Duke of Camellias

FIFTEEN

When Christopher arrived a bit before noon, it had briefly began snowing, so no one was outside to greet him. Outside, he surveyed the nostalgic house, big, but not frivolous nor overly done. The garden was beautiful, and held an air of grace as well as beauty. Emmmauel was always one for aesthetics, maybe because he was an artist, or maybe it was the loneliness in his heart.

The lonely, he thought, have the most love in their hearts; they were simply waiting for someone to come and bring it out.

Christopher descended from the carriage, and his valet, Sammy, followed with his luggage, suitcases bound in leather and with gilded edges. Christopher raised the polished brass knocker at the door and knocked twice. Mere minutes later Flemings opened the door, and the two entered.

"It's quite late, I hope you weren't slowed down by the snow, sir," Flemings said as he took the man's wet hat and coat. Christopher gave a small smile and brushed snow off his hair.

"No, no, I had some matters to attend to, it's really my fault I was so late. I assumed his lordship and his companion had breakfast already?"

"Yes, but I'll bring you some tea, sir. Please go to the waiting room, I assume you know the way?"

"Yes. You can help Sammy with my luggage." He paused. "Thank you, Flemings." With a curt nod, Flemings helped the younger valet with a case and the two started up the stairs.

Christopher looked at the familiar front hall, beautiful paintings still decorating the wall, a vase, devoid of flowers, on a small stand, and the muted green wallpaper with small floral patterning. The carpeting was red, and had darkened from the snow that cascaded off him when he took off his coat. With careful steps, he walked to the parlor room, and stopped at the doorway. He was surprised to see Emmanuel and Blair there, playing chess tediously. He made sure to wear his brightest smile, and then rapped on the door gently with his knuckles.

"Good morning—or should I say, afternoon?"

Blair nearly jumped out of his seat before he turned to see him, dressed in his new outfit, and his usually unmade hair was combed back, revealing his thick brows. Emmanuel, sitting across from him, only lifted up his head incuriously and then tossed back his hair, longer than it ever had being in the previous years, and nodded.

"Collins, you finally came."

"I must apologize for my late arrival, I had matters to attend to."

"Don't concern yourself with that, come, we were just in the middle of a match."

He walked over and leaned down to look at their game. Blair was aware of the flower oils he smelled, and was aware of how pleasant they were. He wished he hadn't rejected Flemings's offer for perfume, and then prayed he didn't smell.

"What do you think?" Emmanuel asked, tapped a finger at the board, "I've been playing a few matches against Blair, recently."

"Let's see, white is quite obviously at an advantage."

"Yes, I can see," Blair muttered. He wasn't especially bad at chess, so he was surprised he was losing by so much. However, his pride didn't allow him to resign, so he dealt with it, losing pawn by pawn. It was painful and he was losing face.

Christopher leaned down and then whispered into Blair's ears, "Castle. He's aiming for the queen."

Blair was annoyed, but didn't bother saying anything, but took his advice and castled. Emmanuel made a made sound of amusement. He observed the pieces, eyes darting up and down, lifting a corner of his red lip, and then using his knight, ate his other bishop. Blair and Christopher hovered over the board, and Emmanuel leaned back in his chair, entertaining himself with Blair's distress.