A/N: Reposting my drabble The Marriage Bed with the extension. Hope you like it.

Lord Klaus Mikaelson, the Earl of Mulholland was not the sort of man who enjoyed waiting. His entire existence since he burst from the womb had been a never ending rush; he had taken his first steps before his eighth month, spoken his first word shortly after, and sat atop his first mount well before his third birthday. Every pursuit he had dawdled with or challenge that presented itself upon him he executed with the effortless ease of a man who had been completing such measly tasks his entire life. Indeed, there was very little in this world that Klaus could not accomplish if he merely set his mind to it. He had grown to four and thirty accustomed to getting exactly what he wanted when he wanted it. So to be sitting surrounded by the pastel decadence of his mother's sitting room waiting for her to emerge from her afternoon lie-down was almost more than he could bear.

His fingers tapped restlessly against the thick glass of his brandy as he gazed at the rain pounding against the worn cobbled street. The weather had been increasingly dreadful over the past fortnight, with nary a ray of sunshine to be had since the start of the Little Season. He could imagine the many garden parties or intimate picnics that would most lamentably be canceled. Most likely the debutantes and matchmaking mothers were overwrought with anxiety over when they would be able to ensnare some foolish bloke who had the unhappy luck to bear a title. Klaus had spent hours observing the pitiful lengths that some ladies had sunk too in the pursuit of a husband. Arranging clandestine meetings in order to be discovered and compromised, playing one gentleman against the other, dangling themselves in front of their prey and then fleeing before being caught. As entertaining as these women's misplaced desperations were, he had to admit that not being a potential target for their Machiavellian attentions was no hardship. Despite the obligatory demands of his station, he would be inclined to argue that his life was nigh perfect in its entirety. Except of course, the fact that he was still sitting directly where he had been for the last quarter hour.

The amber liquid of his late father's port captured his attention as it glinted at him from his tumbler. Hoping that it would somehow end this interminable wait he downed the remainder of the contents in one generous swallow. His eyes flitted through the still empty sitting room and disappointment filled him as he espied no discernible change. A heavy sigh issued forth from his lungs as he heaved himself off of the elegant settee and sauntered towards the sideboard that held his families crystal decanters. If it had been any other person in the world that had summoned him only to subject him to this endless wait, he would have most definitely left shortly after arriving. Seeing however that it was his mother, who he had never quite seen eye to eye with, he supposed that he would just have to endure until she presented herself.

At his new position next to the thick paneled window he took to surveying the madness outside. The streets were almost completely deserted, the conditions driving most of the elite indoors like ancient recluses. Two unfortunate peddlers seemed to be braving the elements and he watched as they pushed a small cart passed the window towards Fleet Street. The two would never make it if the rain persisted; they would be half frozen by the time they arrived and would most likely spend the following days nursing some sort of ailment. Fools, he thought grimly to himself as he brought the cool glass to his lips.

"It's a little early for spirits don't you think Niklaus?" The familiar icy lilt of his mother's voice invaded the stagnant silence that had plagued him since he had arrived. He turned slowly to the room's entrance where the stiff-lipped figure of his mother had emerged, her frail shoulders wrapped tightly with the heavy fabric of a woolen shawl. They made eye contact for a few seconds before she gracefully glided towards the high backed chair next to the fireplace. "I suppose then it would be unnecessary for me to call for tea." Her words came out pleasant enough, though the underline meaning bit at him as they always did. It is said that a wise man hears one word and can understand two; his mother had the unique ability to say one thing when she actually meant you should take the quickest route to the devil. It may not make his mother particularly wise, but it did make her a more than formidable adversary.

Setting the glass silently on the sideboard he moved back to the settee, facing himself directly at his mother and hoping that they could get this god forsaken meeting to a start. Since it seemed she was content in sitting in silence he took the initiative and spoke first. "It's been a long time Mother. You are looking well, are you in health?"

"Don't jest with me boy you have no concern for my health. In any matter, that is not my purpose for calling you here today." It was no great shock to him that the Countess was not inquiring on him simply for pleasantries. His mother had only called upon him twice within the last four years and both of which were pertaining to business. The first had been the passing of his father, which had struck Klaus severely at the time because he was not even made aware of the Late Earl's declining health. Unlike his relationship with his mother, Klaus had genuinely cared for his father. The thick brogue of his voice would fill the room with unsuppressed merriment and his booming laughter could be heard from three estates away. His father was a Scot and proud of it, so how he managed to marry someone as cold and hardhearted as his absurdly English mother was beyond the borders of his comprehension. The second time he had been summoned was shortly after his father's death. The specifics of which were his mother's high opinion on his behavior, and the responsibilities that he now owed to his title. After a long condemning speech in which his mother detailed exactly how he should present himself as an Earl he ventured forth to make one of the greatest mistakes of his life.

"What exactly is it that you require from me mother?" His voiced contained the edge of his annoyance and her eyes lowered a fraction and her lips thinned down to an almost invisible seam.

"How does your wife fair Niklaus?" At the announcement of his life's folly he shifted slightly in his chair, not caring if it broadcasted his uneasiness to the woman sitting across from him. His mother was perfectly aware that Nick had not seen nor spoken to Caroline Mikaelson, the Countess of Muholland in going on three years. For her to bring her up at a meeting such as this one could only bring certain disaster for the future.

"You would be more familiar with my wife's movements then I seeing as I do not partake in sitting room prattle or bother listening to ridiculous gossip mongers. She could have set sail for America for all I know." Sensing what the course this conversation was taking a turn towards, he stood once more grabbing his tumbler from the side board. He chose to remain standing the impending news he was sure he was about to hear was something he did not feel like taking sitting down.

"I'll have you know she has not set off to America. In fact, she still resides in her father's townhouse something I'm sure you are aware. I may be mistaken in assuming that you still provide her compensation?" Klaus chose not to answer this time, knowing that his bluff had been called and that though he knew his wife's whereabouts, he had no idea what activities she frequented, what parties she enjoyed, or how she passed her time from day to day. Many members of the Haute Ton, his mother included, frowned upon the arrangement made between him and his wife. To him however the circumstances could not be more ideal, he kept the hours he desired, dallied with whatever young actress that caught his fancy, and conducted himself in a manner that he saw fit. In turn he allowed her to do the same and they were permitted certain freedoms since they still held the title of husband and wife. He did not have the herd of matchmaking momma's and green as grass debutantes after him. She at least, he assumed could direct herself without the burden of a chaperone.

"As it was your insistence that I marry, I don't see why the way I conduct my marriage is any of your concern." He countered coldly shouldering off his mother's insult and titling his chin upwards in defiance. At her assertion he had married the first girl who had seemed besotted with him, wed her, bed her, and then promptly deposited her in the country at his estate where she could live out the remainder of her days. It was almost a year later that he had discovered that she was now a resident of London and other then sending his checks to a different location, he had not run into her in polite society. Not that he was particularly keen too, from what he remembered of Caroline she was a green girl, not yet one and twenty when they wed, and altogether plain. Her hair, though plentiful, held the hue of brassy wheat, her face had no particularly remarkable features and she weighed a stone or two more than to his liking. He made it clear to all involved in the mockery that was his wedding that he was marrying for title solely, and he acted as in accordance to his feelings. At the sound of his mother's voice he shifted his attention back to the situation at hand.

"Your Cousin Elijah is dead." The words poured from his mother's mouth unfeelingly, much like when she had announced the news of her own husband's death. As if not only a member of their family had just passed, but a good man was taken from this earth. The news hit Klaus hard. Elijah, though having no noble blood of his own was next in line for the Earldom. Klaus's father was never one to discriminate against a person's wealth or status, he chose much to the chagrin of the ton to base his opinions on a person by their actions alone. He would never have turned Elijah away due to lack of nobility, and Nik could remember summer's full of adventures that the two boys shared. "Apparently he contracted scarlet fever while he was abroad. This tragedy brings new issues to the fore front of our families concerns…"

"Mother, the man is dead can you at least show the slightest bit of decorum and feign some sympathy?" Her eyes shot daggers at him while she readjusted her shawl and continued.

"… Elijah as we all know was to inherit the title once you inevitably pass away. However now that he himself has passed leaving behind no heir let alone any children of any kind it puts us in an awful position. There seems only one course of action and that is that you simply must put aside your differences with your wife and honor the vows of your union,"

The silence that hung in the air after the last of his mother's resonant tones slowly faded away made Klaus wish that he could hear nothing at all. The prospect of reuniting with his wife that he only met a handful of times in hopes of producing an heir was preposterous, so much so that Klaus, giving a curt bow headed promptly for the door. Once inside the entrance hall he was surprised to find his mother had stayed firmly at his heels. "Niklaus you must see reason, if you do not provide an heir the family name will be lost!"
Klaus spun on his heel looking down at her small frame, the fury rising in him at her cool demeanor. "Well then the name shall simply be lost then, give it to some other unfortunate soul who may revel in having it."

"You are the last of the Mikaelson line, without an heir the Earl of Muholland shall simply cease to exist. Think of your father!"

His fingers shook at the mention of his poor lost father. Though he knew his mother's manipulation to know no bounds he was astounded that after all this time her callousness could still surprise him. "Do not speak of father. This has nothing to do with him."

"Of course it does. After all this time, would you really be willing to let your father's Legacy end with you. To let the Mikaelson name conclude because of your own selfishness." The accusing tone in her voice hit him just as hard as the almost vulnerable look that had settled itself upon her face. Though his mother's intentions benefited mostly herself and the vanity of her station, he knew that ultimately she was right. This acknowledgement only served to make him even more cross, the enormous lion that was his pride screaming out his rebellion. With one last look at his mother he accepted his coat and hat from his footman and stalked out the door into the unforgiving rain. If only he had a brother, he mused as he climbed into his carriage and instructed his man to take him to his club, then perhaps the overwhelming burden of his station would be manageable. Perhaps then he would not loathe it so.

Convincing himself that he would not make a concrete decision until the morrow concerning the matter with his wife, he willed himself to relax. The constant drum beat upon the roof of his carriage a melodic lull that he was thankful calmed his shaken nerves. His first course of action was to join in at the card tables and get himself thoroughly foxed. It may not be the most cultivated of plans, but at least it would keep his mind clear of the happenings of the day

"Please Elena I can hardly call Lady Fell's garden party diverting. I almost found myself bored to tears on several occasions. If it were not for the discussion of the new art museum and the arrival of the curator I would have been slumbering in my seat." Lady Caroline Mikaelson said from behind her embroidery. Her dearest friend, Miss Elena Gilbert had given up her needle, choosing instead to read aloud the gossip pages. How many nights had passed just in this manner Caroline did not particularly know, but the peace and solitude that accompanied being in the presence of someone as polite and soft spoken as Elena was something that she would not trade for the most entertaining of garden parties.

"Oh Caroline you only say that because of your interest in the arts. The party was most diverting. Indeed I believe that I have not enjoyed myself so much in quite some time." Caroline smiled at her friend's statement, though Elena was altogether and advocate for any party her friends more manly pursuits shocked and astounded people. Elena who loved dancing, gossip and sweets, also enjoyed horseback riding, Latin which although being a man's language she excelled in and shooting her pistol. It was cause for her to be the subject of much talk and speculation upon the ladies of the ton, though Elena persevered through it without batting a single eyelash. Something Caroline always seemed to admire about her oldest friend, no manner of talk could possibly sway her purpose or the way she handled her affairs to alter. She herself had no notable title she would be quite the catch for any man. Her ebony hair shined like the silkiest velvet in the rays of the sun, her silken eyelashes were impossibly long fringing her chocolate irises. Elena was easily one of the handsomest women amongst the ton; any man lucky enough to make her an offer would be gaining not only her external features, but the delightful character within.
In truth ever since they were in the nursery together Caroline had been secretly jealous of her friend's purely exotic beauty. It had been cause of much guilt over the years; despite her friend's first water looks, Elena had never done a single thing to garner Caroline's spite. Caroline had never been considered handsome, even her own father considered her positively plain. With singularly uninspiring hair, and an uninspiring form she had never been known to turn a gentleman's' head. Next to Elena, who would possibly desire plain old Caroline?

It wasn't until after her wedding those things had started to change; slowly the extra stone she carried disappeared. Her hair, though still uninspiring didn't seem such a burdensome handful anymore and became capable for her lady's maid to tame. Her eyes being the only feature she had ever truly coveted seemed to become larger, more vivid. Many people had marveled at the Countesses transformation deeming it to be akin to a miracle. Others referred to her as a late bloomer and with the addition of her elevated rank it was only natural she began to portray herself according to her station. Whether or not either parties were right, she felt no different than she had before. As far as she was concerned she was still just Caroline. Plain old Caroline.

"It is not simply that, I do not desire frivolous entertainment. They simply do not adhere with my tastes. I attend simply to keep my good name and that is all." Except for the soft rustling of pages, Elena chose to stay silent after that and Caroline sighed at the newly acquired stillness. Turning towards her embroidery she tried her best to carefully place each stitch, yet in her heart and in her head she could not settle the unease that constantly filled her. The unease that had plagued her since her wedding day three years past.

"Heavens! Is that really the time? It seems that I have overstayed in my visit, I had best be on my way home, I have an early carriage ride with Lord Donovan." Elena smiled as she stood and gave a brief curtsy to Caroline, Caroline in turn did the same. She bid her friend a warm adieu and watched as she gathered her things and headed for the door.

How many nights had she spent exactly this way, how many times had she bid her last visitor goodbye only to make the trek upstairs alone? Three years felt like a lifetime to her, three years of smiling at dinner parties and enduring questions about her husband's health when she had no idea how his health fared. She knew that every month she received her stipend, her monthly allowance that she hardly ever used. Her husband, who she had been and was still so desperately in love with that she could hardly hold herself upright.

They had met like many others had, at a ball. She remembered the exact words he used when he first asked her to dance, she could still tell the exact number of times that his hand met hers during that night, and still recalled every word that he spoke to her. In her youth, in her foolishness, she had thought that he had really loved her. Yet upon his proposal there was no ardent declaration of love, no expression of any sort of feeling whatsoever, simply the words "Will you be my bride". She had said yes the buffoon that she was and now here she suffered with the same unending cycle. Waking up at the early hours alone, dining alone, and except for the occasional droll party she spent her every waking hour alone.

Niklaus had never been one for romantics that much she knew, but having to face the realization that he was completely heartless almost broke her entirely. Being not one and twenty when she was wed she believed the fairy tales of marriage; Of falling madly in love with her prince charming and spending her forever after being faithful and obedient to him. Not one of those story books described being cast off in a country estate by a man that she was hopelessly in love with only to hear that he would never return. Not one of them spoke of the loneliness that it was to spend every waking moment with only herself for companionship. If there was such a book she had never found it, and she had spent quite a great deal looking. She recognized herself for the fool she way now. How she could honestly believe that a man of his age could look on the girl she had been and found himself so in love to propose marriage. It was simple business to him. To find the most gullible girl he could find, marry her and then set her aside; like she was nothing more than some possession to adorn his shelf.

She had spent almost a full year believing that he would see the error of his ways and come back to her, a full year before she made up her mind and headed to London. At first her move to London was strictly because of him, she believed that upon knowing that his wife resided so closely to himself that he would only naturally have to call upon her. But as a month turned into season and season turned into a year she realized that he was never coming. Not for her any way. He probably was too busy with never ending slew of trollops he associated with. For the first year she had obsessively searched for his name among the papers for any news, any snippet of information on his activities. The stories were always the same. The Earl of Mulholland seen with this actress or that opera singer. They had broken her heart every time, but for some reason she couldn't stop herself from searching, from reading, from re-opening the wound. It wasn't until a year and a half that she had given up; given up on any chance that she had a future with her husband other than their current arrangement.

Instructing Bonnie to clean up the parlor and extinguish the lights she slowly made her way up to her bed chamber. Although it was cold and unforgiving she did not have the multiple eyes of society on her when she was with her own thoughts. Even though more times then she cared to admit her thoughts strayed to Niklaus.

There was no reason why she should still think of him as she did. Maybe it was the fruitlessness of first love that always brought her back to him. She had convinced herself that she did not stay in London because of him, but she never made the initiative to leave either. Caroline was hard-pressed to accept that she was just a married woman with no future ahead of her. She had been labeled as such by the ton yet she never could fully understand the ramifications of what that meant. That was until the rumors started. It was in every sitting room, on the pages of the gossip rags, even on occasion while she was in earshot. Lady Mikaelson who was estranged from her husband never failed to have male company in her bed. Lady Mikaelson who seemed polite and gracious in public really was nothing but a painted harlot behind closed doors. The rumors had started around a year ago after her blossoming friendship with a composer who had just commissioned his first opera. The falsities grew from there to the point where every man that was in her company was either a lover or a former lover who wanted to reinstate his claim upon her. No one would believe that Caroline Mikaelson had never taken a lover, or that the only man she had ever been intimate with was her husband.

Her reputation had however brought some new possibilities to forefront of her mind. Many people envied the freedom that she had. In reality she did not commit the offenses that were attached to her name but she was envied for having the option to commit them. It made her think, especially with the overwhelming seclusion if taking a lover would be so entirely horrible. With her improved looks and her reputation it would not be altogether unheard of for her to finally take a lover. In fact it might even douse the never ending torch that she still carried for her husband who had never been a husband to her at all.

"My lady would you like help from your stays?" Bonnie said quietly as she entered her bedchamber. Caroline nodded to her as the girl quickly moved to help her from the garment. Her mind lingered on her current predicament. She tried to conjure up the face of her husband, but found that other than knowing him to be incredibly handsome; she could not remember the very shape of his lips or the exact color of his eyes. Perhaps that was the sign that she was indeed ready to move on, perhaps that was the way she could know that he had finally left her. She used this as a sign to finally make her decision. She would take a lover. The only question was who?

The morning was crisp and warm which was startling because the rain had yet to cease. The warmth caused the rain to steam off of the earth in a misty haze that looked as if it could intoxicate some wayward traveler. Caroline spent her mornings as she always did, with a tray brought to her quarters and the newest novel that she purchased on Bond Street. This book though being considered frightful to the sensibilities of many untried young ladies intrigued Caroline. The tales of far off adventures, maidens from the harems of a rich sultan and the culture there made her wish for such a life. Wish for a new place where she could start completely over; fall in love with a man who could truly love her back, a place that could quell the cavernous hole residing in her heart. Bonnie slipped into the room noiselessly removing her tray and placing a small stack of correspondence in its place. Setting the book to the side she grabbed the usual lists of invitations and bills and began to sort through them mindlessly.

Apparently the Duchess of Chillingsworth was having another ball, obviously in an attempt to find her son a suitable wife. As Elena's chaperone she would clearly be amongst the invited, having paved her friend's way into polite society. The new Duke, though amiable enough was known to be a humorless dunce. Marriage between the two would be quite a coup for any young lady she could not imagine Elena consenting to marriage with someone who would most likely bore her to tears. She penned small acceptance letters to the ball and the opening of the museum's new wing and then declined the rest under the pretense of being otherwise engaged. After dealing with the rest of the correspondence she lightly perused her bills from the dress maker and the jeweler. Smaller than most titled married women of the ton, she sighed at the dress maker's receipt. The gown she had commissioned for tonight's costume ball had cost a great deal more then she had originally anticipated. But the thick red velvet and heavy gold cord that encompassed her Queen's costume made her look as regal and exotic as some foreign princess.

Tonight she would go about looking among the men of the ton to find a prospective lover. Her mind wandered to whoever the man might be, her only hope was that the sorrow that followed her around day after day would dissolve into bliss. That she might find someone who loved her, and who she could love in return. It was strange to her that she yearned so desperately to be loved. But her husband's treatment had left an ache inside that never left. She felt it every morning when she would wake up alone, and every night when she laid down under her thick coverlet and stared off into the increasing darkness. It was like a rain cloud that hung over her head everywhere she ventured. The burden that she had worn since the Earl's carriage has pulled away from his estate on their honeymoon. The day he had stolen her heart and thrown her to the side as easily as if he were removing his cravat.

A delicate sigh escaped her lips as she set the rest of her bills aside to handle after breaking her fast. Her eyes caressed the stark white note sitting alone on the surface of the tray. Confusion itched at her. Peculiar, why hadn't she seen it before? She lightly picked up the missive and turned it over in her hands. Her heart stopped as the familiar seal glinted up at her. Nik. The breath surged from her lungs as her shaking hands slowly broke the seal and unfolded the gleaming white pages.

Lady Mikaelson,

There is a matter of the utmost importance that I must discuss with you. I will call on you at half seven tonight.

Yours,

Niklaus Mikaelson, Earl of Mulholland.

A wry smile settled on her lips. Three years of marriage and he couldn't even address her by her given name. She tossed the note bitterly aside. Whatever pressing business that he needed settled would have to wait, there was no way she was calling off her engagement tonight for some fair-weather spouse. Not only for Elena's sake, but for her intentions this evening as well. No husband, no matter how handsome he may be, could make her do that.