Louis stood tall outside the front door of the chateau, his eyes fixed on the long path that led from the distant road to the steps on which he now stood. A carriage appeared and turned up the cobblestone path to move at full speed towards him. The Vicomte was returning. Taking a moment to straighten his cravat, Louis moved towards the edge of the top step. The horses surged on, their hooves clattering on the stones as they neared a full gallop. He could clearly see the white froth across their necks and dripping from their mouths; the driver had pushed the poor beasts harder than they could tolerate, and no doubt at the Vicomte's command. When they finally came to halt, they heaved and coughed with great pain, but the driver didn't even acknowledge them. Instead he jumped off his seat and opened the door of the carriage.

Raoul stepped out and hurried past him without a word, instead moving towards Louis. The butler bowed before him and took the hat and gloves from his hand.

"Welcome home, Monsieur le Vicomte. Your journey was pleasant, I hope."

"The usual nonsense at the shipyard. And then there was that damned storm this morning. Where's Christine?"

The driver moved towards Raoul with the suitcase in his hand. Louis moved to take it from him, but not without shooting him a dark glare. "I'll take this, thank you. You can be on your way." The man curled his lip in annoyance, but returned to his carriage without further protest. Louis turned to his master again and gestured to the chateau. "Madame has not left her room since your departure."

Raoul whirled at that and furrowed his brow. "Not once?"

"No, Monsieur. Claudette has taken every meal to her."

"Was it you who delivered my letter to her?" Raoul asked as he hurried inside the building.

Louis quickened his pace to keep up with him. "Yes, Monsieur."

"How did she look?"

"Tired. Not terribly pleased to see me."

Raoul chuckled at that and clapped him on the shoulder. "You know better than to go near her, old man."

"I do, Monsieur, but it was your letter."

"You're right. I would only trust you with it. She looked tired, you say? Not melancholy?"

Louis handed off Raoul's suitcase to one of the junior butlers as they walked past. The younger man took it with a slight bow to the Vicomte and carried it out of sight. Raoul turned towards his own chambers and tugged off his tie the moment he entered the large room. It was four times the size of Christine's room and contained not only a large bed and sitting area, but also a massive wooden desk littered with papers and books. Across the large expanse lay a personal bath complete with a porcelain tub, and there was even an area containing a dining table with two chairs. Everything he would need for a full day without the necessity to leave his room was there, but it was rare occasion that he made use of such a luxury. He moved towards his desk to look over the small pile of letters that had arrived with the post during his absence and slowly took a seat. Louis moved behind him to finish removing his tie for him.

"No, Monsieur. If anything she looked...happy."

Raoul dropped the letters in his hand and turned to look up at the butler. "Happy?"

Louis nodded and helped Raoul to shrug out of his suit coat. "Until she saw me anyways."

"Louis...do you think... Could she...?"

"Her appetite has waned a bit, but Claudette hasn't said anything beyond that. No reports of illness."

Raoul stood and pushed past Louis to head for the door. "She's in her chambers now?"

"Yes, Monsieur, but-"

"I have to see her. Bring up some lunch for us both. We'll take it in her room."

Before Louis could say another word, Raoul vanished down the hall. What he hadn't told the Vicomte was how he had lingered outside Christine's room after delivering the letter. The violent crashes, shouts, and foul insults that followed shocked him. What made him pause though, was the distinct sound of her speaking with someone in her room. At first he assumed she was merely speaking to herself, but when she spoke again as though answering questions, his suspicions began to rise. Not only was she answering someone, but she was reacting to them.

He knew he should have told the Vicomte, but part of him couldn't bear the thought of seeing Raoul's face when he told him that his wife was most likely mad.