A Scandal By Any Other Name-Chapter 121 - Hundred And Twenty One

The journey from the grand Hamilton House back to the Farrington estate was long and quiet. The heavy, dark carriage bounced over the uneven dirt roads, the wooden wheels creaking with every mile.

Inside the carriage, Lady Celine sat perfectly still. She looked out the small glass window, watching the green trees of the countryside slowly turn into the gray, crowded streets of the city, and finally into the familiar, imposing iron gates of the family manor. Her mother, Lady Farrington, sat opposite her. The older woman did not speak. She simply stared straight ahead, a look of deep, satisfied triumph resting on her powdered face.

The carriage finally came to a halt. The horses blew out tired breaths. A footman hurried forward and pulled the carriage door open, letting down the metal steps with a loud clank.

Celine stepped out into the cool afternoon air. She looked up at her home. It was built of dark, heavy stone. It had narrow windows and tall, sharp roofs. It did not look like a place of comfort. To Celine, it looked exactly like a fortress designed to keep prisoners inside. She was back into her prison again, expected to be the dutiful daughter.

Lady Farrington stepped down after her, waving a gloved hand to instruct the servants to gather their trunks.

Together, mother and daughter walked up the wide stone steps and entered the grand entrance hall. The inside of the house was cold and shadowed.

Lord Farrington was waiting for them.

He stood near the entrance of his private study. He wore a sharp black coat and a perfectly tied white cravat. His hands were clasped firmly behind his back. He did not smile when his wife and daughter walked through the front doors. His eyes were hard and calculating, moving over them to ensure they looked presentable. 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

He stepped forward, his boots clicking sharply against the marble floor.

"How was the visit?" Lord Farrington asked.

His voice was deep and entirely lacking in warmth. It was the voice of a man asking for a business report, not a father greeting his family.

Lady Farrington stopped in the center of the hall. She lifted her chin, looking at her husband with a proud, confident expression. She removed her purple silk gloves finger by finger.

"Went well as it should," Lady Farrington replied smoothly. "We were hosted perfectly. The Duke was attentive, and the Hamilton family suspects absolutely nothing. The path to the altar is clear."

Lord Farrington gave a short, tight nod of approval.

Celine stood a few steps behind her mother. She kept her head bowed, staring at the intricate patterns on the marble floor. Her hands were folded tightly in front of her dark blue traveling dress.

"Good afternoon, Papa," Celine whispered respectfully. She grabbed the sides of her heavy skirts and dropped into a deep, polite curtsy.

Lord Farrington barely looked at her. He gave her a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Go to your room, Celine," Lord Farrington ordered coldly. "Rest and do not cause any trouble. You must look flawless for the upcoming ball."

"Yes, Papa," Celine replied softly.

She turned and walked toward the grand, sweeping staircase. She kept her back straight and her steps measured.

As she climbed the stairs, the heavy silence of the house was broken by the low, murmuring voices of her parents. They did not wait for her to be completely out of earshot before they continued their discussion.

"Hawksley has been instructed to ensure the Duke signs the contract on the day of the ball," Lord Farrington said to his wife. "The trap is set."

"Good," Lady Farrington replied. "She played her part very well. She smiled when she was told to smile, and she kept her mouth shut. She has been a very good child."

Celine closed her eyes tightly as she reached the top landing. A fresh wave of tears pricked the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall in the hallway.

She was not a daughter to them. She was merely a pawn piece in their cruel game of chess. They were moving her across the board, using her youth and her beauty to secure a powerful connection with the Duke of Ford. They did not care about her happiness. They did not care about her heart. They only cared about the title, the money, and the power that would come from the marriage.

Celine hurried down the long, quiet corridor. She reached the heavy oak door of her bedchamber.

She went inside and closed the door quickly. She reached out with trembling fingers and turned the brass key in the lock. The lock clicked with a loud, satisfying sound.

She was finally alone.

Celine leaned her back against the solid wood of the door. She let out a long, shaky breath that she felt she had been holding since she left Hamilton House. The tension drained out of her shoulders, leaving her feeling incredibly weak and exhausted.

Her room was decorated in pale pinks and soft creams. It was a beautiful room, filled with expensive furniture and fine silk curtains, but it brought her no joy.

She untied the ribbons of her bonnet and dropped it carelessly onto a nearby velvet chair.

Celine walked past her large dressing table and went directly to her grand, four-poster bed. She did not climb onto the soft mattress to rest. Instead, she dropped down onto her hands and knees on the thick, woven carpet.

She crawled under the edge of the large bed. It was dark and dusty underneath. She pushed herself all the way to the back corner, near the heavy wooden leg of the bedframe.

She reached her hands out, feeling the smooth wooden floorboards. Her fingers searched the dark space until they found a very specific, tiny gap in the wood.

Celine pushed her fingernails into the gap and pulled upward.

She removed a few pieces of wood from the floor. They came loose easily, revealing a small, dark hole beneath the floorboards. It was a secret compartment. She had found it years ago, and she knew the maids never cleaned this far under the heavy bed.

She reached into the dark space.

Inside the compartment were her most precious treasures. There were no diamonds or pearls hidden here. Instead, there was a small stack of old letters tied together with a faded piece of blue ribbon, and a rolled-up piece of thick parchment.

They were old letters of her and Edward.

Celine carefully pulled the stack of letters out of the hiding place. She sat back on her heels, holding the papers in her lap. Her hands were shaking.

She untied the faded blue ribbon. She took one letter from the top of the pile. The paper was slightly yellowed, and the edges were worn soft from being touched so many times.

She opened the letter and read the words written in neat, dark ink.

She could almost hear his voice as she read the simple, kind words asking her to meet him in the garden at the back of the house, telling her how much he missed her smile.

Tears instantly welled up in her bright blue eyes. They spilled over her lashes and streamed down her pale cheeks in hot, rapid drops. The thick layer of white face powder her mother had forced her to wear began to wash away, revealing her natural, flushed skin and the terrible sadness underneath.

She folded the letter and pressed it gently to her lips.