The next day, the ship that Christine was on docked in New York, and Christine was one of the first people off.

She wore one of Sarah's party dresses, which was blue - green and went down to her knees, shoes that matched, her white half - mask, and her cloak. Men stared at her for a moment as she placed down her suitcases and picked up Marc's letter to read where she was supposed to go.

She then saw the men staring at her out of the corner of her eye and placed the letter down from her face, shooting all five of them a venomous look.

"I'm courting someone," she said to them darkly, "and he would be very displeased to know that you were staring at me!"

The men didn't reply and instead turned away, acting casual.

She sighed, shook her head, and started reading Marc's letter again.

"The Marts," she murmured to herself, picking up her suitcases and starting to walk towards where The Marts Apartments would be loctaed.

When she arrived at The Marts, which was a huge building, she made her way inside and walked up the stairs to the second floor, looking for the door marked 2G. Then she found the door, put down her suitcases, straightened herself, and knocked.

After a moment, the door opened, and a tiny woman with graying hair looked up at her.

"What is it?" the woman demanded suspiciously in a British accent. "Who are you? Why are you here?"

"I came for shelter," Christine explained.

The woman looked down and saw the suitcases, then looked up at Christine. "I don't run a boarding house here! Go to a hotel!"

Then, without waiting for a reply, the woman slammed the door in her face.

Christine let out a sigh of despair and knocked again. "Madame Gohe, please! I'm a friend of Marcus Wellington's!"

After a moment, the door was opened once again, and the woman looked up at Christine wonderingly.

"You're Christine?" she whispered, sounding awestruck. "You're Christine Vasille, Marcus's courter?"

Christine nodded and smiled, letting out a sigh of relief. "Yes."

The woman's eyes seemed to fill with tears, and then she motioned for Christine to come inside. "Come in, child; come in!"

"Thank you," Christine replied, stepping inside as Marian Gohe closed and locked the door behind her.

"I must apologize for my rude behavior," Marian said, stepping in front of Christine. "People often come to my apartment, looking for somewhere to spend a night or two - God knows why! I thought that you were another one of them... but no, no; you are very much different from them. Let me have a look at you, my dear."

Marian then started circling Christine, inspecting her for a moment. Then when she stepped in front of Christine again, she smiled at her and said, "Well, I see how Marcus chose you partially for your looks. He said you were beautiful!"

Christine felt her face flush as she bowed her head, staring at the floor. "I'm not beautiful, Madame Gohe -"

"Please, call me Marian."

"Marian. I'm not beautiful... Marc just chooses to see beauty."

"Certainly you are!"

"No, I'm not." Christine motioned to her mask contemptuously. "It's all because of this blasted face that lies underneath this!"

"Well, you may think it's horrid, and maybe everyone else does, too, but Marcus and I choose to see beauty in all faces. That's where he learned to see beauty in your face that is, as you say, horrible - I taught him that when he was a child."

"How do you know Marc?" Christine inquired curiously. "He didn't mention in the letter -"

"I was his governess," Marian cut in. "I taught him practically everything he knows."

Christine smiled a little. "Then you must be a good person, for Marc is a very good person." She paused. "Speaking of Marc, has he contacted you yet? I'm concerned about him."

"He hasn't contacted me since he asked for my help, but don't despair, child. Marcus has always been self - reliant, and he'll be fine. When you see him again, you won't think that it's been six months!" Marian replied reassuringly. "Now, why are we having a conversation in the hallway? Come with me, and I'll have you placed in my bedroom - it's the best bedroom in the apartment -"

"Oh, I don't want to take your bedroom from you!" Christine protested. "That's very bad manners from a guest, is it not?"

"It's very bad manners from a hostess to not offer their own bedroom, assuming that it is the best bedroom that they have," Marian said simply, turning around and starting to walk away. "Follow me, if you please."

Christine picked up her suitcases and followed Marian to her bedroom, which was actually Marian's.

"There you are," Marian sighed. "It's rather small, as is the bed... the bed might be too small for you, as a matter of fact. But it's no matter - I'll have the bed from the guest room moved into here, and I'll take my bed into the guest room."

"Oh, allow me to get it," Christine said, placing her suitcases down and starting to walk out of the bedroom. "Where is the guest room?"

"You don't need to worry about it, dear. I'll get it."

"Please," Christine insisted. "You're already doing enough by allowing me to stay here and allowing me to sleep in your bedroom. Moving beds is the least I can do at the moment."

"I know something you can do," Marian suggested brightly. "Marcus tells me that you make wonderful Russian tea with lemon."

"Well, I suppose I do," Christine said, shrugging.

"Now, dear, don't be so modest! How about you go and make us a pot, and we'll have tea and chat some more once I've moved the beds?"

"Are you sure?" Christine sighed. "I really don't want you to hurt yourself -"

"I've done it before, and I'll be fine. Now go on, dear - go ahead and make us that tea."

"All right," Christine replied resignedly, turning and walking into the kitchen to make Russian tea with lemon.

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"Where is she? Huh? Where is she?"

"Ouch! I don't know; I swear I don't!"

Back in Paris, Draius was beating Marc yet again, trying to find out where Christine was because she hadn't been caught in Brest. This time, though, it wasn't really what one would consider a beating - Draius had Marc's hands tied behind his back as he sat in a chair and was squeezing Marc's fingers with a wrench tightly.

"I know that you do," Draius growled, tightening his grip on the wrench. "Now tell me - where is she?"

Marc bit his lip to keep from shouting out in pain. "I don't know! I just told her to go to Brest; that's it... if she wasn't there, then she went somewhere else from there, if she even went there at all."

"I know you're lying. You had a very elaborate plan set out - now where were you going to go from Brest?"

Marc let out a shout of pain. "Damn it! I don't know! I don't know..."

"How about you find out?"

"How will I find out? I can't contact her in any way! I don't know where she is!"

"No, you idiot; that's not what I meant!" Draius snapped. "I meant for you to tell me the truth! I know you know where she is!"

"I don't," Marc gasped in pain as he felt as though his fingers would snap in two. "I don't know; honestly I don't... I would have given her up by now because of how badly you've been hurting me!"

"I'll bet," Draius sneered. "You took up with her in the first place, and you knew who she was... you knew that this could happen to you some day! You knew! And you know where she is! So tell me, damn it!"

Marc let out another shout of pain. "Penzance!"

Draius stopped hurting Marc, loosening his grip on the wrench. "Penzance?" he echoed. "Where is that?"

"It's in England," Marc breathed, wincing as he tried wiggling his fingers to make sure that they were functioning properly. "It's on the east coast... or the west coast... I can't remember."

"You told her to go to Penzance? You told her to go to England?"

"Yes," Marc lied. "Yes, I told her to go to Penzance; to England."

Draius laughed, throwing his head back. "How foolish! How idiotic! Telling her to go to England... my men, or the English men, have probably caught her and are bringing her back right now!"

"I daresay."

"Well, then we'll just wait for her to come, then. And then you'll be a free man."

"Very good," Marc replied, and then Draius turned and walked out of the cell, closing and locking the door behind him.