A few days later, a cab pulled up to a big house on the outskirts of London - Wellington Estate, the house and five acres of land that Marc's mother lived in and the house that Marc and his older sisters had grown up in.
"Marc, it's lovely!" Christine gasped. "You grew up here?"
Marc smiled. "Yes. I'm glad you like it." He got out of the cab and helped her out of her side.
"By the way," he continued, "I believe this is yours." He pulled a large length of black material out of his satchel and handed it to her.
After a moment, she recognized it as her cloak. She let out a cry of delight and buried her face in the material. Then she looked back up at him and smiled the biggest smile she'd ever smiled towards him at him. "Thank you! Oh, I'm so glad you brought it."
"Of course I brought it. I washed it. It was all bloodstained and covered in dirt, so it took me some time to get it all the way clean, but it's all clean now."
She smiled again. "Well, thank you. What about my dress that I was wearing that night?"
He threw his head back and laughed. "Are you joking? That dress was too far - gone to be saved. Sorry."
"That's all right," she replied, putting her cloak on over her shoulders and putting the hood on over her head.
"You're wearing that now? It's April."
She nodded. "Yes. I don't want people seeing my mask. I'll wear it the short length from here to inside."
"Okay," he said, shrugging. "Get your bags. Let's go."
They got their bags and Marc paid the cabdriver. Then they walked up to the front porch of Wellington Estate, Christine standing behind Marc, the hood of her cloak over her head. He knocked on the door.
A gray - haired woman in a gray silk dress who was slightly taller than Marc opened the door. "Marc, darling!" she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around him.
He returned the embrace, smiling. "Hello, Mother."
The woman let go of him. "What brings you here, Marc dear?"
"We came to visit you," he replied.
Since the woman hadn't seen Christine, who still stood behind him, she inquired, "'We'?"
He stepped to the side, allowing her to see Christine. "Mother, allow me to introduce Christine Vasille, my friend from Paris." He turned to Christine. "Christine, this is my mother."
Christine curtsied, extending her left hand slightly, her fingers just missing the woman's outstretched hand, still looking up at the woman. "Madame," she said softly, "it is a pleasure to meet you, and I apologize for my intrusion on this private moment of reunion."
Mrs. Wellington gazed at Christine momentarily, then returned the curtsy and replied, "It's lovely to meet you, Christine dear." She stepped aside. "Won't you both come in?"
Marc and Christine entered the house, and Marc let out a sigh of ecstasy as he placed his suitcase down on the floor and looked around, smiling. "Home sweet home."
Christine was looking around the house as she set her suitcase down, too, but not because of any 'home sweet home'. She was stunned by the house's size. "What a lovely house you have, Madame Wellington," she commented.
Mrs. Wellington smiled. "Thank you, dear. I'll show you to your rooms. Follow me, please, Christine dear."
Christine picked up her suitcase and followed Mrs. Wellington upstairs. Then they came to a bedroom with a huge window that looked out the entire back of Wellington Estate.
"This is wonderful, madame," Christine breathed, looking around as she slowly walked inside the room. She placed her suitcase on the bed and turned to Mrs. Wellington. "Thank you."
Mrs. Wellington smiled and nodded. "You're welcome, dear. When you're unpacked and settled in, come on downstairs and we'll have tea." Then she closed the door behind her.
When Mrs. Wellington came downstairs, Marc was still standing there, looking around.
"Oh, snap out of it, dear," she sighed, patting him on the arm and smiling fondly. "You remember where your old room is, right?"
"Yes, Mother," Marc replied.
"Well, then go upstairs and settle in, and when you're unpacked and settled in, come downstairs and we'll have tea."
Marc nodded, then made his way upstairs to his old room.
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When Marc and Christine had unpacked and settled in, the two of them and Mrs. Wellington had tea in the parlor.
"So, Christine, is my young Marcus here courting you?" Mrs. Wellington asked as she sipped her tea.
Marc's eyes widened, as though he was shocked by the question. "Mother!" he whispered.
Christine, meanwhile, nearly choked on her tea. She felt her face flush as she managed to stop coughing. "No, madame," she replied. "Marc isn't courting me. We are simply good friends."
"Ah," Mrs. Wellington said, nodding. "I see."
"Yes, Mother," Marc replied. "We're simply good friends." He paused, then added, "And please don't call me by my real name."
Christine actually laughed a real laugh. "Marcus."
"Don't call me that!" exclaimed Marc, starting to laugh along with her.
Mrs. Wellington smiled. "Yes... I can see that you two definitely aren't courting, especially when everything hints towards it."
Then they all three started laughing.