The Criswell's Curse

“Milady, you look... beautiful.”

“Thank you, Olivia.” A polite smile spread across my lips as I heard the rest of the maids’ trade praising gossips about my good looks.

After several hours of work, the regular-looking ghost had turned into a refined, noble doll, emanating grace and delicacy. Olivia had interlaced my straight dark hair into two long, voluptuous braids that connected in the back of my neck, held by some bright red adornments. My pale complexion contrasted the darkness of the perfectly cut fringe alongside the two curled hair strands that framed my face. A soft pink powder rested on my cheeks, merging with the red vivid lips, tainted with the well-known color of passion.

The dress was a deep crimson red with some golden details around the sleeves and corset, forcing my rather pale breasts to pop out. Embracing my slick neck, there was a small necklace that contained a handful of blood-shot rubies within the carefully sculpted lace.

A wide grin appeared on my lips, as my mind kept on repeating my dear sister’s upcoming expression. As an avid lover of the social life, people knew her as the ‘woman in red’, always taking dresses that matched her crimson hair and bright cherry lips - a rather predictable choice, if you ask me.

Until I turned 16, my social life was minor, being only allowed to attend a handful of balls, all of them with a male escort. But Amanda was already 18, meaning that, even if my activities were bound by rules, hers weren’t.

What face will she make when she sees me? This thought made my stomach twirl in happiness as a little anxious bug crawled up and down in my insides.

Today, my sister’s reputation would take a heavy blow. However, this little stunt was far more than that; it was a statement to my family, to the nobles. And no one could go against it.

Mace waited at the entrance of the mansion, right in front of a majestic carriage made of the most exquisite wood and gems. As I approached, his brown eyes fell on me, forcing his cheeks to flush and his lips to part slightly.

“Did you wait long, My Lord?”

My words startled him. “I just arrived as well, Ophelia.” His large arm stretched towards me, helping me inside.

Our journey was filled with a strange, uncomfortable silence. Mace’s mind laid somewhere else, as he pondered on whatever rested on his thoughts deeply. From time to time, he would sneak a glance at me; however, my eyes loomed over the darkened fields of nature on the horizon, not wavering in the slightest.

After a long hour, the horses neighed, and the coachman stopped. We had arrived at the entrance of Lady Catherine’s estate. The bright lights emanating from the large lanterns waving down onto two armed knights allowed the walnut wood’s polish to shimmer.

I heard the unlock of the door - reality finally sinking in. As Mace exited the carriage, my body froze into place, weighting down the now uncomfortable cushion.

What if I fuck this up? What if things don’t go the way I need them to? What if...?

“Are you alright?” Mace’s kind voice brought me back to reality.

With a rather desolate smile and attempting to conceal the growing nerves crawling deep inside my soul, my hand grabbed his. “Yes, thank you.”

“Welcome, My Lord.” From the half-opened door, a man with gray-hair and a rather long beard appeared. “Please follow me.”

Unconsciously, I pulled Mace’s arm strongly. With each step we took, the closer we were to them - to my sister and to my second husband, Layton Verne. The light from the halls felt overwhelming, blinding my reasoning; the air was heavy as if it had all already been consumed.

We stopped, and I muttered up the courage to deal with my insecurities. With my back straight, my mind set, and a forcefully fake smile stamped on my lips, the large door opened. This was it, the only place in the entire kingdom where smiles hid hatred and everyone was a predator, waiting for the exact moment to strike: the high society’s gathering.