A Season of Masks and Masquerades

Chapter 25: The Pitiful Miss Sherborne

After playing tag for an awfully long time, Esther and Florence fell on the huge circular bed in Esther's bedroom, too exhausted to carry on the revenge war.

"I told you to never speak about my vow in front of my mother, did I not?" Esther asked in a very tired hazy voice.

"Yes, yes, you did. Stop repeating yourself." Florence replied, still sounding more alive than Esther. Perhaps the hours of waiting in the Valentine garden and the tiring conversation consumed all her energy.

"If you speak of my vow in my mother's presence once more, trust me, Flo, I shall behead you with my own hands."

"If that's what it takes for you to break it," Florence replied placing her chin on her palm.

"Florence!"

"Why do you refuse to attend the Richcomb dinner anyway?" Florence asked ignoring Esther's revolt.

"I do not refuse to attend the Richcombs, I refuse t-"

"I know, you refuse to attend The Duke."

"Yes, exactly!"

"That's nonsense."

"It is. Everything about him is. So do not speak of The Duke, please. I do not want to discuss him." Esther pleaded almost sincerely and Florence, fortunately, had a beating heart left in her chest.

"Alright," she said rolling up nearer to Esther on the bed, "Then let's discuss the other one, shall we? The Marquess of... Rosevale was it?"

"What about him?"

"So you are up for the conversation?" Florance asked in disbelief after a pause. "I- I assumed not as he too is a rich man."

"Well, he is a good rich man," Esther replied awkwardly.

"And The Duke is not?"

"Not back to him now, please." Esther pulled the sheets above her head declaring the end of the conversation.

Irrespective of how strongly she was against attending the Richcomb's dinner, she knew just as well that it was beyond question for her to not attend it. She had attended similar numerous events despite her extreme reluctance in the past week as well. It was as if her opinion did not matter anymore at all, which, in fact, was so unlike her.

The only opinion that had ever mattered in her life was hers, at least ever since she grew of sense. She was the decision-maker, especially when men were in question. She was the one to decide whose invitation to acknowledge, whose offer to accept. The game had turned upside down and she was not the one to appreciate it.

This had to change.

She was certainly not in a position to change her mother's mind nor could she argue her way out of this, but fortunately, Florence was a great friend.

Esther had to employ multiple alluring and manipulative techniques but in the end, Miss Lewis agreed to testify for her. Lady Sherborne would have never succumbed to Esther's lies but she was certain Florence could not ever muster the courage to lie to her face which is why, when Miss Lewis informed her about Esther's sudden sickness due to fatigue so extreme that she wasn't even in a state to stand straight, she believed.

It was indeed a matter of great pleasure for Esther to watch her parents leave by themselves in a carriage the next evening from her bedroom window. The only thing she regretted was not being able to see the fake Duke's disappointed face. She could not exactly ask her mother to describe it later that night, hence it was a complete waste.

Perhaps the young Lord Richcomb could help her visualize the same someday in the future.

From what Miss Lewis had told Lady Sherborne, Esther's condition was not good enough for her to get well in merely a night's rest. Hence, she had to fake pant and sigh the next morning as she joined her mother in the Sherborne drawing room.