Lilith had arisen early and was at the stable before first light, while it was still dark and the horses were beginning to stir. She'd travelled there muffled against the cold, her hands wrapped around a cup of tea that she gave to the trainer and groom, with the instruction that he was to muck out the horses, feed them, and then leave for the day.

"Be here tomorrow, but take today off," she said, and conjured up a kind smile for him.

After all, she wanted to spend as long alone as she could, in the company of the gentle brutes with their warm bodies and their silent companionship.

She trusted that Christopher, who had curled up next to her in bed after spending the day being simultaneously chatty and sulky, and irritating her wherever she went, would not want to wake early. Nor would any of the androids, whom she had specifically ordered to leave her alone for as long as possible, come to disturb her quiet contemplation.

And so she could groom Oak, one of the horses and her favourite gelding, in silence, listening to the stamps and muffled nickers of the horses about her.

Lilith even went so far as to sing quietly for the horse, a small ditty she didn't even know she remembered, as she brushed him. She felt delightfully peaceful as she, surrounded by the smell of leather and saddle soap, neatly folded a blanket into a saddle bag and threw it over Oak's back.

It was still very early when she lead Oak out into the yard, and pulled herself up into the saddle. His breath fogged the morning air, and the sun, while it had broken over the horizon, could not yet be seen above the trees, or even amongst their trunks.

He seemed as impatient as her to be going, for he snorted and stamped at the ground. 

She nudged him to a walk and, shaking his head, he obliged her. Then, when they made their way out of the yard and had reached the road still used by terrain vehicles, she spurred him to a canter.

Oak flew down the road, with Lilith on his back, light as air, bent over his neck like the jockey over Whiplash, when Lilith had watched her at Ascot with Henry by her side, urging Hellsbane on. She bent low over his neck, feeling the cold air slap her face and howl past her ears, their speed turning its stillness into a tempest.

After a few minutes, she reined him into a walk and guided Oak onto a path hidden between the trees. He snorted once and kicked up his hooves a bit, but with a firm hand and a gentle word, she set him straight on a narrow path.

It was not very long until they reached a small lake, more of a pond, really, where Lilith pulled Oak to a stop and left him by a grassy knoll, happily pulling clover up by the roots.

Lilith turned to the lake now. It was perfectly still, as still as the morning air chilled by spring-melted snows. Not a creature stirred, and not a breath of wind made the water ripple. It was smooth as a mirror, casting an image of the trees and rocks back at them, and twinning Lilith when she came to stand at the water's edge.

She closed her eyes. The cold had sunk into her flesh, past the warmth of her riding coat, and it was all she could feel. Opening her arms, she welcomed the frigid air, welcomed the feeling of cold that dominated her senses and let her forget about everything; Christopher, Henry, Colm Brightley, the EPRC, even President Frye, they all faded away, driven out by the cold.

She felt serene. At peace. It was glorious.

For a moment, a bit of foolishness seized her, and she indulged it. She was so often sensible, and was so very rarely foolish. "Sensible, sensible Lilith" Christopher had always mocked her, and he was right, for Lilith was a creature of pragmatic sensibility.

But now, with the cold morning air, still and hard as ice, Lilith indulged her desire to be at peace. With movements slowed by her numb fingers, she removed her coat, shedding the small layers of warmth and casting them off, until she stood naked in the cold air.

It curled around her like a lover, closer and more intimate than any person was, and raised goosebumps all over her pale skin.

"Ah," she sighed, and felt the cold seep into her very bones, so chilling it nearly hurt. And then, padding lightly to a rock at the water's edge, she slipped into the still water.

It was colder than she thought possible, and the frigidity stabbed right through her flesh, seizing her limbs and plunging an iron grip through her throat to grip her windpipe and suffocate her.

Lilith could not breathe, she could not move. She cold feel only the cold, feel only the freezing water and nothing else. It filled her every sense and blocked everything else out, the cold forcing its way into ever fiber of her being and allowing nothing else room.

She loved it, and tilted back her head so it could catch her hair and stream from her head, reveling in the way the cold seemed to scorch her scalp.

When she opened her eyes, she saw how the sun began to shoot through the trees, dappling the forest but not yet the surface of the water.

Just as the cold began to numb her, to anaesthetize all feeling, there came a whinny from Oak and she turned to see him rearing, his hooves pawing the air, setting up a racket that startled the birds from the trees.

"What's the matter, you silly horse?" she called, affection in her voice though she was sure he had been startled by a mouse, or a beetle.

And then she turned and saw it. A gasp escaped her before she could stop it. She turned her head and, in a moment, splashed around as she saw there, in the trees, the retreating figure of a man. 

She blinked, and it was gone, leaving only the dappled forest and the branches swaying just a touch.

Lilith shook her head, sure it was a trick of the light. Even still, she turned about and swam for shore, the lake now rippling with her firm kicks.

When she pulled herself out of the water, with it streaming down her back, running in rivulets down her thighs and buttocks, the air felt almost warm, and she shuddered a bit as she paced towards Oak. By this time, he had calmed somewhat, but was still stamping, his eyes rolling, whites visible all around the deep brown of his irises.

"Shh," she whispered, and took him by the bridle. "Hush, there. There's nothing there. Nothing to be afraid of, you silly horse."

But she looked back, too, and convinced herself that it had been a trick of the light, and must have been the same one that spooked Oak.

"Shh," she said, and shook her hair, which was dripping down her back and covering her to the waist in a dark brown tunic.

It was some time before she felt he was calm enough for her to towel herself dry with the blanket and dress. She had to take his head, and stroke his neck, and kiss his nose before he calmed enough for her to let go of him.

Even then, when she sprang into the saddle, she could feel his tension, which became evident when, while pacing down the forest path, shied at a squirrel that ran across the path and then darted with scratching claws up a tree, to sit there and scold Lilith and her horse.

"Whoa, there," she said.

It did him little good and Lilith was glad when she was able to put him back in his stall and settle him there, the other horses whickering soothingly and seeming to relieve some of his agitation.

It was not to last, however, for Oak soon spotted something that made him whinny.

Lilith looked up, in the midst of removing a tangle from his mane, to see Peter approaching, practically flowing over the cobblestones of the stable floor, so smooth was his gait.

"Madam," he said, and made a pert bow.

"No closer," she said, and held up one hand to him, tone sharp and more than a little rude. "The horses don't like androids, and Oak's spooked enough as it is. Wait where you are, if you would."

He obeyed immediately, and came to a stop.

Lilith patted Oak's neck and held his head gently but firmly, murmuring to him very softly until he appeared calm, until his ears did not prick up so intently and his eyes did not roll. Then, keeping herself between Oak and the stall door that separated the pair of them from Peter, she waved him forward.

Forward he came, and so elegantly that Lilith was struck for a moment by the grace in his movement.The mechanic who had looked in on them the previous day had clearly done an excellent job with repairs. She would have to ask Peter for his name.

"Now, Peter, what is it?" she asked. 

"Mr. Farrar wishes to see you, madam," said Peter.

"Is that all?" she snapped, though her anger was not with the android. She was simply irked at being disturbed while in a state of peaceful calm for something as mundane as Christopher's caprice.

"Yes, madam," replied Peter, managing to sound very nearly contrite.

"Tell me, how is Mr. Farrar's mood?" 

Lilith did not need an answer. She knew Christopher would be moping about the house, bemoaning a lack of a lover. After all, he was alone there, with no one to seduce, no one to charm, no one to fuck. It would be driving him mad.

"His mood is not an amiable one, madam," replied Peter, and the statement sounded so very mild in his toneless voice that Lilith very nearly smiled.

"That's putting it lightly, I'd imagine," she murmured. Christopher was, no doubt, in what was, for him, the depths of his hedonic despair. She grimaced to imagine what sort of his peevishness she'd have to endure when she came across him.

Then again, that was her job, for which she was paid very handsomely.

“Tell Mr. Farrar I’ll come see him when I’m done here,” she said to Peter.

Peter gave a nod and, a light flashing inside his semi-opaque skull, conveyed a message to whichever android was closest to Christopher at the moment.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Mrs. Farrar?" he enquired.

"No, thank you, Peter," she said.

He was gone in a moment, leaving Lilith alone with Oak. She brushed him for far longer than she needed to and then, being as unhurried as possible, turned all the Farrars' horses out to pasture. Still, her task had not taken her as long as she had wanted it to, and it was not very long before she back in the house.

She removed her coat and handed it to Matthew, who was standing by the door.

Christopher she found in the parlour, slumped over an entire sofa.

"Was there something you needed, husband dearest?" she asked, her voice practically dripping with mockery as she crossed her arms and stared down at him.

He rolled onto his back but threw his arm over his face. "Oh, it's you," he groaned.

"Who else would it be?" she replied.

Now he sprang up into a sitting position, as full of energy as he had been langour before. "Why is your hair wet, Lilith?"

She indugled his nosiness. "I went swimming this morning."

"But isn't it freezing out?" he enquired, gesturing vaguely out the window.

"Yes," she replied, and the word was short, bordering on curt. "That was the point."

"You purposefully made yourself unbearably cold? God, you're starting to get almost a masochistic streak for self-punishment. Causing yourself discomfort, pain, refusing pleasure...do you get a kick out of torturing yourself?" he said, and cocked one eyebrow, his azure eyes glittering. "Or are you doing some sort of strange penance for a sin I don't know about?"

Lilith was so used to his teasing that even something that jokingly implied a hitherto unknown and sordid past barely fazed her. She bore it well, and did not reply except to offer a more scathing remark than Christopher's.

"Really, if there is someone here who ought to be doing penance for sins, it's you, don't you think?"

"You think you're so fucking morally superior, don't you?" he said, and now his eyes flashed with anger and his words came out as a snarl. He jumped to his feet and stood toe-to-toe with Lilith.

"Yes," she replied.

Now he smirked. They stared at one another for a moment, Lilith remaining absolutely still, barely daring to breathe, as Christopher's downy lashes fluttered and he smiled.

"I suppose you're right," he sighed, breaking the silence. He sat back down.

Lilith turned to leave, but he called her back immediately, and she had done nothing but turn her head and take one step when his voice rang out with her name.

"Lilith? My chaste, virtuous, upright Lilith?" he called, and she could hear how he was laughing at his own melodramatics. She, for her part, was not sure if she wanted to strangle him for them or thank him.

 "Something you needed?" she replied, and turned back.

"Will you sit with me, Lilith, and talk to me?" he asked, and someone who did not known Christopher as well as Lilith did would think the request was almost shy.

But Lilith did know Christopher, and was surprised. "What, now?"

"Yes. Now. For the day. The afternoon. I don't care," he said, and waved one hand airily.

"No." Her response was quick, almost instinctual.

"Why not?" he cried, and his eyes lit up, wide and demanding but so very winsome.

Lilith wondered why he was asking, and tried to make her skepticism clear as she went on. "Because we fight incessantly, we do not get along, and there's no reason for it."

"Good God, Lilith, I just want to spend time with you," he replied, and his eyes widened as he laid a hand to his heart, feigning - though extremely convincingly - that he was offended.

Lilith was now decidedly irritated, though not unnerved. He seemed to take delight in teasing her, and loved it even more when he got a rise out of her. And so, with a sharp tone and a clear intonation, she said:

"Christopher, we are here at Bancroft, alone. I am under no obligation to socialize with you."

She turned away without another word. He let her go, but as she was passing out of he parlour, she heard him call.

"Happy Birthday, Lilith!"

She pretended not to hear him and left him to his own devices. She spent most of the day alone, and Christopher did not disturb her. Lilith luxuriated in a bath, taking far longer than she needed to and far longer than she usually could when she had Christopher's personal affairs to manage.

Then she spent hours reading, and several more playing her cello, something she never did in front of Christopher.

For her, music was a solitary joy, and she doubted that Christopher even knew she could play. So there she sat, cello between her legs, fingers curled round the bow, the instrument closer to her than any person ever was.

 "That sounds very lovely, madam," said Peter, when he came to bring her a cup of tea.

"Thank you, Peter," she said.

Then she smiled and continued to play.