Ch. 20
Erik watched the small clusters of snowflakes fall from the overcast sky, forming a light dusting over the land on the other side of his window, though his mind was elsewhere.
He could not tear his thoughts away from Estella, no matter how badly he wished to, in fact; dwelling on what had transpired the previous night had prevented him from finding much, if any, sleep. He could only repose for brief moments throughout the night, and he now found that he could not possibly be in a good mood, as fatigue weighed him down into the morning.
Countless times he thought of what he could have done differently. Had he given into temptation, he would have returned the kiss and enjoyed what little moment of happiness that he could find, but pondering this course of action only led him to more self-loathing. How he hated himself for allowing her to affect him in such a way, and he would have given anything to silence his whirling mind!
He wished that he had not allowed her to drink so much, but then he thought about what had led her to it, and he blamed himself for beckoning her repressed memories to come forth through his music. He should have known better than to cause such terrible feelings upon her through the power of the song that he had played!
Then he struggled with the decision to see if she was still sleeping in the foyer, for part of him wished to alleviate the guilt on his conscience in any way that he could by inquiring about whether or not she was feeling ill from the previous night, but the more logical part of him was afraid that seeing her again would only prove to hinder him from forcing her out of his thoughts for the entirety of the day. If he wished to forget that their kiss had ever happened-which he was certain she had already done so, by now-then he would need to keep away from her until his feelings had settled.
Even after convincing and re-convincing himself that this was the wisest decision that he could make, and reasoning that he would only be ignorant not to listen to the warnings that screamed in his mind, he found himself exiting his room in search of her. After all, it was just to make certain that she was alright and didn't require anything, he had reasoned, though he knew that he was a fool for it.
Estella awoke with a shiver, and as she blinked away the remainder of poor sleep from her eyes, she felt a pain rush to her temples that made her cringe. She slowly and carefully sat up so as not to make it worse, though she found that the grey light from the clouded sky that streamed through the window did not help at all.
She rubbed her forehead and groaned. For a brief moment, she glanced down at herself to see that her dress was entirely wrinkled and she knew that her hair must have been a mess, and she surmised that she must have slept on the divan throughout the night.
What had happened, or even how she had gotten to the divan in the first place, was a foggy memory to her, and she could only string together bits and pieces of the night in her mind. She could remember coming to the foyer in order to meet Mr. Destler for an evening of piano-playing, but that was all that she could recount.
It was far unlike her to have fallen asleep anywhere outside of her room, and the more that she thought of it, she had formulated the scenario that she believed had played out.
She knew that Mr. Destler neither enjoyed companions nor allowed anyone to interrupt his privacy, and she believed that he had not appeared the night before and she must have fallen asleep while waiting for him.
After she had conjured up this idea, she immediately felt the aggravation that followed. How badly she had wanted friendship, or even conversation, with another person, and here her own husband would refuse her such! How could he be so kind as to tend to her when she was thought to be dying, yet he could not afford her one hour of his time otherwise? Must she be gravely ill or injured in order to gain his attention?
She quickly stood-a bit too quickly, as she grimaced-and decided that, after she had freshened up, she would pay this husband-of-hers a visit. She would not exercise self-control in regards to her temper, for she felt that he deserved it. After all, what husband would expect his wife to be happy in her situation?
A bath felt wonderful on her skin, but it did not ease her headache. A change of clothes made her feel much better, but it did not rid her of the anger that she felt about the previous night.
Yes, material possessions and wealth were at her disposal, but she cared not as to these things. She wanted what she had not had all of her life-friends, associations even, gatherings, festivities, dances, or perhaps even love. She had given up these ideals long ago, but could she not at least have someone to talk to, even if the topic of discussion was light and brief?
She attempted to walk casually to Mr. Destler's room, though her feet were hitting the floor a bit more forcefully and she wore a look of dissatisfaction on her face. But once she had arrived at his door, he did not answer, even after knocking multiple times.
She spun on her heel with a huff and decided to search for him. He could not run away from her forever, she decided.
She was a bit surprised to see him in the foyer, standing beside the divan that she had so uncomfortably slept on.
"It is a bit late to be in here, do you not think so?" she asked bitterly.
Erik was taken aback by the anger that had been directed at him, and he wondered if she had been suffering from the after-effects of drinking too much the previous night. As if to confirm this, he saw her massage her forehead tenderly with a deep exhale.
"Would you like some medicine for the pain?" he asked softly, knowing not to talk too loudly.
Estella's hand dropped to her side and she glared at him.
"Yes," she replied, despite her temper. "Are you aware that I slept here last night?"
"Yes, and I did not wish to disturb you as you slept, though I know that it must have been most uncomfortable, and I apologize," he replied truthfully.
Erik walked over to the small tassel beside the door and pulled on it in order to ring for his butler, and he then requested that a small vial be delivered immediately to the foyer.
Estella watched him with resentment. How kind and considerate he appeared to be, yet if he had been true to his word and had not neglected their appointment last night, then she would not have fallen asleep on the divan and strained her neck, resulting in the increasingly-painful headache, in the first place! The absurdity of this man was baffling to her!
"Well then why did you force me to wait for you when you clearly had no intention of upholding your promise? Could you not have simply told me that you had no desire to waste your time with me?" she asked, her voice rising.
She could not yell, as she felt the urge to, instead; she grimaced so much from the pain of simply hearing her own voice that she knew how pathetic she must have looked to him. How was he to ever understand her anger if she could not even look the part?
Erik's eyebrows furrowed and he was utterly perplexed. He knew that she had no recollection of what had happened, but he had never imagined that she would think of this.
"You do not remember anything at all?" he asked, both relieved and disappointed.
At least he would not need to be reminded of her guilt for kissing him, for he already knew that if she were to remember that she would have regretted it. How painful it would be for him to have the reminder that it required a substantial amount of alcohol in order for her to do such a thing, and he did not wish to hear it from her.
"No, I do not!" she snapped. "But I can only assume that I fell asleep because you never arrived!"
The two of them were interrupted by Mr. Matthews announcing his presence and the retrieval of the vial of medicine. Estella took a small part of it with a glass of water and was told that she would notice a difference in a short amount of time.
"I apologize for how the evening transpired, but you must know that I did not abstain from keeping my word," he said curtly.
Erik had nothing more to say to her and longed for the solitude of his room, but as he made his way toward the door, she stepped in front of him and blocked his path.
"Will you always run from me?" she asked in frustration, her hands now on her hips.
Erik knew that he could easily pass her, for her small and short frame was no match for his strength, but he found himself motionless, anyway. She was so close to him that he was certain that their breaths mingled, as she was determined to prevent him from exiting the room, and he could not help but to be reminded of what her lips had felt like for the brief moment that he had had with her that night.
His eyes traveled down to those very lips, thinking of how he wished he had taken advantage of them when he had the chance, and how he would never feel them again.
Estella noticed his softening expression and the pain hidden in his eyes, and she could see their hazel depths glance down at her mouth. They way he looked at her...she had only ever seen it so clearly once before, during their wedding ceremony. It was as if he was mourning something, yet there was a hint of desire to it.
This despair written on his features was quickly replaced by a neutrality, as if he had suddenly become stone-hearted once again. But that glimpse into his soul and the mental clarity that she now felt from the lessening of the pain in her temples had been enough to remind her of what had happened.
She quickly stifled her gasp as she was mentally-transported through the events of the previous night, and Erik observed the look of horror on her face. He knew that she had remembered kissing him all-of-a-sudden, for there could be no other reason for such a terrified expression, and it was like a knife had ripped open his chest.
Of course he could not have expected a different reaction. How could a woman not be horrified by kissing him?
"How terrible I am!" she panicked. "What you must think of me, now!"
Her words only proved to twist that imaginary knife deeper into him until he found it painful to breathe.
He suddenly wanted to mock her, to spit insults at her, but he was too sickened with himself to do so. He never should have allowed the situation to get out-of-hand in the first place!
"Please forgive me!" she begged. "I do not normally behave that way!"
Erik had heard enough, and he would not be able to contain himself much longer before he did something that he would regret.
"Let us both pretend to forget it, and speak no more of it!" he muttered, upset, before he darted to the open space to the side of her and quickly left the room.
Estella stood in place and cursed herself for her foolishness. She had already had difficulty enough in getting Erik to spend time with her, and now he surely wouldn't wish to waste his energy on a drunkard! How embarrassed she was, humiliated even!
She wished that she could make that night disappear, and she felt so small that she thought she might sink into the wood floor.
And then a realization hit her that formed a knot in her stomach and made her feel even worse; Erik thought that she was reacting that way because of the kiss! She knew that his mask hid something, and that he had some sort of pained and troubled past, and to think that she had added to that pain...to think that he could have suffered gravely and she had only made matters worse by a misunderstanding...she could not bear it!
She was intent on clarifying her emotions with him-that she was horrified by her foolish behavior from drinking too much and proving to be a sobbing wreck, and not the kiss itself, and she immediately exited the room to chase after him.
Of course, if something could happen at the most inopportune and inappropriate time, it would, and she was halted by Mr. Matthews.
"A letter of urgency has arrived for you, M'Lady," he announced, holding out to her a small silver tray.
Estella quickly glanced down at it to see a letter with elegant writing on it that was addressed to her. With both confusion and curiosity, she picked it up with delicate fingers and read the sender's information.
She did not recognize the name written-a "Mrs. Rosalie Abraham", however; the more that she pondered it...could it be?
With trembling fingers and a shaky breath, she turned the envelope over and broke open its seal, finding that though she knew it to be a dangerous thing, she dared to form hope. And as her eyes scanned over its contents and then widened, her suspicions were confirmed.
It was written by the only aunt whom she had.