The trouble one faces with memory loss is that there is no definite measure of the damage, nor can one predict the rate or length of the recovery. If circumstances had been stable, it would have been practical to sit down my young master and question him as to what he could recollect and what he could not. After the factory was destroyed, the priority was to leave the country as quickly and quietly as possible, so attention to Ciel's condition would have to wait.

We made quick work of collecting his things from the apartment on Chevalier, as well as collecting Elizabeth and Paula from the hotel. With the fire causing such a commotion, attempting to find a ship that would take us out of the city was difficult, one that would work with our boarding passes even harder. The Earl had learned as a boy that while his name means a great deal to him, it means very little to anyone else, and it does not fare as a very effective currency for opening doors. Elizabeth baulked to see him procure a change purse on more than one occasion, just to pull strings and board our party on the next boat to Portsmouth.

There was no lodging to be had on this ship, no private rooms available, and so my master and company were forced to congregate on deck like a band of commoners, which did not suit the lady at all. She was trying so hard not to show her distress, but when Ciel saw her jaw quivering he would take her hand and assure her that he was doing everything he could to get her home as quickly as possible. It was just as well that I made the boy's condition a low priority in the face of the lady's distress, for her knowing that he was suffering a mild case of amnesia and experiencing lapses in episodic memory would have caused her further distress.

This discomfort did not appear to suit Paula either, who was rather used to living in luxury for serving a family so high in the nobility. We sought to find some refreshment for the young couple, and we did not inform them that the bottle of wine was offered to us by some ship hands down below. It is too easy to conjure a story of forbidden love between servants of different households, who ran away to elope and would not know when they would see each other again. By that point, the entire crew running the boiler room was willing to offer us fruits, breads, and cakes and I whispered to Paula to simply smile and play along.

Elizabeth seemed a little more at ease when we brought them something to eat, because food and refreshment is a terrific way to pass the time. Every ship hand will have need for a corkscrew but when asked for glassware they would give a strange look, so I lamented not having anything in which to serve the wine. Young master waved his hand in his dismissive manner, plucked the bottle from me, used a handkerchief to wipe the mouth of it, and took an ungentlemanly swig. He handed the bottle to Elizabeth and said, "We can't lament what we don't have. Sometimes you have to just... take and be satisfied." As the words dribbled from his lips, his face slackened to a faraway look. He brushed it away with another swig from the bottle, and then handed it to the lady.

"You know... I don't think I've ever had wine directly from a bottle before." In hesitation she tipped it bottom up and a bit trickled off the corner of her lips. She squeaked at the impropriety of it all, the drops of wine soaked on her blouse, and Ciel laughed as he reached over to wipe her chin.

"You can't sip from a bottle. You're forced to gulp." He set down the bottle on the deck beside their bench. Yawning, he dropped his head into her lap, her skirts a satin pillow. "Please forgive me, I'm dreadfully tired. But I suppose this trip was an experience where we were forced to gulp." Ciel lifted his legs to curl under him, and turned on his side to face her, blue eye shining up at her. She blushed for a moment and Ciel snipped, "Oh please, no one here gives a piss about us. Grant me at least a little comfort, so that I know you don't resent me entirely."

I could sense a fluttering of anxiety from the act, her heart shuddering, a deep need to curl inward and hide. With a deep breath she collected herself and the feeling vanished. "I don't resent you, Ciel." She laid a timid hand on his shoulder, and with the other lacy fingers combed the fringe from his forehead. "I just... I suppose this is... nice, in a different sort of way. I confess, you have been so strange lately."

"Have I? I suppose I haven't felt myself, not for a while..." He turned onto his back, heels unceremoniously knocking the bench. "That scent you're wearing... lavender and a kind of soft woody smell..."

"It's the perfume you gave me."

"It's a little strong." Indeed from my vantage I could smell the wind carrying this perfume off her, as though she had sprayed too much of it on that morning. Ciel caught the lady's hand as fingers slid over his face, like he was attempting to catch a memory that refused to be pinned down in his mind. I could hear him chant in his head, 'I know this scent, something about the day I purchased it...' "Lizzie, did I buy this for you as an apology?"

"Well, you were rather out of sorts that Easter weekend when you came to visit-"

He sat up. "But I had to have bought this well before Easter. I know I couldn't have bought it afterward..."

"But why would you buy me something and hold onto it for so long? That seems rather silly."

"I suppose it does. Did I forget to...?"

Elizabeth picked the wine bottle from the ground and tipped to her lips it with a little more surety. "Maybe you bought it with the intention to give it to me that weekend and you forgot, and you just didn't want to say anything."

"Was that the reason?" She offered Ciel the wine. He held the mouth of it to his lips but did not sip, suspended in an effort to recollect. The boy looked at the bottle, a cheap blend he would never dare find in his own wine cellar, and I caught the impression that if he were by himself, he would be inclined to toss the thing over the edge of the boat. There was a small part of me that wanted to grasp him by the shoulders, shake him and ask, "Do you remember that day, young master? Do you remember what events caused you to forget that precious little Guerlain perfume?" It was just before something had changed between us, where before that day it was simple games, jeering and teasing. By the end of that day he had forfeited himself to something that was completely beyond me. It was possible that I did not want him remembering it either.

Elizabeth looked up at the sky, the ocean wind catching at her curls. A hat would only help so much in keeping her hair tame. "This perfume reminds me of something you said to me, at Easter. That you can be rather intense."

"To a fault." I watched how he could not look her in the eyes. "Are you referring to when you asked me to...?"

"I am. I did." She was affirming that last kiss they shared before he left the Midfords that awful weekend, and daresay I was the reason he had been so out of sorts. Looking rather sheepish, her knees shook and she hoped no one was eavesdropping on their conversation. "I think I liked it."

Ciel sat the bottle back on the deck, closing in as if to keep a secret. "Well, I think they say that every lady remembers her first kiss."

At that comment, she looked dumbstruck. "That may be the case, but you well know that wasn't our first kiss."

"It wasn't...?"

"No, Ciel, gracious do you remember that conversation?"

He pinched the bridge of this nose like this was an aid in remembrance. He recalled a day in March that was unseasonably warm, her parasol and powder blue dress, the smell of tobacco and leather, and he glanced in my direction like I had some role to play in all this. I turned away.

"Yes, Lizzie, how silly of me. We spoke of that day I so startled you. It's terrible, how I'm forever apologizing to you." He laid his back down on her trembling knees. "I fear I should spend the rest of our lives apologizing to you, for all the grief I cause. I am dreadfully tired, it's no wonder I should forget these small details."

Paula stood a ways off, far enough to give the couple some semblance of privacy, but close enough to catch Elizabeth's beckoning gaze should she have need of anything. She leaned over the railing of the deck, not bothered by the wind whipping her mousy hair to and fro. Her large eyes were set on the place from which we had departed, no longer visible over the expanse of sea.

As I approached, she commented, "It feels like it will rain." Clouds ahead blanketed the air in grey haze, and the waters below sloshed with dull lethargy.

"The rains will probably greet us in Portsmouth."

She twirled a strand of hair in her fingers. "My mother used to say that leaving for a journey on a rainy day was to leave sadness behind, but to arrive home on a rainy day means you've carried sadness home with you." She turned to face the couple. Ciel had laid his head in Elizabeth's lap, turned towards her and dozed off. "My lady looks terribly sad."

The sadness of my own master was as thick as honey. Looking upon the scene with curiosity, I considered how Ciel allowed the young lady to comb her fingers through his hair, that he so longed for some sort of contact, even if he never asked for it. In some small way, just granting his fiancée the opportunity to pet him brought Elizabeth a tender comfort.

"Sebastian, I want to thank you," Paula squeaked, pulling my attention from the weary couple. "If it weren't for you..."

"No gratitude is necessary." I inclined my head all the same.

"I'm so concerned for them, you know. Perhaps it is reckless youth, but I just have such a worry..." Those large eyes searched my gaze with a hope that I could offer some reassurance or explanation.

"There is no advice I can offer that you do not already know, Paula. Serve your lady. She needs you more than you know."

She sighed, and mimicked my smile. "That's something I can do."

The rain had indeed met us in England, and it made the train ride into London all the more dreadful. Paula and I sat in coach away from our masters in their private seat toward the front, but I was sure their ride was as silent and oppressive as ours.

It was when we arrived at King's Cross that Elizabeth relinquished the sorrow she had indeed carried with her across the Channel, having a terrible time of not wishing to let go of the Earl's hands.

"I'm sorry, I just can't stop crying," she muffled from behind a handkerchief.

"We will see each other in a few short weeks... the ball, remember? The one that was your idea? The one where we will be playing our duet?" Ciel clutched at her shoulders as I helped Paula load the lady's luggage onto a separate trolley. "If you get too lonely, come to the town house. We need to practice together anyway."

She sniffed and nodded, handing the boy back his handkerchief. Hailing a carriage, I deposited a shilling to the cabbie who was then more than obliged to load the master's luggage. My master had refused to hold his own umbrella, and while I could wheel a trolley and hold it for him well enough, it was beyond me to keep him under it when his concern was Elizabeth. Her tears had dragged out their goodbye long enough for his wool cloak to become soaked through and I wished nothing more than to see him settled under my care.

From the door of the coach he paused, still oblivious to how the rain pelted even harder. "Give your mother my regards."

"She'll want to know what happened to us Ciel!"

"Don't tell her a thing."

"The factory fire will be in the paper soon enough!"

The entire experience of Le Havre had shaken her to the core. Since before we had embarked there was an expression of perpetual worry etched on her face. Behind a lady's decorum, behind graceful nobility, there was a fundamental aspect of her world view that had been shattered, and how that perspective was defined in her mind I knew not. Ciel could not see it, for all he saw was her frills, the layers she wore to hide all humanity of her, for to expose any of it was to admit that at the core of her being she really was a frightened lamb. Elizabeth had been reared to know when to take necessary action, to follow firm judgement. Francis had attempted to breed this temperance into her daughter, but I feared this was simply another gossamer layer she was to wear on her person.

"It's just... things could have ended really awful. They already ended awful..." she whimpered into her hand, attempting to catch the tears as they fell. "What happened to those children? What are you going to do about your factory? What of those men...?"

Ciel patted her face with his handkerchief in reassurance. "I don't have the answers to all those questions, and for the ones that I do... Lizzie, if you want to retain some happiness, you would do well to not ask questions in the first place. It's not that I believe you can't handle it. It's that you shouldn't have to. I learned that too late, and I'm sorry.

"And yes, if your mother asks questions, you tell her it was a most unfortunate accident." He rolled his eyes. "I'm devastated, truly."

She caught his sarcasm, forgetting how Paula had been trying to keep the lady under the protection of her umbrella. "You're lying again, Ciel."

"Lizzie, sometimes I lie. Put the trip from your mind. Next month will be better."

Her brow wrinkled, and she clasped her hands. The ringlets of her hair sagged as they dripped. "How do I know you're not lying about that too?"

Up until that point Ciel had so worked to keep an easy air for Elizabeth, a surety in his step, a quick cadence in his speech. His face darkened. "I do not believe there is anything I can say to that." He gripped the inside handle of the carriage door, and I nudged the door from the other side, a subtle hint that we were stalling, and it was time to be out of the blasted rain. "Be well, Love."

He did not give her time to answer, having already turned to sit in the carriage. I bowed to the pair of ladies, Elizabeth looking dejected and Paula looking as eager as I was to move along. The cabbie took off before I even had the door latched.

We sat soaked in the carriage, Ciel shivering under his wool and I with no words worth speaking. After a moment of jostling to and fro, Ciel asked "How can she even stand me?" He looked at the rain running down the window had me wondering if he was directing his question to me, or if he was addressing the air. He spoke not a word when I opened the door to the townhouse for him. I thanked the cabbie for bringing in the luggage and awarded him with an additional sixpence. He stood to allow me to relieve him of his hat and cloak, which I decided could stand to drip in the foyer for the time. When he moved to the drawing room, I wasted no time coking the fireplace, and left for the kitchen to brew tea. When I returned, it was accepted with no word. He seemed preoccupied with staring at the fire. A bath was drawn, and when I returned the master was right where I had left him with his tea.

He looked up from the fire. "What day did I purchase that perfume for Lizzie?"

I paused, mostly because I knew this was not the time for this sort of discussion. "It was the thirteenth of March."

"Not April. Not after Easter."

"Correct. Your bath is ready, young master."

"So I bought it with the intention of giving it to her for Easter." He sat down his tea.

"Perhaps. Or perhaps you intended to gift it sooner."

"Either I did or I didn't. There's no 'perhaps,' so answer my question directly."

What I wanted was to spread his legs and take him on the couch. I wanted him bare chested and panting with me whispering in his ear, "Does this feel familiar? Do you remember now?" Instead I clutched the threshold of the doorway and looked down. "You intended to gift it for the distress you had caused her earlier that month."

"Because I had kissed her during that last visit." He stood up, and his gaze was steadfast. "But I forgot about that stupid perfume, something distracted me, and I can't help but feel like you had something to do with it."

The young master was right in front of me, a searching look and a potent essence that thrummed from deep under his confusion. My hands were inches from his face, and I trembled, as if some invisible barrier was erected because if he would remember it all surely he would command me to cease. My voice was low. "I have everything to do with it."

He closed the space himself, pulling my hands to his face and he sighed. "You do, I know you do because this is too familiar and my heart is pounding and you look like you want to turn away but you won't and why does that make me feel...?" He did not want to say that the sight of me caused his throat to tighten, and when his face cracked from the pain of it, it made me want him all the more.

"Hush." Fingers slipped the eye patch from his face, caressed his eyelids, over lashes and along his cheeks. "My dear master, you are exhausted. Please soak, relax, get some rest."

"I kissed her because..." He clutched my arms.

"Do not make me carry you upstairs."

"...because of you," his hands were around my waist, "I was trying to get the taste of you out of my mouth, the thought of you out of my mind and it didn't work-"

"Stop this." It was more a feeble request as I was pressed in close to him, his hair smelling of soot, lingering traces of that damned perfume.

"Or what?" He squeezed at my waist and I gasped, his mouth inches from mine and in his fatigue he looked so delectable. "You have done nothing to stop me, to push me away."

I picked him up, stomping up the stairs as he stroked my hair the entire way. I set him on his feet in the bathroom, turned on my heel and slammed the door behind me. "Wash up and go to bed, young master." I leaned against the door, attempting to steady myself.

He very well could have ordered me to recount everything he could not remember, but how was he to verify such unless he could recall some inkling of it himself? He would remember it all soon enough and I did not want to catch further resentment when he did. He would remember precisely why he felt that pain in his chest at the sight of me, and I was not about to take advantage of his fragile state at the moment, even if I wanted him.

Being one step closer to fulfilling revenge after these years of service had me feeling the hunger for him even more. It was a bitter, aching sensation, as though the cord between us had tightened, every aspect of his condition heightened, and his feelings regarding the events of the past few days tangled and confounded. There was relief to have him back in my care, and I could have relished in him not remembering the pain I had caused him, but such an approach felt like a cruel lie.

I thought of how it was a simple arrangement in those first weeks, to be able to indulge in such a fullness of his frustrations, combined with scent and sound, touch and taste, his heavy breath on my neck and the hammering of his heart against my chest. Somewhere along the way that symbiosis became muddled and such were the complications of the hearts of men. There was no way Ciel could revert back to such a simple state, because there was some inexorable change that had taken place in him. That was the rub, the part of him that he could lay claim to, that which he had cultivated all his own and had filled every empty space in him.

With him in the safety and quietude of my presence, I entertained the notion that this was what I had found to be so endearing about him. It was why I had spent a full week puttering about the spaces he occupied, why I had established a new garden. When I had told him I had missed him, did he even recognize just how genuine that statement was?

Over the next few days, his approaches were soft, tenuous. If Ciel had questions, he kept them to himself, knowing I would be inclined to dodge them, just as I dodged his glances. I believe my standoffishness was another source of aggravation and he spent much of his waking hours in desperate need of distraction. He followed up on the events in LeHavre, collecting insurance claims for loss of property and lamenting at the total expenses when finally consulting all the ledgers. The children that were held captive in his factory were still missing, but it was neither his place nor within his power to do something about it. It was an issue best left to the local authorities, he reasoned. He could not go to them with his name or explain the situation without admitting guilt to his own crimes on foreign soil. He would have been offered no protection from the Crown either. It was a vicious circumstance and Ciel was forced to resolve that he was powerless when it came to the fate of those children. There was small consolation that the man responsible for that human trafficking scheme was brought to an end, and perhaps that would have some positive effect, but my charge was still embittered over how he had no memory of the man's demise. He did not receive any spoils from revenge.

What my young master was filled with was loss, a simple emotion well within my capacity to understand and connect with. All I wanted was to reach for this despair, but what he sought was some refuge from it. Such a distraction came ringing at the door one Friday afternoon.