Surprise! I felt inspired and had the time to write another chapter today. And it is also a long one.
Please let me know whether or not you like me posting so soon, and many thanks to those who already have!
Ch. 14
It was a little after midnight before Erik had stopped violently playing his pianoforte, and he inhaled sharply and attempted to rub the fatigue from his face, but to no avail. Upon feeling the coldness of his mask, he was reminded of the cumbersome article that he was forced to wear and it did not improve his already-agitated mood.
His eyes burned profusely and he could hardly keep them open for long without feeling the overwhelming urge to close them once more, and the flickering dim lighting of the few candles that had survived the night had only proven to urge him toward his bed.
He stood up and stretched a bit, finding that his back had become stiff and his shoulders tense. After running his fingers through his dark hair and sighing with exhaustion, he made his way into his sleeping quarters, noticing how sore the tips of his fingers and the muscles in his hands had become. How long it had been since he had played music, and his aching body was determined to remind him of it.
He could not, however, make it to his bed, for his attention was directed towards his door, where he could see the poor lighting of the remaining oil lamps in the hallway that streamed in through the open space.
The fact that he had not closed it had reminded him of what had transpired earlier that night, and he mentally chided himself for not locking himself in his room so that he would not have been disturbed. Muttering curses under his breath, he determined not to repeat that error, and though his legs felt weak and his mind too tired to comprehend what he was doing, he was already moving closer to the open doorway.
With hand on the cold knob, he stopped suddenly to listen carefully to the sound that could be heard close by. Though faint, he could decipher the distinctness of breathing and it piqued his interest enough to open the door wider in order to see where it was coming from.
He even stepped out into the hallway, wondering which of his servants would be awake at this time of night and what business they had to be so close to his room. He was certain to give them a reprimanding for disturbing his peace and being in close proximity to a room in which only Mr. Matthews had been allowed, and even his permission had been limited to the rare occasion.
Erik was surprised to see Estella curled up beside a nearby column, her head resting against it as she slept in a position that could not have been comfortable for her neck.
Though he was still upset with her for having taken the liberty of perusing his personal quarters and even searching his intimate possessions, he found that he could not ignore the small twinge of guilt and sympathy that began to form upon seeing her there.
Had she meant to fall asleep there? Certainly not, he could imagine. Had she wished to be near him, or was she overtaken by fear or exhaustion before she could return to her own room? He could not imagine that her motive had anything to do with him, though it puzzled him as to why she had not returned to the sanctuary of her bed. After all, had she not been afraid of him, only hours ago?
He felt a chill that swept through the house and watched her lip tremble ever-so-slightly, and he despised the fact that it had bothered him. Should he not care nothing for her? And yet, he was contemplating a search for something to keep her warm.
Even as he searched for a blanket, he wondered why he had felt obligated to go through the trouble, when she had proven herself to be a disappointment to him. She was not the woman he thought her to be, and she would treat him no differently than anyone else.
He reasoned, though, that she was still his wife, and he had an obligation to make her as comfortable as she could be, and so a few minutes later he had emerged from his room with the sought-after item-a velvet crimson throw.
He bent down and carefully placed it over her body, hoping that it was not a disturbance to her as he contemplated what he should do with her. Could he just leave her there, or how else would he get her to her room? The very last thing that he wished to do was carry her.
It seemed as if the problem had been solved for him, for his gesture of kindness had proven to wake her.
Estella looked up at him with groggy brown eyes before she was alarmed by her surroundings. It took her a few moments to call to mind what had happened and why she had fallen asleep on the floor.
Meanwhile, Erik felt as if he had been caught doing something that he should not have been doing, and he hoped that she would not speak on the matter of his presence.
Estella rose to her feet and stretched her neck, feeling the pain of poor posture as she did so. A stone pillar certainly could not compare to the comfort of her bed, and she wished more than ever that she had not allowed herself to fall asleep away from it. At least she would not have been required to face Mr. Destler so quickly after their quarrel if she had only returned to her room.
She felt the pain travel to her temples, and she rubbed her forehead with her hand in an attempt to soothe it. Erik watched the gesture with strained eyes, hoping that she would return to her room so that he could retire for the night and not have to speak to her. But of course the latter would be impractical.
"Please forgive me for disturbing you," she half-moaned in her sleepy state.
Her mind felt weighed down to the point where she could hardly comprehend where she was, let alone form a proper sentence, and she knew that all would be well if she could only reach her room.
Erik said nothing in return, only watching her with careful eyes to see what she would say or do next.
When Estella's hand fell at her side and she looked up at him, she felt the guilt return from her previous actions.
How wrong she had been to have disobeyed his orders by violating his privacy! She had meditated on his words to her, determining that he viewed her as no better than someone who had hurt him before.
I know your kind, he had said. And what was it about not giving into her trickeries? Certainly those words would not come from a man who was not damaged, and to think that she had reminded him of his former pain had made her feel worse. Even as she listened to the haunting melodies that had drifted through the air, she could only think of how wounded he must have been.
Overall, it was not in her place to know things that he would not divulge to her. If he did not wish to tell her of his past, of why he wore a mask, and who he was, then that was his decision. She had determined that he was not entirely a wicked or corrupt man, and that he had his secrets in order to protect himself from a deep wound that still pained him, and she would not be someone to reopen that wound intentionally.
The thought that he had judged her as someone who could not be trusted, as someone who would so cruelly rip off the mask of a man who had something painful to hide, had troubled her mind so much that she felt that she could not walk away from him without speaking on the subject.
"Even if you do not forgive me for my behavior, I wish for you to know how very sorry I am. It was not my place to have entered your room. But I cannot go back to sleep without you knowing that it was never my intention to remind you of a painful memory," she explained softly. "I know that I have betrayed your trust, but I would never force you to show me what is beneath that mask without having your permission. And I am not manipulative, even if you think me to be."
"Then why else would you have gone where you do not belong? Would you expect that I would have willingly entertained your curiosity?" he retorted, a hint of anger returning to his voice.
"It was curiosity, and nothing more. I was only curious as to your whereabouts, for I had not seen you since we have married," she replied. "I was not intending on prying any further."
Erik was angered that she would not allow him the freedom of seclusion. Of what did it matter to her, where he was and what he was doing?
"Am I not entitled to my solitude? Must I answer to you?"
Estella ignored his bitter resentment, deciding it best not to argue with him. It was too late in the night to ignite another tirade, and her wearied body insisted that she rest.
"You may do as you please, and I shall not bother you," she said in defeat.
With a small curtsy, she began to walk in the direction of her room and away from him. Before she had gotten very far, however; she turned around to say one last thought that was on her mind.
"I thought that you told me the reason why you wanted to marry me was because we were so alike, and we could share in our suffering together? If that were true, then you would not be hiding yourself away from me."
She did not allow him to respond, for she had quickly descended the staircase and disappeared into the shadows.
Two days later, Estella felt as though she was slowly losing her sanity, and she huffed out of frustration. Setting her book down next to her on the cream-colored divan of the foyer, she glanced over at the crackling flames of the fireplace beside her.
The sky was dreary and gloomy, casting grey light into the room through the window panes. The sun was nowhere to be found that day, and judging by the way in which the bare trees would sometimes move with the wind, she determined that it was probably chilly outside.
She had spent her time searching for something to do, and while her attention had been momentarily captivated by a book that she had found, two hours of reading had been enough for her. She could only take the silence of the room for so long until she felt unable to sit much longer.
She quickly stood up and walked over to the window, watching how the light played upon the water of the lake. She called her lady's maid into the room so that she might have some form of socialization with another human being, though the conversation of a servant left much to be desired.
"Do you know where Mr. Destler is?" Estella asked the young woman.
Marguerite had been carrying a fresh nightgown for Mrs. Destler that she had planned on placing on her bed for later that night, but she had been interrupted. She frowned when she saw the sad expression on her lady's face.
"I am afraid not," she replied sadly.
She had observed how melancholy and forlorn Mrs. Destler had been for the past nearly two weeks since her arrival, and she wished that she could think of a way to cheer her up, but she had been much too busy with her own duties and it was not her responsibility to provide companionship.
Estella nodded her head in acknowledgement and turned back to face the window again. How she missed the warm weather already, deciding that she could probably expect the first snowfall any day. If only she would not be required to wear a coat outside, then perhaps she could enjoy herself by basking in the sunlight and watching the birds among the trees, or sitting among the vibrant flowers of the garden.
Instead, the flowers were dying, the air was cold, and she was trapped inside the confines of the estate with no one to keep her company.
She had already searched all of the rooms that she could think of, save for the area that belonged to Mr. Destler-for she would not make that mistake again!-and found most of them to be useless. She could not play the instruments that had occupied a few of them, no guests were to be invited to dine or dance, and of what use was a ballroom when she had only herself?
The annoying insistence in her mind to escape from her prison pressed her to ask something that she knew was foolish, even to herself.
"Would you be so kind as to fetch my coat? I wish to take a walk."
Marguerite curtsied politely to dismiss herself in search of something warm for Estella to wear, though she did not agree with her decision to explore the outdoors. It was much too cold, and the sky was threatening rain, but it was not in her place to question her employer.
Once she had returned with a thick wool coat, she assisted Estella into it, but she could not help but to warn her in the kindest and most humble way possible.
"Would you care to wear a bonnet, Mrs. Destler? It is frightfully chilly outside," she urged.
Estella agreed, deciding that it was best to take precaution, though she knew that the entire idea was absurd to begin with. What would her husband say if he was to discover that she was tempting sickness by strolling about in this weather?
Probably it would be of no consequence to him, she decided. After all, she had not heard a single word spoken from him since the night in which she had been caught in his room.
After she had tied the dark-colored bonnet and even put on a pair of matching gloves for good measure, she felt mixed emotions course through her. How excited she was to get out into the fresh air, yet morose that her circumstances were so pathetic that she was seeking the cold, damp air as refuge and enjoyment.
Once she had stepped outside, her face was met with an icy wind that licked at her skin painfully. Marguerite watched, hoping that Estella would change her mind, but she stood by the door as instructed, nonetheless.
Estella walked a few paces with her head down in an attempt to avoid the frosty breeze, and after creating a short distance between herself and the estate, she turned around to wave to Marguerite that she would not be returning inside. With reluctance, the servant closed the door but determined that she would glance outside of a window at every opportunity to make certain that Estella was alright.
Another gust of wind was strong enough to bring tears to Estella's eyes, and she was certain that her cheeks would be raw from the contact. She held onto her bonnet as tightly as she could and searched for the thicket of trees that she could seek shelter in.
After a bit of walking but still feeling frozen to the point where she thought that her toes and fingers were ice, she could only curse herself for having been stupid enough to go outside. It was much too cold to take pleasure in nature, but she also felt that it was almost better to freeze than to be restricted to her loneliness inside, for she could not bare the thought of spending another moment in an empty room while knowing that her husband had taken no interest in her.
With each step that she took, her mind urged her to return inside. She stopped momentarily and turned around to see that the estate was now quite a distance away, but behind her in the horizon, she set her eyes upon a large building that she had not seen before. It was long, with wooden beams and several adjacent stalls, and her eyes lit up when she realized that she had found the stables.
A bit of time acquainting herself with the horses would prove to lift her spirits, and she nearly sprinted toward their quarters, both out of excitement and the desire to get out of the cold air.
She immediately went inside and closed the door behind her, panting and out of breath. How warm it was inside of the stables, and she bit her lip from the adjustment of her cold fingers and toes as they began to warm up, feeling the pins and needles as her nerves came back to life.
Nearby, a stable boy who looked to be in his teenage years was grooming a large black horse, and after Estella's breathing had calmed, she walked over to him with a smile.
Multiple stalls and doors could be seen throughout, with bits of hay strewn about here and there, but the first horse that she had set eyes upon was this black one, and she marveled at his beauty.
The brown-haired boy eyed her nervously, for he had not seen her before, and though he had been aware of what she would look like, he found both her beauty and identity intimidating, and so he focused on brushing out the coat of the horse.
"He's beautiful," Estella commented as she reached out to touch the animal's back. The horse lifted its head and turned to sniff her. "What is his name?"
"Cesar," the boy responded with hesitance. He was not quite certain if he was allowed to speak to the Lady of the House, but his instincts told him that if his employers asked something of him, then it would be rude of him not to respond.
"Cesar," Estella repeated softly to herself as she continued to rub his coat. Cesar nodded his head as if to say that she was acceptable to him and returned to eating a small patch of hay that stuck out from the bottom of his stall.
Estella imagined that these were the only few minutes in which he was not locked up in the small enclosure, and though he probably was allowed to roam the pastures, she felt pity for the lack of human affection that he had received. Such a strong and beautiful creature deserved to be exercised, and her face instantly lit up with excitement as a plan had formed in her mind.
"Might I be able to take him out for a ride?" she asked. This was certain to be a longer-lasting solution to her boredom!
The stable boy glanced anxiously around himself, but found that no one else was around to defend him, and he was not exactly certain how to be tactful about his answer.
"Perhaps you would be interested in riding one of the other horses, M'Lady?"
Estella was confused by his response, but determined to ride Cesar, nonetheless.
"Why not this one?"
She had been accustomed to being denied her hopes for so long, but it surprised her that even in her own household she would not be able to do as she pleased.
"Well..." he stuttered, knowing that he was beginning to upset her, "It is only that-that Cesar is the Master's favorite, and he only takes him riding on particular days..."
Though Estella was slightly relieved that at least her husband could give his attention to an animal who needed it, she was also perturbed that yet another thing was to be kept to him alone. And if he could take the time to spend with this animal, why could he not indulge his own wife in a bit of conversation once in a while?
She was growing tired of being excluded from everything, and there was no reason why she couldn't ride the horse of her choosing!
"Does not everything belong to me as well?" she retorted. "Or am I not allowed to ride my husband's horse?"
Too afraid to face her anger, he nodded his head.
"Forgive me," he muttered before searching for the items that she would need.
Meanwhile, Erik was seated at his desk, staring down at his unfinished work with his brows furrowed.
Though John had said that the two of them would be taking a small leave of absence so that they might enjoy themselves for a few weeks without having work, Erik already knew of what his next project would be, and he found that he could not simply leave it for when he returned.
Instead, he had spent many hours envisioning it in his mind and attempting to translate it onto paper, and even though it was not nearly completed, he still felt that something was lacking.
As if to cloud his judgement further, he felt the pain in his stomach from the absence of food. He had gone long enough without a meal, and he was forced to set his work down and ring for Mr. Matthews.
After he had requested that a meal be brought to his room, he absentmindedly glanced out of the window before him, where he saw something that he had not been expecting.
Estella could be seen mounted on top of a black horse in the distance, urging it to run further away from the estate.
Erik knew which black horse that was, for it was the only one that he possessed of that color, and he immediately felt the heat race to his cheeks.
Was it not enough that this woman had already disobeyed him, and now she was prancing about on Cesar as if he was her horse? If she had not already been so far away from him, he would have marched out there and given her a piece of his mind, but instead, he was reduced to scowling at her shape in the horizon from his room.
She is proving to be a grave error on my part, and more trouble than she is worth! he thought angrily to himself.
Once she had disappeared from view, he attempted to focus his thoughts elsewhere, though it was a challenge. Finding the familiar urge to compose, he pulled out a new sheet of paper and scribbled away.
If there was one thing that he could trust and that would never leave him, it was music.
The clock chimed eight times in the evening, and Erik would have normally paid no heed to it, but he was interrupted by a knock on his door. He hoped for Estella's sake that it was not she who would be found on the other side.
He heard the small voice of Marguerite Thorson call from behind the door, much to his surprise.
"Forgive me for disrupting you, Sir, but it is a matter of importance," she said through the thick door.
Sighing, Erik willed himself to answer it, and when he did, he found that the red-haired woman had concern and worry written all over her features.
"I apologize, but I am uncertain as to the whereabouts of Mrs. Destler," she explained.
Erik felt thoroughly annoyed that where Estella was at that moment should matter to him, and he wished to return to more important tasks.
"Have you checked the library? Or perhaps she is wandering around somewhere," he said with a wave of dismissal.
Estella had been no more than a prying Pandora to him thus far, and he wished to remain as far away from her as possible.
Marguerite could see that he was busy and that he appeared to have other matters on his mind, but she did not wish to walk away that easily. Instead, she bit her lip and looked down at the floor, knowing that she was becoming a bother to her master.
"I am concerned for her well-being, for you see; she went outside to take a walk earlier this afternoon, and she hasn't returned."
Erik felt his anger once again. Perhaps Estella had finally run away? It did not surprise him that his own wife would disappear permanently, for what woman in her right mind would wish to reside with a monster for a husband?
"If she has gone, then let her go," he replied nonchalantly, though inside the thought infuriated him.
He did not know whether to be relieved that he would no longer be bothered by her constant intrusions, or angered by the fact that she had left him.
Marguerite knew his meaning, and she was shocked. She glanced up at him through small eyes with her brows knitted in fear.
"But, Sir, it is raining and the cold air is causing it to turn to ice! Should we not go looking for her?"
Erik suddenly recalled to mind that he had seen her riding Cesar and that only an hour or so later it had begun to rain, and he knew that the temperature outside was dangerously cold. He had even seen the ice begin to form on the glass of his windows, and he wondered if she was still outside, or if she truly had found shelter elsewhere.
"Alright, then let us search for her," he told Marguerite, who then gathered together a handful of servants who would brave the weather.
Groaning in displeasure, he returned to his room to find his hooded cloak, and though he wished for nothing more than to be left alone in his room for the rest of the night, he knew that it was not an option.
As long as Estella was his wife and if there was even a minute chance that she could still be found on his property, then he would need to find her. While he had not taken a liking to her, he could feel the dread begin to build at the pit of his stomach, and he remembered his duty to protect her.