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smolvenger · 2 months

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Our Society At Cranford (William Buxton x fem! Reader Oneshot)

Summary: As Miss Matty's companion, you struggle to gain the attention of the handsome young Mr. Buxton. It appears you need a little help from the ladies of Cranford...

A/N: Not my best or most edited work. No stakes (unless you count marriage for women in the 1840's as stakes which back then it was) and only vibes. But I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: Technically none other than some angst and attempts at Victorian-era accuracy. But then nothing but fluff and vibes. If I miss anything, let me know!

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr

You were infatuated with him since the day his dog ran into the church and urinated on the altar.

That morning, you thought you heard the sound of tapping paws and opened your eyes to see a little dog in the church. Everyone was dipping their heads down in prayer. Oblivious to a little mischief. It was everything in you not to laugh at the little dog.

But the little dog ran right in like he owned the place, running and excited to be about. The prayer droned on, repeating the same phrases everyone said every Sunday.

In your reticule was a plain biscuit you saved from Sunday school. Slipping it out, you knelt, waving the treat to the dog. Daring not to speak to alert anyone.

The dog trotted forward and ate it, then you scooped him up into your arms. You held onto him, even though he struggled. If he got out he could run into the wilderness where all sorts of nasty ends were waiting for him. Once Mrs. Forrester’s cow was found stuck in the mud for hours and nearly died! Now the bovine was kept to wearing, for lack of a better word, pajamas all hours of the day to keep warm.

As your family opened their eyes next to you, they gasped. People smelled the urine and heads turned towards you. Surprised to see the little thing in your arm. Heads did turn and Reverend Hutton had to wave everyone’s attention back to the service.

But the scruffy white and brown dog settled and calmed down after a while. If you stroked his front legs and chest gently, he would become calm and sleepy like a charm.

As soon as it ended, you hurried outside. The dog began barking and wiggling. The widows and spinsters of Cranford you had befriended- Mrs. Forrester, Miss Pole, and your favorite, sweet Miss Matty all gathered around. They chatted about Reverend Hutton. Their chins up and talking as fast as clucking hens. All wondering about the dog’s urine and the shock.

“The altar cloth was made by Miss Matty’s mother! We shall have to find an apothecary or-”

“Napoleon! Where are you- I’m so sorry to interrupt ladies and reverend!”

All of you turned. The women kept silent. You were struck silent.

A young man entered as handsome as a prince in a fairy tale. Tall and lean. He had beautiful curly blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a rich baritone voice that halted your every thought.

“Master William Buxton!” whispered Miss Pole.

“I think we ought not to call him master now…” Mrs. Forrester replied you noted the flirtatious shift in her tone. “He’s so much…broader than when we saw him last.”

You noted he had broad shoulders indeed, and he was well fit beneath his waistcoat. It made you feel even warmer beneath your sun and your bonnet.

You and the ladies dipped into a curtsy and he a bow.

“I believe that is my dog, he escaped the house an hour ago and we’ve been searching for him ever since!” he explained.

You walked forward.

“Oh, thank you, Miss?” he asked.

You gave him your name, though your voice felt half of itself. “I…I only wanted him to be safe and not get hurt if he ran out.”

“That is much kind of you, miss! Could I have him?”

Walking over, you handed the dog to him. As the weight shifted, you felt his arms and hands brush against yours and as silly as it was, it nearly knocked your breath away. Young men here were few and far between to where one considered Cranford a city of Amazons. But here he could be something of a Hercules in the flesh.

“Oh, I am sorry! He is a bad dog!” he apologized again.

“Here you go” you offered.

“William Buxton!” Miss Matty gasped as she went forward and shook his hands. He grinned at her, greeting his old friend.

“We are so sorry to hear of your mother’s passing, but we are glad you could be here!” she continued.

“I am only here to open up the house, and attend to this bad dog,” he scolded, holding him up. Napoleon only smiled and panted in response.

“Well, we are glad you are here,” you replied.

After curtsies and bows, he scooped the dog up in his arms and continued back home. But you couldn’t help but stare at him, his curls like a halo around him.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Cranford, though a small town, was filled with all sorts of likable people. If you were feeling lonely, you had to go about and soon would find a friend. And there was no better friend in town than Miss Matty.

She was the unmarried daughter of the previous rector and lived a life of genteel poverty- acting like she was still a lady who did not need work or seek employment… despite not being anything more than middle class. She was lonely too. Her sister, her maid, and the love of her life all died within two years. In light of this, you offered to be her companion. Not accepting a penny for her for payment. You both were lonely souls needing company, even in the guise of her feeling like a true lady again.

You enjoyed sitting and drinking tea with her. The clock ticking as she chuckled that this was always the time one expected visitors. One had to take a walk about twice a day. Both of you enjoyed looking through the windows of the shops to see what new fashions were arriving- that was the most excitement one got around town when it wasn’t Christmas!

“What do you think of this French style?” you asked, pointing to one illustration of a gown.

“Very impractical, but very pretty!” Miss Matty replied.

“It’d be nice to wear it to one of our dances here…if we had them again…” you sighed.

“I’m sure if the time comes,” she replied. “They are quite fun- there is one around Christmas Eve and another around Easter.”

“Oh, you should go too! Do you still remember the dances!”

“All of them,” she said with a smile.

Her sister would insist on sitting in the parlor for two hours every day from noon to two to receive any visitors. Sometimes you only sat in a chair doing nothing for two hours.

But lately, you kept staring at the window. Staring at the door. Hoping, praying…that perhaps Mr. Buxton would arrive again.

You couldn’t help but admire him. He would always tip his hat at you and smile when you passed in the street.

Everything in you was bursting when you saw him. Freezing and burning at once. Part of you wanted to run up to him and blab about anything. The other part of you wanted to run, to hide, to faint, to make yourself away when he was near. It was both at once and it was unbearable.

There was one day, as you took your second walk of the day, that a familiar sight ran forth. A high feather- only one lady in town wore such a high feather in her bonnet.

“Miss Matty! Miss Matty!” cried Miss Pole.

Both of you curtsied.

“Why, what is it?” she asked.

Miss Pole held her chin up and began to speak in a soft, but piercing tone.

“I hear Mr. Buxton plans on keeping his son here for two months, but soon he will be sent to London. Just in time for the season.”

“Oh, the season!” you gasped.

Then…the season…that was for all the well to do…but it meant…

“He wants his son to attend every ball and dinner and gathering he can- he hopes to find a nice girl from a good family who came out! And I hear Mr. Buxton is already writing some letters!”

You nearly dropped the packages in your hands. Shaking, you kept quiet.

“Why then, that is something! I only wish William well- it is not what he wants at all. But he isn’t our little Master Buxton anymore, he is a man and should find those,” replied Miss Matty.

“I can just imagine it. Our Master Buxton! Dancing the polka with some lady in silks fluent in French!” Miss Pole added.

You were silent as you returned. Your head spinning. You took off your bonnet and outer coat to go inside, but you hardly heard your footfall. It was as if the world was entrenched in water and you were just barely rambling it.

Again, you sat down from noon for calls. Miss Matty got out her needlework and sat down. But you could not do anything. Not read. Not sew. Not eat, Not drink. Anything. Your heart hammering in your ears.

After a few minutes, it became clear that no one was going to immediately arrive. Miss Matty set her things down, her gentle eyes over your face.

“Why, what is the matter, my dear?” she asked.

You looked down.

“Nothing, miss,” you replied.

“But look at you- you’re trembling. You seem a little faint even though you’re sitting…is something the matter?” she asked.

“It’s…it’s only something silly… I will get over it. I am resolved..” you said.

“I feel you wish to speak it,” she said. She stepped forward. “I may be just one

“Whatever do you mean?”

“I….I don’t…” you had to be careful. This was a small town and gossip got around like fire to dry wood. You fidgeted and rubbed your own hands to try to remain calm, looking down at your plaid skirt as you began.

“I only feel like…there are good men out there. And I..should like to someday…someday find a way to love, to be courted, to…to know what that is like…I only hope it should happen someday…”

Perhaps that was rude. Miss Matty wasn’t married. But she only smiled and continued with a soft, compassionate tone.

“That is normal…I remember back in my day how my heart would race when there were gentlemen callers. But there isn’t a rush…and besides, many a woman has been trapped in an unhappy marriage from rushing. And I will tell you…there are worse things in life than being a spinster!”

“Yes, indeed, I agree!” you replied. For it was truly the spinsters and widows who were the ones in charge of the town.

Though, you found yourself looking out the window. Your heart leaped at the sight of a familiar bowler hat and a mop of blonde curls. William Buxton passed by in his coat and gloves. He looked about the town.

You felt a small gasp in your throat. Behind you, there was the creaking of the floor. The timing was just too perfect.

But he only smiled and tipped his hat and you bowed down in a curtsy in turn. Oh, his smile could make rosebuds bloom!

Then his head turned towards his path and he continued.

You felt a soft, cold hand touch your shoulder and you flinched.

“Why, what was that!”

You felt yourself tear up. “Miss Matty! It’s nothing! It truly is not!”

“Why, my dear-I see the way you’ve been acting. And now this confirms my suspicions. Do you…love William?” she asked.

Words stammered out of you and a clamminess shook your hands, you could barely form a sentence.

“I…I…let me put the kettle on for some fresh tea!” you insisted.

You turned to leave. Putting the tea kettle onto the stovetop. You merely sat, watching and waiting until steam came out of the spout. But tears were going down your face. Miss Matty followed behind.

“Do you…have feelings for him, Miss Y/L/N?” she asked again.

Looking up, you felt more tears fall down your cheeks, growing hot and tight. Then you folded your hands, reaching one to touch the counter for support. Then putting one to your face you began to cry.

Miss Matty hurried up, giving you one of her handkerchiefs. She embraced you like a daughter and let you sob.

“It’s the talk with Miss Pole today that worried you, wasn’t it?” she asked.

“Yes…yes it was…but Miss Matty…please! I need help! I don’t know who will introduce us or where to see him!”

“Don’t worry…it’s time we took another call onto the Buxtons…” she said.

The next day, your heart raced as you entered that fine house. As you got inside, servants took your bonnets and cloaks.

“Napoleon! Napoleon, come here!” cried a familiar voice.

Looking up, you saw William Buxton tumbling down. But he was undressed to a degree- he had his pants and suspenders and his white blouse open down. You could see his chest lying open. Your heart raced hard and he stopped, looking at you.

“Miss Matty! Miss…Miss Y/L/N! We weren’t expecting visitors!” he gasped.

“Well, we only hoped to surprise you! Miss Y/L/N is my companion and it seems fit we should see each other!” she said.

All of you bowed and curtsied. You tried to keep your eyes as much as you could on his face and not his chest.

“Why then- let me get dressed before Father scolds me. Then I’ll be back!” he said.

He bounded back up. And then you let yourself see more of him. You silently sent a thousand thank yous to Miss Matty.

Sitting down, you had tea and biscuits. And the promises of more meals. There was much talk of the new train station and the mobility it was going to provide for everyone. Of the great spring party that the great Lady of the town threw. Everyone got to see her manor house and be attended to by servants. There would be games and rowboats and every guest was going to be given ice cream- a rare treat. William was excited about that especially.

You paid calls almost every few days, even for at least fifteen minutes. And Miss Matty advised you to dress well. Not that you would ever dress poorly if you knew William would be around.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Walking down the street the next week, you saw that familiar high feather in her bonnet scurrying down. No doubt it was Miss Pole, hopping about and running like a rabbit. Only she was heading toward you. It was later, Miss Pole scurried down the street.

“Oh, Miss Y/L/N! Miss Y/L/N! There is such excitement! There is a Miss Ermina here and she is showing us how to order all the French styles! Wouldn’t you like that?”

“Well, I-”

You didn’t have time to answer. Miss Pole grabbed your arm.

“Oh, you must hurry! I insist you do!”

She practically dragged you to her house. There in the kitchen sat a young woman with ivory pale skin and beautiful dark brown hair done up in curls. Her smart jacket and skirts were of fine material, but her eyes warmed as they looked up at you. She introduced herself with a smile as Ermina. Getting out a paper, she helped you and Miss Pole and Mrs. Forester all translate an order down onto paper. You looked through catalogs and showed what you could get and what to not get. Even if you weren’t spending money now, it was good to know!

Though Ermina’s eyes sparkled at you.

“I don’t believe we’ve ran into each other, are you just moved in town?” you asked.

“I was just finishing school. And yes- with my father and brother here! Well, they aren’t family by blood but they are in my heart!”

“She is Mr. Buxton’s ward, you know!” Miss Pole interjected.

“A ward!” you cried.

She nodded. You felt the blood drain out of you. “Why, the Buxtons are neighbors and friends of ours, I am acquainted with them.”

“Miss Ermina was finishing her education in Brussels. She is also an accomplished piano player!” Mrs. Forester boasted.

Miss Pole leaned in, her eyes having a twinkle in them.

“But Miss Matty was telling us that it is important for ladies to be more varied in their education .”

“I agree!” Ermina said.

“Why, as do I!” you cut in.

Miss Pole continued, laying a hand on your shoulder.

“And as for our Miss Y’LN,- could you show her a little piano, perhaps? Help her in her accomplishments!”

You shook your head. Why, were they just stealthily insulting your piano skills? What was happening? Ermina only kept her sweet smile.

“I fear I cannot afford lessons,” you said.

“Oh, not at all! I can show you a few simple cords and phrases! Come by, please!” Ermina replied.

Sure enough, you were having lessons at their house. Ermina herself became a dear friend to talk to. She was kind and not arrogant about her station. You found you both agreed on all sorts of matter regarding women, what they should have in their lives, and ways that things should be better, and different. She of course would tell you tips she noticed about fashion and the piano pieces she found moved her to tears.

Her presence was enough. You felt guilty, having an agenda. But at least if you lost a potential lover, you had gained a friend.

If it meant more of a chance for William to be in your circle, you agreed. You could have sworn, there was something a little different in how he smiled at you.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Then it came to the garden party with Lady Ludlow’s. It seemed all of the town was about there enjoying themselves as much as they could allow. Her whole yard could have made up half of the town! Her mansion towering above you like a giant about to squash you all. But the locals only chatted and laughed like normal. Some of them, Miss Pole, Mrs. Forrester, and one other were gathering to sit on chairs and rest their “weary” feet. Miss Matty was making her rounds of greetings, leaving you alone.

Sure enough, there was the promised ice cream. William, to your astonishment, brought you a cup of the dessert.

“Oh, thank you!” you replied. You took the cup from his large, white hand.

“Here you go, what do you think?” he asked.

Out of the corner of your eye, the women emerged from their chairs. They hurried about like a pack of ducks looking for crumbs in the grass.

It was cold, creamy and sweet. Though it was melting in the sun and you were tempted to eat it all at once.

“I…I never had something so delightful!” you cried.

However as you walked about, you realized there were rowboats but they were far limited. One had the Reverend’s daughter, Sophy, and her new husband smiling at each other as if no one else existed. They were already far off. Mrs. Forrester and Miss Pole claimed one another and fought as they kept rowing, chatting about this and that to echo off to everyone. \\

And there was only a third left. Miss Matty appeared, her own ice cream cup in hand.

“Why- it’s a bright day. And there is nothing as wonderful as a rowboat! Why don’t you two enjoy it- William, do be a gentleman and row for her!” Miss Matty said.

“Oh, I couldn’t!” you shook your head.

“Come on, it will be fun!” cried William.

He opened his hands and you accepted. You followed him. Stepping into the rowboat, you realize how close you are.

And you were alone. Nothing but the still, navy blue river twisting around like a ribbon and the rich green trees that rippled their leaves with the breeze.

You tried not to notice the build of his thighs, his sleeves rolled up, and his smile and cheeks glowing with the exercise. The boat moved and he grinned at you. Handsome as always, if not more.

“You’re not worried you’ll get splashed! Or fall into the water and have to swim!”

“Oh, not at all!”

You smiled at him and he at you.

“I still recall that day you caught Napoleon still. I should call you My Little Catcher.”

“I wouldn’t mind that at all a bit!”

“What’s been occupying your mind?” you asked him quietly.

“The…the…the trains,” he answered.

“Trains?”

“Yes, we are about to open our railway station. I was thinking, all of my life, I never had to work hard. To earn anything. I sat by and others did it. And I was content, but I’m no better than my own dog,” he replied.

You let out a small laugh, smiling at him.

“I would…like to try to make something of myself. Isn’t that silly for a gentleman?”

“Not at all, it’s noble. And one shouldn’t be ashamed of work.”

“I should go to the captain, and ask him for a position as we’re developing it. Then…I should think of myself as lucky, as earning something, and not letting this guilt consume me.”

“You have done nothing wrong. And there is nothing wrong with purpose. It will be a change, it will be hard…but nothing worth having is easy…” you said.

He smiled at you.

“You’re right, my little catcher,” he replied.

You grinned, then looked down for modesty's sake, as well as for your racing heart. Hope glimmering within you.

It seemed too soon when he turned around and asked if it was time to row home. You agreed.

Though he held out your hand, allowing you off. His bare hand bracing your skin- the warmth, the softness. How large they were yet so protective. Something forbidden inside you was tingling as his bare skin brushed your bare skin.

You had to let go, you were glad to let go and be on the grass. It lasted so shortly, yet you felt the world spin. You wanted him, and it both scared and thrilled you.

Soon enough, another woman hurried by. The honorable Mrs. Jamieson approached you two, with her fine dress and holding her Bischon Freise dog who was also donned up in a little blue waistcoat for today. Stifling a laugh, you greeted her. William bowed his head in goodbye and left.

“Why, I must tell you. The assembly hall will be open for spring. And there shall be a dance, will you go? We are all insisting it happens!” She announced.

Blinking fast, you caught your breath.

“Oh…that is fantastic!”

“It will need work…it’s a rather patched up dreary old place…” she clucked. The dog in her arms barked as if he agreed.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Though, then there was a dance. Just in time for Easter, as promised. You arrived in your new dress, bought with Ermina’s advice in your head. You took a deep breath- Miss Matty being your chaperone.

“I must tell you we spent weeks all organizing and helping it. I haven’t danced one step and we haven’t danced one step!” Miss Matty said.

“Oh, it’s all paid off! It’s lovely!”

Occupying them, and trading dance cards. But Miss Matty immediately insisted William have the first with you. And he agreed.

Your heart raced. It was a more intimate dance, almost like an embrace. He looked right in your eyes. And you had to look at his. It felt warm. You felt yourself tremble a little in his arms, feeling the warmth of his breath and his eyes, bluer than the sea, the sky on you. How could you dance with anyone else after this? How could you come down to earth?

The chords of the violins finished the phrase- and the song was done. You were still looking at him and he at you.

Glancing down, he saw that his arms were still around you in the position. Hesitantly, he let go and you both bowed, your hand still in his.

But his hand remained there, And his eyes were still on you. Leaning down, he gave it a kiss that nearly made you gasp.

“May I have you for the next waltz then, Y/N?” he asked.

Part of you froze and you saw he did too.

He didn’t call you Miss. Not even “Little Catcher.” He called you by your first name.

Handing your card, you smiled at him.

“You may,” you answered.

You turned around to see the ladies of Cranford- Pole, Matty, Forrester, Mrs. Jamieson, and the others, smiling and nodding their heads.

This could not be coincidental. But you could never complain.

There would be time to thank them, but for now in a Cranford Ballroom where everyone was easily overheard, you gave them a smile in thanks.

It was next spring there was another happy event.

In the shadow of a church, you looked at William right before the Front door and he at you. He was in as nice a waistcoat as he could now afford for today as an apprentice for a railway. He lowered his hat to look at you and hold his hands in yours. Your own gown was now of white muslin with tiny pink flowers decorated on the blouse, the skirts so light and airy you felt they were made of angel wings. You had worn a bonnet, but one with a long lace veil.

The ceremony was done, and it was time to face the crowd. William cupped your face and kissed you, tasting a little of the sacramental wine and fresh cologne.

From the brightness of his eyes, from his presence- you both had the strength to face anything.

is lifting your veil outside the church doors of your bonnet and smiling. He squeezed your hand, and as you walked out, the bells rang over you.

Everyone tossed petals and waved their handkerchiefs, cheering and clapping in celebration, in your shared happiness. Your heart full, you handed your bouquet of roses to Miss Matty and kissed her cheek.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

She smiled at you and then handed you to William. He wrapped an arm around you and all began to gather. There would be a celebration with cake, a little ice cream, dances, games, and joy until it was time for the short honeymoon his job allowed him, and then a return to the beautiful little town of Cranford and the new phase of your life together as a man and wife.

#carrie writes #tom hiddleston #return to cranford #cranford #cranford fanfiction #william buxton x reader #william buxton x you #william buxton x y/m #tom hiddleston characters #cranford imagine

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