Duke of Camellias

TWENTY-ONE

The days passed without Emmanuel leaving his room, for breakfast or dinner. Flemings had to always bring it upstairs for him, and Blair watched that he did not drink again, but he could not bring himself to go and see Emmanuel again. Instead Blair ate alone and amused himself the rest of the day by writing or reading, occasionally visiting Ethan or the maids, but usually they had their own chores to do.

Five days passed since the incident, and it was Christmas Eve. When Flemings said he had an important matter to talk to him about, face grim, he knew something bad was happening.

"What's wrong?"

"There's a telegram for you, from a man named Morris Davis."

Blair knew it couldn't be good news nor a simple Merry Christmas message from Flemings's face, so he quickly stood up from the dining table.

Flemings protruded the telegram from his hand and Blair quickly took it. The message was not what he had expected.

Come to Graystone Inn now. I have news about the Duke of Thornton, hurry. Davis.

He looked at Flemings, feeling sick.

"Will you be going, sir?"

"I'm sorry, I have to." Blair swallowed.

"Don't let Master Emmanuel be alone this Christmas—please." Blair was bewildered.

"Don't let him be alone?"

Flemings's furrowed his brow, and then looked down. He cared a lot for his master, who had never spoke of it, but always carried so much pain.

"His least favorite holiday is Christmas, he would refuse meals and sleep in all day, and be in a terrible temperament. Even his camellias wouldn't ease him, either, and he has nightmares." He looked up at Blair and swallowed.

"I will be back, Flemings. I promise."

Flemings smiled. "I will believe in you, sir."

"I'll leave as soon as possible, do you know where is Graystone Inn?"

"It's the only inn in Rue Point, I'll ready the carriage for you."

"Thank you. Let me grab my coat and hat."

The two hurried their opposite ways, Flemings out the door and Blair running up the stairs. He grabbed the new coat Emmanuel chose for him and the hat. He thought of Morris's letter and felt sick. What could've been so important that Morris had to come on Christmas Eve? Morris usually spent holidays with his wife. How could something be more important than that?

He went into the carriage and waved to Flemings, who nodded in reply. The carriage started off and Blair clutched the telegram in his hands tightly.

A short while later the carriage slowed, horse hooves pattering softly until they finally stopped, and then Blair threw the door open bf jumped down.

In front of him was a wide and well built inn as gray as its name, looking like a worn-out castle. He hurried to pay the carriage driver, told him to keep the change, and then then opened the door. A human looked up from the counter.

"Merry Christmas and welcome to Graystone Inn. There's still some rooms available—"

"No, I'm here for Morris Davis."

The man nodded. "I'll bring you to him."

They went up the stairs, and Blair was in disbelief, hoping the whole ordeal was a scam, that Morris would be there with wine, or even beer, and maybe a meat pie, laughing. Maybe he had gotten kicked out of the house for drinking, or maybe they had a small argument.