Duke of Camellias

TWENTY-THREE

That Christmas morning, the servants all went under the Christmas tree where the gifts were, and celebrated. They had gotten each other several things, from books to tea, hand knitted scarves to new shirts. Blair sat amongst them, and smiled, but he still felt like the outsider he was. He didn't know many of them, and hadn't got them any gifts, and in return, he didn't receive anything.

Emmanuel also did not come down, and while Blair thought of knocking at his door, Flemings only shook his head.

"Every Christmas has been like this. Let's wait until dinner, and then see how he is."

Blair nodded, but he was restless. He didn't want to wait anymore. He hadn't seen Emmanuel for a day, and the conversation with Morris and the one with Flemings wouldn't leave his head.

After the first morning he went to the market with Ethan, Alicia, and Josephine. The market was much smaller than London, and he couldn't find anything interesting. They sold small things, from fruits to flowers, and the fancier ones sold cheese, butter, and baskets.

While the girls looked at fabric and laces, Ethan standing at attention, Blair walked around himself. He saw some used books and brought a few for himself. It took some time before he reached the last stall, and he found a gift. It was not big, much less pricey, but it was one he knew suited Emmanuel.

When he went home, Blair borrowed wrapping paper and ribbons from the maids, forgetting to buy them himself. He couldn't wrap it well, either, as his fingers were clumsy with handiwork, but Douglas helped. It was beautiful, and he placed it under the tree hung with glass ornaments.

He waited anxiously that night, but when the second banquet ended, Emmanuel's shadow was still nowhere to be seen.

Blair fidgeted about in the dining room even after everyone retreated downstairs. Finally, he could no longer wait and went upstairs. He stood before Emmanuel's room, and hesitated. He still couldn't find an answer to the things Emmanuel asked him that night in his room. He did not know what he want, and if Emmanuel truly 'wanted' him, whatever it meant—what did he want him to say?

That he wanted him too?

There was no definite answer, but Blair had decided the day he refused to return with Morris that he had not wanted to leave just yet. It wouldn't be right to leave. Blair bit his lips tightly before he finally closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and knocked.

"Is that you, Blair?"

He knew it was him. Blair was relieved to hear his voice, but also clenched his jaw.

"Can I come in?" Blair asked. "It's Christmas."

"Yes, come in."

Taking a deep breath, he turned the doorknob, and pushed it open. There Emmanuel was, standing before the open window. The snow was falling softly, and the curtains hung there without moving, for there was no wind like yesterday.

Emmanuel turned, in a billowy white skirt only half-buttoned and black trousers. His face was sickly, dark circles were under his eyes, and he seemed even more gaunt than usual.

"Emmanuel." Blair looked at him, then pulled away. He was unable to meet his eyes.

"Did you have a merry Christmas, Blair?"

"No. It was quite sad."

"But didn't your sister love Christmas? Not to mention the snow?"

"Yes, but this is my first Christmas without her."

"I've forgotten. I'm sorry, you must've been lonely." He smiled, and Blair couldn't tell if he was being satirical or not. Then he turned away.

"Are you always alone at Christmas?" Blair asked, voice so faint it blended in with the cackling of logs in the fireplace. Emmanuel made him way to his bed, and then sat down.