-CHAPTER 23-
She did not go into Georgina's room, nor did she care to bedeck her face with doll-like lashes and overall outlandish makeup. She also did not care to don a flamboyant dress with gingerbread detailing. Her motive for leaving the house was different. She needed all the comfort with which she could effectively carry out her plans.
She did, however, put on a lace gown boasting frills that collected just beneath her chin. The sleeves reached and cloaked about her wrists, hiding her scars.
But this concealment wasn't done with the family's honor or repute in mind. What did she care if the world knew how much she was being maltreated in her father's house? While bathing that morning, she decided she would no longer be in a position—orputherselfinone—where she would be ridiculed or pitied.
In her resolve to keep her promise to herself, she shelved the gloomy countenance, much to the amazement of her family and anyone else in the house who expected otherwise. She had also made sure to tuck her scars neatly out of view.
Estella's stomach drum rolled into a staggering growl as she glided down the snaky hallway. She shook it off, agreeing she could survive another hour before collapsing, surrendering to the deathly claws of starvation. At least then she would be out of this house. She could handle whatever came after her escape.
There was a lilt to how she walked into the sitting room that morning. It was in a way that had both sisters sizing her up and down and the baroness shooting her a sideglance while feigning disinterest. The whole family had gathered by the time she got there. They were all present as though waiting on her.
When Estella saw her father, thick somersaulting waves crashed deep into the pit of her belly, her chest pounding hard… it had better not be what she was thinking.
"What took you so long in there?" Georgina spat vehemently. "Didn't I tell you to put on makeup? You just wasted time for nothing. Hurry up and get going. You've kept Father waiting long enough."
Father!! Father! Father.
Estella crinkled her brows, her lashes fluttering involuntarily. Why wouldn't Georgina cease dragging her father into everything? And why was he dressed so ceremoniously?
Thatman.
His smartly polished shoes that shimmered like glass were the thing that gave him away. He also wore his infamous timepiece on his wrist. He had certainly put in the effort, which could only mean one thing.
No. Estella moaned quietly, falling a step back. She could not accept this. She would not.
"You would need a shawl about yourself," the baron said, not with a caring voice or indifferent tone, then stood up stiffly. "Charles will ferry us by coach to the seaport, and we will board a boat from there to Chateaûbriant to quicken our voyage."
What her father said didn't register with her. She was secretly sulking over her failed plans yet again. It was all for nothing now. The pep talk. The carefully mapped-out plan. How she would watch for when the coach hit rocky terrain, causing it to slow, before jumping out. It was all for nothing. She was really stuck, wasn't she? She would have to show herself before the duke.
"What are you doing, blandly standing there?" Geraldine's voice startled her awake as though waking her from sleep. "Father has already gone out. Do you want to keep him waiting in the coach, too? Be on your way this minute, my God. Just how insensitive and clueless is this girl?" She said that last part to Georgina, who hissed without saying anything else.
But Estella had not seen when her father got up and made out of the door. So why were they attacking her for being insensitive? Were they not said word, with how no one would tell her why her father was also to accompany her? When it was she who the duke had requested for to come state her case? Or wasn't that what Georgina said?
"And you, girl." The baroness' voice was calm and strong. It resounded deep within her bones, weakening her knees. Estella halted on the spot. "Be sure to beg or grovel at the duke's if you must, so we see him lighten your punishment. Viscount Alistair has invited you to his house for dinner tomorrow. Remember that when you reach there."
Of course, she would remember that. That last bit was the motivation she needed to devise another game plan, and fast. After the treatment they'd dealt her for stepping on the man's toes during the dance, she'd be damned to have to present herself before that pig face again. Let Geraldine do it. Or Georgina. Under no circumstances would she allow her father bring her back to this prison of a home or make her become enjoined with the viscount. She would have to die first. Steeling her shoulders, she breathed deep and marched forward.
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Over in Chateaûbriant, Félix sat at the far-reaching dining table, sipping a cup of steaming tisane. The whole information overload of finding out from Bach that Estella was underage threw him into a monsoon of thoughts. Two of which he could not contain. The first being that she was, as alleged, not fully eighteen. And the second, that her threat regarding telling everyone how he'd accosted her out in the dark now held a more forceful voice than he'd initially imagined.
Turning over that one pivotal moment in his head was eating him up inside. Little wonder he was starting to feel sick. Or was it the contagious flu plaguing the earl that had caught up with him? Either way, he could not dismiss the fact that pushing Estella against the wall until she retaliated and fought back, possibly carrying out her threats, was a matter that plagued him continuously. It troubled his heart, throbbed in his mind, and ached in his bones.
Which was why the colorful display of prawns and fermented grills, amongst others splayed out before him, did not faze him. It was another matter entirely, imagining what her coming there today held in store for him. Thinking that, he sipped off the herbal tea again.
"Your Grace."
Hearing that voice brought a scowl to his face, his brows knitting in annoyance. Did they not know what it meant to intrude on him while having some peace and quiet?