I'm feeling pretty stupid right now. I said that this story was currently in December, and then later wrote as if it was spring. Or fall. Or something. It sure doesn't sound like winter. Whoops. *slaps forehead.*. I'll fix that in the next draft. I guess this is what happens when you update a story every other day. You rush and make stupid mistakes. For future chapters, it is Winter. As it was originally supposed to be.

She was surrounded by the three seamstresses he had employed, her arms at her sides, standing on a stool. He had only come in to have one of his old shirts repaired. He had not trusted his manservant to do it as he had a distressing tendency to throw away Erik's old clothes.

He found that they had pinned a bolt of wool, his wool, to her and were fitting it carefully with pins and hasty stitches. When Christine spotted Erik, she grinned sheepishly and said- "They have a whole wardrobe planned out for me."

He knew that she was in a great disadvantage, having no fine clothes. And yet-

"Do you mind? I don't wish to force you." He asked her anxiously, his shirt twisting in his hands. She laughed a little and shook her head, relief filled him.

"No no." She insisted. "I don't mind having nice dresses, I just. I hope the cost isn't too much." She informed him. "I know how expensive clothes are."

This time it was his turn to laugh. "Do not worry about any expenses."

She nodded, then winced a little. One of the seamstresses working on her sleeve began murmuring apologies.

Christine hushed the seamstress by her side and turned back to Erik. "Thank you. The clothier nearly had a fit when she saw my wardrobe."

"Ah, yes. She has a similar reaction when I do not dress my station." Erik told her. "But she means well, I assure you."

Christine shrugged, to the protest of the seamstresses. "Yes, I know."

A pregnant silence fell.

"I... came to have this shirt repaired." Erik said slowly, he held it out to no one in particular.

One of the seamstresses pointed vaguely to a chair. "Put it there, one of the village girls can get to it once they arrive."

"I- what?"

The seamstress looked up from her work. "We're all working on her Grace's clothing so that it might be finished as soon as possible, Lady Giry is hiring some village girls to do the work we can't. Your Grace." She added.

"They think it will take six weeks to get everything done." Christine interjected.

Erik tossed the shirt onto the intended chair in the corner from the doorway. "Very well, continue."


The knock on the door made him jump, reaching for the sword that he kept by his bed. Then he froze, and remembered when he had whispered in Christine's ear that he had wanted her in his bedroom that night.

He checked his mask as he walked to the door, then opened it for her.

She was dressed a robe of some kind, green, and patterned with leaves, cinched around her waist. Her hair was braided down her back, wisps of it framing her face beautifully.

When she saw him staring, walked around him into the room and waited for him to close the door before she spoke. "Lady Giry loaned me her robe."

"I see." He said quietly.

She smiled prettily, sitting at the side of his bed. "Why do you want me here tonight?" She asked.

Because I miss sleeping with you by my side. Because I have barely spent a minute with you in the last day and I miss you, I miss you already, and I shall miss you more.

"I must discuss the matter of a maid with you." He finally said.

She nodded, straightening, her hands coming back to her lap. Within moments she was a lady. "Yes, I've been wanting to discuss that with you as well. Do you have any recommendations? Meg has requested the position, she claims to have prior experience but I thought that I should check with you before I made any final decisions."

He had not expected such an in depth discussion.

"I am aware she has acted as Lady's maid to those who requested it." He said finally. "You may have her if you wish."

"I'm thinking about it, but I do not want to be too hasty." She said, her chin settling on her hand. "I do not want to take her, and then release her later. It might offend her, and I do not want to make enemies."

He was stunned silent, he could not think of anyone else besides Meg.

She laughed a little, then patted the spot next to her. "You may as well sit while you think." She said.

He sat stiffly next to her. "Do you have anyone else in mind?" He asked.

Christine shrugged. "Not necessarily. But I thought you might, I asked Lady Giry earlier today, she suggested a few people besides Meg, but I haven't met them yet. But I do like Meg."

"It is your decision." He said finally. "You may meet with anyone you like, and then choose for yourself."

Her face brightened. "Thank you. I think I will take Meg, but it would probably be polite to interview at least a few others." She stood, stretching backwards for a moment, then turned to face him. "Do you want anything else?"

Do you miss me, as I do?

All he could manage was to gesture to the bed.

Her eyes filled with understanding. "Oh!" She jumped up and ran to the windows to pull the curtains in front of them, standing on the tips of her toes to reach the top. He saw her feet were bare.

"Do you not have slippers?" He asked.

She spoke as she jerked each window closed. "No. Not yet, I will. Soon. I hope." She grinned at him over her shoulder. "It's not that cold." She said sheepishly.

Once finished, she skipped back to the bed, crawling onto it. Within seconds her robe was on a nearby chair and she lay under the covers, looking at him expectantly.

He joined her more slowly, once finished, he motioned to the candle burning next to her. "Could you-"

"Yes, yes of course." She licked her fingers and put it out.

He untied his mask, setting gently on the table next to his bed. He settled back under the covers. Once again, they lay awkwardly side by side. He gradually realized she was waiting for him to make the first move.

"Christine?" He asked.

"Yes?"

He wondered if she had guessed yet that he could see her, even when it was so dark. That he could see her eyes looking blindly into the dark, waiting for him, that he could see the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

"I will be leaving for two weeks."

"I see"

He could not tell if she was happy or sad at the fact.

He heard her shifting a little, perhaps trying to find a more comfortable spot "Are you making rounds on your estate?" She asked. "My Lord used to do that."

"Yes." He whispered. "I do it twice a year, normally. Do you wish to come-"

"I must finish fitting my clothes." She told him. "I can't, I'm sorry."

"I understand."

"Erik?"

He felt his heart quicken. "Yes?" He imagined what she might say. I will miss you, please don't leave. I miss you already. Is there any other way?

"When will you be leaving?"

"I leave in a week." His voice was flat. Flatter than it should have been, he couldn't expect so much of her so quickly.

"Good luck in your journey."