Strong R.
Timeline: Britain, early-mid 20th century
Summary: AU. While vacationing in Monte Carlo, a young Buffy Summers meets the notorious William de Winter, withdrawn and desolate still from the loss of his wife. When her employer threatens to leave Europe and head back for America, William offers Buffy the choice of leaving or marrying him—a proposal she cannot refuse. With a husband she barely knows, the young bride arrives at an immense estate, only to be drawn into the life of the first Mrs. de Winter, the beautiful Drusilla, dead but never forgotten...the suite of her rooms never touched, her clothes ready to be worn, her servant—the sinister Mrs. Danvers—still loyal. And as an eerie presentiment of evil tightens around her heart, Buffy begins her search through internal destabilization and a knowledge that haunts her with every wake: she can never be Drusilla.

Disclaimer: The characters herein are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. They are being used for entertainment purposes out of love and admiration, and not for the sake of profit. No copyright infringement is intended. Furthermore, the character of Mrs. Danvers, as well as the skeleton of this story are accredited to the fantastic Daphne du Maurier.

“Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again…”

Prologue

The man was going to jump.

She knew it; just as surely as she knew that it was Wednesday and the sun would rise in the morning. The man was going to jump. No one ever looked that long—that seriously—at the sea at the bottom of a cliff without thinking of becoming a part of it. He was going to jump. And the swelling rage of the waters below roared their welcome.

She screamed before she knew what she was doing. Called out at the top of her lungs and nearly startling him to the next life with her voice alone. Pale blue eyes took up a storm of frenzy, finding her with both annoyance and relief. She was still screaming, but she did not care. He had not jumped.

He had not jumped. And now they were caught in the middle. Captured in one moment together; looking at each other. She did not realize that she had stopped screaming until the dying sound of her voice was thrown back by an angry sea.

No, he had not jumped. Instead, he was looking at her as though she was the most foolish thing he had ever set eyes on, which she wagered was the truth. A steady moment passed between two unremarkable souls. The man at the edge of the cliff, she in her white frock, barely aware of her thundering heart.

Stupid, stupid girl.

“Right,” he said harshly. That was it. One word. Voice thick with something too large to identify. And then he backed away and turned from her, storming intently back to civilization. To the club that sat beyond the quaint wilderness. The place she was sure he was staying.

The place she was staying as well. For now. Until her employer tired of the scene and moved them some place different. Some place that was not here. Not this place.

She released the breath she had been holding when she was alone again.

Convicted. Relieved.

The man had not jumped. The cliff was proud but similarly sullen and empty. The waters below raging in anger over their loss.

Buffy was numb but oddly satisfied. And she turned to leave the cliff just as it was. Proud and alone.

The man had not jumped.

TBC