Sorry for the prolonged delay. I was out of town and didn't have my laptop with me, but I did do some writing while gone. I hope that this long chapter makes up for it, and it will need some tweaking since I am mentally and physically exhausted, but at least it's something.

Enjoy, and please don't forget to review!

Ch. 19

Erik gazed back at the man whose stern and unflinching stare seemed to paralyze him. His eyes roved over the fine golden silk material of this man's vest, which could be seen beneath the black waistcoat, and then they wandered to his face; a strong and clean-shaven jawline, the prominant cheekbones and thick eyebrows were satisfactory. The eyes which, at times, appeared to be honey-colored and warm but could also look green and piercing, could pass the scrutinization of other people. Perhaps they could even be seen as a desirable color.

But one detail of this man's face could not escape Erik's notice, and no matter how this man dressed or carried himself, nothing could ever improve the flaw of the right side.

A mangled piece of flesh that had not only tainted his appearance but also had not afforded him the opportunity of happiness in his life could not be ignored. He glared at the curse that had been inflicted upon him and seemed to mock him in the mirror.

He diligently adjusted his ivory-colored cravat, returned his mask to his face, and glanced at the time; it was nearly seven o'clock in the evening and there were only twenty-two minutes before he would meet Estella in the foyer. He could already feel the dread and anxiety overwhelm him simply at the thought of it, and he wondered how he would be able to endure it.

No matter the fine attire that he wore and despite the way he had combed his dark hair back to appear as a sophisticated gentleman, he would never consider himself to appear even a semblance of normality, and so he left his room with an exasperated sigh, but not without requesting a glass of brandy before he was to play.

Meanwhile, Estella smoothed her cream-colored dress and prayed that her husband would find her appearance to be presentable. She found herself growing nervous at the prospect of seeing him play for her, and after the many days in which she had longed for the company of another human being, she could not understand why she now felt so self-conscious when the time had finally arrived.

In the foyer, Erik fidgeted with the lapel of his coat as he waited for his drink, and once Mr. Matthews had delivered the bottle and glass, Erik felt the relief from his first few sips. His nerves began to calm, even if only a little, and he visibly relaxed. He waited for her, seated on the bench in front of the pianoforte, and his gloved hands fell into his lap.

It was not much longer until he saw her standing in the doorway, and he quickly rose from his seat to greet her. Her eyes lit up from a smile and he decided that he rather favored seeing her this way, after all; he wished to soon forget how ill she had looked only days ago when she had been fighting for her life.

"Thank you for coming," she said, after the door had been closed. She seated herself on a nearby chair. "I know how valuable your time is, and I was afraid that you would have changed your mind."

Erik was not expecting her admission and he was even somewhat delighted at the thought that she actually wanted him there.

Once he had positioned himself comfortably before the musical instrument, he could feel her eyes upon him and he suddenly felt uneasy. He looked at the glass that was within arm's-length and decided to take another swallow before he asked, "Is there anything in particular that you wish to hear?"

Estella thought for a moment, but she realized that she was not well-acquainted with music, or many songs, for that matter.

"Whatever you wish to play is more than enough for me," she replied.

Erik was not certain as to what she meant, but he nodded and poised his fingers above the keys. Then he realized that he would feel awkward to play while his hands were gloved, and though he had done so many other times before, he decided to remove the black leather.

Estella watched with close observation, and she determined that music was-and once had been-of great consequence to him. She knew by now that he was a very guarded man who kept to himself, but that he opened himself up to his music. He not only showed himself to be vulnerable, even by showing his bare hands while playing, but also expressed himself through every note that drifted into the air.

The longer that she listened to him play a slow and sad melody, the more real he became to her. She could hear his emotions with every key that was struck, and she watched the expressions that could be seen on his face even as his eyes had closed. Music made him human, and he almost became a different man in those moments.

Instead of the quiet, reserved, and even distant man whom she had seen, his brows were now furrowed and she could see the pain written on his features. The song was beautiful-just as wonderfully as she had remembered him to play-but it mirrored his inner struggles and was haunting to listen to. Whatever it was that troubled him had not been a scratch on the surface, instead; it was a deep wound that had never healed.

As the speed of the song picked up and grew louder, she felt the passion run through to her very core and she became overwhelmed with emotion as the tears formed in her eyes. She not only felt his pain, but she was reminded of her own, as well. It was as if she was reliving the moment when she had discovered that her parents had been murdered, or that her uncle would never come to love her as his own. She could feel every thought and feeling that she had the night in which Samuel had visited her and told her what had happened.

A knock came to her door in the middle of the night, and Estella awakened. After lighting a few candles, she opened the door to see Samuel standing in the hallway.

"Is something the matter?" she asked.

Though alarmed, she tried to keep her voice quiet, for she did not wish to disturb the others who were sleeping. She shivered from a chill and remained mostly hidden from behind the door, as the thin material of the nightgown that she wore did little to keep her warm (or proper, for that matter).

"I...I must speak with you," he answered.

Something was not quite right in the tone of his voice, and Estella asked if they could converse in the morning, but after he had pleaded with her, she sighed and allowed him to come inside. Still, she felt self-conscious enough to cross her arms across her chest and she pretended that he could not see her in so little clothing.

"My parents have disowned me," he announced sadly.

Estella's heart sank in her chest but she could not say that she was surprised.

He explained to her that his mother and father had expected his engagement to be a terrible mistake, and that they had assumed that it would dissolve quickly, but once they had realized the seriousness of his decision, they had refused to allow him to be their heir. He would not receive a penny from them.

Estella was severely disappointed and worried about him, but what she feared most was the alcohol that she could smell on his breath. She had never known him to take to drink, and she could only imagine how troubled he had been to have become intoxicated.

She attempted to reassure him with kind and loving words, but she could not make the worried expression disappear from his face.

He drew close to her and wrapped his arms around her in an embrace, and when he pulled back he began to caress her cheek softly.

"Do you love me?" he asked in a whisper.

"Of course I do," Estella smiled, hoping that it would miraculously provide the solution to their problems. Though it was not much, she still hoped that he would choose to be with her despite what others thought, and she knew that she could be happy with him even if they had no money.

Samuel kissed her gently at first, and then a hunger inside of him had been awakened. He wove his fingers through her hair and pulled her closer, crushing her lips to his.

Estella pulled back in fear when his fingers had begun to unlace the ties on her gown, and she knew to the fullest extent how close they were becoming to doing something dishonorable.

"You really must be going-"

"You do not want me here?" he asked with an expression of sadness on his features.

"You can call upon me in the morning, but I really must go to sleep," she said.

Samuel's face clouded over with a dark expression, and she knew that he was angry. She had never seen him in such a state, and it frightened her. But even as she took a few steps backward in order to increase the distance between the two of them, he closed in on her.

"You know that this is improper-"

"You will be my wife! What is improper about it?" he yelled.

Estella cringed at the loudness of his voice, and she attempted to persuade him to remain quiet. If anyone should discover that she had welcomed a man in her room at such an hour then she would certainly ruin both her's and his reputation.

She tried to gently urge him toward the door with a soothing voice, but he grabbed her and began to kiss her neck. She no longer felt an amorous way about the gesture, instead; she began to panic. She asked him to let her go and even attempted to remove his hands from her waist, but she found that he was uncooperative.

She placed her palms against his chest but she could not push him away. He noticed how she struggled and it angered him even further that she would refuse him once more.

Estella was snapped out of her thoughts by Erik's voice, and she realized that the music had ceased.

Erik saw the tears trailing down her cheeks, and he immediately felt the guilt consume him as he realized that he had brought about such a reaction.

"Have I upset you?" he asked.

Estella felt embarassed when she felt the wetness of her cheeks, but she could not stop them. The sadness of his music had reminded her of the memories that she had tried to repress for so long, and she could not hide how she had felt, no matter how disgusted she was with herself to show such weakness in front of him.

"It is nothing," she stated, though Erik was not convinced.

He blamed himself for making her cry, and though he had not known quite what to expect, he had not imagined the night to take such a turn for the worst.

Estella noticed the bottle of amber-colored liquid sitting on top of the piano beside Erik, and she could not help but to wonder how much of it he had drunk.

He saw how she gazed at the bottle, and he was taken aback by what she asked next.

"May I have a drink?"

He almost thought that he had imagined the question, but as she looked at him, he realized that she was serious.

He poured her a small glass and walked over to where she was seated. As he handed it to her, he warned her of its strong and unpleasant taste, and he was certain that she would not like it.

"I have never had a drink," she admitted before she brought the glass to her lips and smelled its contents. It certainly smelled strong and awful, and the taste of it was even worse! She wrinkled her nose in disgust after she had taken a sip and commented on how she did not understand why anyone would wish to drink it.

"It is vile at first, but becomes more agreeable to the palate after a while," Erik explained.

He thought that she would immediately give it back to him, but instead, she held her breath, threw her head back along with the glass, and swallowed the liquid quickly before setting it down on the small endtable beside her.

She grimaced as she felt it burn her throat, but after a few moments she began to notice its affects. She felt relaxed and her pain begin to numb, and now she understood why people chose to drink it.

Without any warning, she stood and walked over to the bottle and poured herself another glass. Erik watched her carefully as she swallowed it yet again, and he was at a loss as to what to do or say. He could only empathize with whatever demons she was wishing to forget by numbing herself with the liquor.

Estella slowly walked over to the divan and sat down, now feeling her head begin to whirl. She realized that she had not eaten much that day, and she knew that she should have stopped drinking after the first glass, but it was too late.

She laid back against the cushions and somehow felt numb and terrible at the same time. Her emotions were conflicted inside of her, and she did not know whether to be relaxed and not feel anything at all, or to burst into tears again. Instead, she turned to look at Erik, though the room sort of spun around the shape of him.

"Won't you sit beside me?" she asked softly.

Though hesitant, Erik could hardly resist the gentle tone of her request, and he obliged her. After all, if it would make her feel better after what he had done to her by playing his music, then there would be no harm in sitting beside her.

Still, he wished to keep his distance and did not know what to expect from her.

He felt very uneasy as her eyes wandered over his face, and he knew that she was studying his features. He wondered what she was thinking, but he was too afraid to ask.

Estella could scarcely form a logical sentence in her thoughts, let alone decipher exactly what she was feeling, and when she blinked, fresh tears had fallen.

Erik felt the knot in the pit of his stomach as he imagined that he had been causing the reaction, but before he could think of a way to leave, she had spoken.

"What is wrong with you?"

It sounded like a genuine question, but he had noticed the hint of anger in her voice.

This was the moment that he had dreaded, and he had attempted to do everything to avoid. Of course he could not pretend that he did not wear a mask, and that she would ignore it. He feared what would come of the conversation, but he knew that it would not end well, as he could feel his temper rising.

"When you drink brandy, you play music..."

He was thoroughly confused by her words, and even somewhat thankful that she was apparently inebriated, for he hoped that she would quickly forget the subject of his mask.

He felt even worse when she began to sob uncontrollably, and he did not know how to console her. Should he touch her shoulder, if only gently, to bring her some comfort, or would it repulse her? It felt as if sitting there beside her, motionless, would do nothing to calm her, yet he couldn't find the courage to touch her.

"Do you wish for me to leave?" he asked.

He felt that he had caused this and would only make matters worse, and if he was the reason for upsetting her then he would face the reality of it and excuse himself.

Estella looked up at him through teary eyes, and he loathed himself for making her cry.

"Don't you understand?" she half-yelled. "Samuel drank brandy and it was not the ivory keys of a pianoforte that he touched!"

Erik felt the chill sweep down his spine from what she had said, and he let her words sink into his mind.

"He came into my room. It was late at night, and he tore my dress. It is a terrible feeling to be exposed to someone when you are unprepared!"

Though he did not know it in the same sense as she did, he had also borne the humiliation of being exposed-the night in which Christine had ripped the mask off of his face in front of a crowd of shrieking people. It was something that he would never forget.

"I could not bear for him to look at me, but he did. I felt so helpless," she continued.

Erik felt the heat in his veins as the thought of what this man had done to her consumed his mind and infuriated him. It took a great measure of self-control to remain beside her and to maintain his composure as he listened to her. The fact that a man had violated her, even though she had not been his wife at the time, was nearly unbearable, and he vowed that if he ever met him, he would make him suffer.

"He wanted more. His intentions were to rob me of my honor and dignity, but I would not let him. I fought him with all of the courage that I could gather, though inside I was terrified and shaking. I managed to escape before he had the chance to..."

She paused to collect herself, and prayed that she would shed no more tears. After she had wiped the remaining away, she told herself that she was stronger than this, and she would not allow herself to cry again.

"After that night, he would not even look at me. He announced to my uncle the following day that he would not marry me, and now he has taken a wife of good breeding and reputation."

Erik was sickened by her recollection, and he had completely forgotten his previous fears that she had been repulsed by him. Instead, he could not help but to think of the many ways in which he wished to inflict pain upon this man.

Estella sniffled and felt the numbness take control of her once more, and she was grateful that her mood began to lift as the brandy overpowered her. She noticed the brooding expression on Erik's face and she frowned.

"Do not trouble yourself on my account," she said, but Erik could not erase the anger that he felt. How could she expect him to remain calm after recieving such news?

"Make no mistake that I will never allow him to do it again! You are safe here."

Estella was touched by his remark, but she did not wish for him to be upset. This was not at all how she had imagined the night would transpire.

"I know that I am safe with you," she said. A warm smile played upon her lips, and it made Erik's breath catch in his throat.

To make matters worse, Estella grabbed one of his hands and removed his glove. Before he could respond or even comprehend what was happening, she began to trace the lines in his palm.

"I never get to see your hands...such beautiful music they create..."

Erik could hardly breathe as he savored the sensation of her fingers on his skin, but he was struggling to give in to her touch at the fear of rejection. He knew that she was not thinking clearly, and that the alcohol had caused her to make unwise decisions, and he did not wish to become vulnerable to another woman by acting out on his desires for affection.

He knew that it would only end in pain and regret, but the temptation to pretend that she was touching him out of her own free will was difficult to resist. He had to remind himself that she couldn't possibly develop feelings for him, especially not if she were to see his face.

Still, he watched her dainty fingers on his palm, mesmerized.

"What is your name?" she asked.

He had never really thought about it, but now he realized that he had never told her, and it was foreign to him that someone wished to know.

"Erik."

"Erik," she repeated with another smile. She liked the way it sounded, and he could not tear his gaze away from her face as he noticed her delight.

He was utterly shocked when she had closed the space between them with a kiss, and when he felt her lips on his own, he became paralyzed. They were soft, and while tempting, he had not expected it.

She pulled away with a smirk, and his breath became laboured as he saw the rosey color of her cheeks. He swallowed hard and felt the prick of tears at the corners of his eyes, and he had to look away from her. He could not allow himself to harbor any hope. Not when she was not acting on her own accord.

"You should not have done that," he muttered, still thinking about her lips. How she was tormenting him and making him think things that he vowed never to dream of again!

"It was only a kiss, and I am your wife, after all," she defended herself.

Yes, he was reminded of two things that he thought he would never have-a wife, and a woman kissing him. Even if it had only been because of her clouded judgement, at least it had not been out of pity.

She yawned and felt the fatigue overtake her. Before Erik had been allowed the time to settle his conflicting emotions, he noticed that she had curled up against the divan and closed her eyes. He was both relieved and disappointed.

He fetched a blanket for her and covered her as she slept, careful not to disturb her. Though he knew that he could easily carry her to her room so that she might be more comfortable in her own bed, he thought it unwise to prolong his torture by having her in his arms after she had teased him with a kiss.

After all, it was that kiss that had left him confused and yearning for love. He had been determined not to make that same mistake again, yet the more time that he spent with her, the more difficult it became not to long for it.

And so he decided to let her rest and retire to his own room for the night, but he still could not stop thinking of her.

And even in his dreams, he felt her lips.