Chapter 54

8 months 1 day pregnant.

“My Lady, the esteemed guests have arrived,” Rinnty says upon entering the room, coming up from her curtsy. She places her hands in front of herself and leans forward eagerly, “I had directed them to the main drawing room as you had requested. The tea is already being set out as well.” 

Lynette crumbles up the letter in her hands and tosses it to the trash bin to the side of her vanity. Another rejection, late from arriving as all the others had.

“And how does the mood seem to be?” She asks as she quickly straightens out her scowl and turns her attention to the large mirror before her.

Rinnty steps further into the room, “As well as it can be, my lady. Given the circumstances,” she says, keeping her tone delicate.

The duchess's face twitches and her lips twist. Lynette supposes that is all she could hope for. It was at least something she could work with. No matter how dire things were currently. It meant something that she had finally got a reply back, and acceptance of her long-ignored invitations. That must have meant something has changed.

“Did she come alone?” the duchess questions mildly, inspecting her long nails. The color was a few shades lighter than the one currently painted on her lips, which she purses in annoyance.

“There were others with her, my lady,” Rinnty says, keeping her tone light. As if she was stepping over carefully placed traps, “I had the other servants direct them to the guest rooms in the south wing, but one stayed with her.

“Who?” Lynette asks and then curls a finger, causing Tinnty to steps forward. They both inspect the assortment of make-up before the duchess with sharp eyes, thinking what should be re-applied.

“Her daughter.”

Lynette hums, not worried in the least.

Then she straightens her back and without having to be ordered, Tinnty begins touching up her make-up while Rinnty appears at her lady's elbow and plucks up a gilded brush. The two twin maids' fuss around their duchess for a few minutes before Lynette holds up a hand, and they pull away from her. She inspects their work, turning her face from left to right before she smirks with dark red lips and flutters her inky eyelashes at herself.

She looked as perfect as ever.

Pleased with herself, Lynette stands up like melted butter and glides out the room with a raised chin and a straight back. Her maids fall into step behind her, not missing a beat, and they stalk through the long towering halls of the Valentine Estate like a trio on a mission.

When the duchess stands before the drawing of the room, the maids appear in front of her and opens the heavy wooden doors for her. The duchess of the Valentine household steps inside the drawing-room elegantly, exuding from every one of her small unseen pores the presence of a lady of high standing.

Her rose eyes fall to the only figures in the room, sitting calmly with hands tucked into their lap and ankles tucked under. Their dresses were of the latest fashion and complemented the other. Their jewelry gleamed on their throat while their make-up was light but mature.

There were also features that were similar enough to easily identify them as mother and daughter.

Lady Lynette does not curtsy to the pair, being of higher standing than the both of them, but she does incline her head to the oldest woman as she voices her greeting.

“Mother,” she says, smiling, “I am glad to lay eyes upon you. It has been too long.” The duchess does not comment on the fact that it was only now that her mother had thought to answer her in any way. Ever since Livia had returned, her maternal family had been deadly quiet.

Countess Giselle Johannessen rises graciously from her seat and the other woman beside her follows suit.

“Daughter,” the countess greets, her tone perfectly even as she tilts her own head, “It has been some time. Come closer. Let me look upon you.” She lifts up her arms and Lynette is quick to close the distance between them, minding the low tea table.

The countess's hands aren’t warm when they fall upon her shoulders and with surprising strength, Lynette is turned this way and that as pale blue eyes inspect her closely like they once had before her debut.

“Have you lost weight, my dear?” Lady Giselle asks, “You look thin,” she says. Unlike other mothers who would say such a thing in disapproval, the countess tone implied that she was actually pleased by this.

Lynette barely reframes from preening. Her smirk does grow, however, when she says, “Thank you, mother. These past few months have been quite the ordeal.”

“Oh, I am sure they have been,” A snide voice cuts in from the right, “Not just anyone could brag about the fact of their daughter's miraculous return from banishment.”

Lynette and Lady Giselle turn in unison.

“I am sure you recall of your oldest sister,” Lady Giselle says tartly, “She had been visiting when your letter came to me. She had thought to come along as well.”

Lynette smiles beautifully, “Of course, mother. How could I not remember big sister Greta?”

“Lady Greta,” the countess hisses, narrowing pale grey eyes at her youngest sister.

“Of course, it is,” Lynette says, and then turns her full attention back on her mother, “Please, take a seat, mother. I am sure it is much you would like to discuss,” she says, gesturing to the seat right behind them. It is only when the two other women sit down that she does as well. Tinnty and Rinnty instantly take that as cue to begin to serve the afternoon tea.

“So,” Lady Greta starts, picking up her teacup and looking over the rim of it at her sister, “Mother has told me about all that has happened while I had been away with my husband.”

“The information was delicate,” Lady Giselle comments idly, sipping on her own tea, “It is best to speak of such things face to face and not by second-hand gossip or words that could be easily misunderstood.”

Lynette plucks daintily at the grapes that have been brought out and pop one in her mouth, unconcerned as she chews slowly.  Once she swallows, she picks up her teacup and sips on the hot liquid, humming in delight at the taste.

“It is not every day that one can brag about the return of their exiled daughter, Lady Lynette,” Lady Greta states, placing her teacup down without a sound, “I say it is about as rare as having a broken engagement restored to its full glory.”

Lynette's fingers capture another grape when she sets down her teacup. She chews this one as slowly as the first while retaining unwavering eye contact with her oldest sister. She says nothing in reply because her sister only states the obvious at this point.

It is only when her sister's mouth presses into a thin line as the silence lengthen and Lynette reaches for another grape that the cold tension in the room is broken up by their mother.

“How long do you intend to nibble on like a bird? Do you wish to gain fat so eagerly?” Giselle hisses, completely ignoring the curves and roundness that made up her own imposing figure.

Compared to her mother and sisters' full shapes, pink skin, blond hair, and pale eyes, Lynette looked foreign in comparison. Her violet hair, pale skin, and rose-colored eyes were unforgettable when she stood next to them. As did her curvy but sylphlike figure, her height which was a few inches above average, as were her straight and beautiful features.

She flutters her long eyelashes and removes her hands from the fruit plate.

“I apologize mother. I did not intend to appear so unseemly,” Lynette says, reverting back to her youth in front of her mother with only a few sharp words. She ignores how her oldest sister directs a mean smile her way, intent on making herself look small and meek.

Lady Giselle's stare was as heavy as a hammer made of steel.

Her face was plain and her eyelashes and eyebrows were light and almost invisible, but she was a force that few people recognize until it was upon them. Her face was not stern or severe but soft, and almost serene. She did not need to frown at you to get her point across. She would simply state it to your face and did not have a care about who got hurt in the process.

“I am sure it was not your intention, daughter,” Lady Giselle says after an unyielding silence. Her pale blue eyes look around the rooms pointedly when she says, “I think being stuck behind these walls for so long, away from polite company has dulled your reflexes. I am sure anyone forced into your shoes would have acted the same.”

“I would have not, mother,” Lady Greta cuts in, but one flick of a cool glance from her mother is all it takes for her mouth to snap close once more.

Lady Giselle calmly sets down her tea and folds her hands into her lap. Silence returns to the extravagant drawing-room as the countess gathers her thoughts, her gaze on an old portrait of one of the many ancestors of the Valentine household.

“Daughter,” she says, and the two women in the room perk up. When pale blue eyes fall on Lynette only, Lady Greta looks away with a scowl.

“Daughter,” Lady Giselle says again, “You have made a right mess of everything,” She states bluntly. Lynette’s confident smirk drops to the floor as Lady Greta covers her mouth to hide her own smile.

“Mother,” Lynette starts, prepared to defend her past actions, but Lady Giselle simply raises a hand, stopping her.

“Nothing you say will change anything,” Lady Giselle states, her tone deceivingly gentle, “I have sat back and watched for long enough, and I can see, that had been my first mistake. Even years gone, you still need the guidance of your mother.”

Lynette did not feel insulted at the words. If anything, they caused her to lean forward as she nods in eager agreement, “I do, mother. I cannot think of how to take action going forward. Not when all that I have worked for has broken into shambles and threaten to remain that way if I do not act smartly.”

Lady Giselle's stone-like gaze softens by a centimeter, “You have always been so smart, my Lynette. Smart enough to realize when you need your mother's help and when to ask for it. Now that I am here, all will be well, daughter.”

Lynette smiles sweetly up at her mother. The same smile she would use when she wanted something. To anyone else who has never seen it before, it was breathtaking, but to Lady Greta, it just made her lips curl.

The countess had hoped by joining her mother that she would witness a bit more bloodshed and tears, but it seems the two keen ones before she was once again many steps ahead of her own self. They were planning out things that she could barely wrap her head around, always able to see further beyond tomorrow and into the far-flung future.

“I do not see how anyone could possibly claw out of the shameful sinkhole Lady Lynette is currently in,” Lady Greta says, cutting into the unspoken conversation that she could not become a part of. She glares at the youngest sibling she had never asked for.

“Are you so quick to forget your current circumstances?” Lady Greta hisses, “Your daughter may have returned, but there was nothing to celebrate upon hearing of the news. She had been an outcast that dared to go against the crown prince decree and did so in such a deviant way. She all but demanded her own trial! We had no need to wait for the news of the paper. By the end of that day, all were aware!”

Lady Greta leans forward, her dark scowl deepening as she spits out, “She also did not return as she had left. Your daughter is fat with a bastard. She has been defiled and stripped of the only thing that had given her value. Not only that, but everyone in Wisteria knows of her great shame. And yet, somehow, you, my greedy little sister thought to tie your wretched daughter to his royal highness, the crown prince once more!”

“I do not know how you managed it, or who you have bribed to do the impossible, but I do know that it was a mistake!” Lady Greta snaps as she raises to her feet to better tower over her sister, “Your actions are not your own little sister! You may be married to the duke of this household, but people do recall from where you once came from. Because of you and your whore of a daughter our family has been dragged into the mud along with yours! And just when I had thought we could sink no further, word gets out that you are abusing a Crown Princess Candidate!”

Lady Greta stalks around the table and jabs her finger into the mute Lynette's face as she snarls, “You are a disgrace to not only our family but the Valentine household! You should have never married Lord Luvien! You should have never mixed your wretched blood with his noble one! It should come as no surprise that your devil spawn turned out the way that it did. You failed to provide Lord Luvien a proper heir twice. First, you birthed a useless daughter, and then you went on to murder the lord’s precious son in your toxic wom-”

The sharp sting of skin breaking did not register to Lady Greta.

The loud sound ringing in her ears and the scorching fire that was the side of her face was the first thing that she could comprehend. Her pale grey eyes watered as she slowly lifted her trembling hand to the aflame skin of her face.

She stared at the face before her shocked, uncomprehending.

“M-mother?” She stutters.

“You have always been jealous of your sister,” Lady Giselle states grimly, lowering her hand, “I knew it to be true the moment she had come to us.”

Pale grey eyes fall to the sibling she had hoped to see never succeed. Rose-colored eyes meet her gaze steadily, but there was an emptiness to them that made her skin crawl. A veil that hid what she truly felt. Before her only sat an emotionless doll.

Lady Greta is all too familiar with that gaze. When they had been left on their own, and she had been tasked to look after Lynette as the oldest. She always had done her best to do the exact opposite. In the hopes that one day, when she had woken up in their childhood home, the unwanted one would have run away. That the unwanted one would finally realize that she could not take her place.

But it never happened.

But even so, her mother had never raised a hand against her. Even when she had been caught red-handed in the act of bullying Lynette. Lady Greta could not understand why she did so now, after all this time. She was the daughter born! She was of her blood! She was special, she was the one wanted. So, why?

“But,” Lady Greta’s eyes snap to her mother, round and fearful, “I had thought you, as my eldest, would be smart. That you would be able to see, eventually, that Lynette was important. But in the end, all you did was act like a spoilt child and abused your little sister-”

“She is not my sister!” Lady Greta could not help but hiss. Her head snapped to the left before she could finish the sentence. She sobs and cradles her burning cheeks.

“It hurts, doesn’t it, little girl?” Lady Giselle says blandly, “As my daughter, I gave you so many chances in the hopes that you would change. That you would grow and mature, but after all these years, you are still blinded by petty matters of a past you cannot change.”

Lady Giselle clicks her tongue and shakes her head gravely, “I had been too soft on you and too harsh on Lynette. I had thought she had been the one in need of straightening and refinement when it turns out it had been you, oldest daughter. In reality, this was a long time coming. But it is only now that you have truly stepped out of line.”

Lady Greta trembles as she tries to wrap her head around the current situation. Her mother just hit her. Like she was a little girl to be punished and not an adult woman. But she could not raise her head even if she wanted to. Her mother stood before her like the walls protecting a towering castle.

Her gentle and round face wasn’t strained in the least, despite her previously violent actions.

She may have looked like any noble lady, may be able to act like one all the way down to her bones, but Lady Greta knew, her mother was born of a foreign land with foreign rules.

Ladt Giselle walks pasts and seats herself once more without giving her eldest daughter another glance. She picks up her rapidly cooling tea, ignoring how the twin maids stare at her even as they tried not to, and sips at it slowly. Once done, she places it back down and dabs primly at her mouth.

“Daughter,” She calls out, her voice as even as a lake on a calm day.

“Yes, mother?” Lynette asks, her voice equally even but softer.

“Have your maids escort my oldest daughter to her room.”

Lynette inclines her head, “As you wish, mother. Rinnty?”

Rinnty steps forward, “Yes, my lady. I will see it done.” She walks forward and stops short in front of Lady Greta, “My lady if you could follow me?”

Lady Greta finally lifts her gaze, now that her mother was no longer before her. She swallows when it lands on Lynette first then the maid that stands in front of her.

“...Mother...” She starts, and then swallows again, “M-mother, I apologize for my past behavior. I had thought you had cast me for a certain role, but it turns out, in the end, I had disappointed you. Please, allow me to make it up to you.”

“You will,” Lady Giselle says, her voice almost a soft croon. Warmth suddenly bleeds forward into her words when there previously had been none, “Come forward, the oldest daughter.”

Lady Greta moves to her mother's wishes.

Lady Giselle cradles her daughter's stinging face and inspects the damage she had done upon it. For the first time since she arrives, her stone-like face breaks into something that resembled human sympathy.

“Poor girl,” she says, and her hands begin to glow a sickly yellow.

Lady Greta sighs as her wounds heal and the throbbing pain fades away.

“I doubt you have truly learned your lesson,” Lady Giselle states bluntly, dropping her hand, “But for now, you have at least learned to hold your tongue. Haven’t you, daughter?”

Lady Greta nods once, her gaze downward.

“Good. It is unfortunate that I had to resort to such methods to see the lesson learned, but at least you aren’t as bullheaded as your brother. Now, be off with you. It was a long tiring journey.”

Lady Greta’s eyes flicker towards Lynette.

“Do not worry about your sister. Your mother is here now. All will be well,” Lady Giselle intones. And then she smiles. As gentle as a leaf drifting on the wind, not an ounce of violence could be seen in her sweet face.

Lady Greta and Lynette's shoulders relax in unison, though neither sister noticed it.

“I will do as you wish, mother,” Lady Greta says, and straightens her back and raises her chin, wrapping her persona as a lady of high standing tightly around her person before she spins on her heel and follows the maid out as if all was well again.

Once the Lady Great was gone, the tension in the room lifted.

Lady Giselle pats at the spot by her side with a mild smile, “Come over here, youngest. I know there is much to speak of. Let your mother in on the ways of your mind, and let your mother ease all of your worries.”

Lynette slowly rises and walks forward. She sits next to her mother, her real one. All it takes is her hands to be gather and patted at gently before tears spring to her eyes.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Lady Giselle croons, her pale blue eyes filled with empathy, “Motherhood has not been kind to you, has it, dearest? I had told you it would be a challenge like no other.” She gently pulls her youngest towards herself and pats idly at her back.

Lynette just cries harder.

Lady Giselle hums a strange tune and lifts up her glowing hands. The sickly yellow magic darts between her fingers like scavengers looking for decaying prey.

“That’s it, dear. Let it all out,” Lady Giselle coos, and then she places her hand on Lynette’s head.

Tblew

😩 Why is this family so fucked up!? I seriously tried to write them in a way that is easy to comprehend and understand, but NOPE. They are as difficult to write as Lynette. Of course, they would be. 

As usual, please leave a comment below to tell me what you think, and until next time!! x)