The sun crested over the Zoldera mountains and golden light played against Landon’s white nightshirt as he tucked Larissa into a secluded alcove. In the Phillips household, the twins did nothing but treat the manor and its occupants as their personal playthings.
Running down the halls, terrorizing the maids, and marking up the walls with stains. Every room but their Mother’s tea room. It was a place the twins were not allowed into, but they surely knew the kitchen would make special cookies and candies for the lady of the house.
Their tiny hands clasped each other as they intently watched as the kitchen maids filtered in and out of the room. Placing tea cups and platters one by one. Watching their mother and sister partake in their morning tea. The sight of freshly squeezed juice, fluffy whipped eggs, and maple bacon filled the table.
A maid in her mid-fifties whose back was as stiff as a board. Her greying hair pulled back into a neat bun. In the corner of her eyes fashioning deeply entrenched crow's feet as her face held a perpetual grim look.
Who else could it be other than Marchioness Phillips’ most trusted wet nurse, Old Lady Mary? Mary went along with her chores, gingerly setting trays of muffins, scones, and Chocolate bonbons on the table.
The reflective shine of chocolate that coated the bonbon was drool-inducing. Larissa’s eyes widened as her patience wore thin, gripping her brother's hand to encourage a bit of restraint. It was all for naught when Nurse Mary brought out a sifter and dusted the Bonbons with powdered sugar.
The sugar drifted in the air until it landed gently on the chocolate treat mesmerizing the twins.
It looked like freshly covered snow on top of Mount. Zoldera during Winter solstice. As Nurse Mary placed the sifter away, Larissa had no choice but to rush the table pulling Landon along.
Giggles escaped their lips as they busied themselves by filling their mouths with chocolate bonbons.
The abrupt entrance of the sibling pair earned them a glare from Old Lady Mary, causing the twins to share a mischievous smile before skittering off down the hall with their personal wet nurse in toe, frantically bowing in apology before exiting.
“Children!” The maid called out as fits of laughter bounced off the walls but the raucous did not pull the Marchioness’ attention. Sophia sipped her tea sparsely remaining calm but her eyes frantically moved toward the door every few seconds.
Octavia glanced between her mother and sister, sensing the uneasy atmosphere they both shared.
Olivia would usually chatter about her day in the Clandestine Ward and the fashion trends she and her mother should participate in. Or spout some drivel of a young gentleman helping her in finding her friends when she got 'lost'.
But to Octavia's pleasant surprise, Olivia did not speak a word when she entered the tea room and sat staring at her mother.
Octavia’s eyebrow cocked upward unsure what she should do. Neither of them touched the food the maids brought out round after round.
The steam rolling off the eggs was appetizing enough for Octavia to slowly fill her plate with assortments of her favorite foods. Picking up and placing her silverware carefully, so as not to bother her mother and sister’s fugue state they were in.
Time ticked slowly and a round of heavy knocks on the door caused the maids to go rigid. A smile crept across Marchioness Phillips’ face. An older gentleman walked neatly into the sitting room where the Marchioness took her breakfast.
Olivia impatiently watched the old man step forth presenting a beige envelop as a fragrance of wild lilies drifted off the silver tray. Marchioness Phillips glanced toward the clock, seeing that the time was not late.
Sophia was a vain woman. Seeing as their invitation made it before her tea had time to cool meant, Countess Hess sent their invitation as soon as she awoke.
Sensing the shift in her mother's mood, Olivia’s tense shoulders relaxed. An invitation from the Hess manor was sparse, but with Spring on its way, every Madam clawed their way up to receive the exclusive invitation.
Marchioness Phillips reached out to find a pale blue crest of a Parvum Wolf behind the beige envelope. Sophia’s eyes dulled as she pointed glare toward the old man.
Roughly picking up the pale blue letter, Marchioness Phillips crudely broke the crest, the faintest scent of pine that came from the treated parchment was overwhelmed by the scent of lilies.
Sophia could not stop her eyebrows from furrowing as the letter was addressed to her by her niece.
The Cartwrights, a long-standing family who have been in decline, recovered a semblance of nobility when a young Sophia married the current Marquis Phillips. The marital bonds stabilized the Cartwright’s obscure position in high society. So it was no surprise that a letter from the Cartwright household was sent to Sophia on the edge of spring.
In the Cartwright manor, there was only little Samantha who barely turned fifteen. Viscount Staten’s niece and the only piece the Cartwrights had to play.
Sophia had been disgusted in recent years at her maternal family’s lack of ability. Money was a pressing matter. Buying out low-quality mines in hopes to strike big. Unfortunately, the mines only produced low-quality coal. The maintenance cost outweighed the profit and in the past three years, the Cartwrights have been in the red.
Viscount Staten decided to follow tradition and sell off his niece to the highest bidder.
The letter held no detailed information, just a mention of Samantha missing her older cousins and hoping she could spend more time with them. The Marchioness stared at the sloppy adolescent writing, imagining her sister-in-law breathing down the little girl’s neck as she wrote.
Disgusting. The Marchioness thought.
“Mary,” Sophia called out. The navy blue uniformed maid quietly stepped forward. “Write back to Viscountess Cartwright to invite her to town.” Sophia folded the letter no longer wanting to look at the horrid thing, shoving it promptly into the maid's hand.
“We will head down to Monsieur Bovey’s boutique.” The Marchioness grinned. “To take our measurement.”
Olivia’s ears perked, her smile blinding to all who were near. Looking around the table before she scrunched her button nose. Pushing aside the tower of pastries in front of her to simply sip on her tea. Satisfaction filled the Marchioness’s eyes as she leaned forward to rub Olivia’s tender cheek as the mother and daughter pair discussed the fashions of the season.
It was Octavia who silently watched her mother and sister smiling shyly at each other. Looking down toward her plate filled with eggs and meats, her appetite grew.
Before she could stab a sausage, the plate was swiftly taken away and replaced with a plate full of grass. Octavia glanced at the help with a questioning eye. Greeted by a stone-faced maid who placed Octavia's plate on the cart to be thrown away.
Octavia’s eyes followed the maids who took the trays of food out of the tea room one by one. Octavia dragged her gaze from the door toward Olivia who happily bit a piece of a carrot, only to be greeted by a displeasing expression worn by her mother.
“A woman's figure needs to be maintained.” The Marchioness lectured before touseling a curl away from Olivia’s face.
The plate in front of her was filled to the brim with salad, celery, and red plump tomatoes. Octavia’s expression sunk as it reminded her of the bunny she and Olivia owned. It died and Octavia was convinced it was due to the red devils that rolled around on her plate.
“I am not hungry.” Octavia bit back a heavy sigh as she stood.
Marchioness Phillips gazed towards her second daughter. Her eyes slowly moved up and down. A satin ribbon pulled taut around Octavia’s waist in the shade of light blue framed Octavia’s thin figure.
Octavia’s narrow shoulders, pointy elbows, and bosom with no shape were overwhelmed by the wheat golden hair that tumbled passed her back. Not to mention the spatter of pale freckles that painted her face and shoulders.
Marchioness Phillips' nose crinkled as she crossed out an off-the-shoulder neckline for Octavia in an instant. Flowy materials and long sleeves would be best to highlight Octavia’s most notable feature, which was her lithe waist.
On the other hand. Olivia’s skin was pale as even the faintest of touches could redden the young maiden’s skin. With not a mark of imperfection as golden locks framed her soft features. While her bodice was increasing in size by the season. Looking over Octavia once more, Marchioness Phillips’ expression did not soften.
“On second thought, you should eat more.” Sophia had no qualms about nitpicking her daughters' looks.
“I am not hungry,” Octavia repeated as a cold chill crawled up her back. A familiar sensation Octavia would get when her mother was too busy comparing her to her sister.
Marchioness Phillips threw a glare at her second before she titled her head. “Your body looks sickly, no eligible man will approach if you appear in such a state.”
I hope. Octavia thought but she remained silent not agreeing with her mother’s suggestion.
The silence sparked an air of deficiency, Sophia narrowed her eyes at the young maiden.
“Mary, Bring the second young miss some bread when she returns to her room.” The Marchioness’ voice was hard as her look was definitive.
Octavia watched as Olivia quirked her thin eyebrow as she a smirk slowly emerged on her face. Eyes filled with judgment, Octavia's shoulders slumped to an unnoticeable degree in hopelessness.
Octavia found her mornings with her mother and sister increasingly tiresome these days. Often talking about which banquets they would attend, visiting salons, and their wardrobe. It was the same thing every day and Octavia found the monotony excruciating.
It was on days like these when her days seemed never-ending. When her sister and mother were criticizing Octavia’s every little move.
Why her body was sharp and pointy?
What design could possibly suit her 'unusual' body type?
Why were her freckles are so ugly?
Why did she have dark blond hair that looked like mud?
It was questions that were never spoken but always heard in their silence and stares.
In the eyes of her mother, Octavia would never be enough. So why should she try? Instead of arguing, Octavia glanced toward Mary and nodded.
“If you could make your special sweet bread Mary.” Octavia showcased a tiny grin toward the old maid. “That would be delightful.” The old maid unlike her mother dispersed her love to the Phillips children evenly. Octavia was greeted with a warm smile and a quick nod of compliance.
Octavia swiftly turned to walk out the door as soft conversation filled the tea room. Topics of what fabric to pick. What designs were fashionable, and so on.
Octavia squared her shoulders as she walked down the long hallway. Her heels clicked with each step as little maids scurried to the side to bow in respect before moving on with their daily tasks.
A deep sigh filled her room after she shut the door behind her. A single tear pricked at her eyes but Octavia banished the tear as conversations like today were a common occurrence in the Phillips household.
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