I followed Ciel as he shuffled downstairs to find the Marchioness sipping tea with her daughter, who was endeavouring to keep her bandaged hand hidden under the table. Francis Midford did not look pleased in the slightest. "Ciel, it is nearly eleven. Most of our guests have left for the day and you were not there to see them off. I am surprised at you."

"I'm sorry, Aunt Francis."

The young master was as well-pressed, tucked and polished as his aunt and this was no reflection of his present condition, for he was inclined to cradle his aching head and shield his eyes from the sun streaming into the parlour. He would not have been half as presentable if it were not for my ample assistance. The Marchioness reflected all the virtues of noble discipline in a jacquard blouse that reached her neck. Elizabeth was wearing a fashion of equal conservatism and I suspected it was motivated by a desire to not bring attention.

The elder woman sighed and then motioned to the table. "Be that as it may... would you care for tea?"

"I really couldn't, but I appreciate your offer, truly. Would you permit me to speak with Elizabeth?" Ciel tensed his shoulders. I stood to the side, attentive should some need of me would arise… I suspected I could be of no aid to my master, with how Marchioness sat rigid, lips pursued, trying not to clutch at her chair.

"Whatever you have to say to my daughter, you can say in front of me." A concerned mother could intuit that something was amiss with her daughter. I reasoned that Francis had asked Elizabeth the cause of her injury, and such a silly lie as embroidery shears would not convince a woman who possessed a sharp intellect.

"Lizzie." His aunt sniffed at her nephew's informality. "Would you care for a walk in the garden this afternoon?"

Elizabeth had made no motion since her fiancé had entered the room. At the question, she turned to look at Ciel, who was trying not to appear so desperate in front of his aunt. "I'm afraid I must decline, Ciel."

"Sit down, nephew." The boy tried to not rattle the chair as he took his seat. There was a moment of silence as the woman raised her teacup to sip, as if the tea were a source of her poise and composure. After she set it down on the table, she knit her hands in her lap. "You two must take me for a fool."

The pair of adolescents attempted to protest, but Francis snapped, "Enough. Elizabeth, honestly, you are not as daft as to accidentally cut yourself with scissors. I know, because I taught you more sense. Ciel, did you insist Elizabeth give me this witless lie?"

"I knew of no such thing!"

"Then one of you better tell me the truth, because I will not tolerate this deception. Elizabeth, I do not know what has gotten into you, but I have never known you to keep things from me. And nephew, I fear I would not have seen this change in my daughter if it were not for your influence."

The young lord bowed his head. "I am so sorry ma'am, I have no explanation -"

"No Ciel!" Elizabeth stood from her seat. "Mother, I'm the one to blame in all this!" The other two gawked for a moment. I heard birds chirping from the aspen outside.

"What?" The Marchioness looked startled, for she was not ready to believe her youngest and only daughter would disappoint her. "Calm yourself, you are no crazed woman. Explain to me what is going on here."

Elizabeth took a deep breath as she sat down, adjusting the folds of her dress as though collecting thoughts. "Mother, last night I was not where I should have been. I lied to you, because I said I was retiring for the evening, which you took to mean that I was going straight to my own quarters." Her lip quivered at the confession. "That was not so, and I am ashamed to have been so deceitful."

The Marchioness sat rigid, doing a very good job in containing her fury. Crossing her arms seemed to aid in this endeavour. "You went to Ciel's room after you left the parlour, did you?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Ciel, you know such behaviour is indecent and you did nothing to stop her at the doorway? You let her into your quarters at nearly eleven o'clock last night?" Francis trilled, "With guests at the estate no less?"

"Ma'am, I was not in my right mind."

"And what excuse do you have for that? Do I need to be worried about your intentions with my daughter?"

"Mother please!"

"Ma'am I had been drinking-"

"Ciel!" Elizabeth pounded the table. "What Ciel does in his own privacy was not my business and I was wrong to encroach on it."

I was grateful that I was not a member of this conversation, for all at the table would have noticed my look of surprise at that statement. Try as she might to save Ciel from any reprimand, the Marchioness gasped in disbelief.

"Am I to be concerned for what you feel you can get away with behind closed doors, Ciel?"

The boy cradled his head in his hands, hair still damp from the bath I had just given him. He knew full well he was in almighty trouble. "I believe I have caused a great deal more than concern, ma'am." He sighed and motioned to his fiancée to keep quiet. "Elizabeth, please let me explain what I remember.

"I will not attempt to explain my reasoning for why I had so much to drink last night, because no justification excuses the fact that I indulged far too much. I was not a gentleman because of it. Elizabeth saw my rude behaviour caused by spirits and tried to take my glass from me, because she felt I needed no more, and she was right, but by that time I had imbibed far too much. The glass fell to the floor and broke, and I did not notice it until she fell and cut her hand on it. And she would not have fallen if it weren't for my anger."

I would have applauded his story if I had the freedom to do so. He managed to paint Elizabeth in a most noble light, gave no detail of his actions in the story, and retained enough truth for it to sound believable. The Marchioness noticed my smirk and barked, "And where were you when all this occurred, Mr. Michaelis?" My face went deadpan.

I proclaimed, "I can honestly say that I am too lenient with my master, Marchioness. Perhaps because I favour Lady Elizabeth, I am too indulgent with her as well. It would have been most sensible to not allow her into the room at all, even if the master was insistent, and Elizabeth had the noblest intention to force him to stop drinking."

Ciel lifted his head. "She did put up a rather good fight."

"Madam, rest assured as soon as I saw that Elizabeth was injured, I subdued the situation."

Marchioness closed her eyes and gave herself a moment of silence. Her voice shook, but with calm breath she uttered, "All three of you have acted poorly, and look at the consequence of it. My daughter has been hurt."

"Mother, I've endured worse."

"Yes, from noble fights and tournaments. There is no honour in the wound you carry now. You were foolish, and I hate to say such a thing about my own daughter. And what if someone else knows of this incident? Do any of you know if anyone else saw this?"

I thought of Joann. We all shook our heads.

"Ciel, if you were any other, I would dismiss you from my house. Alexis will hear of this situation, and if he finds the transgression unforgiveable, you will be. I have granted you an enormous amount of patience, nephew, because I see too much of Vincent in you, and it scares me." She rested her forehead in the palm of her hand as if to purge herself of the thought. The young master shuddered.

"Strict curfew, in your quarters at nine o'clock and not a minute later. Both of you. This will be enforced. No drinking. Lord in Heaven, overindulging on Good Friday, Ciel, I just can't believe you. Any plans you might have had with Elizabeth today are out of the question. You will see each other for dinner, for Easter Mass, and if you have behaved, you may have an afternoon together before you leave for your own estate.

"In the meantime, Elizabeth, you will be studying your scripture. I think you need some reminding of your virtues. Ciel, I can make rules for my house, but I do not feel it is my place to punish you. Mr. Michaelis, do you have a suggestion as to a firm discipline for him?"

"Latin."

Under his breath Ciel whined, "Oh no please..."

"I believe that is fitting." She stood from the table and the two adolescents followed suit, even if they did not raise their eyes. The young master had no tea when he sat at the table. "Elizabeth, to your quarters. Ciel, you can find ample materials in the library. Work there if it suits you."

The young master's mood changed little over the course of the day. He was sluggish that morning, which was why he slipped on the tile when getting out of the bath. His listless condition was not due to his aunt and uncle, the events of the past few days, or his guilt over Lizzie. Contributing factors they might have been, I felt the true reason for his condition was me.

The Marquis felt guilty for having placed his nephew in a defensive position that Friday night. Francis was still sore over his conduct. Elizabeth had not so much as looked at him. She was the only one who knew just how deplorable his state had become that late night. The tense feelings held by those of the Midford estate worsened my master's feelings of hopelessness and isolation. I knew he was plagued by those emotions because I had seen them in his face since that morning when I had assisted him.

Before dawn on Sunday he and the Midfords climbed into the carriage to attend Easter mass. Silence presided over the company, for an air of fatigue blanketed them. Arriving at the cathedral, they exited the carriage, and as Ciel stepped down he grazed my hand.

I don't want to be here anymore.

His company were ushering him into the church. I whispered to him, "I will have your luggage ready by the time you have finished brunch." I think Ciel was contented for that acknowledgement, some reassurance that I was anticipating his need to leave as soon as politely possible. His features softened, his blue eye widening to reveal some flicker of light behind it. In the dawn, when no one was able to see, there was that expression Joann had referred to, a look Ciel reserved just for me.

The young master would not take his communion. I watched from the back of the north aisle, off to the side and out of anyone's attention. His lips only touched the goblet offered to him. He did not swallow the wafer, but deposited it out of sight when he returned to the pew.

I cannot say that being inside the church made me uneasy. It is a strange feeling of knowing that it was not my place, how expansive doors opened to welcome all but that inclusivity failed to penetrate me. High ceilings were to house the Glory of All, and yet for all the architecture's hollowed expanse I felt suffocated. It is these occasions I feel it best to keep out of everyone's way, and watch with indifference. People's hearts are more open in these spaces and it offered me a glimpse into the hope of humanity, but such sentiments may as well be spoken in some language that I knew at one time, but has been lost to me.

The Marchioness appeared to be in kinder spirits after the service, wishing to extend some last bit of hospitality over brunch. Ciel seemed impervious to it, taking his meal with politeness but extending no warmth. At the end of the meal, Elizabeth asked of her fiancé, "Would you walk with me in the garden before you return to your estate?"

The boy took a sip of his tea, glancing at his aunt who gave him a slight nod of approval. "Yes, I would very much like that."

I slipped to his guest room to pack his belongings, setting the rooms to immaculate condition. The bed was made, the ash from the fireplace was swept away, the bathroom was scrubbed to a gleaming white and for good measure, I filled a vase with lilies as one last token of appreciation, in the hopes that the Marchioness would see it. I feared Ciel's stay with the Midfords had bruised his relationship with them. The Marquis Midford so wished to view his nephew as a bright and enthusiastic young man well matched for his daughter. His wife wanted to see Ciel had the strength to uphold strong convictions of duty and honour. He very well may have tarnished those expectations.

Bags and luggage were fastened to the coach and afterwards I left the driveway to the expansive gardens beyond to find my master. Oak trees were beginning to show their first green, azalea showing their first blooms. Short shrubs indicated grassy walkways leading to a central fountain framed by an elegant colonnade. The pond before it reflected the sky above. From behind one of the large oaks I spotted the couple sitting on a bench by the fountain, Ciel's head low as he grasped at the lady's gloved hands.

His voice quivered, "Please forgive me for the hurt I cause you."

"Ciel, the accident with the glass...," Elizabeth began, "that is not my issue. I think what concerns me the most... is your state of mind." The young boy turned away, his shoulders tense. "And the drinking. Men don't drink as much as that... unless something drives them to it." She placed her hands on her fiancé's shoulders, shifting on the bench to tighten the space between them. "You would not say to Mother what has made you so troubled, but I can see there is something that plagues you. Would you tell me? Please Ciel… please do not keep things from me."

"Lizzie..." he reached for the injured hand on his shoulder, inspecting it with light touch and tenderness. "You are so very patient with me. You have been patient with me for years, and I don't know how you can stand it. I don't know why you can even bother to care for me so much, when I have been such a source of distress for you. Why continue this?"

The young woman was trying so hard to stay strong, to keep her voice level and her eyes from weeping. "Are you saying you would rather break the engagement?"

"No, I'm asking you if you would be happier if we did."

"Never!" She flung her arms around Ciel, burying her face in the frills of his Sunday best. "There is so little happiness to be had in this world, Ciel. There is so little of it for me here. But one thing that has kept me strong is my hope... my hope that we will have the chance at happiness together."

He patted her back, looking to the sky with such helplessness. It was the same expression he gave me the morning prior, when I had reached to catch him from his fall in the bath. I recalled how his gaze was so steadfast, how his mind was adrift and his lips were parted in expectation. Just to recall the memory had sent a tingle to my neck, as if my skin had memory of where he had touched me.

The simple truth was Elizabeth would find no happiness. She was clinging to a dream, because different circumstances always appear more promising than current ones. Perhaps there was a small voice inside the girl that told her that Ciel would eventually bring her misery, but that voice could not be heard over the wailing that told her to marry and take on the name of Phantomhive.

Elizabeth whispered, "I have a secret of my own, Ciel. When I was visiting last time and you kissed me... I overreacted. I did not know what to make of it. I was not ready for it. It was just so... intense. Where did you learn to kiss like that?"

"I, uh," Ciel faltered. "I practice on my pillow." What a silly lie, I thought.

The lady aligned her gaze with his. "...Would you do it again?"

He endeavoured to keep his sight from straying. His voice rumbled with unease. "Would it make you happy?"

"Only if you wanted to kiss me."

Ciel inched his face to hers. He held her jaw as if it were a china cup. There was no force in his lips, all sweetness. She responded with hands around his waist, which he took as an invitation to press deeper. The boy was searching for something in that kiss, an emotion, a truth or certainty. Elizabeth looked as though she did not know how to proceed. Her movements were always graceful and self-assured, and a kiss brought out clumsiness in her.

When they pulled away, the young woman looked as though she might faint. Ciel cradled her waist, her neck, planting a kiss on the side of her lips that was chaste, but also the most intimate gesture I had seen of him. I heard him whisper through her curls, "My secret was that I was holding back, Lizzie. If that kiss is enough to make you feel faint, consider how it would be to receive all my passion."

I watched Elizabeth hold her legs tighter underneath her dress, attempting to suppress an uncomfortable and unfamiliar arousal. "Ciel I cannot bare it-"

"I know." She looked ready to cry when faced with such intensity. My master peered at her with his azure eye, and I noticed to look at her with one eye straight on required him to turn his head to the right only slightly. It made him appear forever distracted. "This is why I keep secrets. You will be much happier if you do not push to know my secrets."

The two sat in silence, coming to terms with the fact that perhaps there was nothing more to be said. She was on the verge of tears when he stood up. "I love you, Lizzie. It's time for me to go home."

He stalked off, leaving her to the bench. As he passed by my oak, he turned to look at me, bitterness wrinkling the corners of his lips. I did not know if it was because of my voyeuristic actions, or because he had just shared a kiss with Lady Elizabeth.

Tanaka was waiting in the coach. Before I opened the door for my young master, he muttered, "In case you were wondering, Sebastian, I could have been kissing a corpse for all I felt."

I paused, and stood in front of the door. "So you lied to her when you said you wanted to kiss her. Do you lie when you say you love her?"

"I hope it is not a lie."

That was the extant of our conversation and he stewed for the length of our trip to the manor. When we arrived, Ciel would not allow me to open the carriage for him. He stormed out, charging past his servants who stood outside to proclaim a warm greeting.

"Young master?" His heels clopped as he stormed up the stairs, across to the east wing to his study. A door slam echoed through the foyer.

Finnian said behind me, "Why do I have the impression that the young master had a horrible time?"

The young master's lack of engagement with anyone after his departure from the Midfords had placed the servants on edge. He spent the night tossing and flailing. I knew he was reaching a breaking point. Ciel was not going to admit to his troubled state of mind, much less ask me to alleviate it. He was under the impression that if there was ever occasion for me to be of assistance, that unresolvable conflict would arise once more.

I thought of how this was reaffirmed by our last exchange that Saturday morning. For that brief moment, when the master was in my care, he had achieved some level of relaxation, present in a moment of pampering. I was delighted to give it.

When I caught his fall out of the bath, he clung to my jacket with wet hands, and I realized my naked hands were around his waist. His breathing echoed against the walls. When he reached for my face, I registered that it had been a fortnight since he had last touched me, and I did not realize until that moment how much I missed it.

I heard his voice in my mind; I have so craved your touch. The thought jolted me to my senses.

I tore my gaze from his, setting him right on his feet. Dejected, he ripped the towel from my grasp and muttered, "I don't need your help." As he walked away to dress, I could hear his mind howling, "Why, why, why?!"

It was that exchange which forced me to accept that I was the primary cause of Ciel's inner turmoil. I, who had before provided catharsis and respite, had discouraged his advances. Amongst all the events of the weekend, he had received no passion from me. As a result, my master was at the mercy of his loneliness, compounded by the stresses of obligation and propriety.

It was the next morning after breakfast when Finnian bolted into the parlour I was tidying, panic-stricken and panting from running to find me. I heard his wailing before he even reached the room. He burst through the door hard enough for the doorknob to knock a hole in the wall.

"Why are you causing so much destruction now?" I asked, inspecting the damage with some irritation.

"I'm really sorry Sebastian, sir, but it's the young master!" Finnian looked to the point of tears, but I did not sense that Ciel was hurt, nor in any danger. I had spent a great deal of my mental efforts to block him from my mind because his incessant negative thoughts were distracting to my usual tasks.

I sat the scruffy gardener in an elegant, cushy settee, hoping it would settle him. His leg jostled, for relaxing was the last of his concerns.

"Tell me what has upset you, Finnian."

"He's... he's..." he sniffled before wailing a great sob, "torn up the rose garden!"

"What?"

I handed the man a handkerchief and he blew his nose before continuing. "The young master got into my garden shed and nicked a pair of hedge clippers. When I saw him, I asked if he wanted to help with the gardening, and I just thought he wanted some fresh air or something. He told me to run along and mind my own business and a short while later I found him in the rose garden..." Finnian broke into fresh sobs.

The quickest way to discovering just how much damage Ciel had caused was to go the garden and assess the situation. I pulled a crying Finnian out of the chair and dragged him alongside me down the hall. He continued his blubbering, probably because my grip on the man suggested I was angry with him.

On the contrary, I had lost my patience with Ciel. I was finished with skirting around the issue. I was frustrated with his inability to settle his own conflicts, and how he would prefer to let them consume him. I was angered that because of his strife, he would therefore lash out at me.

Those rose gardens were in my care. Everyone knew just how much time and effort I spent nurturing them because they were the master's favourite.

We were halfway across the lawn when we saw the destruction.

Vines snaked up and overhead on trellises, the blooms casting soft shadows over the stone walkway. Even in the warm sunlight the petals were white as frost, each bloom as smooth and solid as marble. Their delicacy was bared as they were chopped from overhead, their graceful fall stilted by a mean wind. Petals were crushed underfoot, bruised and dirtied; each sculptural bloom torn for all of its frailty displayed.

"My Lord, stop this immediately!" He arrested his hacking at the vines to turn to me. For a brief moment, his face was stricken pale, much like the ground upon which he stood. His breath was as violent as the wind, and his bright eye as frail as a falling rose. As he focused on me, my charging to meet him, the pale expression was brushed away as seething anger clouded his features.

Finnian fell to the ground wailing once more, picking up the roses as if to tell the speechless flowers that they were going to be okay. "Sebastian! He killed them!" He moaned in a high pitched voice. Ciel made a weak attempt to throw the shears at me, but I was quick to catch them and with a swift motion I ploughed them into the earth, showing any further attack against me was trivial.

I stalked closer to the young master and I could see Finnian out of the corner of my eye, shrinking away on the ground, as if some subconscious instinct knew just how lethal I could be in that moment. I kept my expression calm. "Well, what do you have to say for yourself?"

Ciel shook his fists, and he screamed, "God damnit Sebastian! Does nothing disturb you?" He kicked at the trellis. "I just destroyed this fucking rose garden and you're not even angry about it!"

"What has you so angry, young master?"

"Everything, you fucking idiot!"

"You are out of line."

"Don't you tell me-" he panted. His shook with a tenseness that gripped all parts of him. "I HATE THIS!" He roared, grabbing at the trellis, attempting to rock it free from the ground and screamed from the frustration of not being able to topple it.

I took one look at Finnian, pointed to the house, and he registered that as a sign to sprint and not ask questions. The young master's gasps were hoarse. I could feel the adrenaline pounding through him and it set my nerves on edge to see such wild ferociousness. His heart pulsed with an angry pace and it was surprising it would not knock from his chest. A cold sweat was on the back of his neck as I tried to still him, but my efforts encouraged him to swing at me.

Perhaps it was realizing I was far sturdier than a rickety trellis. Perhaps it was my impenetrable countenance against his reactive state of being. Ciel clutched at his sides, rocking and swinging at the waist. His breath was short and he seemed to gulp at the air. "I can't see...! I can't..." He wheezed in quick spurts, falling to his knees over the fallen roses. He grasped at petals, as if to find something substantial to hold to. He would not stop shaking; He was panicking. "Oh my God... Oh..." a deep sob erupted and was followed by sporadic breaths. His chest heaved, "I'm dying...!"