A week had passed since the grand ball at the St. James Palace and the duke’s health began to worsen. Duke Landon’s body is starting to fail and reject the medication their family physician was giving him.
His breath was starting to weaken as the struggle for air was becoming more and more difficult than it usually is. Pneumonia had been a part of his life for almost three years now. Typically, normal people recover from this withing 1-3 weeks of proper medication, however, it was not the case for the duke, who from his childbirth, had had a frail body and weak immunity.
Not being able to cure the illness in its earliest stage, it manifested throughout the years, causing minor troubles of chest pain, difficulty of breathing, and sometimes unexplained sweating. But now isn’t the same as the previous attacks Duke Landon was experiencing. His lips turning bluish as his skin turns unusually pale, temperature reaching its peak, causing unbearable fever. The severeness of pain and discomfort he was feeling skyrocketed that he could hardly bring himself to say a full statement without pausing in between.
“F-Fran...ces...ca,” he struggled to say in a low tone as the physician was giving him tonic to feel a little better, but to no avail. Duchess Carlotta just sat beside the laying duke and watched him with a rather unbothered nor concerned facial expression. Her face was plainly blank and void of any form of emotion, making it harder to discern her reaction.
The physician got near the duchess and whispered the foreseen end of the current Duke of Felandencia’s forty-eight years of legacy. “It was most unfortunate, however, it seems as if the inflammation has gone severe, infecting the lungs’ airs sac, filling it with fluid, causing all troubles for the duke. And as to his current condition, I am sorry to say, but he cannot last a day unless some miracle happens,” the physician explained before leaving the room for privacy.
Still, Duchess Carlotta remains stoic. Wasn’t this her plan after all?
“F-Fran… ces...ca,” the duke begged again.
Even at his very end, he still looks over her daughter and dare not say any last words for me, she silently thought, feeling resented and rejected. She turned around and leaves the room. Struggle no more on suppressing her small shade of compassion, she asked her handmaid to go look for Lady Francesca.
“Bring her ladyship to his father’s room,” she plainly ordered. Matilde heeded the word of her master and runs towards the lady’s room.
To her dismay, she found the room rather empty, with no one in it. She must have gone to her favorite place, thought. Matilde decided to check the spacious veranda on the second floor of the manor, overlooking the cotton farm. She worked long enough in the house to know the routine of Lady Francesca.
Yet again, but to no avail. The young lady was not where she expected her be. Instead, she met with her handmaid, Eloisa. Eyebrows both crooked with her lips down on both sides, as if she was carrying a heavy burden on her shoulder. Then, she later learned the truth on Lady Francesca sudden disappearance since morning. She might have ditched again on her own pleasure, probably tired of the restriction set on her
The whole house of Chandler was on a sudden rampage in search for the clever Francesca, who had gone out of the manor with no prior permission.
As the house was busy searching, the duke’s room started to fall in silence. Only the normal beats of the duchess heart and the fading pulse of the duke were to be heard in the four corner of the room. No words spoken, only silence goodbyes on each other, as love was never been part of their five years relationship, only implied mutual agreement that was never been told.
Slowly… Duke Landon officially met his end. Both sweet and bitter ending. Sweet as he will be meeting soon his deceased wife, Duchess Savrina, whom his heart truly belongs. Bitter as he never had a chance to say his last goodbye to the fruit of their undying bond, that neither death can ever set apart, Lady Francesca Chandler.
Poor is the child left earlier that is planned. He had no choice with his body failing, but to leave her daughter in the hand of a dangerously wicked August woman. The duke’s only last wish was for his letter to reach the daughter he loves most, though not explicitly expressed.
***
Evening came and the lady they’ve been searching was finally found in the Great Petersburg’s Square Theatrical House, where well-versed and practiced operas were often performed by professional artists.
This has secretly served Lady Francesca’s relaxing place whenever she sneaked out of the manor, that even her handmaid wasn’t aware of, making the search rather impossible, not until a random onlooker reported she was last seen entering the said theatrical house.
Tears intrinsically rolled her cheeks upon hearing the perturbing news about the condition of his father. Grabbing on her skirt, she ran as fast as she could outside. Not withstanding her ladyship proper dress code, she mounted a horse, left tied alone in a stable.
“Kindly take the carriage, my lady,” her handmaid pleaded but her ears were already shut from hearing anything. The fast beats of her heart overpowers any rationale sense she had. Thought only had in mind was to make it home fast and sound to see her father.
Why of all the day, she decided to sneaked out on the very time the threat on the duke’s life escalated? She couldn’t helped to blame herself for the lack of foresight and clairvoyance.
Securing her feet on the saddle, she held tight on the rope and forcefully put pressure on it for the horse to start moving. She could feel the judging look she received both from the nobles and common onlookers on her act… like who in the best mind would ride a horse while wearing a ballgown, and to add more spice, in a broad daylight along the crowded city.
“Was that the rumored scandalous lady of Feladencia?” Someone mindlessly asked, which others agreed upon.
“Indeed living up to her reputation, I see,” another one added.
Lot more comments and criticism were received, but what caught Lady Francesca’s ear was that of a man shouting ownership of the horse she mounted without bothering asking for permission.
“Rodnie! My horse!” His voice was rather desperate, but her ladyships didn’t falter. She was sure her handmaid could take care of the matters she caused. Time wasn’t her luxury now. She felt the urgent need to be home now.
Not long afters, she arrived at the front gate of the manor. And she almost fall out of the horse upon seeing the black crape scarfe wrapped around the foot guards arms and black crape-sword knot, she last saw five years ago on the death of her mother.
Her body weakens as if it loss all its youthful vigor and spirit. Even without asking, she knew her father had already passed the gate to the other life.
Immediately, the foot guards came to assist her unmount the horse. She could feel her body trembling in pain and pure remorse for the moments they could have had, if she had not left for opera. Eyes already swollen started to produced unending water of sadness.
She was crying so hard. She could barely move a single step anymore. Losing one parent was already hard for her, how about losing them both? Her spirit broke as she finally fell to the ground. Heart heavy, pained, remorseful, and in pure agony.
How could fate be so cruel on a twenty-year-old like me? She thought. Was fate such in a hurry that it can wait no more ‘til she hits legal age of twenty-one?
“Lady Francesca? Pardon me for asking, is your ladyship all right?” one of the foot guard asked.
She tried to recompose herself and get a grip of her body. Placing her palm flat on the ground, she pushed herself up until she was back on her knees.
At times like this, I should at least be sober enough to bid the duke’s earthly body a final farewell, she thought as she struggled to fight off the weakening pain of loss in her core.
As she was walking further towards the manor, a rustle from behind entered her auditory, followed by heavy footsteps of boots.
I felt the other foot guard left my side to tend on the incomers, obviously not our servants as it sounded differently. It was more of a hoard of big men.
Despite my gloomy state, I was able to hear some of their conversation before I finally take a curve on the corner.
“Pay respect to the Earl of Verindale, he was here to claim the stolen horse belonging to his late mother,” the voice said.
That must be the reason why the man was desperate to get hold of the horse, because it belongs to his late mother. Lady Francesca sympathized with a heavy heart. She wandered… did the man also loss his father as she is, by now?
Just as how the sun rises from the east and sets to the west, the grieving moment of Feladencia Dukedom ended after few months. However, for the left daughter of the noble duke, the sorrow and grief will always be a part of who she is. Both the loss of her beloved mother and father will always have a scar on her bitter heart. Lady Francesca woke up early morning as the six o’clock bell of the cathedral resounds, marking the incantation of the Angelus Prayer. As she was not as a religious person as her mother, she sat silently on her bed, mind flying elsewhere, even she could hardly identify where. She just waited for the bell to end before finally getting up off her Georgian inscribed bed. 
The old Lady Margaret embraced the young heir of Felandencia Dukedom as its carriage reached the frontal gate of her mediocre abode. The butlers carried Lady Francesca’s luggage inside with the aid of Lady Maragret’s footman. “What a great pleasure you are here, young maiden? I am sorry about your father,” her grandma consoled amidst their tight embrace while gently soothing her back. She knew how hard must it been for her granddaughter to handle. “Oh heavens! How I miss the warmth of your embrace,” Lady Francesca honestly admitted. Through her grandma, she was able to have the pleasure of hugging something identical to that of the scent of her late mother. After what f
Fired up with embarrassment and shame to having to witness such atrocities, Lady Francesca immediately closed her eyes and covered her palms so as to save her innocence further. She also turned her back into them as she felt the heavy and awkward atmosphere building. She didn’t know Verindale could be this wild and scandalous as she read it in the London publications and tabloids. It was a common knowledge to everyone that the Verindale’s present 19th earl of the earldom was a bold rebellious aristocrat who consistently tries to break the natural flow of the aristocracy as we know it. Just recently, Lady Francesca had heard of his bold attempt of bringing up a commoner as a muse during the grand birthday celebration of the prince regent at the most prestigious St. James Palace. That very event where she was being banned by his late father in attending to. Now, she couldn’t help but to wonder who that ea
Following her instinct and sharp memory, she followed the path she thought was the right one until she finds herself standing in the front door of the family’s tea store. “Here she is, mother. Young lovely Francesca took a stroll around,” Uncle Bastien shouted in enthusiasm towards the opposite side where old Lady Margaret was. For the short time her granddaughter’s disappearance, she was worried. Since Lady Francesca’s arrival at her home, she felt something was off, given that she didn’t gave a prior notice of her arrival like she used to do before to give enough time for the granny to prepare the room for her. This time was abrupt and sudden. There must a reason behind it. And she ought to wait for her granddaughter to take her time to open up for her. “Oh, thank goodness!” Lady Margaret had sighed in relief and immediately approached her newly arrived granddaughter. &
The next morning where Lady Francesca was about to meet the handmaid recruited by Lady Margaret, there was a letter sent from Feledencia, particularly from the duchess herself. It was directly addressed for the young maiden and not for Lady Margaret.And as expected, she was right on what she was thinking all along. Her father had actually fell into the manipulative hands of his second wife’s scheme, making her feel disappointed on how far his deceased father had let the enemy into their lives. Was she wrong all along to consider his father to be a literate and intelligent man? Then, why did he go this far in handling over his own daughter over the scheme of a wicked woman? Was it just because she is a woman of his liking after her mom?Lady Francesca’s thought were troubled with many unanswered questions that she knew all along would never be answered as the one she was asking was already at the
Tying the knot of Lady Francesca’s corset, Catherine Gunner had accidentally measured her waist length wrongly, making her slightly grimaced in pain and discomfort when it became too tight.“Ouch!” The young Feledencian heiress was used to the accurate measurement of Eloisa, and Lady Margaret’s handmaid, but the aspiring applicant was doing slight error on her first try.“My deep apologies, my lady,” she immediately apologized and made an adjustment accordingly. Dressing up a mannequin in the clothing boutique was different from dressing up a real person in actual. She should have known it beforehand so as not to commit such careless error. She knew very well that her dream job was still not officially hers.Lady Margaret had just given her the chance to prove her credibility despite the unwelcoming look received from Lady Francesca prior to the vulg
“Have a sip from my very own handmade aged wine fermented under the cool temperature of the lake in Winstow, my lord,” one of the muses offered to Lord Syford who was busy conversing with another woman on the side in an attempt to steal his attention.Bending over, she made sure her healthy and firm bosoms do their hypnotizing talents but to no avail. Lord Syford had already mustered the art of resistance long before he started with his unhealthy habits on women. He knew ambitious and wicked women would do such in order to win him over as a man, that’s why his paranoid father included them in his training as future successor to the lordship of the earldom.“That’s a wonderful offer my lady. But I am afraid wine wouldn’t do any good especially for a man responsible for such soiree at early times like this. I would more joyous to heed at your offer later when the night respite was ‘bout to
The orchestra band started with their new piece. Now, slower tempo than the first one to align with the theme of the earl and his Feledencian escort, who was clad with elegant ballgown and astonishingly adorned with expensive shimmering gems especially the little floral flowers on her head.Resting her soft as fabric palms on top of Lord Syford’s left shoulder, Lady Francesca extended the remaining free arm to the side midair. The earl graciously caught her free hand in the air and intertwined it with his callous palms, soothing his arms to relax.The Feledencian woman was quite the beauty a man could ever ask for in this lifetime. With her perfectly beautiful, strong yet delicate facial features, not to mention her auburn fierce curly hairs; twined with her naturally curvy shape; and an interesting personality, Lord Syford seems to forget all his aristocratic misgivings about the system of nobility.&nbs