Chapter 4: The Geranium

As the early morning blue was replaced with the harsh yellow of day, Rachel crawled back into her bed. She lay there, wide awake, and as the room got brighter she finally found herself becoming more and more tired. Just as she was about to reclaim the sleep that had been taken from her, Vincent stirred. He yawned and stretched and turned to smile at her.

"Good morning dear," He said. Rachel smiled back, unable to bring herself to say anything. "Today's going to be a good day," He assured her. Vincent sat up and rose his arms above his head. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yes, very much so."

"Enough to take a trip down to the market? Ciel was so disappointed you couldn't go with us last time…" Vincent leaned back against the headboard and gave Rachel a pleading look.

"Of course," Rachel replied quickly, a feeling of guilt washing over her. What kind of mother would she be if she denied her child her attention? Her smile faded. She held tightly onto the comforter. Though, wasn't that just she had been doing these past few days? So engrossed in her own frivolous concerns she had neglected her poor child. She'd become a mother hardly worth her salt. Rachel jumped out of bed and balled her hand up into a fist. She could not, would not let this man distract her from what was important. All of these lustful thoughts of him she would banish from her mind with every fiber of her being. As Rachel began preparing to go down for breakfast, Vincent remained in bed. He watched his wife radiate with the youthful zest that had been absent from her for many days. Finally he smiled and got out of bed as well.

Ciel was incorrigible that morning. So excited was he for the field trip he could hardly sit still. Rachel was never a strict mother, she never believed in the widely held idea that children were merely miniature adults. She always believed that they should be allowed to play and have as much fun as they could. However, this morning she was alarmingly strict with the boy. Both Vincent and Ciel became deathly quiet after her scolding. The gusto Vincent saw before seemed to mutate into something frightening even to him. He believed her level of energy came from the amount of rest she had gotten the past few days. An overabundance of the spirit in the absence of her illness. He never assumed that Rachel was desperately trying to bring herself back to the image of the ideal mother. Finally Vincent spoke up, breaking the uncomfortable silence Rachel's scolding has brought.

"I have good news, Ciel," He said, looking up from his plate and smiling at the child.

"What's that?"

"Your fiancé will be coming with us today," The little boy's eyes seemed to sparkle then. He rose his arms above him in triumph.

"Yay! Lizzie!" Vincent chuckled.

"So, make sure you finish your breakfast, okay? She'll be here soon."

"Yah!"

Rachel parted her lips, but no sound came out. She sank in her chair, looking at her child who had just a moment before shriveled in the wake of her voice, its volume far too loud for the table. She was trying too hard to seem motherly. It was unnatural to her and she feared the disguise would make the truth even more conspicuous. The guilt she felt earlier now seemed to swim through her veins, taking the place of her blood.

In the carriage Rachel reprimanded herself silently for her behaviour during breakfast. It seemed as though Ciel had forgotten all about the ordeal, however. He sat across from Lizzie and stared excitedly out the window. He would point to something out in the distance, then turn to Lizzie and exclaim something. She turned away from him to find Vincent looking at her. He smiled softly and placed a hand on hers.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes," Rachel said quickly, looking down to avoid eye-contact. "I just… got a bit carried away…" Vincent squeezed her hand.

"You're a good mother, Rachel." He removed his hand and leaned to stare out the window. Rachel's heart stopped for just a moment. Could he know her intention? Vincent changed the subject, continuing to talk nonchalantly. "We should be there soon." Ciel and Lizzie cheered, swinging their legs vigorously and kicking the seats. Rachel forced a smile. Leaning against the door of the carriage she, too, looked out. The streets of London were just as she remembered them. Crowded and dreary, she wondered how these streets could incite such excitement in the children. The carriage came to a halt. Ciel and Lizzie bounced in their seats as the coachman opened the door. Rachel pulled up her skirt as she gingerly stepped out. Vincent attempted to have Ciel assist his fiancé in getting out of the carriage. But the both of them were too excited for any lessons in manners. They hopped out of the carriage and ran around in circles. Vincent sighed and looked over at Rachel. Rachel forced a small chuckle. She dared not attempt to reprimand them, for fear she would make the same mistake she had in the morning.

It seemed as though everyone had come out to take advantage of the beautiful warm day. There was enough of a variety to attract visitors of every age. Many of the stalls were so crowded it was difficult to see what they were selling. Gentlemen in top hats with luxuriant mustaches were discussing the craftsmanship of the wares at one of the booths. A young boy was begging his mother for some novelty that was being promoted. A young woman clung to the arm of her lover, thanking him profusely for her gift. Rachel looked at Vincent. He examined each stall they passed, not showing any sign of interest. Her gaze fell to his arm. She wanted to reach out and hold on to him, just like the young woman had with her lover. But they were older, more mature in their romance. Vincent would just pull away to examine some item sooner or later. Instead Rachel turned her attention to Ciel and Lizzie. She gently called to them not to run too far ahead, but her words were swallowed up by the crowd and had not reached their ears. The children scurried through the throng of people, slipping through any opening big enough. Rachel's heart sank. She had lost sight of them.

"Oh, Vincent!" She cried, holding her hands to her mouth in horror. "The children! They've ran off!" Vincent pulled his gaze away from a booth specializing in glasswork and scanned the crowd.

"Don't worry," He said calmly. "We'll find them…" He took Rachel's hand and walked briskly through the crowd, muttering apologies to those he pushed to the side. He let out a relieved chuckle when he spotted them. "Well, look at that." In contrast, Rachel clasped her hands together and the color drained from her face. Her breath caught in her throat. She felt her blood run cold. She felt now that the abundance of people existed only to cage her in. That man. He stood up, ending his conversation with Ciel. Lizzie was attempting to hide behind the little boy, frightened by the mortician's appearance. Her stance seemed to infer however, that she would be the one pulling Ciel away from danger instead. Undertaker waved. "Fancy seeing you here," Vincent said, putting his hands in his pockets.

"I was just returning from some work," The mortician replied. "When I noticed this little market here, ihihihi…."

"Quite the turnout, isn't it?"

"That it is. Maybe I should open up shop here, ihihihi…"

"That's one way to cut down the crowd. They'd take one look at your store and run off." Vincent patted Undertaker on the shoulder and they both laughed.

"You were always the funniest one out of the bunch, Earl. Those other old gaffers could put me to sleep in an instant, the way they drone on…"

"Father!" Ciel interrupted the men's conversation. He called for Vincent like a broken record. "Father! Father! Father!"

"Just a minute, Ciel," Vincent called back. Undertaker chuckled.

"It's alright, Earl." Vincent muttered an apology and walked over to Ciel, who was frantically pointing to an over-stuffed toy rabbit. Undertaker watched him walk away, and then glided over to Rachel like a ghost.

"And how are we today, my lady?" He grinned broadly. Rachel crossed her arms and refused to look at him. The thought of looking at him made her nervous. She harbored an irrational fear that her heart may betray her. His arm snaked its way around her shoulders. She couldn't move fast enough to escape his embrace. She felt her body grow hot under his touch. Undertaker leaned in farther, blocking her view of Vincent and the children. "It's good to see you're well enough to go out." His thin fingers twirled around a lock of her golden hair that had come loose from its confinement.

"Y…es…." Rachel replied weakly, finally looking at him. As always his eyes were covered by a sheet of hair, but he tilted his head in such a way that their intoxicating color could be seen. The realization that Vincent was only a few feet away, that he could turn around at any moment sent a spark of electricity pulsating through her veins. Undertaker had proven himself before to be an unpredictable man in the past. When if he attempted to kiss her, like the gardener had while the husband was busy with reading the newspaper? Rachel shamefully confessed to herself that she would not resist if he did. Undertaker chuckled, leaning in so close that their noses almost touched. Her breathing quickened. He couldn't possibly…

"Rachel!" Vincent called. Rachel could feel her heart stop. Her body had turned to stone and the dreadful, all-consuming feeling of panic washed over her. Undertaker's smile disappeared and he stepped away from her. Ready at the tip of her tongue were a multitude of apologies, excuses, and pleas. She had not the breath to vocalize them, however. She suddenly found she hadn't any breath at all. Before she could fall fully into the throes of panic, she collapsed.

When she awoke she was still in the marketplace. Black surrounded her, it took her a moment to realize that she was in Undertaker's arms. Her breathing was weak and she turned towards him as she struggled to gather her strength. She grabbed the front of his coat.

"Rachel! Rachel, are you alright?"

"She just fainted, is all…" Rachel turned to find Vincent kneeling down beside here. His brows were furrowed with worry.

"Oh, Vincent," She sighed, remembering what had happened before she fainted. "I'm so sorry." She brought her hand to her forehead.

"You mustn't apologize. This is all my fault,"

"N-no, I-"

"I shouldn't have brought you out so early. I asked too much of you," She didn't know what to say. He wasn't angry with her because of Undertaker? He hadn't seen what had transpired? "We'll take you home right away," The remnants of panic were aroused in her. She didn't want to go back to that place, where nothing could distract her. Against her better judgment, she tried to protest.

"No! No really, I'm fine… I—"

"You fainted Rachel."

"But I'm fine now!" Vincent shook his head. Rachel tried to get up, giving the Undertaker a harder than necessary push. He conceded to her sudden force and moved back. However, he glided back when it became apparent that she would need some assistance in standing up.

"We'll leave right away. Ciel. Elizabeth. We're leaving." Ciel let out a weak cry. He hugged the toy rabbit tightly and tears had started to well up in his eyes. Lizzie pouted, looking down at her feet.

"No need to spoil the tots' fun," Undertaker interjected. "I can take Lady Phantomhive home."

"Not in that hearse."

"Oh please Vincent," Rachel pleaded. "Ciel will be so disappointed…" Vincent sighed.

"You can take my carriage,"

"Vincent-"

"You must rest, Rachel," Vincent spoke with such authority that any protest seemed to go against nature. Rachel looked down at her lap and did not say another word.

"Make sure you tell one of the servants to call Anne right away," Vincent ordered from outside the carriage. He paused, bit his lip, and looked at Rachel. "Perhaps… it would be best to take her to the hospital…"

"She'll be fine, Earl. Ladies these days have an awful habit of fainting."

"But not Rachel—"

"I'm fine, Vincent." Rachel leaned forward in her seat to see her husband better. "Truly I am. Please don't trouble Anne." Vincent remained quiet.

"The children and I will be home soon," He said finally.

"Please don't rush. Tell Ciel and Lizzie that I'm sorry. I must have ruined their day…"

"Don't talk nonsense."

The carriage bounced down the cobblestone road. Rachel peered out the window, her fingernails digging into the window pane. She dared not look into the carriage. There was too great an opportunity for something to go wrong. She heard Undertaker let out a contented sigh. He started to hum a tune that was familiar to her, but impossible for her discern. She slowly turned to look at him. He sat directly across from her, his head resting against the door. He watched her, smiling. Rachel thought to herself that now would be the perfect time to confront him. If she told him aloud that she would not betray Vincent, with enough conviction, perhaps she could convince herself. She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted.

"Your color's coming back," Undertaker commented, leaning forward slightly. "But whether pale as marble or pink as a tulip, you're as lovely as always, my lady." Rachel's cheeks burned.

"Undertaker, please…." She wanted the words to come out with force, in a voice that thundered with confidence. Instead it slipped out in a weak whisper and quickly fell apart in the air. Undertaker chuckled.

"You know," Undertaker hopped over to sit next to her. He wrapped an arm around her. "I don't have the right type of wood just yet. It wouldn't do if you dropped dead so soon, ihihihihi…." Rachel stared blankly straight ahead at the now empty seat. "I couldn't make a coffin that'd do you justice." He lightly pinched her cheek.

"Why must you always talk like that?" She said, the words not nearly as harsh as she wanted them to be. She was still struggling to not look at him. How she wished she didn't have these feelings. How she wished this would be enough. Her eyes started to burn with the tears she struggled to keep back. Her throat tightened and ached. But if she carried on any longer like this, it would surely destroy her. She wiped away her tears and looked back out of the window, hoping he didn't notice. Suddenly, she felt herself pulled closer to him. Her head, cradled by his hand, rested in the crook of his neck. Undertaker didn't speak. He stroked her hair and squeezed her closer to him.

"I always forget," He finally murmured. "How delicate humans can be…"

All concept of time had been lost. Being held so close to him, she felt some longing in her start to disperse. It was a feeling that always seemed natural to her. She never paid attention to it, never saw it as foreign until it started to leave her. She felt safe in his arms, as though this action was right in the path of fate. Of course, she knew she should push him away, declare she was fine and apologize for her inappropriate behavior. A woman of stricter upbringing might even slap him. But she convinced herself that her hesitation to act was due to shock. She couldn't be condemned for taking a moment to make sense of things. Her definition of a moment grew more and more distorted until it threatened to stretch on to the end of the ride to the manor. But the Undertaker let go of her. His thin fingers wrapped themselves gently around her chin and guided it up so that he could look at her.

"Are we feeling better?" His smile didn't carry the same quality of mirth that it usually did. Rachel ignored his question, address instead a question she posed to herself. Should she confess to him here? Should she let him know that she knew just what it was he was doing? In the new space between them she found something else she wanted to address, however. She didn't trust herself to speak. Those words would tumble from her lips tangled together and unintelligible. She decided, against her better judgment, that her actions would speak louder and clearer. She knew now that she couldn't ignore these feelings, no matter how hard she tried. That cryptic for that hung over him would always draw her to him. So she would lay him out bare, erase all mystery from him. She would start with those eyes. Those eyes, in their hiding, seemed almost inhuman to her. She ran her fingers through his bangs. His hair was surprisingly soft. She quickly pushed it back, fearful that if she hesitated any longer, he would stop her. She let out a small gasp and his hair fell back in place. There was no doubt. There was something inhuman in his eyes. Her hand hung in the air for a moment before coming to rest on his cheek. She could rid herself of that dreadful "what if." This carriage offered the best opportunity. This level of seclusion couldn't be achieved again. She leaned in closer. Her lips lightly brushed his and she felt him flinch. Of course, how could he expect such a rash action by Rachel Phantomhive? It was unlike her. But, then again in his presence she never truly felt like herself. Before she could do anything else carriage came to a stop. The sound of the coachman coming to the door quickly snapped Rachel out of her trance. She jumped to the other side of the carriage, as far away from Undertaker as she could. She managed to regain her composure by the time the coachman opened the door. She took his hand and thanked him as she stepped out of the carriage.

The air outside seemed thinner. She tried to steady her breathing so that it did not arouse suspicion in the coach. Smoothing out her dress, she walked to the manor, careful not to walk too quickly. Once she entered the foyer Rachel lost all sense of direction she might have had. She knew as an obedient wife she should retreat to her room where she will rest once again. But the thought of returning to that was inconceivable to her. Reality now seemed overwhelming. What was she thinking? She covered her face with her hands and started to pace. How awful. What a horrible thing for her to do. When she heard the door open again she tried to hurry up the stairs. But every ounce of air suddenly left her and she fell to her knees. Damn these lungs. She pulled down on the fabric of her skirt in frustration. Tears burned in the corners of her eyes.

"My Lady!" Abigail's voice echoed through the room. She practically flew down the stairs to Rachel's side. "My goodness! Are you okay!? I'll call a doctor. My goodness, we need to get you to the hospital!"

"No!" Rachel said, unnaturally loud. She softened her voice when she spoke again, struggling to keep her breathing steady. "I'm fine, Abigail. Vincent's sent me home to rest. The uh… The market was just a bit too… overwhelming for me, is all." A step creaked behind her. Her breath left her again as Undertaker swept her up in his arms.

"I've never seen Lady Phantomhive act so funny," He commented as he carried her up the stairs. Abigail followed close behind. "If you aren't careful, my Lady, people will start to think you're suffering from hysterics, ihihihihi…" Rachel could feeling herself melting in his arms. She never thought he could be so strong. She looked behind him and saw Abigail. The reverie was once again shattered. She bit her lip. This was too much. Abigail would surely piece things together. Rachel struggled to squirm out of his arms but failed. Once they arrived at her room, she addressed Abigail.

"Abigail, could you please ask the cooks to prepare some tea?" Abigail was hesitant to leave her side, especially in the presence of a suspicious-looking man. With enough persuasion from Rachel, however, she finally left. Undertaker lowered Rachel into a seat by the window.

"Well, I'd best be leaving," He said, tipping his hat.

"W-wait..." Undertaker turned back, sporting an uncharacteristic frown. "I… I need to talk to you."

"Maybe when you're feeling better." Before she could reply, he vanished. There was not even the sounds of his footsteps down the hall. She wasn't expecting him to leave so quickly. It was to expected, she later convinced herself. After all, Abigail had seen him carry her to her room. It was too great a risk. Rachel breathed in deeply. She peered out the window. The corpses of the dill weeds still lay in the walkway. She would see to it the gardener was fired.

Abigail returned rather quickly with the tea. She looked around the room before hurrying over to Rachel.

"Just who was that man?" She demanded, pouring the tea. "Being alone with him, Lady Phantomhive, that's much too indecent—"

"He's a close friend of Vincent's." She could feel her heart pounding in her throat.

"And where is Vincent?" Abigail's question, along with her tone, cut through Rachel like a dagger.

"…He and the children are still at the marketplace," She finally answered. "I had fainted and needed to be escorted home." Abigail handed Rachel her cup.

"I see…" She replied flatly. She refused to leave Rachel's side for the remainder of the afternoon, save for a short trip downstairs to contact Rachel's sister Anne. She then returned and interrogated the poor woman for details on the eerie-looking man. The whole ordeal was torture to Rachel, who wanted more than anything to forget what had transpired. She was immensely grateful when Vincent and the children returned.

Hearing the pounding footsteps of the children down the hallway, she was eager to greet them. She would have gotten up to meet them halfway if it weren't for the inevitable reprimand she would have gotten from Vincent.

"Mother!" Ciel squealed as he ran into the room, Lizzie close behind him. Abigail attempted to calm the children down, but such a skill was foreign to her. Ciel quickly climbed into Rachel's lap. "We got you a present, Mother!" He said, raising his hand to show her a sunshine yellow ribbon that was clenched in his fist.

"Oh, it's lovely, Ciel…" She cooed, wrapping her arms around him.

"It's just like mine!" Lizzie added, pointing to the ribbons that were tied in her thick golden hair.

"Oh, how lovely! We'll match…" Vincent appeared in the doorway. He walked over to Rachel and knelt down beside her.

"Ciel, Lizzie, why don't you two play with Sebastian? I'm sure he's eager to see his new toy."

"Yah!" Ciel shouted, hopping out of Rachel's lap. "Let's go, Lizzie!" He grabbed her hand and they both ran out of the room.

"Anne will be here first thing tomorrow. She said that there may be a medicine that can help you." Vincent said once the children had left.

"I don't want to trouble her…"

"You're her sister, Rachel. It's no trouble at all." Vincent stood up and began to open the windows. "Right now what you need is as much fresh air as possible. That marketplace smelled rather unpleasant. That may be what caused you to faint."

"Yes!" Rachel eagerly agreed. "Yes. Of course." Vincent looked out the window. His brow furrowed.

"I'm so sorry, Rachel…" He said quietly. "But I need to take care of some things this evening." He returned to her side, leaned down, and kissed her cheek. "The garden's looking lovely. Maybe the flowers will help you. They smell wonderful." He rose and made his way to the door. He hesitated in the doorway. Rachel could see how painful it was for him. Her heart ached. Vincent exhaled loudly. "We'll find a cure someday. I'm sure of it." He left, his footsteps echoing down the hall. Rachel leaned back in her chair. Her cheeks grew red with embarrassment and guilt. This agitation in her symptoms was punishment, she was sure. Punishment for an inadequate wife, unfaithful in her heart.