A week ago, right after Ophelia left the Hillgarden’s estate, Patricia was thrilled. Almost immediately, she called for her servants, asking for a paper and a quill, knowing who to share such grand news with.
Patricia always thought Amanda’s younger sister was sickly, a route that by itself was impossible to take and yet, she appeared far more useful than predicted. Who knew she was a simpleton, a silly girl who simply yearned for some love and some affection from another?
Her explanation made sense. It was not unusual to hear about nobles that ended up too drunk or heavily drugged at Lady Catherine’s parties, especially during her regular masquerades. Everyone knew how eccentric her balls were, however, having hosted an annual event for everyone to attend, such pleasantries were considerably toned down, looking far more normal than usual. Of course, that didn’t prevent people from smuggling the goods around and escaping to the inner parts of her estate just to give in to the demons they constantly yearned for.
Drugs poured one’s rawest thoughts out in the open, and Patricia knew how much of a bitch Amanda could be. How much harassment had Ophelia gone through to make her inner thoughts become so twisted? It was only natural to resent her to that extent, after all, they were like sister in arms, both suffering at the hands of that wicked woman.
“Milady, your writing material.” The servant placed a handful of scented paper sheets on top of the table.
Hastily yet graciously, the young maiden began writing two different letters: one aimed towards her father who had left to settle some matters in the south for a handful of days; and another to her good friend Holly, who would be eager to hear about the upcoming celebration.
“Send them right away.” She smiled before heading to the entrance. “Let’s go, I must see a tailor immediately!”
The next day came far quicker than Patricia was expecting. Her body ached slightly as she had spent an entire afternoon in the capital grounds, searching for the perfect dress to use on such a special occasion.
“So, what are these exciting stories you told me about, Lady Patricia?” Holly grabbed a small piece of carrot cake, leading it straight into her light pink lips.
Young and naïve, Holly Statton had arrived at the Hillgarden’s estate early in the morning as she remained too enthusiastic to sleep. Patricia had told her she had news to share, but they seemed far more interesting than she led to believe on the short sentences placed on the paper.
“Lady Holly...” Patricia rested the pink-colored teacup on the table. An ambitions smile on her lips. “I’m sure you’ve felt it too... the tides are changing.”
Holly wasn’t foolish. She was always listening, always observing. High-society loved to gossip and rumors about The Black Rose, Ophelia Criswell, had already spread. Some said she had captured the heart of many bachelors, being Amanda’s fiancé, one of the unlucky few.
Even lurking in the background, both Patricia and Holly had seen Ophelia’s display of power. How she left the most wanted man alone, just for him to be engulfed by a swarm of noblewomen right after. After that, no one dared to approach her as they feared their humiliation might be next.
It was almost as if she was out of our league... Holly recalled the feelings she had when she saw the young noble lady for the first time. She was gracious, humble, noble, and yet, extremely cunning and resentful – a completely different breed from the vixens they were used to face.
“Only a blind person wouldn’t notice that My Lady. Could you get straight to the point? You’re boring me.” The guest brushed her short and curly blonde hair to the side, blinking one of her brown eyes playfully.
Patricia smirked as if she had been waiting for this opportunity for years. “Ophelia came to visit me yesterday... you see... she needed a space to throw a tea party next week.”
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“She’s cursed Patricia.” Holly frowned, not liking the way the conversation was headed. “Why are you even trying to approach her? She might have done well on Catherine’s ball, but she still lacks influence...”
“Holly!” Promptly, the host got up and sat next to the girl, grasping her hands tightly. “Amanda’s clearly fallen out of grace and her sister is surrounded by wealthy men! The Verne’s, the Trace’s, the Wharton’s... all of them want her! We mustn’t fall behind!”
Holly grew quiet, her mind pondering. After drinking a bit of the warm lemon tea, she finally intervened. “You know the Duke despises her. She will never gain his power, not like Amanda.”
“Alone she can’t, but you know the Criswell’s vassals are strong. We are strong.” Patricia had already seen this scenario ahead, she knew what had to be done, what needed to be said. “Look at Amanda! We spent years kissing her ass and for what? Our status are still the same!”
Seeing her friend’s stern expression, Patricia continued. “I’m not saying we should give up on Amanda... but we should keep our options open. You never know what might happen...”
Ophelia Criswell could never attain power directly, but the Duke had no sons. If the vassals placed enough pressure, she could carry the title with her second son. And knowing how perverse Terrel’s desires were, that would only take a handful of months, in worst case scenario, two or three years.
Even then, Holly remained slightly conflicted. She had never spoken to her before, but she didn’t appear to be gullible enough to be used. “She’s a menace Patricia. Don’t you remember that night?”
Swiftly, the host began explaining the events of the cursed girl’s visit religiously, each one leading to the suggestion of the tea party. As she spoke the guest’s expression twisted and turned, knowing fully well things couldn’t be that easy but eventually, all became surprisingly clear.
“So, are you saying she simply needs some friends to guide her?”
“And who else would be friends with a cursed girl besides the Saintess Statton and the kind Hillgarden?” Patricia smiled as Holly finally understood her wicked thoughts. They were going to use Ophelia’s status to climb up, to connect with higher nobles, to achieve richer sources.
“Indeed...” Holly’s pink lips twisted into a quarter of a moon, displaying a devilish grin. “Let’s guide a lost puppy home.”
When they met, they weren’t exactly friends. Both had one goal: to befriend Amanda and rise their status with their close relationship. Yet, they continuously failed to do so as their influence was scarce and not taken seriously in the slightest; not to mention the lack of marriage proposals – all falling on Amanda’s lap like leaves that are bound to fall on the Hunting1. Besides, that wretched brat was far too self-centered, too narcissistic to form any bonds with other girls. All she did was brag about Bradley and speak ill of her younger sister.
It was only when they acknowledged each other’s existence that they formed an unwritten contract. Both were daughters of Earls, meaning they were pawns in Duke Criswell’s game. That’s why they wanted power, influence, status. They yearned to be adored, respected, feared.
And yet, their ultimate goals couldn’t go further astray. Patricia wished to marry the son of a Duke, especially Bradley Trace as she’d fancied him since God knows when. Everyone knew he had exited the Royal Academy2 with the highest grades, graduating a full year before everyone else. He was kind, beautiful, smart, and rich. What else could a woman ask for?
Holly’s wish, however, laid far higher. As the ‘Saint’, she aimed to marry a prince, making him the next king. When she was younger, her mother read fairy tales rather often, hoping they would help settled the girl’s mind. In these tales, the queen was always a kind-hearted woman who helped the poor, who was humble and graceful, not wanting anything from herself, and in the end, she was always the one that got it all. That was why she used this mask, this display of charity, this purity wherever she went.
“Do you think they will come? It’s a tea party, not a ball.” Holly commented, remembering these types of parties were rarely frequented by men.
“Are you kidding? Everyone will come. No one will want to miss an event hosted by The Black Rose.” Patricia replied, finishing her slice of carrot cake in one go.
This situation was of significant benefit for both since, for the first time, they would be at a party for themselves, not serving someone else. They would make connections, especially with the heirs and the heads of the houses, for their life goals to be accomplished. Everything would work out the way they wanted to.
“Well then, I hope to hear from you soon.” Patricia took her partner to the door.
“Likewise.” Holly smiled, exiting moments after.
The cards rested on the table; the players eagerly awaited the start of the game. And, as Patricia and Holly thought about the beginning of her dream lives, Ophelia was already setting the bait for her next target.