The butlers were banging heads with the headstrong, obstreperous media trying to break through the duke's house early in the morning. The head matron immediately ran towards the master's bedroom to notify the sleeping duke and his second wife about the unexpected ruckus outside.
Upon hearing the thrice knocks on the door, Duchess Chandler pulled the string on her side, ringing the small metal bell connected outside.
Sussana got her cue to gingerly turn the doorknob and reveal herself to the masters. Catching her breath, she held on her rather shabby skirt for support. The years must have weaken her knees and youthful vigor. Gone are the old days of strength and agility.
"I am afraid to start your day my lord, my lady, in such an atrocious way but, there was a throng of reporters gathered in the main gate," the housekeeper in her forty's struggled to report everything in the best accuracy she could muster.
Surprise was not already part of the duke's reaction. Plainly, dismay and irritation. His eyebrows remained calm, contradicting to the burning temperament inside him, but he hid it excellently. London society taught him well on masking up emotions above anything else.
"What could have been the matter this time?" the impatient duchess asked. Annoyance was evident on her tone.
"It was about Lady Francesca—" Poor Sussana was cut short with the perverse assault of the duke's short-tempered duchess.
"Heavens Sussana! I already know the who about of the trouble outside. What I'm asking you is the what about of the matter? Such a trifling difference between elites and commoners." The duke's new wife was infamous for her blunt and belittling attitude towards her inferiors.
"Careful Carlotta, you must not to look down on my people." Duke Landon Chandler was noble enough to remind her unstoppable tongue. As a matter of fact, he lived most his days reminding her but to no avail. Perhaps, people's attitude doesn't change so easily. "Tell me about it," he said eyeing the housekeeper. Duke Landon had been feeling ill lately, and news like this doesn't help much. Instead, it worsen it.
Sussana regained her confidence from the duke's compassionate words and continued. "Lady Francesca just got involve in the disdaining affront towards a retiring countess widow in Colstalbay, rumored for giving highly offensive remarks on her two-decades old wedding gown she flaunted in the recent social gathering at a patroness's house.
"Now the media wants to get on her side and discern more to be able to draft the best scoop they could get." The housekeeper was surprisingly good at grasping event, the duke silently thought.
"You see Carlotta, Sussana's capacity was way better than the stupid commoner you had in mind." The duchess just grimaced in surrender, yet total disagreement was to be traced on the undertone of her battling lashes.
Turning once more to the servant, the duke ordered. "Go on and bring that insolent young lady in the sitting room. She'll be getting lot lectures for today."
Expressing her respect through a polite slight bow, Sussana proceeded to the stonewalled corridor leading to the exquisitely designed lady's room. Throwing a three times knocks, she gently inserted the key in the hole and opens the wooden door, moving aside the cascading brocade hangs at the topmost door frame.
The young lady was quite a heavy sleeper that the housekeeper had to secure herself her own key in order to wake her up, in case she oversleep again, which she did this time, yet again.
Laying there was a slim, hourglass-shaped lady clad in a thin chemise nightgown with her auburn hair unevenly spread all over the soft Georgian queen-sized bed. Her pale complexion blends perfectly fit with the cotton white color of her pillows, blankets, and bedsheets.
With her eyes close, the long naturally curly lashes remained very noticeable. Her lips was nowhere far from a ripe cherry in harvest seasons, nor was the shade of her high cheekbones in the unique cherry blossoms of East Asia. The proud bridge of her nose also didn't fail to replicate the royal bloodline of her birth. High, pointed, and proud.
"My lady, it's time for you to rise and shine." Sussana tried to go easy at first, but no signs of Francesca awaking, leaving her no choice but to resort on the last way. She rings the bell beside the sleeping Greek goddess in a dirt body.
"Argh! Stop the bell boo-boo now! The lady is sleeping!" Francesca hissed in so much irritation, forgetting any sense of ladyship she learned. If she could choose one thing in the world to never get disturb with, she would absolutely choose this.
Determined with her actions, Sussana, instead of stopping, continued shaking the handheld metal bell placed right next the lady's bedside. "Pardon me my lady, but your father need you in the sitting room now," she explained.
Withstanding the annoying clashing metal sounds no more, Francesca lazily opened her eyes, stretched her arms sideways, and adjusted her eyes to the blinding lights a bit. Throwing a disappointed look, she stomped on her feet and stood up. Perhaps, the news of my unladylike remarks on the old rags, gown rather, of that widow from yesterday was all over the headlines now, she thought.
By then, her maid, Eloisa, appeared on the doorstep to take charge of her mistress. "My apology for being informed late. You may leave Lady Francesca on my care now," the young lady's maid said apologizing. She had run an errand this morning and got delayed on her way back home due to the throng of people outside. No one could possibly beat London on gossips intrigue since the stones of St. James's Palace was piled up from mud into a castle.
"No problem Eloisa. Just make sure to groom her properly and usher her to the sitting room. His lordship demands of her presence." Sussana instructed her before leaving. She got something else to do as the housekeeper. And it was really Eloisa, who was in charge for the young lady's needs.
***
After what seems to be eternity, Lady Francesca was done with her layered gowns and corsets. Her hair was now also pulled up in a neat bun, at least neat enough to reduce her father's temperament on her.
Breathing heavily, she relaxed herself and starts walking towards the sitting room. The same exact room where she first lost her confidence on the duke, who give a lucrative and exquisite roof over her head, almost half a decade ago.
She had learned from her maid, the media was banging at their doors, and that his father was not a bit impressed with it. If that was the only way to be sitting with him face to face, why shall I decline the honor, right? She thought to herself.
"A glorious morning, young lady. Meseems you've rested too much after causing great trouble last night. Mind explaining the yet another scandal you've got into after the dancing scandal you've caused a week ago, if I am not mistaken." Duke Landon was in no doubt fuming in anger with his mouth tightly twitch, but he can't be more anxious as it will pile up his worsening health concern, he tried hard to conceal. He couldn't afford to show any weakness.
How could her only daughter behave recklessly on the critical society of theirs, whereas even the slightest unruly baby hairs standing would be scrutinize? How can she be so careless on her reputation at least?
"The widow Countess Candace's wedding gown was no better than an old rag. And I was simply stating the obvious fact, father," Lady Francesca idly answered while barely dropping her eyes on the carpeted floor. She personally hates this compartment of the manor as this was where his father first introduced her to the wicked woman, who almost washed away the remaining colors she could see after the loss of her mother.
"How can I be called out scandalous when I'm stating with utmost integrity. It doesn't do me justice having my honesty labeled inappropriate for the countess just because she's offended?" she added.
Both the duke and duchess were amazed on her wits and spirit, though on a rather corrupted manner.
"Clever lady, definitely. But wits ain't anything. You should know where to use that providence. Thou shall not use it for reasoning out a mistake. Or else people would think of how lacking this household taught you proper decorum and conducts on socializing, maybe it did once," her stepmother shammed, whispering the succeeding phrase. Duchess Carlotta's obviously turning the blame on the deceased Duchess Savrina, the duke's first wife and Lady Francesca's biological mother.
"Your mother was right Francesca. You should listen to her," Duke Landon supported, which just infuriates her daughter. The tingling irritation and pain were shackling her. Things were starting to appear that of taking sides, unfortunately, not on her favor.
I would never consider that wicked, double-faced coin of a wicked woman my mom ever, because she was nowhere near the class and prestige of my now gone mother, Francesca thought.
Before even getting herself more infuriated…before sanity leaves her be, she marched off towards the open door of the sitting room. When will her father realize what a plaque he brought home?
She wouldn't definitely live harmoniously with the Duke of Feladencia, not unless he sends away his new wife. She was full out on it. Contradicting enough, her hopes was on the brink. Five years passed, and yet no sign of their marriage dissolution still.
Where's the justice for the twenty years of shared memories of former Duchess Savrina in this household? When Duke Landon remarried shortly after her demise… barely five months of grieving only.