Charles was actually happy.

Everyone expected him to be of course: he had a steady income, a more than adequate home, respect, a loving sister and fiancé. The romantic part of him wanted to disappoint them all and have some dark and mysterious secret, like an insane aunt living in his attic. But he was happy, no two ways about it. And he really did have a secret, although to him it was far from dark and unpleasant.

He could hear people's thoughts.

It fascinated him; this ability he had, that – as far as he knew – nobody else did. It was something he treasured, that he wanted to study, to explore, and understand its full potential. Despite how much he enjoyed his gift, he was thankful for one thing in particular; it was easy to hide. Unlike Raven's.

He really was happy, and convinced there was nothing that could ruin this.

It was a bright but chilly afternoon in early Spring, and Charles was locked in his study, shut away behind heavy curtains, and engrossed in his ever-present paperwork. Just after three, he was interrupted by knock at his door.

"Charles?" His sister's voice, clear and bright as the weather.

"Yes, Raven?"

"You'd better be dressed." A pause. "Are you?"

Charles looked up from the mass of paperwork, lists and open books on his terminally cluttered desk to his current state of attire. He was still wearing yesterday's clothes, and could probably do with a shave.

"Umm, mostly."

"For heaven's sake Charles!" Raven shouted through the door. "They're going to be here in less than an hour. Stop hiding in your work and come and talk to people. Actual people."

"Alright, Raven." Charles pushed a pile of papers from his lap and stood up.

"And don't forget, Moira's coming too." Charles could practically feel her smirking through the door. "You want to look handsome and dashing for her, don't you?"

"For God's sake." Charles chided, smiling all the same. "Leave me be, so I can perfect my supposed handsomeness."

"Fine. Just get dressed." He heard her footsteps retreating down the hallway. "NOW."

Their guests arrived just as Charles came down the stairs, earning him an eye-roll from Raven. At least they weren't yellow – she must have been keeping her excitement in check. At times when her emotions were riding high and her concentration low, her mask could easily slip. He poked his tongue out in reply, and hoped the couple making their way up the front steps didn't notice.

They were the most... angular looking couple Charles had ever seen; both tall and straight-backed, with prominent shoulders and cheekbones. The lady's face wore a crisp smile, the gentleman's set in hard lines. He sincerely hoped their personalities were softer than their faces.

"Welcome," said Raven, stepping forward to greet them. "Charles, you remember Mr Erik Lehnsherr and Mrs Emma Lehnsherr; formerly Miss Emma Frost."

"Yes, of course." Charles switched on his charm as he smiled and took Mrs Lehnsherr's hand. "Wonderful to see you both again." Stretching the truth a little, he thought. They'd met on several occasions at balls and dances and such, but he'd never spent more than a minute in either's company. Mr Lehnsherr took his hand briefly, with a polite nod. "Won't you please come through?"

They followed a maid, Kitty, into the living room, where she began to serve tea; all nervous smiles and clinking china in the presence of their guests.

"Thank you Kitty," said Charles, accepting his cup.

And that was all he said for perhaps the next half hour or so, as Raven and Emma discussed a dance given last week, and Emma's various redecorating plans for her home in the Spring fashions. Her husband, Charles noticed, was just as silent as himself, simply nodding assent when Emma required him to do so. His face was still set in the same harsh lines as it was when they had arrived; Charles itched to know what the man was thinking. And since he had made a personal promise to never search through a person's thoughts without their permission (it often complicated things) he would have to stick to traditional methods. He took the opportunity to cut in when Raven paused to accept more tea from Kitty.

"If you don't mind, perhaps I'll give Mr Lehnsherr a tour around the lake, and the stables, if you ladies can spare us."

"Of course," Mrs Lehnsherr replied smoothly, "I've been attempting to tear him away from his work for weeks. Some time outdoors would do you good." She smiled, all angles again. "Isn't that right dear?"

"Yes darling." Lehnsherr replied, just as smoothly as his wife, behind a slightly too-big smile. "I couldn't agree more."

"Right." Charles stood. There was something not quite sincere about those smiles they shared. "If you'll excuse us then. Ladies."

During their virtually silent walk together out of the house, Charles couldn't help himself. He reached out to brush the other's mind, just lightly, to read his mood, and so prevent himself making a conversational error. But he couldn't read him. Erik's mind was closed off.

Strange...

By the time they reached the man-made lake at the back of the house, Charles had nearly recovered himself.

"Mr Lehnsherr, do you fish?" He skipped a pebble across the grey waters.

"A little."

"Do you enjoy it?"

"Not often. It's but one thing in a long list of things I am expected to do."

Charles knew the feeling well. "I see. Well, perhaps I can persuade you into some tomorrow then." He sent what he knew was a charming smile Mr Lehnsherr's way. "If only to keep up appearances."

If the twitch at the corner of Lehnsherr's mouth was anything to go by, he'd almost smiled back.

"Maybe horses interest you more?"

This time, Charles definitely received a smile, though it lacked any warmth. "Yes. I must admit I find that pastime more rewarding."

"Then follow me, my good man."

As he led Lehnsherr down towards the stables, he tried once more to feel his mind, and again only received that prickling wall of defence. This had not happened to him before: he was used to people's minds falling open as soon as he touched them, like a well-worn novel. But not this time. Was it possible that Mr Lehnsherr... no. No, he couldn't be.

"We don't keep many, I'm afraid." Charles entered the tidy stable block first, enjoying the clarity of his voice echoing off the walls and cobblestone floor. The childhood smell of dust, hay and horse that no amount of sweeping could remove. The stabled horses pricked their ears at their approaching footfalls. "There's mine, Raven's mare, two for the carriage. And this old chap," he slapped the neck of a large black hunter, "was my father's."

Lehnsherr nodded his approval. "A fine animal."

"Yes." Charles managed the slightly awkward silence that followed by running his hand down the horse's neck. The poor boy didn't get used much these days, but Charles had been reluctant to part with him. Despite being surrounded by old possessions of his father's in the family home, the proximity of a living, breathing animal kept his memory far more alive.

Surprisingly, it was Mr Lensherr who broke the silence. "I understand we are to be your guests until late this Sunday evening."

"Yes," Charles flashed a reflexive smile, "Raven was determined to have your wife the whole weekend. For some time she's been badgering me to formally invite you both." He hesitated, not sure if his next comment would be too intrusive. "Although I can't say I have any idea what they must talk about; they never seemed like they could get on well, to me. Fashions in town I suppose. And..." he cast his mind about to think of something else they may discuss, "... curtains?"

"Oh, I expect they're talking about a great deal more than curtains."

"And what might that be?"

"Us."

"Whatever do you mean?"

Lehnsherr set his jaw, as though impatient with Charles' stupidity. "During what has felt like a very long marriage to my darling wife, I have learnt that the moment you leave women alone, they discuss you in every way you could possibly imagine. And when you are with them, you become invisible." He frowned hard at the horse, now talking to him more than Charles. "She believes it gives her an air of mystery."

Charles laughed. "Well, I'm sure anything Raven could say about me is hardly worth considerable discussion."

"Oh, you have no idea. At least you're not married, I suppose. That's when it really starts."

"I may well be soon."

Lehnsherr raised his eyebrows in question.

"There is a young lady; another friend of Raven's actually, whom I have been seeing for some time now." As foolish as he felt, he couldn't help the smile that came with his thoughts of Moira. "We are engaged."

"Then I must congratulate you, my friend, on your certain fate of boredom and feelings of inadequacy."

Lehnsherr's blunt honesty was starting to get to Charles – he'd never met anyone so frank before. "I'm truly sorry you feel that way. But I must confess I'm looking forward to having her by my side."

"Oh poor Mr Xavier," Lehnsherr turned to look at him, their faces inches apart, arms brushing, "There are so many more glorious things in life than a good woman."

Before Charles could even register what Mr Lehnsherr had said, there was the sound of a carriage coming up the driveway.

"That'll be Moira."

"I'd like very much to meet her." Lehnsherr looked it was about the last thing in the world he'd want to do.

"Very well." He found it marginally harder to drag up his smile this time.

They reached the carriage just as Miss MacTaggert was stepping out.

"Charles." She greeted him with her usual smile, and Charles kissed her hand.

"Moira. Wonderful to see you again." He meant it. He could feel her mind bright and buzzing, and a little embarrassed, still, by his gesture. But his contentment was short-lived when he remembered the sullen presence waiting patiently just behind him. If his mind wasn't somehow blocked off, Charles knew he would have been able to feel Lehnsherr's sour amusement. "This is Mr Lehnsherr, Moira. He and his wife, a friend of Raven's, will be staying with us this weekend. Mr Lehnsherr, Moira MacTaggert."

She offered him a polite smile; all business, as she often was in society. Charles was thankful she knew how to take care of herself. "Mr Lehnsherr," she curtseyed, "Lovely to meet you."

"Miss MacTaggert." Lehnsherr bowed his head, then smiled the same hard smile he had earlier.

Charles wasn't sure if Mr Lehnsherr's show smile was better or worse than his straight face.

...

AN: Since my Hetalia muse is being a ho, I decided to try some Cherik. This may fail hideously, I could do with a beta, to be honest :/

Set early-mid 1800s, please excuse my lack of period knowledge.

Title is from Mumford and Sons song 'Timshel' and has probably already been used by someone else... If so, sorry :P