The Devil Never Sleeps

This bed was unfamiliar. The sheets were too soft and there were a few too many pillows resting at her head. This wasn't right.

For a moment, Christine remained with her eyes gently shut, recalling this sensation, for she had felt it before. The first night she had slept in Erik's home, she had felt precisely the same way, and for that split second, she reveled in that simple comfort. But when she finally opened her eyes, she was not in Erik's home, and she felt her stomach drop in acute disappointment. Indeed, it was a home she had never seen before, at least not before the previous night.

It was a decadent house—not dignified in the way Erik's was, but prideful and somewhat gaudy in appearance. The colors were too saturated and the metallic shined too brightly. She gripped the blanket in her hands, her eyes roaming across the room faintly as the events of the night before came back to her. All the words that had been spoken and all that had been left unsaid quickly filled her mind, and her breath seemed to leave her all at once. But before she could dwell upon such things or replay such moments, the door opened and she jumped as her eyes flew towards the sound.

A woman walked in and closed the door behind her unhurriedly, before finally turning to look back at Christine, who was now clutching her blankets tightly to her chest. The woman did not seem bothered in the slightest, though, and made her way to the armoire in the corner stiffly.

"I am here to help you dress, Mademoiselle," she told Christine, her words were tight, but this explanation did not aid in the girl's discomfort. In fact, she perhaps pulled the blanket closer as the woman retrieved a dress and turned back towards the bed. "Well, I can't very well dress you if you are going to remain under those blankets."

The tone was a hostile one, but Christine tried to ignore the biting ring to her voice as she slipped out of the bed and made her way numbly towards the stranger. The woman was staring at her as if she were mentally ill, but Christine disregarded it as she prepared to accept her help, if only out of courtesy. But after a few moments, she couldn't shake that disgusted stare which the woman didn't bother to conceal, and she quickly changed her mind, stopping halfway between the bed and the woman.

"I can manage," Christine said simply, trying to remain civil as the woman's scowl deepened.

"Mademoiselle, it is my job," the woman snapped, and Christine struggled to remain pleasant in the face of this animosity. But it was as if she had somehow wronged this stranger, yet wasn't entitled to know just how she had insulted her.

"I don't want to trouble you," was all that Christine said, and the woman stared coldly for a beat before she placed the dress on the bed and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her promptly. Christine listened to the footsteps as they faded away down the hall, hearing them stop just before they went out of earshot. As soon as she went to pick up the dress, though, she heard faint voices coming from somewhere down the hall. She made her way towards the door, her curiosity getting the best of her as it always did, and leaned her ear towards the door to listen.

"He's lost it, I'm quite sure of it. First he traipses off to Persia, and then he's back in the blink of an eye for this useless girl." It was that woman, and she was making no attempts to hush her voice. "She'll be nothing but trouble, mark my words. Likely she's just after him for the title—heaven knows anybody would bite at the chance to move up a few rungs on the ladder!"

Her stomach dropped at the words, and she moved away from the door at once, not wishing to hear another word of their conversation. Blocking all sounds out of her mind, she stumbled towards the bed and changed into the gown, indeed struggling to manage by herself. But it didn't matter—she would rather go out without any clothes than even contemplate asking that woman for any help.

When she had finally pulled herself into the dress, she found herself at a loss. What was she expected to do now? Certainly not sit in this room by herself all day, wasting away the minutes until Raoul came to find her. And so, unable to accept that as her only option, she tentatively made her way out of the room. As she had expected, the woman was still standing at the opposite end of the hall, a man situated next to her, both talking rapidly to one another.

"Excuse me?" she called out, and they both stopped suddenly and looked to her. "I'm not sure where to go," she explained as she hurried down the hall, trying not to notice the contempt written in their expressions.

"The Viscount is waiting for you in the dining room," the man said, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. Christine only blinked at this, for all three of them knew that she hadn't a clue where the dining room was. "Go down the hall and take your third right, then your first left," the man told her in a bored tone, and Christine tried to smile in reply.

"Thank you," she told him politely, nodding her head before she turned and began down the hall once again. She could hear them sniggering behind her, but once again, she blocked out the sound and held her head high as she turned the corner.

But after she had taken the first left, it was not a dining room she found. It was merely another hall, perhaps a half a dozen doors lining the walls. Her eyes flickered across each door as she gulped back her embarrassment, her heartbeat mounting gradually. She only paused a moment, though, before she continued down the hall without a shred of shame, for she refused to turn around and ask for directions again. She would not give them the satisfaction.

The next hallway did not prove successful though, and she found herself at a dead end before long. She feared opening up doors at random, for she did not want to walk in on a bedroom or perhaps interrupt somebody's work. And so, as she found herself at the end of a long string of hallways, she finally resolved to simply lower herself to the ground, her mind running blank as she looked down at the endless string of doorways.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there, her eyes glazed over in thought. It wasn't so much that she was waiting for Raoul, but after enough searching, she couldn't seem to find the point of fretting herself any longer. And it certainly wasn't sadness that overtook her as she sat against the wall, her eyes losing their focus as the hallway seemed to fade away from sight, but rather a sense of cold reality, and even a bit of indifference to it all. After all, this wasn't her home, nor would it ever be. And what purpose was there in attaching herself to this garish place, if at her core, she knew she would not ultimately remain here?

Her eyes came back into focus when she saw movement down the hall, and she quickly looked up, blinking away her thoughts promptly. It was Raoul, and he rushed to her immediately, grabbing her arms and helping her back into a standing position.

"What are you doing down here?" he asked her, brushing a strand of hair out of her face as she looked at him curiously.

"I couldn't find the dining room," she told him simply, and Raoul's eyebrows came together in confusion as he evidently tried to read her expression.

"You could have asked Marie—I sent her to help you get dressed. She said she would help you find your way." He seemed bewildered suddenly, as if something in this puzzle did not fit, but she merely smiled in return.

"Yes, she was very helpful." Raoul stared at her for a moment longer, but her pleasant expression seemed to satisfy his carefully discerning eyes, and he gestured down the hallway.

"Shall we get breakfast? You must be hungry," he redirected, and she allowed him to lead her back through the house, carefully turning every so often until she found herself in a lavish dining room, breakfast already out on the sideboard. "I was afraid that you were refusing to come out," he confessed as he moved to the sideboard.

She stood off to the side, watching silently as he put together a plate for her. Something inside her boiled, for she suddenly felt as if she was nothing but a child, but she did not say a word on that subject as he handed her the plate. "Why do you say that?" she asked him with as much ease as she could manage, and he stopped to look at her for a moment.

"You were just rather upset last night, that's all." He turned back to the sideboard and began to put together his own plate. "But you're right in how you're behaving—best to put it all behind us sooner rather than later."

She did not say anything, barely able to take a bite after she had sat down. As she sat there, she was vaguely aware of Raoul, who seemed to be speaking to her about something or other. But all she could see was the footman, who was staring at her as if she was missing a limb or perhaps was carrying some appalling disease. At some point, she heard Raoul tell him that he was free to leave them be, and the man bowed cordially to the Viscount. And to Christine, he sent a scathing glance just as he leaving—a look that Raoul failed to notice as he began to eat.

"They look at me as if I do not belong," she mused, though her words were not filled with regret or fault, but rather a sense of faint inquisitiveness. Raoul stopped and looked at her for a moment, and she could see the puzzlement in his eyes.

"I suppose they are merely unaccustomed to having another resident in the house," he explained slowly, and Christine looked down at her hands. "It is nothing against you, my dear," he continued gently, and she looked up quickly as she cocked her head to the side.

"Isn't it?" she pressed, though her tone was still not accusing. "They're ashamed to have somebody like me in the presence of a person like you," she continued on easily, the words not stinging her in the slightest. His expression twisted into concern, though, and she knew that he was wounded by the words. "They say I'm here simply to steal away your money."

"Now, that is not true, Christine," Raoul said quickly, shaking his head fiercely. "Nobody would ever suggest such a thing—"

"Open your ears, Raoul," she countered, her lips coming together in a grim line. "Everybody is suggesting it." He stopped at this, not quite understanding, yet unwilling to argue.

"Christine—…" he finally murmured, looking away uncomfortably, and she smiled faintly to him.

"I'm not offended," she assured him, though these words did not seem to snuff his vague anxiety. "In all fairness, I shouldn't be here."

"You mustn't say that, Christine," he said with sudden fierceness, and she fell silent as she stared at him. "You have every right to be here, and if anybody has anything to say otherwise, then they shall speak directly to me. Is that clear?"

His words were so clipped that suddenly, she felt as if she were being reprimanded, and her smile abruptly faded away. "Quite."

They fell into silence, and Christine finally forced herself to take a few bites, though she could not taste a bit of it. It was several minutes before he finally spoke again, his tone somehow free of worry. "I thought we could take a walk around the grounds today. We haven't had a sunny day in some time, and it might be nice to get some air."

Christine looked up at this with a frown, and he stopped eating for a moment when he felt her gaze. "Is this what you do with your days?" she asked him slowly, and his brow furrowed once again in bewilderment. He didn't seem able to respond for a moment, but when he finally did, his voice was defensive and hesitant.

"I do work, if that's what you're implying." He stopped for only a beat before continuing, not giving her even a moment to reply. "I merely thought that you might enjoy some company."

"That's not what I meant," she told him slowly, and he went quiet. "When I said that, I meant… Is this what I will do with my days."

He blinked, perhaps trying to understand her statement, or perhaps attempting to formulate an appropriate response. Eventually, he cleared his throat and moved his napkin to the table before folding his hands in his lap. "Well, I suppose so," he told her, and she felt a small frown form on her lips. "Take walks, read, perhaps garden if it pleases you—although we have people to plant everything. You would be free to simply enjoy the outcome of their work, of course." He stopped, for he clearly discerned how terrible those words sounded once they had been spoken aloud.

"And we will go out to dine, of course. Attend galas and other evening events. I daresay you will be quite busy," he amended rapidly, but this was not what she had hoped to hear.

"I will spend my days doing nothing, then," she confirmed plainly, and once again he seemed affronted by the statement, but tried desperately to mask this offense.

"It is not nothing, Christine," he said with a sigh, shaking his head. "It is simply a different life than you were living before. Before you were the daughter a violinist, and then a housekeeper for a madman," he remarked, and she clenched her jaw at his words. "And now you will be—"

"A Viscountess."

He closed his mouth and looked at her peculiarly, and she gazed back with a numb expression. "If you so choose," was all he said, and her eyes drifted away from him. He waited for her to respond, but she could not formulate any words as dim thoughts of her fractured future drifted through her mind. He finally sighed and looked down at his hands, his voice suddenly defeated. "If you do not want to go for a walk, I will not make you. I only thought it would make you happy."

Her gaze flickered back to him, and she could not erase the sadness written in her expression. "Yes, I suppose I would quite enjoy that." It was then when this little girl who had always abhorred telling falsehoods first began to master the art of gentle deception and carefully placed lies. And in spite of everything, she couldn't say whether it was for his sake or for hers.

This was an incredibly difficult chapter for me to write for some reason, but I hope you all enjoyed it! Thank you for all your lovely reviews—it's so interesting to hear your opinions on the manifestations of these characters! Keep 'em coming, because I'm fascinated by all your thoughts. Thanks again for reading!

Until next time,

Christine