The Criswell's Curse

My body froze into place. Shivers crawled up and down my spine and my heart blasted as if it was the last man standing in a race with the Gods. The tableware fell onto the table and then bounced onto the floor as the strength in my trembling hands left me. My insides twisted, taking away any appetite that had remained.

“Are you alright, Ophelia?” The Duke questioned, but I could barely talk.

“My Lady, how about a glass of water?” Bradley pushed his drink towards me, bringing me back to reality.

Suddenly, my body got up, screeching the chair onto the floor. “I seem to be unwell. If you will excuse me, Your Grace, My Lords.”

Hurriedly, I darted out of the dining room, hoping to escape Edgar’s words if not for a moment longer. This time was bound to arrive and even though my soul had been preparing for it, the trauma still felt too vivid. Just hearing that he’d written a letter had been enough to make most of my resolve crumble.

“Are you alright, Ophelia?” I stopped, turned and saw Mace, sweating slightly from running after me.

“I’ll be. Nothing a good night of rest won’t heal, My Lord.” My eyes glanced to anything around me, everything but him as he’d be able to see the truth hidden behind the melting layers of my worries. He saw through my lie, he had to. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Hastily, I headed towards my chambers, leaving Mace stranded in the hallway. The door closed behind me with a loud thud and my fingers turned the key until it refused to move any further. Leaning my back into the wooden door frame, my body fell straight onto the floor. My reflection in the tall mirror in front of me was not my own.

Beaten. Bruised. Used. All the scars came back in a glimpse, rooting deeply into my soul.

Tears slowly blurred my vision forcing me to bite down on my bottom lip strongly.

I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t remove his face out of my brain.

Meow.

Nero popped from under the bed, rubbing his head in my legs as his sleek tail slithered into my thighs, playfully purring. My fingers approached the creature’s soft fur, petting it in slow movements. “Of course, you’re here...”

Footsteps and voices approached the door. “Are you alright, milady? May we come inside?”

Understanding my moment of peace had come to an end, my hands leaned on the door and my body rose. Rapidly, my fingers swiped away the tears and smacked the dress, taking away the momentary crumble from the cotton fabric. With two turns of the key, the door unlocked.

“Milady...” Alphie wished to speak, but she said nothing more.

“I’d like to rest.”

“Of course, I’ll get your nightgown.” As the maid searched for my attire in the closet, other maids started to enter the room, making preparations for my upcoming night. With them, Jade came, slyly placing himself behind me, his figure quiet enough to blend in with the busy environment surrounding us.

“Jade, you’ll need to carry two people from now on.” I whispered, preventing the busy bees from eavesdropping.

“Yes, Master.” And with that, he bobbed his head and left, knowing that continuously staying in my chambers was pushing his luck.

Once the maids finished their business, the bed sheets had been spread open and the moon already shun brightly onto its intense paleness. I was finally alone, and both my mind and body had now regained its calm, rational selves.

Why would the Duke want me to come back? Was the first thought that passed through my head.

After leaving to the Wharton’s, that man neglected me, never once caring for my well-being nor responding to any of my letters. None of them cared for me. And yet, I had received that rather peculiar message.

Had his plans gone astray? Or was it really true? Was Amanda truly sick, ill, without being able to survive?

Certainly, that would explain why he wished my return, but even then, something was odd. No matter how one saw it, Amanda wouldn’t beg to see me on her deathbed, in fact, she would definitely avoid seeing me at all costs. It was true that some people find their peace and repent with the face of the Grim Reaper but my sister wasn’t one of them.

Could she have been poisoned? Another possibility, not too far from a hypothetical reality. The daughter of a Duke as a position many aim to attain or to steal for themselves, but she wasn’t involved in many scandals, unless her beloved fiancée was called upon.

I glanced towards the windows, feeling my body sink into the freshly washed sheets. No matter how hard my mind tried to twist the scenario, there was only one variable that was unsettling: Bradley Trace.

It was the sole explanation. That man’s interest seemed to be undying, and that was a threat to the Duke’s plans and so, to him, my presence had now become an obstacle. With the sheets crumbling between my fingers, anger boiled in my bones. That perky brat had now upgraded his status from an eyesore to a problem that needed to be revoked from my life.