With trembling hands Celine made her way downstairs, impatiently awaiting her entrance into the dining hall. Her brain hoped her would not be present, but her betraying heary beat all the more quickly in the hope that his smile and golden eyes were grace her just once more.

  And he was there, which angerd her. She stopped in the middle of the room and stared at the scene before her. He had immediately felt her enter and thus stopped the conversation he was having with her family. George and Nora were laughing. They liked him. Quickly the other three turned to see her once they realized he had left the conversation.

   "Oh Celi dear, your intriguing friend here was just telling us about the sort of tricks you two got up to in Paris while we were away," Nora said, round face split into a cheerful smile as she slipped Clairy some lettuce.

   "Naughty, naughty girl you were. Scared this poor fellow half to death with your stunts," George gaffawed.

   Celi's hands clenched into fists but she seated herself in the only available place - across from Rodger and next Erik. It would take all she had not to stab him with her fork. She sadly noted how she had not been given a knife, and the peculiar way that Rodger seemed to have two.

   Dinner was eaten in silence. Celi's bitter mood dimmed the moods of her parents, and Erik did not want to tempt the goddess of fury who was passive aggressively stabbing her food with a faintly twisted smile, asif she were imagining stabbing him. However, Rodger soon caught her eye, looking pointedly between her and Erik and batting his eyes and making kissing faces. This annoyed Erik, but she became so upset she slammed her fork down and pieces of her mashed potatoes went flying. One such piece landed on Erik's white mask, and because it landed on his mask and not his skin, he didn't feel it.

   Celi and Rodger could barely contain their giggles, and both began choking.

  Erik cut such a fine figure with his pale complexion that warned of a man who hate sunlight, his dark eyes threatening all who crossed him, swimming with untapped irritation, and his brooding figure. And then the mashed potato on his mask. Rodger flicked a green bean at her and they did then erupt into laughter. Nora and George were used to sich behavior from them and thought nothing of it.

   Erik then realized, as their gazes kept coming back to him, that something was amiss. He knew his mask was on... he picked up his napkin and it came away empty from his skin. Then he guessed what had happene nd sure enough, mashed potato was on the porcelain. Sighing because he knew he had to clean it later, he stuck his spoon into his own potatoes and splattered Celi's wrist and arm. She aimed her chicken at both Erik and Rodger then grabbed the potato bowl and ducked under the table.

  Nora and George began their own little food fight as the younger people began using their hands to chuck their dinner at each other.

   "Savages," muttered Willikins. "Hooligans. Ruffians." He left the room so as to not be in the line of fire.

   Celi felt like herself for the firat time in ages as she threw potato at her friends. This all felt so right.

  But the thought struck her. It wasn't right. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Erik was here. She was supposed to be mad at him. He had hurt her beyond repair.

  She stopped, making the other two pause. The bowl slipped from her hands and shattered on the floor.

   "No," she whispered. "This isn't right."

   She fled the scene.

                                  🌹

  Erik followed her out onto the back porch, grabbing a knit shawl hanging on the coat rack as he went.

   Her silhouette stood thin and lithe in the moonlight. He placed the material around her shoulders. She turned to face him.

   "How dare you come here. How dare you come back into my life. I had moved on."

  "Yes," he sneered, temper rising. "Just look at the fine job you've done of moving on." He grabbed her wrist and held it up to her face. "Look at you, skin and bones. You've moved on about as much as I have."

  She pulled away from his grasp.

   "You didn't have any right to come here. This is my life."

  He softened then. Everything about him grew more tender a he slowly remembered anger was not the way to express his feelings to her. The most impactful area of her life was made so by angry people.

   "I had to know you were okay, and I -"

  "Well now you know: I'm not okay, and I never will be again, so go away. Go seduce Christina into having an affair with you. Or go to some willing prostitute and make her love you for your money. No one can love you for your soul if your haven't got one."

  "You did."

  "I'm a fool." She tore the shawl from her shoulders and flung it at him.

   He watched her walk away for the third time in his life, when all he wanted was her to stay. He didn't need to hear her voice, or kiss her, or hold her, or touch her, or see her. He wanted to feel her presence, her personality, her life beside him. But now she was as dead on the inside as he was on the outside when he was born. Perhaps this was death's real curse; all who loved death began to die in their own way.

   He wouldn't let that happen to her.

    Erik managed to come at the worst possible time. The Treacle's neighbors happened to be giving a ball on the day after his arrival to celebrate the end of planting season. Celi originally was not going to go because she did not have a chaperone. Rodger was going to see his family, and George's rheumatism was acting up too much for him to go with Nora. But Erik showed up and suddenly Nora is making her go with him.

   But Celi was not about to let the night pass without some ill event. Ill for Erik, that is. She would prove to him tonight that she didn't need him, that he'd missed his chance. Sadly that involved her... losing a part of herself.

    She had pulled at a very old ball gown from her trunk. It had been Nora's back when she was a debutante, just spruced up a bit now to fit into modern day fashion, minus the bustles that Celi found incredibly stupid.

   However, Celi had never worn it before because the seamstress had made a mistake. Instead of giving an extra inch to the waist, she'd taken it in an inch and a half. Celine never tightlaced, nor allowed herself to wear anything smaller than eighteen and a half inches. But this dress was seventeen and a half.

   She repeatedly told herself throughout the dressing process that she would have a figure tonight, and she would flirt with all the men and Erik would see what a success she was and leave, realizing she'd moved on when she hadn't.

   So she held her breath and asked her maid, Hannah, to lace her as tight as possible.

   But Hannah could not get her passed eighteen inches, and that gown would tear if she tried to put it on.

   "Rodger!" She screeched for him.

  He came in, having been interrupted in the midst of fastening his shirtsleeves back with cufflinks. "What?" He snapped, severely irritated.

   "I need you to lace me tighter," she said in an breathy voice.

   "Absolutely not."

   "Rodger. Please." She turned her large hazel eyes upon him, begging. "I'll buy you three new cravats." If begging didn't work, she knew bribery would. And Rodger had a weak spot for cravats.

   "Fine," he tugged several times as she sunk her nails into her bed post. Finally, the measuring tape said she was small enough.

  Rodger went back to his room and she slipped on her gown, her little frame disappearing completely in a sea of red.

   Fifteen minute later, it was not a heartbroken girl that stood at the top of the stairs, but an elegant, heartless woman.

   Her mousy hair was swept up and curled stylishly, letting a few stray locks shower around her neck and shoulders, with tiny black, purple, and silver flowers shimmering in her hair. Her dress was a deep, blood red, and highlighted her waist and displayed her small curves - which were more prominent now because of her tight corset, pushing up and shoving down. The color vividly stood out against her skin, and the bodice, edged with capped sleeve of lace, had a daringly plunging neckline.  Rodger, who had left a little while before, had paused in wonder to stare at her, confused as to why she suddenly was going for sexual instead of ladylike. And Celine, in that dress hinted at sex quite a bit. Her breasts were on display and her waist, now curved with indents, was the perfect place for a man's hands to go while dancing... or pursuing other activities. She knew she was provocative. But that was plan B. For if Erik did not believe her to have moved forward, she would have to act like she was all over any man who would have her. That would disgust him.

  It never occurred  to her that she was not thinking straight, nor that she, on any other occasion, would ever consider dressing or acting in such a way.

   As for George and Nora, at least the important people in their lives suspected that she would be off balance given her heartache. Everyone else, outside of that sweet, kind, friendly circle were people she could care less about.

   She heard a strangled choke somewhere behind her. Erik was ready to go, it seemed.

A/N

  This story is dedicated to @Socasm @A_heart_of_Marble @Phantomofgryffindor

  They are the best supporters anyone could have, and incredibly talented writers.

   Thank you.

Alexa