The Devil In Me

Chapter 43

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Dear Caroline,

I write this to you in a gesture of peace, seeing as I have only aggravated the situation further, I apologise, truly. Since I have come back into your life, I wanted only to make it better, as I have always aimed to, yet as always, best laid plans go awry.

My jealousy got the better of me, once again, I admit. There is no defence, except that the thought of you has never made me act rationally, and from almost the first minute of our acquientense, I might have guessed that my rational self would never be consulted in matters concerning you.

I have removed myself temporarily, to deal with some business interests. Now I must truly re-join your world. I know you shall not mourn my absence, so I ask only that Ellie be reassured of my return. I wonder if you fear I shall not, or if you hope for it. These things I cannot know... for you heart, once an open book for me alone, has become a mystery and I stand alone, buffeted by the winds of your apathy and resentment.

But know this, my dear wife, you shan't be far from my thoughts, that I promise. As always, you are the air that I breathe, the force that maintains my heartbeat, without which living is futile.

Until I return, my love, I wish you could forgive me, once more.

N.

Caroline stared at the letter the maid had delivered to her minutes ago. Since the night before, when she had gone from one emotion to the next in a flurry of anger, from her betrayal and disappointment in Klaus's properterial actions toward Tyler, to her reassurance in his presence at the dinner, to her heartbreak over his story.

He had lost so much, too much for a man to bear, and yet he held her as a replacement, as a justification... which was surely folly... for no one could replace all that loss.

And now, after a night of tossing in her bed and tortured dreams, she woke to find him gone, an all too familiar feeling.

She had felt angry at him, for telling Tyler, yet there was part of her that was relieved. From the moment she had known Klaus was alive, perhaps in her heart of hearts, she had known she could never marry another. He was part of her, as real as her blood or the veins it flowed in, her sinew and bone.

She cast the letter aside and sat up, sliding out of bed. The day loomed long, and oddly empty without the prospect of meeting him in the hall, without seeing him with Ellie at dinner. She started dressing and briskly attempted to push him from her mind. She had functioned perfectly fine without him for long enough, she would not cease now.

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The days passed and Caroline fell back into her old routine. Taking Ellie to the Salvatores and the other children that she played with. Caroline found the house particularly empty with Klaus gone, and Elijah away on wedding business. She found the time passed especially slowly, yet refused to admit it was loneliness she felt. She though about her husband often, wondered if he felt the same aching emptiness. Ellie was upset to bein with, but then a letter arrived for her, from her father, and Ellie took it away with her, hugging it to her, and smiling. Caroline matched her smile, and tried to forget the sting that reminded her that there was no note in her name, no time spent committing thoughts of her to paper.

More that a week passed in this way, when she started to prepare Ellie for travelling to Virginia for Katherine and Elijah's wedding. She was apprehensive, the first time she would return to her childhood home in so long. Caroline found it difficult to sleep and took to sitting by her window. The moonlight over the quiet street drew a harsh parallel to her nights as Westmere. She had been so young, so... full of hope and naiveté, she now realised. She remembered with astonishing clarity seeing Klaus at his window, his eyes taking on new life when he saw her. How young they'd been, how unspoiled, she mused, watching the street lamp flicker slightly. Although she would never realise it, she had started a vigil, one that she continued late into the night. She could never define what drew her to the window, some ineffable quality, some intangible need, yet it was there, and it was real.