AN: Thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed. So sorry about the long wait between this chapter and the last but I'm hopefully going to be able to get the next one up quicker.

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As I enter the parlour I do not expect a pleasant greeting, I am only mildly surprised when Mother does not even acknowledge I've been back. I expected her to at least question where I have been but she just sighs, taking in my appearance.

"That dress?"

I glance down at my dress; it is a simple garment, perfectly acceptable for the occasion. It is a pale blue colour that I had chosen it as I thought it was pretty. From Mother's expression it was obvious she did not agree.

"Honestly Elliot, you know that colour makes you look far too pale." Mother tells me, as if it is my fault her expectations for me are far too high, turning her head away and looking towards the fireplace. "I guess it's just lucky we are marrying you off now."

I try to ignore her comment but the attempt proves unsuccessful. I glance at my reflection in the mirror opposite in a vain attempt to convince myself that I do not look too pale. Mother does not notice my reaction, instead begins to talk about my upcoming wedding, still looking away.

She then turns back to me and says that I am to go for a fitting tomorrow. She will not be attending, of course but I am to take a servant with me. She doesn't specify who. I make a mental note to take with me the most easily influenced of our staff, someone who will not tell Mother about the short diversion to the trip I was already planning.

"That will be all Elliot." I take that as my cue to leave, hastily exiting the room going upstairs towards my room. I need time to plan what I am going to do.

I do not sleep well that night. I drift in and out of an uneasy sleep, waking often and then struggling to fall back to sleep. I wake early and go through the day in a daze, barely registering that time is passing. I only really wake up hours after I get up, after breakfast, after the bumpy carriage journey into town, after the dress fitting which fortunately went quicker than expected, after stating that I need to make a quick visit elsewhere. After all that it a simple sentence that wakes me up.

"Miss Reid I do not believe this is a good idea."

"I did not ask your opinion"

The overwhelming sense of déjà vu swept over me as my words hang in the air, letting me know that my transformation back to my old ways has been swift. I had not even realised it was happening, not until now.

The rest of the journey is spent in silence. Unlike Carla this servant, who's name I have not bothered to learn, does not try to persuade me anymore. I am thankful for that but at the same time I am not. I do not want someone reminding me that I am not supposed to be here yet the silence allows me to sink into my thoughts.

My thoughts are not somewhere I currently want to be.

I turn the corner, the respectable parts of town where Mother expects me to be left far behind. This area has been named by some as "up and coming" but to me it looks the same as every other poor area. The homes are shabby, the businesses struggling and the people tired. It is beyond me how the occupants look so cheerful considering their living conditions.

I tell the servant, who has been walking only two paces behind me, to wait as I reached my destination. I do not need my conversation in here to be reported back to the gossipy poor that make up our serving staff. She nods, accepting my order, glancing slightly at the unattractive watch attached to her wrist. It is a subtle, silent reminder that I need to be quick. Mother is expecting me back at four.

Taking a deep breath I push open the door, striding into the small shop. In contrast to many shops in this area the place actually looks presentable. It is clean, which I guess is Carla's influence, the walls are painted a pale colour and certain windows have been strategically left open in order to get the most air into the place.

Overall it is a pleasant effect.

"Miss Reid?"

I turn to see a large, coloured man looking at me with a confused expression. I recognise him vaguely, guessing him to be Carla's husband who I briefly spoke with at their wedding.

"I guess you're here for your appointment?" He asks with mock sincerity, laughing to himself at his "hilarious" joke. I smile tensely at him, glancing around the barber's shop which is unusually empty. Though considering the part of town it is not unlikely that all possible customers are working right now.

"I am here to speak with Carla."

He nods, walking away from me to a door on the other side of the room, mumbling something barely audible about "no sense of humour". I roll my eyes at his retreating back.

As he sticks his head round the door, obviously calling his wife, I glance around the room. I focus in on the clock on the wall, the minute hand creeping closer and closer to Three O'clock. I take note that I will need to leave soon in order to get back to the carriage in time to make it home for four.

I jump slightly as the bell rings, indicating a customer entering the barber's. Carla's husband turns his head, notices the customer and goes over to greet them as Carla walks out of the door and towards me.

"Miss Reid what a…" She trails off, pausing with the obvious intent of choosing the best word, "pleasant surprise."

I bite my tongue, forcing myself to ignore the smug look on her face as she knows I will not, can not, say anything about the sarcastic tone in her voice. A comment would start an argument. I will not allow myself to begin a petty argument, something so clearly below me. Instead I give a simple answer, using my tone carefully to come across friendly, "I am sure it is."

Carla looks at me, a bemused expression crossing her face as she asks, "Did you come for any particular reason?" Although her face carries the bemused expression well she's got that look in her eyes that I had seen many times whilst she was working for my family. She doesn't want to talk to me.

"Oh, Yes of course." I tell her, fishing through the small, leather pouch attached to my dress for the note I'd put in there earlier. Finding the folded, slightly crumpled piece of paper I pass it to Carla. I smile at her as I ask, "Would you to be able to pass this message on to Dr. Dorian"

Her expression changes momentarily to confusion as she takes the note off me, trying to seem uninterested. She glances at it is briefly, as if fighting the urge to open it and read it's contents, before looking back up at me.

"Well it was nice speaking to you Carla."

"You too Miss Reid"

I nod, turning on my heel and leaving the shop at a brisk pace, glancing at the clock on the wall as I go. "Three Ten," I mutter to myself, pushing open the door and walking out onto the street.

- - - - -

I watch her as she leaves, walking in the silly fashion all rich women do. Maybe it's their corsets or the fact that they all believe themselves to be better than the rest of us but all rich women walk in the same peculiar way. It's a walk that has always amused me.

I try, and fail, to stop a smirk spreading onto my face as she trips on the uneven, cobbled street, almost falling into a muddy puddle. Her servant, Sonja, a young girl of Indian origin, catches her, much to my disappointment. I watch as she straightens herself up, laughing slightly at the look of embarrassment on her face.

Once she is out of sight my attention goes back to the note in my hand. I know I shouldn't open it; it's not a message for me. Still, she gave it to me and she's made comments on occasion to my gossiping nature. She knows I'll want to read it. Anyway, I reason with myself, retreating to the storage room at the back of the barbers as I carefully unfold the letter, If she didn't want anyone else to read it she would have taken it straight to him.

I close the door, leaning against it as I quickly finish unfolding the note, my carefulness lost in my "want" to know what her message is. I read through the note carefully, taking in every word and raising my eyebrows as I do so. As I finish it, I read through the note twice again to make sure I've read it right. She can't possibly expect him to agree to this, not after New Year.

My first instinct is to not tell him about the note, if she really wants to apologise she can go and talk to him herself. However my brain kicks in at that point, telling me that it's his decision and if he wants to hurt himself again, it's his choice. I sigh, failing to come up with an excuse not deliver the note. Glancing around the store room I quickly spot my coat, neatly hung on its peg. I grab the coat, slip the note into one of the pockets and exit the store room.

I call over to my husband, letting him know where I'm going and that I'm not planning to take long. Fortunately he's working so can't quiz me on what Elliot Reid wanted but he still gives me a suspicious look as he glances up. I smile at him, not wanting to tell about my previous conversation right now. I'll tell him later.