Duke of Camellias

NINETEEN

While Emmanuel and Blair were at the ballet, Christopher amused himself by talking to Sammy and Flemings. The three had little to talk about, and as Sammy and Flemings were especially courteous to him, it didn't feel much like a conversation. Instead, they began talking about the Duke and Blair.

"How long has it been?" Christopher asked, "since Blair came here, I meant."

"If I remember correctly, he came in September, so it will be four months, soon."

"He's a charming person, isn't he?"

"Yes," Flemings agreed, eyes crinkling from smiling. "He befriended the footman and maids, and occasionally still comes down and talks to them. His lordship, too, seems to be happier these days. His lordship went to London, and even the ballet, to my surprise. If I dare say, h has never went of his own will, to my recollection, in the years I've served him."

"Yes," Christopher said, and gave a small nod.

"Of course, my lord enjoys your presence a lot, too," Flemings quickly added. Sammy gave him a look that signaled for him to stop bringing up the subject. There was only silence, and Christopher laughed.

"Yes, I suppose the holidays will be much more lively this winter with Blair around. Now, if you shall excuse me, I think I'll rest in my room until the two return."

Christopher walked up the stairs, feeling his face grow warm. They knew, as much as he did, that the lies Angela spread was not true.

The events of that night were all too clear to Christopher, and whenever he remembered, he felt sick in the stomach, not because of what they had done, but because of what he had done afterwards.

His mother would have disowned him if she knew of the truth, and Angela wouldn't understand. He couldn't find it, those many years ago, to tell her she was wrong, that he had, in fact, been the one to initiate what occurred.

He went to the room he had stayed that many years ago, and then stopped once he entered the room—it was Blair's. He had forgotten, he was in the room next to his. He was about to walk out when he saw a manuscript by the desk.

***

The next morning Christopher woke up and then saw it was six, he had woken an hour earlier than he usually did. He was too accustomed to it; back at home his mother always believed in waking up an hour early to pray, praying again before bed. Even five minutes was deducted before supper, and then they had to give thanks to the Lord before eating for every three meals they had.

Last night Emmanuel and Blair had returned late, after dinner, which he had alone. And as guilty as he was, he couldn't bring himself to face Blair.

Christopher climbed out of bed and dressed himself, for Sammy hadn't arrived, but either way, he didn't like being dressed. He sat down, alone, before the dining table, and then pondered about yesterday.

As obtrusive as it was, he had read the manuscript. As obtrusive as it was, he had only wanted to befriend the boy and read his stories, but he discovered something he shouldn't. 'The Prince of Camellias'. There was no doubt the prince was the Duke and he was the other prince, while Blair was the peasant.

Christopher knew, from reading it how Blair held feelings for Emmanuel. He had thought it was impossible—at most, he had imagined him to be there for the Duke's money, and the Duke took care of him out of pity, or charity, or at worst, some indecent purpose.

However, after reading it, he had realized it. Their relationship was not as simple as he imagined, and the Duke had changed.

Christopher went downstairs, expecting no one but maybe some servants, but to his surprise, Emmanuel was also at the table, face as solemn as always. In fact, there seemed to be dark circles under his eyes, and upon seeing Christopher, he raised an eyebrow.