False Southern Gentility

Christine turned around and faced him, crossing her legs alluringly, she smiled. "Nice to meet you...I'm Chr--" she stopped as she swallowed. "Faye. Nice to meet you." she repeated nervously.

Why in God's name do you sound like you're greeting somebody at a garden party, she thought to herself, you can't be a damned Southern Belle and a harlot at the same time.

"Amazing." he said again as he sat down on the edge of the bed, adjusted his hands uneasily, stood back up and sat back down again.

"You fidget, you know that?" Christine asked as she stood up and walked towards him. She placed her hands on his shoulders, smiling. Peter swallowed as Christine ran her finger down his throat. "Maybe I can help you with that."

Peter's mouth went dry. "Amazing." he whispered again.

Christine tried not to smile as she sat down on the edge of the bed. He smells like peaches, she thought to herself, what kind of man that comes to a brothel smelling of peaches? "Is that the only word you know?" she asked with another dazzling smile. "Well, after a while that might not be to bad of a thing to say."

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Christine sat up as Peter adjusted his tie in the mirror. "Marry me." he said suddenly.

Christine swallowed.

"You'd think after an hour and a half of nothing but the word 'amazing' you'd say goodbye. But nope, you just ask me to marry you." she smiled now.

But it still wasn't the same old smile.

"No, I wouldn't. Marry me. I know you don't know what to think of me...coming to a place like this...but...I knew you...knew you before you were here. I knew you and what you were. Let me help you, please." Christine did not answer.

"You knew me? Tell me then, what is my name." she finally said as she rose and fixed her hair and face-paint in the mirror.

"Christine Threlkeld." he said with finality in his voice. Christine stood stunned. "My brother...he was about your age. Jeremiah, you were very taken with him. Or so it seemed. I may be much older than him...but I could love you."

Christine shook her head. "I don't need someone's love, Peter. But the offer is very...noble, now, go home Peter, just go home." she said as she adjusted her corset and popped her now stiff neck.

Peter stood, his back straight, his posture stark and painful looking. "I will come back, Christine, you can bet a pretty penny on that."

And with that, he left her alone too.

Christine shook her head, trying to escape from sounds all around her. The piano downstairs, the girls laughing as they brought men to their rooms. She wanted peace.

She shook her head. "Let him go," she said to herself as she stood up and walked to the window. "If he's not there, then you won't see him again, if he's there...then...then I'll walk out of this place and never look back."

She opened her eyes and looked down. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw him, standing there. He didn't smile, he just crossed his arms. Christine held her breath as she jerked open the drawer and pulled out all of the gold coins that she had collected.

"Peter!" she exclaimed as she ran out the front door, her feet dragging heavily in the mud that covered the cobblestones.

As he put his arms out, and drew her close to him. "What made you change your mind?" he asked as he kissed the top of her head.

She smiled as she sighed. "Peaches." she said as she breathed in the scent of him quietly.

"What?" Peter asked as he sat her in the carriage and closed the door behind him.

"Nothing...you were still standing there. That's why I changed my mind." she said as she turned her head and looked out of the window. "You know, I'm not an angel."

Peter laughed. "You never were. Do you remember when you were married to Jeremiah? I do, I remember looking at the way you looked at him, and then there was the way you looked at Gabriel. Now that, was one heck of a look."

Christine squared her shoulders. "I never looked at Gabriel in any specific way. What on earth do you mean by that?" she asked as she popped her neck and grimaced.

"You did look at Gabriel in a specific way, but I wouldn't blame you...you were so innocent, so clean..." the way his voice trailed off made Christine's heart break.

"And what, I'm not clean anymore? You would have me in a brothel but not as a wife? Have you changed your mind, Mr. Wilkinson? Believe me, I have no problem stepping out of this carriage and returning to...to the house."

"Come now, Christine." he started, as if to soothe a frightened horse. "You already said that you were no angel, and I have accepted that, gracefully if I might add. But I do want you as a wife, if not only to get you out of that place, then to fulfill what is now my duty."

Christine shook her head. "What duty?"

Peter sighed as he looked into her eyes. "As a man, if I have laid with you, then I must marry you, and I will not go against any teaching of mine. Cheer up," he said with a far-too-bright smile. "you'll be a married woman in a few hours, and then won't life be just magic?"

Christine licked her teeth and groaned. Her stomach pains were beginning to grow worse.

"Something the matter?" Peter asked as he turned his head to one side and observed where Christine's hands fell on her ribcage.

"No," she said as she moved her hand from where she had felt the small lump at earlier. "I'm just dandy."

Peter shrugged. "Alright then, if you're sure. You're not usually sickly, are you?" he asked, his voice nor turning to concern.

She shook her head in irritation. "No, I'm never sickly, that's my sister. You really mist not know me that well, do you?" she laughed as the pains subsided quietly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry." Peter said as he crossed his legs the same way that Christopher crossed his.

"Christopher..." she whispered as she closed her eyes and leaned back.

He said he would be back...but would he? What would happen if he did come back and then found that she wasn't there? What if he hated her...then what? And what about when he found out she was married...would he hate her?

"What?" Peter asked as the carriage rolled to a stop in-front of Saint Mary's Cathedral. Peter extended his hand to Christine.

She took it without even thinking.

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Within the next hour, Christine went from Christine Threlkeld, to Mrs. Peter Wilkinson. And within a year, she became a mother to her first daughter, Grace...and within two years...she was a widow.

"Christine," Mary called in a quiet voice as she walked into Meredith's kitchen and held out a telegram. "It's...it's from one of the commanders..." she whispered as she lifted Grace into her arms.

"I don't want it..." she whispered as she took Grace from Mary's arms and looked into her sisters eyes. "You open it." she said, her voice shaking.

Mary nodded as she opened the small envelope. The letter fluttered to the floor as Mary covered her mouth.

"What?" Christine asked as she handed Grace over to Meredith and lifted the letter off of the ground. She read it quietly, "Mrs. Wilkinson, I regret to inform you that your husband has--" Christine let out a heart wrenching scream as she dropped the letter. "No, Peter, no!"

"Christine--" Mary started as she stepped towards her crying sister.

"Don't touch me!" she screamed as she took a step back and fell to the floor. As she fell, her only thought was of Peter. She lay on the floor, quietly, hardly breathing and no longer crying.

All of her tears were gone.

"Aunt Meredith, send for a doctor." Mary said in a quiet voice as she sat down the baby and lifted her sisters head into her lap. "Breathe for me, Christine." her sister said as she massaged her sisters back softly.

Christine didn't want to breathe, she wanted to die. She wanted to lay down in the earth beside Peter and never let him go. She wanted to die...she didn't want to lay there.

As Doctor Marshland walked out of Christine's door, he sighed and looked at Mary. "I've given her a heavy sedative. It should keep her out for at least today, if not all of tomorrow." he opened his bag and produced a small vial.

"What's that?" Mary asked as she stared at the clear liquid.

"It's something for her...pains." he said as he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes for a moment.

"What pains?" Mary asked as she continued to look at the small vial and now the needle that was sitting beside it/

"She has a mass, it's very small, but I believe that it will grow. Have you noticed any strange looks or behaviors from Christine? Moments where she has to sit to catch her breath, or even fainting spells?" Marshland asked as he wrote down something on a small piece of paper.

Mary shook her head no at first, and then reconsidered. "She has fainted...a few times...but only when she gets her headaches, it's like what mother used to..." Mary stopped as she sat down in the chair in the hall.

"Yes, just like your mother's headaches. The only difference was that your mother's had been there since birth, if Christine's had been there since birth, then she would have had these types of pains since she was a child...but as far as I can remember, she didn't." Marshland answered quietly.

Mary closed her eyes, and for a second, she could only wish that Peter Wilkinson was there, that he would sweep in and take Christine in his arms and hold her.

"Christine would stop...when we were younger and hold onto her ribs, right below her..." her face turned red as she gestured towards her chest. "it never bothered her mother than a few minutes...she never fainted like mother."

Marshland nodded in his quiet way.