MELSTRIFE: M. Giry has her cane so you can keep your frying pan. And more twists coming soon.

FRENZYVAMMI: Keeping you guessing am I...good. And yes they did have a nice talk.

GUESSST: Erik is a nice drunk...let's see how he is with a hangover.

JOANNE: thanks for saying you like it...I WILL keep posting and you will find out who Rose is ...soonish


AngelOfMusic: Since you are signing in as a guest reader, there is no way for me to respond to your messages, other than doing it this way - and updating previously posted chapters takes a bit of work. ha ha. So please know that I am getting your reviews and enjoying them, but can't respond to you. Do you have an account? If so, please sign in. Also I did get your cousin's review, but since she said her name was AngeDeLaMusique, I did not put two and two together. I did copy and past her message into Google Translate and enjoyed what she said. ha ha. Tell her thank you for me, will ya? Anyway, again, I am getting your reviews, loving them, but am unable to respond to them. Thank you very much! FP33

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Now...on with that new start!

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Chapter 11

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Erik's first thought when he woke was that he felt like hell. His head was throbbing in time with each beat of his heart, his stomach was nauseous and when he was foolish enough to open his eyes, the room would not stop spinning. What the hell had happened to him?

After several more minutes lying perfectly still, he began to recall a few things, the foremost being that he had apparently drank way too much. Flashes of his time spent at the tavern last night gave him ample explanation for his now pitiful state. He wondered how on earth he had made it back to Summercrest and into his own bed, for he could remember none of his journey getting there. He had just resigned himself to remaining where he was all day and forgetting the world existed, when he felt the bed move slightly, alerting him to the fact that he was not alone.

Once more his eyes opened and with the utmost care he turned his head to look at the pillow next to him…Christine! She was lying beside him; her face was turned towards the windows but she had apparently shifted in her sleep, the movement alerting him to her presence. Ever so carefully, Erik sat up and turned on his side so that he could stare at her, propping his pounding head up as he leaned on his elbow. What had happened last night…had they…? No, Erik thought, he was still fully dressed and she appeared to still be in a nightgown, so things must not have gone too far. Yet why did he seem to remember her lips on his? The taste and the scent of her lingered through the haze of his mind, indicating that something had taken place the previous night…but what?

Erik fought to remember, for he did not wish for her to awaken without knowing if he needed to beg her forgiveness or simply pick up where they left off. He truly hoped his inebriated state had not caused him to become a scoundrel and attack her last night. However the memories that kept floating back did not seem to indicate there was any resistance on her part…and yet. Erik could now recall her eyes…those beautiful eyes of hers had been full of uncertainty and fear. Instant regret gripped his heart at the thought that he might have been the cause. Please don't let it be that he lost control again…not with Christine! He had to remember!

Once more Christine stirred; this time rolling over facing him as she snuggled down further under the covers and buried her head in the pillow. Erik held his breath, terrified that she would wake up and scream in fear at the sight of him. Yet when he saw that her lips were turned up into a slight smile and her face seemed at peace, he began to relax. Perhaps what took place last night, whatever that might be, had truly been consensual. He shut his eyes and focused all his mental capacity on trying to remember…anything!

Then like the floodgates had been opened, memories came back in wave after wave. Relief washed over him as he realized he had not ravished her like he had feared…in fact…she had been the one trying to seduce him! Could that be correct? Or had it all just been a very vivid and pleasant dream? No…he was pretty sure it happened just as he was remembering it. He had come home from the tavern, eager just to see her and then she had been the one to initiate things by touching him. How on earth he had not given in fully to her pleading eyes he had no idea. For even now, in as much pain as he was, he would have had a difficult time rejecting her charms. Yet somehow he realized she was acting in desperation, having somehow gotten it in her head that he had a mistress? A mistress! How absurd was that idea? Still, that had been what motivated her to offer herself to him, not the desire or passion he so wanted and that was why he had stopped her. If she was not completely willing…he would not take her.

She was so beautiful to look at, her long, dark lashes resting against the alabaster skin that he longed to touch. Her lips were parted slightly as she breathed in and out, hardly a sound escaping as she continued to sleep. Such an angel, he thought, such a delicate ethereal being and he could not imagine the twist of fate that had brought her to him. It was then that the promise he made to her last night came back as well. He would learn to be a good husband for her…he had sworn he would find a way. Yet how? Even if he could not tell her all his secrets… yet…he could certainly do everything in his power to show her kindness and understanding until that day arrived. He still did not know exactly how to go about it but he was willing to try. If only his mind was clear enough to think properly, but right now all he could do was simply stare at her in wonder.

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Christine drifted from sleep, consciousness seeping in as she knew it was time to greet a new day. However, she was instantly aware that she was not alone. With her eyes still shut she could hear the steady breathing of someone else sharing the bed with her and if her memory served her correctly…it was Erik. Ever so slowly she lifted her lids and found herself looking up into the eyes of her husband. He was resting on his side, his head propped up by his left hand and he was staring at her with a slight smile.

Erik looked very tired, his eyes still red and slightly bloodshot from his evening of indulgence. Christine wanted to speak, but her voice was stolen from her by their intimate proximity to each other, for she could feel the warmth of his body as it radiated through the few covers that lay between them. With a wave of shame, Christine remembered her actions the previous night and felt her face blush at the thought of what she had almost done. Seducing her husband had been a foolish idea, especially for one who had no idea how to go about such things. Yet he had pulled back, he had stopped her, once more insisting that she was not ready…which she admittedly had not been. Now, looking at him, she wondered exactly what he had meant when he told her they would start over, that today would be the beginning of a new relationship between them.

Erik did his utmost to pull it together, attempting to hide the fact that he was not at his best, but he knew he needed to say something. He could not simply continue to stare at her like he was, he was sure it was quite nerve-wracking.

"Good morning," he said, but the moment his words left his lips he flinched, shutting his eyes as if even the slightest sound caused him pain.

"Are you all right?" Christine asked, keeping her own voice low in imitation of his.

"It appears not. I think even death would be preferable to this headache I have," he confessed, laying back against his own pillow as he brought his right hand up to massage his forehead. Erik was no stranger to the effects of too much alcohol, having overindulged more times than he cared to admit over the last four years. However it had never changed things, never truly helped and seemed to only make things worse come morning. This was the first time in over six months that his anger and depression had driven him to seek solace in the form of intoxicating spirits and he was now sorely regretting it.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked, feeling guilty that she had been the one to drive him to such things last night with her stubborn attitude.

"Just lay still and keep your voice low," he instructed, a queasy feeling making its presence known at the slightest movement of the bed.

"Once at the abbey, one of the new girls snuck into the chapel on a dare and drank half a bottle of the sacramental wine. She was terribly sick the next morning," Christine told him in a quiet voice.

"I can imagine," Erik said with a slightly amused grin on his face, but he continued to lay there with his eyes shut.

"Sister Margret was furious, but she gave her some ginger tea to drink and it seemed to help," Christine continued. "Would you like me to ask the kitchen staff to make you some?" She moved to push the covers back in order to do so should he accept her offer, but his left hand shot out and took hold of her wrist.

"No…just stay where you are," he said, but his words did not sound like an order, as much as a plea. "I would rather you remain here for a bit longer." He had opened his eyes and was now looking at her hopefully.

"If you wish, I will stay," she nodded, lying back down on her side as she curled her hands beneath the pillow under her head. "I wish there was something I could do to help."

"It helps simply to listen to you, your voice is very soothing and if you talk to me it will help take my mind off of the pain," he told her, once more letting his head rest on the pillow and shutting his eyes. "Tell me more about yourself…what do you enjoy doing in your spare time?"

"I…I like to read," she began, doing her best to think of things that made her happy. When she paused, unable to think of much else, Erik opened one eye and rolled over so that he could look at her questioningly.

"That is all?" he asked. "You do not have any other interests?"

"There was not much free time at the abbey," she confessed. "We all had our studies, our duties to perform and were required to help out with daily chores. When we were finished with those, we were expected to spend time in prayer and singing in the choir. I liked singing very much, but it was forbidden for us to do so on our own, or to sing anything but hymns." A look of shame came to her face as she stared into both of his bloodshot eyes. "However, I did not always obey and was caught several times humming old folk songs while gardening or helping out in the laundry room."

"So you have always been the rebellious type, have you?" he asked, his smile growing larger as he watched her cheeks turn red.

"I did try to be an obedient girl," she assured him. "But sometimes I could not help myself. When I felt the need to sing, or dance or just run free…I couldn't hold it in."

Erik found he liked that image very much. Christine as a child, that wild gleam in her eye and the stubborn tilt of her chin as she stood in defiance of the sisters, her little spirit yearning to break free.

"I would not ask you to hold in your desires here at Summercrest," Erik assured her. "If you feel the need to sing or dance, I insist that you do so… just perhaps not in front of the staff."

"Yes, I think I have already gained a rather scandalous reputation with them," she muttered.

"If anything, they are probably in awe of you," Erik laughed, once more cringing as the reverberations made the pounding in his head worsen. "Oh God, I swear I will never drink again!"

This time Christine could not help but giggle over his self-inflicted misery, feeling very badly about it a moment later when he shifted his weight and moaned even more.

"You are a cruel wife to laugh at me when I am obviously on death's door," he muttered, both his hands now coming up to hold his head still so it would not fall off.

"Perhaps, but you are a foolish husband for allowing yourself to be the instrument of your own pain," she pointed out.

"When I encouraged you to speak your mind with me, I did not know it was full of wickedness," he chuckled, enjoying the fire in her voice as she chastised him. He needed that. He needed someone to tell him the truth and not to cater to his every thought and whim. He needed Christine.

It was in those moments of silence that there came a sound, a shuffling and a thump outside their door. Christine looked up, wondering if it was Meg or her mystery visitor who had left the flowers the morning before. She was just about to rise and see when Erik's hand came to rest on her shoulder, holding her in place.

"I will see who it is," he told her, his tone a bit uneasy. "The fire has not been relit and it is far too chilly for you to get out of bed." He knew his excuse was thin, for the sun had more than warmed the room sufficiently for moving about comfortably but he did not want her rising just yet.

Slowly he pushed back the covers, grateful for the fact he had fallen asleep fully dressed. After using the bedpost as a brace to steady his feet, he did his best to focus on the door and walked towards it. Reaching the handle with not too much deviation, Erik opened it and looked out into the hall. Though they had both heard the noise, there was now no one there. However, the handful of daisies lying on the hallway floor told him that someone had just been there. He leaned down and picked them up with a frown, both from the sight of the flowers as well as the nausea that washed over him from such an exertion. Oh why had he drunk so much?

"Is anyone there?" Christine asked, sitting up in bed.

"No," Erik told her, crushing the small flowers in his hand and sticking them in his pocket. He was grateful that the large door blocked him from her view so that she did not see him abscond with the gift that had obviously been meant for her once again. It was better that she not see them, for they would only prompt her to ask more questions…ones he was not at liberty to answer. Apparently another talk with Rose was in order this morning. "It must have been a passing servant," he continued as he shut the door and returned to the room, looking at her as he did. "Meg should be in soon to help you dress and I will order up a bath for myself. Would you care for one as well?"

"No, thank you," she said, pulling her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them, resting her chin on her knees. "Unless I am required to dress up…I do not know what you have planned for the day."

Even in Erik's hung-over state he couldn't help but think if he had his way Christine would remain in her night clothes all day… every day. She looked so adorably innocent huddled there in his bed and he had to consciously restrain himself from going to her at that very moment.

"There is nothing of consequence to be done, other than the usual duties at Summercrest," he assured her. "You may dress in whatever you feel is most comfortable." He then made his way to his closet and removed the needed garments and headed for the bathing-room. "I will see you at breakfast," he told her just before he disappeared into the room and shut the door behind him.

Christine knew that there was a cord to call for the servants in there, as well as a separate entrance for them to bring up the hot water. So she was likely not going to see him again until she went down to the dining hall, just as he inferred. Rising from the bed she managed to choose her garments for the day just as Meg made her expected entrance, quickly offering her assistance with the confining corset and lacings up the back of her dress. Christine took her time getting ready for the day, but soon her hair was fixed and her cheeks still a rosy pink from thinking about what had happened between them last night. With one last look in the mirror and words of gratitude to Meg, Christine headed for the dining hall.

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Erik was already there, dressed once more as the impeccable master of Summercrest, waiting to pull out her chair for her as they sat together in silence. Normally Christine would have been uncomfortable or even hurt by his lack of conversation, especially after his pledge to change his sullen ways, but she could see that was not the reason for the lack of conversation today. Erik was still feeling the effects of the hangover and just sitting there, pushing the food around his plate, was proof enough that he was making an effort.

While she ate, Christine stole a few side glances at him, feeling the heat rise to her face when she thought of what she had attempted last night. Should she apologize for her behavior? It was hardly lady like, and perhaps he now thought of her as a foolish and brazen girl for the attempt. Yet…he had been nothing but kind to her today. What if Erik did not even remember any of it? What if he had been so inebriated that the whole evening was a blur and it could all now be forgotten and buried in his alcohol fogged mind? If so, it would be unwise to bring up the incident now and risk the chance that he would remember. And if by some horrible chance he did have full recollection of her shameful behavior, he was truly showing himself to be a gentleman by not speaking of it. Well, whatever the reason, Christine appreciated the gesture and continued to eat her breakfast without speaking…of anything.

Once they were done she inquired about the duties of Summercrest he had mentioned earlier, eager to know what activities her role as mistress of the house might entail. Erik listed off a few things, letters to answer, servants to direct, books to keep and certain holdings to oversee. Unfortunately nothing that seemed to require her attention. She must have appeared downhearted, for Erik took note and asked her about it.

"Is something bothering you?" he inquired.

"I just thought that there might be something for me to do…some duty to perform, some job that might need my attention." She looked up at him hopefully. "I would like to feel needed around here…useful."

Oh she was needed, Erik heard his mind say, she was needed very badly. Unfortunately he could not tell her this after all the assurances he had given her last night. So instead he attempted to offer her some sort of diversion.

"Today your duty will be to allow me to escort you around the grounds," Erik offered. "Indeed there is much to be done at Summercrest but until you are familiar with the surrounding gardens and outbuildings, finding your way would be difficult. I would hate to have you getting lost should I send you on an errand or you need to direct one of the servants who works outside the mansion. Would you be willing to accompany me outdoors?"

"I would like that very much," she smiled, hoping this tour would not end up like the last one, with them at odds. Yet Erik was doing a fine job at holding his temper and she could see that he was indeed trying to act cordial.

"Yet first…" Erik said, standing up with great difficulty. "First I think it would be best if I attended to some matters in my study, just to give my head a little more time to clear before we go out walking." He looked down at her apologetically, his pain still showing in his eyes.

"Of course," Christine agreed, laying her napkin on the table as she rose herself. "If you would like, I will ask the kitchen maids to make that ginger tea I told you about. I think it could really help with your head and stomach."

Erik was not used to people being nice to him, so it took him moment to come to the realization that she was indeed just trying to be kind. "I would like that very much, thank you, Christine."

"You go and I will bring it in when it is made." She then walked around the table as they made their way out the door. She liked the way he kept his eyes trained on her as if she were the most interesting thing in the room. It made her feel…needed.

Once Erik had disappeared down the hallway, Christine made her way towards the kitchen, finding Bridget and the other girl who helped there, Cathy, as well as Gilda, the cook. Madam Giry was present as well but looked as if she were simply waiting for something as opposed to helping out. As the housekeeper, Christine assumed that she did more supervising than the actual preparing of meals.

"May we help you with something, Lady Christine?" Madam Giry asked kindly as she saw the girl enter.

"Yes, I was hoping you might have some ginger on hand in order to brew up a tea?" she inquired, still unused to being addressed so.

"Are you feeling ill, my lady?" Bridget asked, wiping her hands on her apron as she approached her, offering her a chair to sit in.

"No, I am fine," Christine assured her, touched by the girl's concern. "I was hoping to get some tea to help ease the master's headache and uneasy stomach."

"Ahhhh, I see," Madam Giry said, with a knowing nod of her head. "I take it that he found himself down at the tavern once again last night. I had hoped he had left off from that, but I suppose men will be men."

"Please do not think ill of him," Christine immediately begged, not wanting the staff to find fault with him when it was her doing. "I…I am afraid I pushed him into it last night with my defiance. I am to blame for his current condition."

"Now dear," Madam Giry said, taking Christine by the hand and maneuvering her to sit down on a small bench in the corner of the room with her. "Master Erik is a grown man and he is more than capable of making his own decisions, be they right or wrong. He was being overbearing last night and you had every right to choose not to come down and be forced to endure his company, and I told him as much. It was my idea that he leave the house and go for a ride to cool down…but it was his choice to head straight to the tavern and drink himself into oblivion. I will not have you blaming yourself for his wickedness."

"Erik is not truly wicked!" Christine gasped, instantly ready to defend him.

"I never meant he was," Madam Giry smiled, patting Christine's hand gently. "But he is a man. And they all have a touch of wickedness in them, which tends to show itself when they are not in full control of their emotions. The master is no different, he just hides it better than most." She gave a slight laugh at the wide eyed look Christine was giving her. "Even my beloved Gerome, God rest him, was known to take to the bottle from time to time. Yet he was a good man at heart and I simply had to remind myself of that when he became sullen or brooding. The master is the same way, moody at times, but true blue underneath it all. Just remember that and in time you will see his goodness shining through."

"I have seen…glimpses," Christine said, lowering her eyes as she blushed slightly, recalling the way he had held her gently as she fell asleep in his arms on the settee.

"Give him time, as well as your loyalty, and you will see much, much more," Madam Giry assured her, lifting Christine's chin in her weathered hand. "He has so much potential for good, it simply needs to be brought out by the right woman."

Christine prayed that the elderly woman was right, that she had indeed not married a heartless man like she had first believed. Erik was volatile and perplexing but not once had he ever truly frightened her…no, not once had he caused her to fear for her safety. Instead she had seen patches of tenderness, compassion and a longing for more than just a friendship in his sad, troubled eyes. And the more he showed her that side, the more she wanted to give him those things.

"Here is the ginger tea you asked for, my lady," Cathy said, breaking Christine from her thoughts as she handed her the cup, wrapped in a thick cloth to keep it warm and protect her hands.

"Thank you, I am sure this will help." Christine accepted the steaming cup of tea and then looked at Madam Giry. "Thank you also for your advice. I will keep it in mind."

"I am sure you will, my dear," the house keeper said with a knowing smile. "Now, off with you before the tea gets cold."

Christine thanked the kitchen girls once more and headed out the door in search of Erik's study. She walked down one hall and got all the way to the end before she realized this was not the way at all. Turning back she ended up standing in the entryway, looking left and then right…she had been certain it was that direction, but now she was unsure. She tried the next hallway but that looked even less likely and she once more Christine ended up right back where she started. She really should have paid better attention yesterday when he was giving her the tour. She was about to give up and return to the kitchen when she saw Madam Giry heading up the stairs to the third floor. Not wanting to appear unladylike and yell for her attention, Christine quickly followed the woman hoping to catch up with her to ask for directions.

She had just made it to the third floor landing when she saw that the older woman was walking towards the east wing, carrying what looked to be a breakfast tray. She wondered who it might be for…a sick servant perhaps? Or maybe…the mysterious Rose! Christine had taken Erik at his word when he told her that he had no mistress, yet that did not solve the issue of who the woman was to him. If she was not his lover, then who was she? Christine knew she was playing with fire as she quietly followed the house keeper into the forbidden east wing, but she was desperate for answers.

Without looking back, Madam Giry stopped at one of the first doors, slipping a key out of her pocket and inserting it in the door as it swung open and gave her admittance. Christine hid in one of the alcoves until she had gone inside and shut the door behind her. Yet when she attempted to open it herself and follow, she found the door was locked. She jiggled on the handle several times, but it would not budge. Christine was about to knock, hoping Madam Giry might answer, when she heard her name being called from down the hall.

"Lady Christine?" Meg asked, her voice a mixture of confusion and fear. "I do not think the master wishes for you to be down there," she warned.

Christine looked from her lady's maid to the unyielding door and then back again, wishing with all her might that she could see through walls.

"I was just trying to speak to your mother but she disappeared through this door," Christine explained, leaving out the part about her burning curiosity. "Where does this lead to?"

Meg had begun walking towards her with a stride born of purpose. Taking her by the hand she then tugged at her, urging her to leave and return to safer ground.

"Please do not worry yourself about it. Mother has lots of responsibilities and many of the rooms need cleaned or her special attention. I am sure she is just taking care of her household duties," Meg explained.

"But she was carrying a tray of food," Christine continued, undeterred by the young maids explanations. "Is someone ill? Why would she need to take them breakfast? Can they not come down and eat themselves? Who is it that she…"

"Please, my lady!" Meg's voice was now filled with panic as she turned, placing her hands on Christine's shoulders. "Do not ask me these questions. I swear that I do not know, but I am sure the master would be most displeased with me if he heard you inquiring about such things."

To Christine, Meg seemed like she might burst into tears at any moment and not wanting to further alarm the poor girl, she gave a sigh and nodded her head in understanding.

"I am sorry, Meg," Christine told her. "I do not want you to get into trouble or become distressed. I had simply become lost looking for Erik's study and thought perhaps your mother could give me directions."

"I can show you where it is," Meg assured her, a relieved smile springing to her face. "It is this way, not far at all." Now that she found an assignment that was not bound to get her fired, she was only too eager to perform it and get Christine away from the dreaded east wing.

Christine allowed herself to be directed down the correct hallway and was left standing in front of a solid cherry wood door. Meg had excused herself almost immediately and headed off to finish her duties for the day, promising to come up later to help her dress for dinner, leaving Christine to enter alone.

Knocking quietly Christine peeked inside, spying Erik sitting at his desk but his head was tipped back and his eyes were closed, obviously ignoring the papers spread out in front of him. She approached on tiptoe, trying not to disturb him, but his heightened senses detected her presence. He carefully sat up and stared at her, causing her to halt in place.

"I brought the tea," she whispered, holding it out to him.

Erik rose slowly and walked over to her, taking the cup from her hand with a nod of thanks. He then walked over to the comfortable settee and sat down as he began to sip the liquid, a slight frown of displeasure crossing his lips.

"I am sorry if it is no longer hot, I kind of lost my way and could not find your study…Meg had to direct me," she confessed, not mentioning her other deviation as she let her curiosity get the better of her. "If it is too unpleasant I can take it back and have it warmed up. I know the taste is not very appealing, but it will help," she assured him, fighting back a smile as the image of him as a child making the same face as he took his medicine when sick crossed her mind.

"No, it is fine, thank you," he got out between several more displeasing sips. "I will take anything that will offer a measure of relief at this point." He swore he would remember this dreadful feeling the next time he decided that liquor was the answer to his problems. When he was finished with the cup he set it down on the nearby table and leaned back against the cushions. "Give me just a few minutes and we will take that tour of the grounds," he promised.

"Perhaps a small nap would do you good, to help the ginger tea take affect?" she suggested, not wanting him to overdo it too soon. "I am in no hurry, please do not do anything that would cause you discomfort on my account. I could lose myself in a book for a few hours and allow you to rest."

Erik opened his mouth to protest but the fact that she still seemed a bit blurry to his vision made him have second thoughts. If he were to take her outside and then trip on a stone or fall over his own drunken feet…well that would not do at all! Perhaps she was correct; a nap might be just the thing.

"I do not wish to delay our outing, however I see the wisdom of your words and might just take you up on your offer," he smiled, grabbing one of the throw pillows and propping it against the armrest as he stretched his long frame over the settee and shut his eyes. "I will come and find you within the hour…two at the most," he assured her, his voice already sounding quite sleepy.

"Take your time…I am not going anywhere," she smiled turning and heading out the door. She had just begun to shut it when she heard his final question.

"Promise?" he asked, barely awake enough to speak.

"Yes, Erik…I promise," she whispered, not even sure he heard her and with that she closed the door.

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Oh so close! Darn you Meg!

Maybe next time

Glad Erik remembered his words from last night!

Please let me know what you think!