The Criswell's Curse

“I heard you hurt yourself while opening your sister’s letter this morning. Are you alright?” Edgar questioned me with a warm, yet preoccupied smile on his lips while placing the beautifully crafted wineglass on his dry lips.

Politely, I grabbed a napkin and cleaned the corners of my mouth. “It was nothing but a mere scratch, Your Grace. You can barely call it a wound.”

My words were not lies. The cut wasn’t that deep, and its pain was weak, at least compared to all the other wounds my body had experienced before. Gracefully, my lips kissed the water before wetting down my slightly dry throat.

“Are you still intending to go to Lady Catherine’s ball?” Mace’s fingers began cutting the cooked beef in front of him. He glanced at me with a worried expression on his face.

“Of course.” I smiled widely. “It is a great opportunity to be with my sister. I miss her dearly.”

By the looks on their faces, my intentions had yet to be disclosed, except with the oldest sibling, whose coffee-colored eyes pierced through me. He was suspicious, not buying my lame lie.

Even though I’d arrived already a couple of days ago, there was still an urgent necessity to establish my standing, as the kind and caring younger sister. That was the only way my presence in social gatherings wouldn’t be questioned.

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to join you, dear.” The Duke stated before glancing over to his second eldest. “There’s much work to be done.”

As if he understood the hidden meaning behind his father’s words, Mace promptly intervened. “I will escort her Father.”

I knew Edgar’s intervention was born of pure concern, however, the same couldn’t be said by his son. The boy sitting across observed me carefully, as if he was analyzing, studying me. Surely, he hid more than he led to believe, causing me to doubt the honesty of his previous request.

Keeping a neutral stance, I carefully continued my meal, but a single thought roamed through my mind. I need to be careful around him.

Even though he had only shown me kindness and undeniable care, my new self knew better than to be fooled by façade feelings and honey coated words from a kindhearted stranger.

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The day of Ophelia’s moving

“That bitch...!” Amanda’s loud footsteps flew through the hall as she hurriedly walked towards the Duke’s study room. Her eyes were two blue lava lakes, filled with rage, having lost all grace. “How dare she!?”

Frustrated, she bit down on her bottom lip. How could that brat beat her like that? That good-for-nothing never fought back and now, here she was, running with her tail between her legs, like a frightened puppy.

I need to get her back here...! To Amanda, leaving her sister in the wealthy Wharton estate, even if she was going to marry that sample of a man, was too good of a fate. Her maids followed in their hurried footsteps; however, seeing how angered their mistress was, they didn’t do as much as a peep.

The doors to Alvin’s study room opened abruptly, forcing the man’s body to shudder. The book he was holding in his hands fell onto the floor, echoing through the space.

“Father!”

Already annoyed with the lack of elegance from his eldest daughter, the Duke brought his tired hands to his forehead, massaging it slightly. He knew a headache was about to arrive. “Yes, Amanda?”

“You will not believe what just happened!” She yelled in her typical obnoxious voice. “Ophelia just punched me! You cannot let her get away with it!”

He flinched. Alvin knew his eldest daughter’s temperament was like the sea, ready to become unstable at any second, however, his youngest was always quiet, like a calm Blistering breeze. How come her attitude had suddenly changed? It was as if she had become a different person altogether.

The Duke frowned. Ophelia had always been peaceful and obedient, but now, it seemed like she had a hidden a beast inside her body, ready to unleash its anger on her own blood. “Your sister did what?” He needed some reassurance.

What is she thinking...? He began wondering on how this strange situation had firstly arisen. His eyes now focused on the girl standing before him, his daughter. Her teeth had found their way onto her nails, biting them off out of pure frustration.

“A lady should behave according to her status.” He said, forcing Amanda’s brutality to soften. Her cheeks became slightly flushed as her eyes looked at anything other than her father. Even then, she didn’t give up.

“She is about to leave, Father!” Her hands banged down on the desk, making him glare at her as coldly as the northern wind. “You cannot allow her to go unpunished!”

Amanda’s patience was growing thinner by the second, and her father knew it. After all, he was the only man in the entire world that truly understood this brat’s feelings. “We can’t. She is the fiancée of the Wharton’s firstborn, if she were to arrive bruised... I don’t even want to consider it.”

Noticing how her daughter’s eyes widened in utter shock, the Duke frowned. She was hiding something. “What happened?”

“Nothing...” She averted her eyes, feeling guilty and scared of the consequences of her actions. After seeing her attitude, her father’s glare became more intense. She gulped, spilling out the beans. “I may have... slapped her... twice…”

“You did what!?” Almost immediately, the Duke burst into a fit of anger, forcing his hands to bang the desk and his body to rise. “How could you do something so reckless, Amanda!?”

His brows furrowed together, almost drawing a straight, thick line. If Terrel saw Ophelia’s body scarred, he could easily cancel the wedding. Everyone knew how he hated touching damaged goods.

Why does she have to be such a child!? Alvin’s teeth gritted strongly onto each other, making a slightly unpleasant sound. His patience was growing thin, and he didn’t have the time nor the motivation to explain his plans to his foolish daughter.

“But Father...!” Amanda kept on taking this matter further, even though she was well aware of the importance of the Criswell’s family image and her father’s goals.

Having had enough of her fit of anger, Alvin’s hand punched the table aggressively. “Enough with this matter!” He yelled. It was only when he saw the hurtful tears dripping from his daughter’s face that he let out a long sigh. “Amanda, shouldn’t you be preparing yourself for Lady Catherine’s ball?”

The Duke knew the perfect way to settle down his eldest daughter tantrums. In most cases, buying her precious jewels and dresses were the solutions; however, when she became stubborn as a mule, the answer was another. Reminding her of social events was the cherry on top of the cake, the solution to any problem within her utterly useless ideals.

Frustrated, but seeing her father wouldn’t budge, she loudly yelled. “Fine!”