Without another look at anyone, she walked away, her head held high through sheer force of will. The twins fell into step behind her, a silent, furious guard.
The moment they disappeared into the house, the slime melted from lady Eleanor's face, leaving a cold, hard mask. She turned her gaze toward the doorway through which Layla had vanished, her eyes narrowed into slits. This country girl, with her strange ideas and unsettling beauty, had just managed to charm her son and publicly challenge the family's authority in the span of a single meal. This would not do. This would not do at all.
The walked back to the cottage passed in a blur. The grandeur of the main house, the manicured gardens, the opulent hallways all of it now felt like the bars of a beautifully crafted cage. Once inside the dusty sanctuary of the cottage, she sank onto the recently cleaned sofa, her shoulders slumping, the weight of her powerlessness crushing her.
Lucia immediately bolted the door. Livia rushed to Layla side, her own anger a tempest barely contained.
They cannot do this! Livia burst out her voice shaking with rage. They are thieves! Vultures picking at the bones of your father's life!
They can, and they are, Lucia said her tone grim and practical. She stood before Layla, her hand on her hips. The law, the money, the influence. We have… this. She gestured the dusty, neglected cottage.
A firm knock echoed, followed by Silas letting himself in. His face, usually a mask of stoic calm, was etched with deep concern. He took one look at Layla's pale, determined face and the twins furious expressions.
The air at the table felt colder than a midwinter grave, he stated, closing the door behind him. What happened?
The story tumbled out from Livia in a furious, hushed torrent the casual announcement of the farm's sale, the dismissal of Layla's capabilities, the cruel laughter, the finality of it all.
Silas's jaw tightened, a muscle twitching in his cheek. His knuckles turned white white where he gripped the door-frame. Vultures, he growled, the word low and venomous. Picking at the bones of a good man's life. He looked at layla. What is your will my lady?
Layla drew a shaky breath, forcing steel into her spine. I will not sit in this cottage and fade away. Her eyes those emerald pools of grief, now flashed with defiant fire. Charles invited me to the games tomorrow. I intend to go. I need to see this city, to understand the world they are so desperate to keep from me.
A flicker of pride crossed Silas's face. A sound plan.
We also need. The money we brought from the farm, the emergency fund father always insisted on… Silas, you must keep it safe. Do not let it near my uncles' coffers. Use what we need for supplies.
Aye, Silas agreed. I'll guard it with my life. It's the last piece of your father's protection.
A plan formed, a small rebellion against her uncle's. Lucia and Silas would venture to the market to buy dress for the games, to secure lumber for repairs, and to find laborer to cut the overgrown grass choking the cottage yard. Livia would stay with Layla, beginning the immense task of cleaning their new home.
The market trip was a revelation of its own. Silas, with his grounded demeanor, haggled for wood and nails while Lucia, with a sharp eye for quality and value, selected a deep blue lien that would make Layla's eyes shine. They found a young man with a scythe willing to clear the yard for a few coins. When they returned, arm laden with parcels, the cottage already felt different. Livia had swept and scrubbed, and open windows let in fresh air, scented with the sweet, clean smell of cut grass. A sense of purpose, however fragile, had displaced the despair.
But their activity did not go unnoticed.
From a window in the main house, a maid watched Silas unload the wood. Her eyes narrowed she turned and hurried through the polished halls, her footsteps silent on the rich carpets.
She found the three Blackthorn women in Lady Jane's opulent sitting room, perched on silk-upholstered chair like elegant birds of prey. They sipped tea from porcelain so thin it was nearly translucent.
Lady Eleanor set her cup down with a sharp click. I do not like the way Charles looks at her.they are of an age. What if he develops…. an attachment?
Jane smiled, a slow, cunning curve of her lips. That would be a disaster, Eleanor. You cannot let that cuntry mouse get close to your son.
Lady Margaret, eager to contribue, blurted out, she is very pretty, it's true. I'm not saying our girls aren't pretty… but she's pretty. She shrunk back under the twin gal
Res of frozen venom from Jane and Eleanor, her mouth snapping shut like a trapped mouse.
Jane sighed, a practiced sound of long-suffering. What if she decides to take Charles up on his offer for the games?
Then we let them go, Margaret venture again, unable to help herself. See what she want to do.
Eleanor rolled her eyes in sheer annoyance. Margaret. The royal field is where every elite family in the city will be tomorrow. She cannot appear there. It would be unseemly.
And not just that, Jane cut in her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. The young, unmarried Lords will be in the attendance. You don't want a nobody from the countryside stealing our daughters thunder, now do you? She paused, letting the implication hang. I heard the duke's sons are back. They completed their studies at the prestige Academy in the north.
The other two women leaned forward, their jealousy momentarily forgotten. Jane, you're sure of this information? Eleanor breathed.
Jane nodded preening. I ran into their mother at the General's wives meeting. She asked after my girls.
A brittle smile stretched Eleanor's lips. Her eldest was always so fond of my Cecilia before he left.
Jane was about to deliver a cutting retort when the door opened and her maid entered. She glided over, bent and whispered into her mistress's ear. Jane smile widened, turning predatory.
It seems, she announced, standing and smoothing her gown, we must pay a visit to our dearest nieceit appears she's been…busy.
The two other women rose, identical masks of false concern setting on their faces.