Of Love and Honor-Chapter#2

Chapter 2 – Blood in the Dark

Chris did try to leave, twice. But both times Isabella's unconsciously grabbed and clawed at him. One hand of hers had his shirt while the other had a handful of his chest hair. So, he was not going anywhere. So, he succumbed to his beastly natural and lay there with her. The smell of Isabella's hair filled Christopher's nostrils, it was intoxicating. Soon he found himself embracing Izy as much as she did him. So, despite his trying to stop himself, he succumbed to his drunken slumber, sleeping beside her.

Isabella slept deeply, but peacefully beside him. His presence helped her stay rested. She woke up the next morning and slowly opened her eyes, noticing their position. She turned red, blushing like mad and she stared at him
"....."
Her sudden movement made the hound move also and thus awoke Christopher. With a surprise and the look on Isabella's face, he could not help himself almost leaping out of his own skin, falling off the the bed with a thud and then a rather feminine shriek of pain. Chris managed to stand up quickly, reviewing that a large part of chest hair was missing, leaving a reddened and tinder patch of skin underneath.

With one hand on his chest and the other on his head, seaming to either nurse his headache form the drunken night before or the fact that he bummed his head on the floor as he fell. And other hand covering the opening of the slit of his shirt where his skin burned as if set aflame form the deep hairs being pulled away with no warning.
"My Lady?" was all Chris could manage to say at that time.
She stared at him
"...I..." She pulled the blanket to her chest "...thank you....for staying...." She blushed and looked away from him, trying to stay polite.
"Sorry to have frightened you, my lady." He said that in fact that she did still have a handful of his chesthair in her hand, but she seemed so embarrassed that she didn't notice. Chris then turned, about to leave but realize he still had to check her to see if she was truly sick or not.

The hound returned to his spot at the foot of the bed, as if he owned it. Chris then turned back.
"I do apologize again, My lady... but I have to check you for... Well, to see if you are sick. I'm not sure if you remember last night or not. Do you?" She do not drink nearly as much as he did but then again, she was most likely one third his weight. Christopher's held his weight well since anyone with eyes in their heads could tell he was fat. But most did not know that he was over 300 pounds since he had large shoulder and some musicals among the fat. Even his face was not too plump. He was perhaps even hansom in some lights thanks to his dark brown eyes, long dark hair and large masculine chin.
She blinked "...I..." She blushed "I don't...." She sighed and looked at her hand. She wrinkled her nose and wiped her hand on the blanket "...I'm sorry....do what you must..."

He sat beside her and as politely as possible, passed his hand into her nightgown form the neck opening to her underarm. As he did that he place his other hand on her forehead. He could feel no lumps in her under arm and she felt a normal temperature. He then extracts his hand form her underarm and her nightgown. As he did so, he felt his forearm just barely touch something a but pointy and small. It took his mind a second to realize that he just brushed up Isabella's erect nipple. It was like Christopher's face transformed into a raspberry, he's face turned so red. With extreme haste and with the best grace he could managed, he stood up and existed Lady Isabella's chamber.
Isabelle turned dark red and covered her chest. She watched him go and stared at the door, extremely embarrassed. She groaned and laid back, shaking her head "Good God...."
Chris only kept walking and amazing enough the hound Hamish followed closely by as he managed to grab his coat. He still had his boots on form yesterday so no need to get those as he walked by Miss Pots, holding this morning food to brake one fast. Chris kept walking, ignoring the food since the idea of eating at that moment made his gut turn. Soon, Chris and the hound were out in the morning due, leaving the castle unattended by its Lord.

Soon Miss Pots entered Isabella's chamber unannounced, hands full of food along with fresh sheets for the lady's bed.
"How are you feeling this morning my lady?" Pots sounded quite cheerful and up beat, most likely due to her granddaughters fever braking in the early morning. As Pots placed the tray of food on Isabella's side table, she to quickly checked the lady's forehead with the back of her hand.
"Oh good, so Lord Briarthorn was overreacting. That boy always had a but of an actors flare, always acting like it's the end of the world." The jolly old woman smiled.
Isabella blushed and looked down "I'm alright..." She still looked embarrassed. She ate some of the food "Thank you Miss Pots...you are very kind..."

Rose walked around the manor, just resting and walking around "...Hello Lord Christopher"
Chris was planing on heading to the stables, he thought about taking a horse for a ride, then he thought better since he did not think he could take the harsh movement in he state of being. So he simply sat on an old log instead, enjoy the morning sun. He then looked to the girl, seeing she was well did help to lift his spirits.
"I see your fever broke. Good, good." He then pointed to her just as he did last night.
"Don't care if you feel well, I still want you to do no work for today and the next, understand?" He said this in a mocking authoritarian tone that he was beginning to master. He smiled and placed his hand on the dog head that sat beside him, tong out, slobbering like dogs do.
She nodded and smiled "Yes sir...thank you sir..." She walked around and sighed, out of her uniform, she wore a simple powder blue dress.
Chris then started to think of all of Miss Pots children, wonder with one of them was this love young woman's mother or father. Pots did have six children, three boys and three girl. Two of them were older then him and Isabella, so they did not play with them too often. The other four on the other hand...Well, we were a handful.

"Rose, I hope you do not mind me asking you but, who are your parents? I probably knew one of them when I was a child." Then Chris considered how long the Pots, the Hastings and the Briarthorns have know each other for at least three generations.
Rose looked at him and blinked. She looked down "...oh...um...my parents are...are no longer alive...My mother was...Grandmama's oldest daughter...."

Then it hit him, he was wondering why the name Rose was so familiar to him. He knew of the girl named Rose as a boy. She was older then Chris and Isabella so she was not with them too often. Chris wanted to smile, think about that girl, but he could not gather the will to. His mother died long ago an it was something he understood. Isabella understood just as well. They were all people whom have lost so much.
"You look like her. Now I know why they named you after her." Chris did manage to smile at the young woman, willing away the pain.
Rose smiled sadly and nodded "...That's what Grandmama says....I never really got to know my mother or father...but I'm sure they were wonderful..." She looked down.
As Chris sat there, feeling the sting of the morning sun in his eyes, the pain form last nights drinking finally subsided. As the wave of relief came over him, he when to pull back some of his long back hair out his face. As he did this, his fingertips brushed up agent his lower lip. Although it did not look as bad as it did last night, it was still split. Chris cringed at the pain as he poked and prodded at his face, feeling his blackened eye long with his lip.

Chris then looked to the young woman.
"I hope you did not witness that incident yesterday. My actions was... Beastly to say the least... Some Lord am I, right." He smiled at his own dishonourable actions. Although, to him, they were not dishonourable but to others that have no spines and no real grasp on the world, it was. Well, they have no concept of what honor really is.
She frowned and walked over, taking her apron and getting it wet. She dabbed his lip and around his eye gently "It's alright sir...I've seen worse scuffles at much nicer events..." She smiled at him.
He cringed at her whipping at his face. He then rose an eyebrow to her statement.
"Oh? Let's play a game then. I'll tell you an embarrassing story and you try to tell me one of your own that tops it."  Chris liked this game, since, most of the time he won it. He then looked up to her, waiting on her.
"Well... You know of one of mine already" he smiled, knowing he was cheating already. "It is your turn."
She blushed and sat down, thinking "Once I was serving Lord Hastings friends...and I had to carry a large tray of little fish crackers....and one of the children tripped me and I threw the tray in the master's face..." She blushed.
Chris nodded his head and whistled at that.
"Well done." If Rose was a man, he would have given her a firm slap on the back.
"That is impressive. But, I'm afraid I have one that will top that tale, and then some."

The hound finally lost interest in Chris and Rose and went off on his own marry way. Chris then rubbed on his chin, stroking the few hairs he had there in mock wisdom.
"What if I were to tell you that I once broke a man arm at a royal ball." He let that little statement just lay there bare.
"And..."  He paused for dramatic effect
"That King George the Third himself witness this." He then looked to Rose with overt level of pride on his face written in his smile.
She laughed and held her stomach, laughing harder.
"And, since the mans arm I broke was an American, The King even smiled, but, only a little. His wife the Queen did not approved of my barbarity, nor did the King for that matter, but he tolerated it." Chris sat there reminiscing on the reason why he broke that man's arm in the first place. This managed to change his mood rather quickly, spoiling it. He then stood up and turned to face the young woman to his side and tilted his head to her
"Good day to you, Rose." And walked off to find some food to eat.
She watched him go, sighing.

Isabella sat in the library, reading.
Was not for some time around mid day when Christopher entered the library. By this point he had managed to clean himself up, almost to the point that he looked respectable. Miss Pots helped him in his endever, getting hot water for a bath and even convincing him to let her shave those whiskers off his face. Although Pots we unable to convince him to trim his rather long black hair.

Now, strolling in the library, clean, shaven, hair still a bit wet but beginning to curl and lock as it lost it's moisture, now wearing respectable but not to fancy dark clothing. Chris though he would approach Lady Isabella. He hoped since it had been many hours ago that there... 'experience' would have lost some of its embarrassing sting. Chris also put on his best smile for her, hoping his new, cleaner appearance would aid him and seeing her smile back.
"Hello, Lady Isabella."
Isabella had been reading her father's journals, trying to cling to him. She wore her hair up in a loose bun and she wore black, as was the custom of mourning. She looked up at Chris and blushed slightly, the events of this morning were still fresh. She bit her lip and set the book down "Hello Christopher...how are you faring?"
Christopher stepped closer and peered at what Isabella was reading as he considered how he felt about the scenario he get himself in yesterday.
" Well, my head no longer feels as if a cannon is constantly going off inside of it. But, I can not say the same for my face." Chris said that as he pocked and prodded at his lip and left eye, cringing as he did so.

He sat down beside Isabella, watching her read.
"My lady, I do again apologize for my actions yesterday. I will not say what I did was wrong, but it was still ungentlemanly. But, sometime, men can not be genital." He then shifted his chair to be a bit closer to Isabella. He almost placed his hand on hers but stopped himself since it still felt very unseemly to do so at this time.
"I hope you can forgive me."

Christopher then got a better look at the hand written lettering on the old  hand bound book.
"Is that your father's writings?"
She closed the book and set it aside "...yes..." She sighed "And I forgive you...I shouldn't have made a scene...."
Chris had to stop himself form laughing aloud. He still could not help himself form smiling.
"You made a scene? A man, no, a boy came at me with a sword and thus I go into a fist fight with him. Yet, somehow, you were the one acting abysmal?" He then again had to stop himself form laughing but this time, a chuckle did manage to escape his lips.

He then moved a bit closer, perhaps a bit too close to remain seemly but they were alone in the musty library, so Chris did not think his action was to ungentlemanly.
"Izy..." He whisper this to her.
"I missed you..." Was all he managed to say before Miss Pots entered the room with a tray with hot steaming tea, ready to be served.
Isabelle stared at him, her cheeks red. She bit her lip and looked down when Miss Potts came in "..." She glanced at her and whispered to Chris "...I missed you too..."
Miss Pots made a stern face, looking at Christopher. The tension between Isabella and Christopher was apparently very visible to Pots and she did not seem to approve.
"Lord Briarthorn, Lady Hastings." The stout old woman placed the tray of tea on the table along with some old books.
"Will you need anything else my Lord and Lady?" She said this with a hint of displeasure in her tone of voice. Chris almost felt like he was being scolded since he was not used to such tone coming for the seemingly lovely old woman he remembered.
"No, Miss Pots, the tea is perfect. Thank you." Chris smiled at Pots, hoping that it would melt her seemingly ice like glare like it used to when he was a boy. It did seem to work as Pots left the room with a less steely face, leaving them alone in the library once again.

Chris then looked to Isabella with a face of a child that just got caught trying to steal a cookie.
"Miss Pots seems to not approve of..." Chris had not a clue what to call the situation that he and Isabella are currently in. He pondered that as he pored himself and Lady Isabella a cup of hot tea. He remember that she liked her tea sweet, just like he did. He then decided to finish his thought aloud by saying. "Well... She simply does not approved." He then sipped at his tea, hunting himself since he forgot that his sip was still cut form yesterdays shenanigans.
Isabella merely held her cup and looked at him. She looked down at her black dress and trembled, wondering if the feelings in her chest were shrouded in the loss of her father or genuine. She looked at Chris and set the cup down "..." She reached over and took his tea gently, setting it next to hers "I'm so sorry..." She whispered and softly kissed him.
It took all of Christopher's will not to choke on his own spit as Isabella pressed her soft, moist lips on his face. He did however manage to kept his outward composer. He then took his hand to Isabella's face. Thumb on chin and index finger under it and gentle made her look to him, eye to eye.
"You are the one person on this earth that never needs to be sorry on my regard." He smiled at her brightly.

Soon Christopher managed to finish his tea in relative silents. The only sounds was of them drinking there tea and the sound of an old journals pages being turned. Then, Christoper remembered something and stood up, looking to Isabella.
"Would you like to see something amazing?" He said this rather cheerfully.
Isabella's face was red, his reaction to the kiss was not what she expected at all. The pages turning and the silence almost made her want to scream, but she was thankful for his speaking "..um...yes" She nodded and stood as well, smoothing her skirts.
Chris enthusiastically gather Isabella's hand in his. Soon they were in Christopher's chambers, door left open for gentlemen like transparency. The room was old and unused for some time. It was, in fact the room Christopher stayed in the times he was living here.
"I'm sorry my lady, I have not had the chance to really look after the place." He smiled apologetically.

He felt like a fool, standing there in a room that was long ago his but he still felt like an invader. Soon he moved to a bag the looked new and did not seem to belong to the old clutter of the chamber. Soon Christopher revealed an object rapped in fine black leather. It was about 4 feet long and made a metallic thud when he played it on the old desk. As he removes the dark leather, the item revealed was a two handed long sword of an old and archaic design. The long blade was held in a plan and well made scabbard.
"I present to you, House Briarthorns family sword, lost years go during the war of the Roses.  This sword may be almost three hundred years old." Pride swelled in Christopher's chest as he lay eyes upon it.
"I know such a weapon serves no use in such a day and age as we live in. But, never the less, it is one of the last remaining relics of my family."
She stared at the sword and gently touched the hilt. She tilted her head and smiled "It's lovely..." She looked at him "Where did you find it?"
"Well, it was Lord Hastings that found it. He heard some German Lord had it and managed to buy it off of him for a rather large sum." Chris then let out a reluctant breath.
"He got it to surprise my father whom had been searching for it for any years. He died before Lord Hastings could give it to him." He words left a heavy stone wights off of his soul.

Christopher then took it by the handle and slowly released the perfect shining metal of the blade. He held it up, letting the gloom of the room witness the blades glory.
"This is the only thing i truly own. Your father came to the funeral and said to me 'Your father was like a brother to me. He would have wanted you to have this.' And here we are."
"...you may not believe it...but you are the Lord of this house now..." She looked at the blade.
"And yet..." Chris then shoved the blade back into its scabbard.
"I am poor." He smiled as if he has just heard a particular funny joke.
"A rich Lady with no home and a penniless Lord of a castle. I do not know if there is God. But, if there is, then he seems to grasp humour quite well."
"...I told you...I'm giving you the money..." She took his hands and sighed "...I don't want it..."
"Then what? We'll give it all away to the poor? We can be the Penniless Nobles of Castle Hastings, together. We'll be the talk of the city." Chris was being more or less theatrical by this point. Making as if it was all a cruel joke.

"There are only three things a care about in this world..." He had the list in his head, he knew it well. Thing was, he now found himself tong tide. Isabella was on that list. In fact, she was on the top of it. He could see he was stalling with his list, so he whent on with it anyway, but, edited.
"This damn sword is one of them." He lightly tossed it back onto the table with a clatter.
"My lady, I don't care about money, I really don't. But, apparently, everyone else does."
"...I just want...no...I need you to take care of yourself...this path you're on..." She looked down, her eyes misted over "It's dangerous...the drinking will kill you"
Chris smiled and did what he did well, use humor to deflect conversations he did not want to have.
"Well... funny thing is, Apricot Brandy is also on that list." The sad part was, he was not lying. Truth was, he could go for a good drink right about now, although it was no more then a hour or so after mid day, that would not too early of a time for him to start.

He then sat at his table here his blade lay. He still had Isabella hand in his and without him really realizing it, he began to caress and stroke the back of her hand with his thumb. His hands were big, but soft and genital as well.
She watched him and soon laid her head against his arm. She felt comforted by Chris, just happy she wasn't alone. Isabella looked at him and smiled.
Chris for a change did not shy away form this affection, instead he found himself almost bathing in it. He was not sure how long he was sitting there with Isabella before he decided to tell her what he did this morning before seeing her in the library.
"Well my lady, it's a bit too late to stop me. I already set a message to London to deal with the banking matter. Now your money will be in an account with both of our names so your family nor the government can never have control over it." He knew Isabella would stick to a what she wanted no matter how many time Chris protested so he simply had to do it without her knowing until it was over and done with. He waited until now, hope it would soften the blow. She may not admit it but she was a prideful person so this many cross her, Christoper hoped she would understand.
She looked at him "...but...what will the people think?" She looked worried "We are not a married couple...there will be a scandal!"
"Would you have preferred if the scandal was instead your cuisines fighting over the money, leaving you penniless and even perhaps homeless? Your father was no fool, he saw this happening thus why he put the estate in my name. This is for the best." Chris then stood up holding Isabella's hand and then having his hand on her back in a mock dancing pose.
"Just imagine all the looks and whispers we will get on the dance floor at the next party or ball." He was again now acting in his more theatrical tone.
"The women will gossip and swoon while the men will sneer and stick their noses up at use like the pigs they are." Chris then mimicked the sound of a hogs snort for dramatic effect.
Isabella laughed and covered her mouth as she giggled "Christopher! h...how crass!" She giggled and wiped away a mirthful tear.
"My lady Isabella, do you think i have somehow never been the talk of the town? Or have never been mocked and ridiculed before? I care little for what the nobles think of me." He then consider something, why was lady Isabella not married? He found that odd since she was still young, very hansom and had a powerful last name. Well, no matter now.
"Well, when word hits London that you may be one of the richest ladies in the English islands, you will have many admirers, suitors even. Men love beautiful women, they also love rich beautiful women even more." He meant that in all seriousness, but still he had a mischievous smile on his face to try and make it more of a joke. Although, technically, Chris was very much right.

Before Chris could leave the embrace of Isabella in his mock dancing pose, Rose walked by the door, peering in. Chris was unsure what to do, sure, he left the door open since it would be extremely taboo to be in a room along with any lady. But this position he found himself in, fell, he may not care what nobles though of him in London, but, this was home, Isabella's home. It felt so wrong.
Isabella blushed and Rose bit her lip, bowing "I...I'm sorry for interrupting!" She darted away. Isabella sighed and looked up at him "..." She pulled away from him and bit her lip "....thank you....I...I haven't laughed in quite...some time..." She touched his cheek gently "...you are a dear....dear friend..."
Christopher also took a stop back, made sure his pose was straight and pulled on the bottom of his sircoat, straining it.
"Oh course, I've always been your friend." He was unsure what to say or do after that. He thought he should go after Rose but thought it would ultimately be pointless. He looked to the open door and back to Isabella.
"I feel as if I am not so much welcome here as I once was. I know Miss Pots cares for me, or, at least the boy I was before I left, but now..." He was unsure but he felt like an outsider. It was not just Pots, but the stable master and his son, the cook and the message boy all seem to look at him like he did not belong. Christ was unsure how to proceed living on this estate. Hell, he would have to run it also. He had never done such a thing in his life.

He stat down again at his table and then gestured his hand to another chair that was unoccupied.
"Please, my lady, we need to speak on some matter. If you do not mind, that is?" He was a bit more serious then normal which was odd for him
He could be cold or even rude at times. But being serious was not in his nature.
She watched his face, her heart ached for him, feeling so sorry for all this. She sat and nodded "What is it Chris?"
"Well..." He wasn't sure how to start this conversation.
"Typically, it is the duty of the Lord of an estate to run and maintain it. Problem is... Well..." This was embarrassing.
"I have never done this before, I don't have the faintest clue on how to do... Any of this." He gestured he hand seeming to mean the whole of the estate.

He now held his head in his hands, unsure how to proceed.
"I know of Pots and the Stable Master form when I was a boy, but, everyone else a new face to me and i to them." He shook his head thinking about this whole situation. He did not consider this a week ago when he got the message. It was only hitting him now.
She leaned over and touched his back "I believe you can do it...you just need to...to study...and get to know everyone..." She frowned "And stop drinking so much."
"I do not believe no man nor woman could achieve that... To me not drinking part that is." He smiled jokingly, enjoy her touch as always. He looked up to her, still very unsure of himself.
"But, in all seriousness... I'm talking to you about this since, well... You must know these people, Better then I at least." He thought that she must have lived hear longer then he did. He was unsure where she got schooling but she couldn't have been gone for this place as long has he was.

He sat there for a time, simply enjoy Isabella's company in silence, looking to her pretty face form time to time.
"Listen, I know this may be asking much of you, too much even. But, I have to ask for your assistance in this regards. They know you, they care for you. And, I imagine, they respect you also."
She looked into his eyes "...of course I'll help you..." She smiled "I'll help the best I can..." She hugged him gently.
Chris could feel the weight that was the burden become lighter as she spoke. He then gathered himself and his ancient weapon. Soon he moved around the chamber, going though his room to his meagre belonging that were mostly confine to one leather bag, a long rifle and a small flintlock pistol. But as he moved his belongings, some paper slipped out of his bag. Chris did not seem to notice since he was too busy setting up his room for permanent living and getting the dusty old hearth ready for use once more.

The one peace of paper that by chance lay upright revealed a drawing done in pencil. It was a hand drawn picture of a woman. The drawing was not masterfully done but it was done with much skill and in the style of cross sectioning lines to create the impression of light and shade. And, it seems this picture was indeed very much based on a real woman since, although she was beautiful, but she was not perfect. And, what made this drawing scandalous was the fact that the woman in the drawing was depicted in an advanced level of undress. This drawing lay there on the floor and Christopher was far too busy to have even realized that this scandalous drawing lay there on the stone floor.
Isabelle picked up the drawing and turned red. She stared at it and then at him "What's this?"
Christopher managed to put his thing away and placed some wood in the hearth for tonight. He was by this point also about to go though his limited amount of clothes.
"What is what?" He said playfully, until he looked in the direction of where Isabella was standing. He then saw her holding something she shouldn't have been.

Which a flush a heat to his face and chest he moved across the room with such speed that should be impossible for a man his size. In a flash the paper was plucked form Isabella's genital and delicate hands. He felt rage, terror, embarrassment and a torrent or other emotions.
"Where did you get this? Did you steal this form me?"

It took him a moment to gather back his composure. He breathed in and out deeply. He managed to gain some calm as he placed the paper onto his old table face down.
"I am sorry my lady. That was... Beastly of me." He was now thumbling with his hands, unsure what to do or what to say.
"There is a reason for this. There is a story behind it... And" He then walked away to the back of his chamber to gather his leather travelling bag.
"It is not a nice story either." He then had the bag in his hands, standing in front of Isabella.
"Are you sure you want to hear it?"
She flinched when he snatched the drawing and she trembled, staring up at him. She bit her lip, thinking, then nodded.
"I stayed in the city of Paris and found a great deal of many things. Booze was one of them. Another was a woman named Samantha MacDonald." He then sat down heavily in his chair, holding his head as if it held all of the burdens in the world.

"She was well know for her beauty and, apparently, her lust. But that did not interest me, just her face, her figure. Another thing I obsessed over that I had to... No, needed to draw her." He had never wanted a drink so bad in his life. He now had both his hands on his face now, covering his shame.
"I-... I, don't-..."

It took him a bit of time to get control over himself. But still, he did not seem to be stable.
"She could have any man she wanted, and she did. But, I said no to her once, that's all it took. She was used to getting money, form her... Services..." He shrugged his shoulder.
"I wanted to capture her body, her face, she sexuality. I did not want her, not at first anyways..."
She watched him "....that.....doesn't sound so bad..." She touched his back "Why does it hurt you so to talk about it...?"
"Every time I came to see her, we would drink, I wonder pay her and then I would draw." He was repeating this under his breath a few times.
"It would get worse, she would take off more and more of her clothing, every time I saw her. And, even time, before I left her, she will stop me and ask 'Do you want me?', over and over she asked." He then looked up to Isabella, close to weeping by this point.
"You must understand, I am not a hansom man, nor a rich man. I am a fat, beastly creature." He spit those words out with such spite and self loathing that the very words could melt iron.
She shook her head "...no Chris...you are not beastly...you are..." She blushed and looked down "...you are kind...and caring...." She knelt down in front of him "....Please don't say such things...."
"I have been doing this with Samantha for months and months. Then, one night, and a bit too much brandy for the both of use, she was completed naked as I would draw her, as always." He was so engrossed in his memories that he almost ignored Isabella's touch.

"And, like I said, I was quite drunk and so was she, but unlike me, she was very much undressed. As I lay there on a lounge, she approached me and mounted me like the beast I am. She leaned in close to me and whispered in my ear, saying 'i want you.'" He chuckled at that, still almost ignoring Isabella's touch.
"And, she had me that night, just like she wanted... After that night, I never saw her again." He then moved to the paper and point out something on the back side of it. It was a massage written in fancy hand written simply saying 'I'm sorry'.
“She left her payment on the table beside it...”
She looked at him "...." She hugged him tightly "...I'm sorry..."
Christopher seemed to become very cold all of a sudden. He stood, almost mechanical and went to his bag extracting a leather folder filled to the brim it paper. The other item he gathered seem to have been a fire started. He tossed the whole folder, paper, leather and all into the hearth. Then he gathered the one peace of paper free form the folder and turned it over, looking at the drawing one last time as he struck the fire starter with its metal scraper, lunching sparks to it lighting the paper a fire. Then he placed it into the hearth setting the leather folder along with the paper inside a blaze. Christopher's watched the flames dance and grow as the wood he set there to started to burn, finally giving the room a homely glow, chasing the gloom away.

Christ then gathered the long rifle along with some supplies form his pack and was soon at the chamber door way. He looked over his shoulder to Isabella.
"I'll try and be back before dinner." And he was gone.
She trembled and stared at the fire. She hugged her arms and shivered, Chris was frightening sometimes. She sighed and curled up on the floor.
Rose saw Chris pass by and frowned, following "My lord? what's wrong?"
"Nothing-... nothing is wrong. I'll be back later." He stopped and looks over his shoulder to Rose.
"Please, sit with Lady Isabella, thank you." And he was gone, moving quickly, out and off the estate with rifle over back.

Soon Miss Pots was at Christopher's chamber door seeing Isabella in her state.
"Oh, what did Lord Briarthorn do now? Of, my lady, I hope you don't mind my saying but you look horrible." Soon Pots placed down the things she was holding and was by Isabella's and her granddaughters side.
Isabella sniffled and looked at them "...I...I don't know what to do"
"Oh sweet child, do you remember when I could just give you a sweet or kiss your forehead and everything would be better in the world?" The old woman now paced her rather strong but loving hand on Isabella's side, hope to comfort her.

For a time old Miss Pots just sat there with her hand on Isabella, hoping her being here would help.
"So, is my lady doing to tell me what happened?"
She sniffled and leaned her head on the old woman's shoulder "....Chris...topher" She caught her familiarity. "Christopher has been though so much...suffering...and....and I can't help him..."
"Oh, men are all the same my lady, no matter noblemen or a retch. Men are strong, yes, but not invincible. They take a lot in this world, it's always been that way, probably always will be." Old Miss Pots sat there pondering. She would have this conversation a bit different if she was not talking to a noble. It's true that she could get away with saying some brash things in this house, mostly due to Lord Hastings allow it, but she was not sure how Isabella would consider such manners.

"Oh, I remember Christopher when he was just a sweet, plump little boy. Now, he's a man, and a Lord. I can understand why you're worried. To be honest my lady, I find this whole thing to be a bit of a shock. Iv known your father for most of my life, now the halls feel... Empty without him." She was a strong woman and talking about, not just someone she served for most o her life, but was a friend of in past tense did not seem to bother her as much as it would for other.
Isabella looked at her "....Miss Pots..." She sniffled "...I miss Father...I don't know what to do....without him..." She hugged the old woman.
Old Miss Pots hugged lady Isabella back, he large arms rapped around her and embrace her. Then, Miss Pots realized that she haven't heard Rose in some time. She then saw that Rose ever since she had been in the room had been cleaning and making the room more livable.
"Damn it Rose, I though you weren't meant to be working today!" Miss Pots huffed at her granddaughters, disappointed at her.
Rose flinched and looked down "....sorry Gran..." She sat and fiddled with her skirt.
"Comeon Rose, you want to work? Well, supper will need some help tending." Pots then looked to Isabella, feeling that she should sate, but work needed to be done.
"My lady, I'll see you at supper."

It was many hours later when Christopher returned with the hound as his side. He did not have a kill with him but he looked distort and perhaps even hurt. Soon he was in his study, looking to his ripped pat leg, seeing that he did in fact cut himself and his own blood soaked his pant leg. The hound was at his feet, worried and whimpered in an empathetic fashion as Christopher worked in his wound.
The room around him seemed unnaturally cold. The fire soon extinguished.
The hound, just as before reacted to the change in the air. Unlike before, Christoper was very much aware of it. Within the rational minded of Christopher, he simply though there was someone in the room, an intruder perhaps. He did not know why he felt this way, his instinct reacting to the situation.
"Who's there boy?" He asked the hound. The dog only replied with a snarl.

He saw the dog do this before, not just last night but today out on the hunt. He was about to shoot a rabbit until he felt like someone sneak up behind him, he heard the dog snarl before it felt like someone pushed him. The very reason why he was wounded and thus why he was here in his study trying to repair himself. He then locked his rifle hammer back, getting it ready to be used. Now he looked and saw that his gun powder was wet.
"Damn it."
Over in the corner, the woman in red was staring at him, the shadows hiding her mostly except for the bottom of her dress and her thin pale hands.
Christopher found himself up and against the wall faster the he could really control. He ended up knocking over the chair he was sitting in. Soon he was up pressing his large body up against the wall. He then realized that he grabbed the letter opener form the desk and soon he was in a stance, legs spread wide, back arched foreword, ready to fight. The dog was at his side, somewhere between ready to lung and ready to run.
"Who are you!? Why are you in my home?!" Chris knew all the faces that worked here and this person, whoever it was is a strange to him. With skin like marble and hair the color or gold, he would remember such a look. Along with the blood red dress, this person would stick out no matter where she went. And, unlike some other gentlemen, Christoper knew a woman can be dangerous.
She looked at him, eyes like milk staring out of the shadows. She stepped forward and revealed her face. Her face was gaunt, as if she had never had a bite of food in her life, but her face had a look that said she was once beautiful. She almost seemed to glide along the floor "..." She looked at him and her hair swirled around her head as if underwater "....H...el....m....e" Her voice cut in and out.
Chris found himself moving slow, up against the wall moving away form, whatever it was. He held the dog by it's cooler, pulling the dog away form the aspirations.
"Run, you dumb dog, run." He kicked at the dog as he was close to the the doorway of the study. The dog did run out, yelping at Christopher's kick.

Chris did move up against the wall, close to the hearth of the study. Soon he gathered a burning log form it, burning himself slightly as he grasped it in his left hand while the letter opener with in the right. The log was not a flame but was smouldering, covered in embers.
"I don't care who you are! No one come into his house unannounced! Who are you?! Why are you here?!"
"...." She watched him and red tears slid down her face "....my....house...."
Chris gained some courage and left the protection of the wall and took several steps forward toward this woman.
"This is not yours house! This is home of Family Hastings!" He said this last bit louder then the rest of what he said. He hoped by this point that someone heard him and would come. He still felt naked, but now no longer fearful.

He took two more steps towards the woman, burning log up I hand.
"Who are you?! I will not ask again!" This may have been the first time that he felt like some kind of authority, not just in his presence but also in his voice. It felt like for the first time, standing there looking at whom or whatever it was that he was the Lord of this land.
"...." The woman looked at him and let out a weak, haunting sob, then faded away.
Christopher felt the tension leave the room when, whatever it was faded away. He dropped the log onto the floor since at this point he felt weak. Soon he fell back onto his backside. He felt like he was sitting in something wet, cold and sticky. Soon he felt around him. As he did so he looked to the places he moved to in this whole incident and saw a trail of blood leading to his stop. It seemed his wound was much worse then he considered.

Soon he felt himself slipping mentally as he held his leg trying to stop the bleeding. He wanted to scream for help but it seemed that he had no will nor the energy to do so. He then reached for the still burning log he dropped, hoping he could use the hot embers to burn his wound closed. But before he could get to it, he found himself so weak that he was unable to move anymore.
"Damn it..."
Rose opened the door and looked inside, curious about the noise. She saw Christopher and screamed "Lord Christopher!!"
She ran over and took off her apron, holding it to his leg "Oh God! What happened?!"
"Get... Get-... Pots..." He only manages to roll over his large body towards the doorway, seeing Isabella there. The hound was right at the ladies side.
"Dumb... Dog..."
Isabella trembled and covered her mouth "oh..." Rose nodded "My lady please hold this here..." Isabella knelt and pressed the apron against the wound. She was pale, all the blood drained from her face.
Christoper screamed and shot up like a spring. Still in his backside on the floor looking confused and ready to kill and fight. He almost attacked Rosa and Isabella until shortly after he realized where he was.
"What the hell is going on!?"

He looked around the room frantically then looking to Rose and grabbing her arm rather roughly and bringer her in close.
"Get your grandmother... And get me booze, now!" Now it seemed in his great pain, true authority appeared in his voice.
Rose yelped and trembled "...y..yes...sir..." She whimpered and ran to get her Grandmother. Isabella trembled and sobbed.
Christopher then grabbed at Isabella, bringing her close, almost to the ground.
"I... I think i saw, something... Someone..." He was again looking around the room frantically.

Soon Miss Pots arrived into the study with her granddaughters along with a bottle of vodka, string made of gut along with a large carved needle.
"What the bloody hell did you do to yourself now?"  His was reaching out, hand wide open.
"Booze... Now..." Instead Pots was at his leg and quickly with her strong hands ripped off the ruin pant leg, reviling the large wound. Soon Pots removed the top of the bottle and poured some of the clear liquid onto the cut. Chris groaned as the liquid hit is leg. He then snatched the bottle form Pots had and started to drink and drink deeply. Soon he placed the bottle down.
"Bha! I hate vodka."
Isabella backed away and trembled, blood on her hands and face. She breathed shakily and walked quickly out of the room.
Pots was quick in her work with the needle and thread. Soon Christopher's wound was closed and no longer bleeding. It was the strong hands of Pots and the Stable Masters son that held up Christopher as they walked down towards his chambers. Chris, with bottle still in hand was placed in his bed.
"Isabella? Where is she. Get her for me." He said this all quite drunkenly. Soon the hound found itself at the foot of his bed.

Christopher kept drinking, not for the pain, not anymore. But for his beastly desires. And he drank deeply.
"Isabella! Where are you?!" His voice echoed in the halls.
Isabella curled up in bed and shook her head, trying to ignore his cries.
"ISABELLA!" Christopher by this point was more or less acting like a child. The dog even howled as he yelled out, adding to his loudness of the his cry. By this point he was alone in he room, besides the dog that is.

At this time, Chris found himself staring into the flames of his hearth as it burned. The light danced in his chambers, like little devils, casting shadows as the waxed and waned. The hound rested his head in Christopher's lap. He stroke the hounds head as he finished off the bottle of vodka. He then tossed the glass into the fire, making a burst of extra flames.
Rose stepped in with a tray of food. She walked over to him and set it down "....sir?"
Christopher smiled a drunken smile as he saw Rose and the tray of left over supper form tonight.
" Oh, food, fantastic." Christopher did try to stand and the remember very quickly that would be a bad idea.
"Yes, right... Umm, just leave the tray here please." His breath reached of alcohol, but yet he seems to keep his composure as Rose stood there serving him his food newly warmed form him.

He then signalled Rose to move close, so then he would not have to be overly loud. As she leaned in, Christoper kept his voice low and raspy.
"Although I told you not be be working today, I have one task for you to do. Gather lady Isabella to my chambers. If she refuses, then I will drag myself to you her room instead."
Rose frowned "....my lord...you should rest..." She wrinkled her nose at his breath "...She is very upset...and tired...." She set a glass of water in his hands "Drink this sir..."
Christopher striped and ripped at his food with the fork and knife and had some of the meat on the plate. He then took the glass of water and sipped at it and placed it down on the tray.

Then, Lord Briarthorn looked to Rose with a very serious face.
"I asked you once, I will not ask again." He said this as he cut at the meat and put it on his fork and placed it into his mouth.
"I could if you prefer, dragged myself to Lady Isabella's chambers unannounced. Or..." He then had more of the meat on the plate.
"Lady Isabella could just come here. Either way, I will be seeing her."
"...." Rose frowned and left. Isabella sighed and looked at Rose "...He can't...keep acting this way..." Isabella stood and wrapped her robe around herself before going to the study "Lord Briarthorn..."
"Why did you not come when I called?" He looked more or less displeased. By this point he finish his food and water and felt more sober then he would have preferred. His leg now throbbed with searing pain. He consider using something more suited to such pain, but he was not such a fan of such intoxicants.

Christopher's rage seared up as he thought about last night and Isabella's reluctant to answer his cries. He now pointed at her, accusingly.
"You damn well forced me to stay with you for all of last night... Against my will may I add. So, it would have been respectful for you to have come to me when I called."
"You didn't have to stay...I didn't force you..." She stared at him coldly "I have treated you with the utmost respect.." She walked to the fireplace "I am not your servant...do not think I will come at your every whim like one..."
"You didn't force me?" Chris found himself on his feet and right up face to face with Isabella, despite his leg. By his point his face was sweating form the pain but he stood there no the less.
"You damn well scrambled and clutched at me like a mad animal. You did that to the point that you took of handful of my hair off my chest and head." By this point, he was huffing and puffing.

It seemed that the rage he had was just about gone, mostly hot air. He turned from Isabella having to now lean some of his weight onto the table corner. He now struggled to get back to his spot.
"And no... You do not serve me, nor do I serve you."
"You are sick Christopher..." She glared "And you take no steps to help yourself....you want to be a good lord...then do it..." She had a steady face, but her fear was evident by her shaking hands "I won't stand by and watch you drink yourself to death!" She stormed from the room.
Isabella rushed into the kitchen and found any source of alcohol and dumped it down the sink. She searched the entire house for any signs of spirits and then came back to the study. She started searching the room.
Christoper very calmly moved around the room, gathering the three bottles or apricot brandy left there for him by Isabella's father and placed them onto the study. He also gathered his sword and his flintlock pistol. He took his time due to his leg but he did not have to rush. This was not for the frantic lady running around the estate like a madwoman, but it would serve to prove a pointing later that he though needed to be said.

So, he sat there, waiting for Isabella to return. As she entered, he had his sword still in its sheath on his lap and the flit lock pistol on the table beside the brandy.
"Now, if you are done with your madness, I suggest you sit down. Now." By this point, he looked dead serious.
She stopped and stared at him. She frowned, shaking and sat.
"Oh, yes... You give me that look. I don't know what is going on in this house, but now it seems that im involved." He breathed in and out, slowly and calmly trying to breath the fire out of his chest.
"First, the three bottles of apricot brandy you see here. You will not touch them. And do you know why you will not touch them?" He let that question hover there for a time.
"Your father left them here, for me. I mean, whom do you think gave me my first bottle of the stuff years ago?" He looked to Isabella, one eyebrow pushed up.
"And in turn i will not touch them until the proper time arrives."

He sat there for a time, loathing the intense pain form moving around when he should not have been.
"Now, i have only been here in this estate for two days. And, in those two days, I had a man threaten me with a sword. And, earlier today, someone pushed me down into a ravine... In other words, someone tried to kill me..." He let that information sit there for itself.
"I don't know what I'm going to do about that, but that can wait. Now, what the hell did you see last night? Rose saw something, but she was ill. I think i saw something but I'm not sure if I was hallucinating or not form all of the blood lose. Now, you were not sick nor were you bleeding out, but still you saw... Something last night. What did you see?"
She trembled and looked down, her face growing pale "...I dare not speak of it Chris....I don't know if I can..." She gripped her arms and shuddered.
"Damn it Izy!" Christopher hit fist into the table, shaking it and riddling the bottle and everything else on it.
"I need to know what was going on. And, what i saw... What I think i saw..." He brushed his hand though his hair, considering what to say to Isabella. It was not what he saw that terrified him, what it meant was vastly more terrifying. Christopher's had a logical mind, an empirical mind. So, such a thing that he though he saw. Well, he hopped beyond hope that he truly didn't.

"I saw her..." This came out more of a whisper then anything else. The crackling of the fire almost overpowered his words.
Isabella trembled and curled her legs up "....Christopher...she's..." She looked away "She's my mother...."
Christopher made a face of disbelief, unsure how to even consider that statement. He then thought back of the handful of times he met Lady Hastings many years ago. Then, the image of the woman's face was now engraved into the back of his eye.
"... Red dress, like blood. Hair like gold..." He did not say this to Isabella, but he whispered this slow and low, he doubted she heard him over the sound of the burning hearth.

This realization of this situation horrified Christopher to his core. He hoped beyond hope that he could find or at least consider a alternative reason of how he, Lady Isabella and perhaps even Rosa have seen. For some time Chris only sat there, peering into the flames, pondering. He wished that his was not intoxicating, to think this thought with a clear mind.
Isabella stood and paced around the room "....do you remember when my mother died Christopher?" She looked at him "How no one but us was at her funeral....didn't you find that odd?"
"Well, if I remember correctly are father's were there to.  My mother would have been there..." He considered that his mother died some time after Isabella's mother, but for a... Drastically different reason that was brought on by his mother herself. Christopher's did not enjoy thinking like this about his mother, although he loved her deeply but the things she did to herself only reminded him of his own failing.

Christopher stood using his sword to more or less lean on. He then hopped and limped past Isabella, hoping he would make it to his chambers.
Isabella followed "My mother haunts these halls because she was murdered Christopher!"
"Oh, you don't know that." And we'll, it was possible but to Christopher, it was very much up in the air.
"You sound like the clucking hens noblewoman of the Court." Christopher kept on walking, not really wanting to be part of this ludicrous conversation any longer. He's leg hurt, he was tired and drunk. He just wanted the day to be over and done with. Even though someone may have tried to kill him today, he was just done thinking about it.
She stopped in her tracks, staring at him "You're an ASS Christopher Briarthorn!"
Christopher kept limping till he was at his chamber door. He turned to Isabella.
"That is no way for a lady to talk." He made a face from the pain on putting too much weight on his bad leg.
"I will also remember what you call me next time you swoon and fall on your ass. Perhaps I will not be there to catch you next time." He entered his room and slammed the great door behind him.