Just a few hours ago, the dreadful news had struck my soul, irking an anxiety that was far too powerful to ignore. Somehow, my body had been asleep for a full week, having barely survived because of Lady Catherine’s mysterious servants who happened to carry a handful of herbs, one of them being the sole savior of my humane body. But wasn’t it strange? Why would a servant carry those expensive items so casually?
When the doors opened to Devlin’s study room, a small white space was displayed, contrasting the remaining of the house that was filled with warm, cozy tones of brown and shades of Seedling flowers. The ceiling and the walls were completely void of color, as if God himself had blessed the wood with such peculiar tonalities. However, the several furniture elements scattered around were all tainted black or consumed by a strangely appealing dark grey. This room was an anomaly in the middle of such a warm looking house, bringing the coldness of the Frosting winds with it.
“It is my brand new importation from over the western seas... they call it wall paint. Curious, isn’t it?” The Earl commented, his figure turning from the windows, facing me with a sleek smile spread across his lips. “I am glad to see you have finally recovered, My Lady. Our hearts were aching with concern, you see?”
The butler stationed at the door bobbed his head and snapped his fingers, causing two other of his kin to enter the room, each carrying distinct drinks - from two kettles, one harboring warm coffee while other hid away the presence of some tea, alongside some water glasses and freshly squeezed orange juices. Once all the items were placed on the center of the black table, which appeared rather heavy as it had been crafted with chunks of stone and pieces of dark wood on its center, Devlin sat down, grabbing one of the coffee cups. His face melted in pleasure once the tingling sensation of energy consumed his taste buds.
With a cordial smile and after sitting on the cushioned couch, my hands placed the tea cup on top of a small porcelain plate, allowing the servant to pour me the drink. “I am truly thankful for your hospitality and aid with such a delicate matter. I’ll make sure to keep such kindness close to heart.”
“It was my pleasure, Lady Ophelia.” The Earl smiled as his hands brought one of his knees on top of the other, pulling his back straight with a graceful stance, his cup already emptied. “If you require any assistance, do not hesitate to ask.”
At first glance such heart-warming words were simple, easy to be misguided by care and affection, however, the line underneath was far too sharp for most to read. This foolish man had chosen to take my side, leaving the rest of the Criswell’s hanging to dry - certainly he had weighted the options presented in front of him, realizing his dream could never be achieved if he kept waiting on the Duke’s promise. It was clear he thought of using me yet, such relationship was symbiotic as we would both benefit from such sudden partnership.
“Well, I shall be taking my leave, Earl. Once again, it was a pleasure.” Finishing my own drink, I got up and my fingers grabbed the hem of the expensive orange dress borrowed from Patricia’s wardrobe, pulling up the row of frills touching the white stone floor before leaving.
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As the carriage thumped over the stony path, the horses galloping on the dirt rung into my ears, causing my attention to focus on the woman standing before me. Ivy was quiet, simply gazing at the window, observing the greenery and the wild animals that happily wandered through the land, completely immersed in such scenario.
“What exactly happened after I passed out?” My voice brought the maid’s attention back to this plane of existence, yet she didn’t seem bothered in the slightest.
“Where to start, milady...” Unsure of what to talk about first, Ivy’s teeth chewed on her bottom lip, her fingers twirling on each other at a strangely rhythmic pace. Eventually, she explained everything as she recalled, from Bradley taking me to the room before being miraculously saved by Lady Catherine’s servants, to Terrel’s little burst of emotions, eagerly lustful to attain me at my weakest state. “We all thought you’d...”
“Why would a servant be carrying herbs around? Was he an herbalist?” The girl shook her head, completely denying the most reasonable explanation just to leave a rather sickening one behind. “So she already knew...”
When I drank that poison so valiantly my soul knew it wasn’t going to die as the cards had already proclaimed my fate, allowing me to only gracefully pass on that sickening day, however, such event wasn’t in my plans. It seemed like the peculiar Catherine knew far more than she led to believe and somehow, she’d saved me from an eminent threat. What was she truly planning?
“What milady?” Not understanding my mumbling, Ivy’s confusion only grew.
“What herbs were they? The antidote?” At my question, the maid grabbed a small pouch from within a large cloth bag, where she carried most of her assets before opening it up with a twist. An unknown fragrance filled the carriage when her hands scooped out three vivid yellow leaves that appeared to be brighter than the sun itself. “I see...”
Throughout all my lives, such strange entity had never appeared before me. Maybe it was something imported from abroad, yet how could they still look so vivid and hydrated? My mind flew back to Catherine and the man in charge of allegedly saving my life.
How much does that woman truly know? What exactly is she after?
We’d never made any contact and, even in the past, our interactions were completely inexistent. Rumors were easy to spread, thus she was poorly seen by most nobles and aristocrats whose hypocrisy clung higher than a desperate man, holding to dear life at the top of a cliff. They talked about her and the paramours1 she wore like jewels in a crown, not even trying to hide her strange habits, all guided through sole pleasure and convenience - the Woman of a Hundred Men, the public called her. Yet, their insults weren’t enough to prevent their curiosity and intrigue as all of these ass-licking, unscrupulous nobles kept on attending her parties, wearing stereotypical compliments on their sleeves.
That woman had always been peculiar, a unique individual who valued her own happiness above all else; the sole member of high-aristocracy whose lust surpassed the typical power-hungry greediness. Her interest in growing the status of her house was inexistence, even if her own sister was one of the King’s many lovers. That unorthodox identity and those strange values would, undoubtedly, prove to become a poisonous fruit for those who attempted to take a bite.
“We stayed with you the whole time, milady...” Her hands stored the leaves back into the pouch, sealing the intensity of the smell away within the thick fabric.
“Lord Bradley too?”
“Of course. He barely left your side even when Terrel would...” The maid bit down on her own words, feeling doubtful about revealing the thoughts escaping through her lips.