The Criswell's Curse

It seemed like my predictions were once again right. Several days had gone by and poor Gilbert was still stuck to the bed, far too wounded to attempt anything as all of them implied he’d need to leave the warmth and comfort of his bed. With the extent of his wounds, gracefully created by Aiden’s beating, it surely would take at least another week for his body to recover most of its movements.

“Milady, a letter has arrived for you.” Olivia bowed, handing me the small white envelope with the crest of the Wharton’s house attached to it in a thick, purple stamp.

[My dearest Ophelia,

After learning of your arrival at our estate, excitement ruled over me. I anxiously await for the day we will connect our fates.

Words of the Trace’s disruptive behavior have reached the capital. I never thought he would try to fetch someone else’s fiancée. When I return, I shall take some measures to prevent such insolence to befall on you again.

In the meantime, do keep yourself safe. One never knows who might wish them harm.

Your fiancée,

Terrell Wharton]

To an outsider who didn’t know Terrel’s personality, his words would come out as those of a perfect fiancé, jumping to the rescue of his own damsel, worried of what the Devil might be tempting her with; however, it was easy to understand this was nothing more than a threat, a reminder that he knew everything, even when living outside of his estate. It seemed like that foolish sample of a man honestly thought I had been the one fueling this situation willingly, as if Bradley held most of my affection.

The moment my eyes finished reading the contents on the letter, my attention fell on Olivia who had by now grown overly aware of my presence. Since that day, a thin line between us had been created as all the maids and servants understood my kindness knew little bounds. No one dared to approach me casually anymore, always talking as if their tongue held sharp shards of glass at its tip, eager to burst a few veins.

“Olivia, ready my dress. I’m going out.” Seeing my cordial smile, her darkened expression lightened, even daring to deliver me a kind smile.

As her hands moved inside the tall wardrobe, the girl’s eyes kept glancing over to the envelope with the purple crest, hiding the letter within. Eventually, her foolish curiosity took the best of her. “Where are you going today, milady?”

“Olivia, who are you?” I frowned, causing her to instantly bob her head in forgiveness, realizing she had overstepped her boundaries yet again. One could easily see how graceful she was, almost looking like a perfect maid; however, whenever her mouth opened, such illusion would shatter as her lack of tact prevailed.

Noticing Ivy at the end of the room, her hands holding a piece of a dusty cloth, passing through the pillars with beautiful freshly picked roses, a hint of annoyance fell on me. For days on end, I’d kept them both on a tight leash, observing them from afar, the majority of the days, yet not once did they display their true colors. Unless ordered, they hadn’t visited Gilbert or tried to make any type of contact with the man – as if he was but a complete stranger with awful timing. But my gut knew something was wrong and, all I had to do was persevere in this waiting game they so eagerly liked to play.