Beatrice was welcomed by the butler, Sir Brauss, at the entrance of Cornwell Estate. He methodically instructed the maids to prepare tea for the Young Mistress of the house, though his shoulders appeared unusually tense. "Did you enjoy the tea party, Miss Beatrice?" He asked, his tone restrained as always.
Beatrice smiled politely, "Yes. It was quite pleasant." The butler did not ask anything further.
They both walked through the halls, passing the reception room.
"Do we have guests, Sir Brauss?" Beatrice continued to walk towards her private study on the west side of the floor. She already had an idea who they were.
"Yes, Miss. The Young Master has returned from Thornvale. He has guests." The butler answered. He was expecting the Young Mistress to inquire further, but thankfully, she did not. The air felt heavy and the awkward silence only grew.
Upon entering her study, she noticed a letter sitting on her desk. She picked it up, feeling the velvet-like texture of the envelope beneath her fingertips. It did not have a signature on the cover, but she was quite sure this was one of those courting letters which were in style these days.
Without minding it further, Beatrice put aside the letter and looked at the elderly Butler. "I assume that Sir Brauss has something to say. Is it about my dear brother?" Butler Brauss opened his mouth to tell Beatrice the news, when there was a knock on the door.
Herrace Cornwell stood at the entrance of her study, a small, meaningful smile plastered on his face. His rich berry-toned hair, brighter than Beatrice's, caught the golden hour light and glowed like embers, his jade eyes holding a quiet intent.
He pulled out a chair, instructing a maid to brew a cup of tea for him. He sat down purposefully, keeping the folder that he was holding on her desk.
"Sister, how have you been?" The question itself seemed harmless, if it were not for the faint quirk of his lips.
Could he be any more obvious?
Beatrice did not let her inner thoughts show on her face. Her expression remained ever composed. "I have been well — you have always seen to that. I am rather interested in you, brother. You seem to have a peculiar glow on your face."
"It would only be natural for me to rejoice in your prospects, dear sister. You have already reached the age to begin a family. Blessedly, a long list of suitors has also arrived. It is no surprise though, sister has always been charming." Herrace handed Beatrice the file that he had carried with him into her study. He reclined in his chair, clearly amused by the frozen look on Beatrice's face.
Her hands shook for a second as she held the thick pile of documents. A chuckle bubbled inside from her soon after. "Oh dear brother, I appreciate your concerns. I'll be sure to have a good look at this. You must have worked hard."
"It is my responsibility to look after my sister, is it not?" Herrace remarked, taking a leisurely sip of tea that was served. Suddenly his eyes rested on an unopened letter on the desk. Judging by its texture in the light and no signature of the sender on the front, he had a pretty good idea of what that envelope contained.
"It seems that the list is ever incrementing." Beatrice did not take his comment lightly, but there wasn't much that she could do to shut his running mouth. It would only amuse him more.
The old butler, who was standing like a statue, saw the tension rise in the air. "Young Master," he skillfully interjected, "there are guests waiting for you in the reception area. It is not wise to make them wait." Herrace nodded and stood up. The meaningful smile did not leave his face until he exited the room.
Beatrice told the maids to leave the room immediately and the door clicked shut behind them. For a moment, Beatrice stared into nothing, trying to calm her nerves. She failed miserably.
She threw the list of the suitors onto the floor, fiery rage simmering inside her.
That bastard. He walked into MY study, sat down like he already owned it, and handed me a list of men like I was livestock at a market. Smiling the whole time. That insufferable, condescending smile —
A list. A goddamn list.
Does he think I don't know what this is?. Does he think I'll just quietly pick one of his carefully selected leashes and call it a husband. Over my dead body. Over HIS dead body.
Nothing seemed to go as she had planned. She had to persuade Earl Everleigh somehow. She regretted not acting any sooner. With all the support withdrawn from her, she couldn't trust anyone but him. He would surely understand her situation. Beatrice swore that she would make him. By any means.
---
Unable to settle down after the exchange with her brother, she decided to take an evening walk in her garden. She purposefully walked towards the gazebo where she used to have tea with her mother.
She stood at its entrance and her body wouldn't move. She could not bring herself to step inside. Neither did she want to go back. So she stood by the pillar within her reach, resting her head on it. Her mind wandered aimlessly, back to the conversation that she had with her brother, the act she had to put up in front of the Marchioness...and finally to the reason why she was doing so.
Her chest tightened at the thought of her late parents. She wondered what would have happened if her father did not persistently insist on taking her mother for hunting that day. Would her mother still be alive? What about her father? Would she still had been put into the same position as she was in right now? She gritted her teeth at the unresolved anger and sorrow that she had felt since.
The thoughts only dampened her spirits further. Irritated, she walked away from the gazebo, towards the lawn. The grass looked green and fresh. Without a second thought, she removed her shoes and lay her bare feet on the soft grass.
---
After cooling off her head in the garden, she slowly walked back to her study. A cool breeze lightened up her temper and she breathed in deeply. It seemed like it would rain tomorrow.
Inside the study, her gaze fell upon the anonymous letter. She didn't want to ruin her improved mood by reading it, so she shoved it inside one of her drawers.
She sat on the sofa placed beside the fireplace and began to prepare for the upcoming banquet that was set to take place the next month. It was certain that her brother would attend the reception along with her as soon as he heard about it. It would be in her best interest to contact the Earl at the earliest.
She called in her personal maid, Lisa, and told her to fetch some ink, pen and paper. As she wrote a letter to the Earl, she told Lisa to get in touch with a seamstress urgently. None of the dresses she had was fitting for a banquet like such.
Beatrice retired to her room after delivering the letter. She only had one thought on her mind, to make a lasting impression on that day.