Chapter 13

Berry tucked the ribbon into her purse and left the balcony with a light laugh, fluttering away like a butterfly. I stood there, watching her retreating figure. What move would this troublemaking woman take next?

These noblewomen appear as close as sisters on the surface, but in truth, they loathe and scheme against one another. They live by the rule: “Your misfortune is my joy.” The viscountess has been spreading rumors that Berry is a wanton woman who mingles with lowly men. How could Berry not know? She must be seething with hatred, wishing she could tear the viscountess to pieces and curse her to hell.

How will she retaliate? Will she tell Viscount Garrett directly, or spread it quietly for more to know? Either way, it’s none of my concern.

The balcony was bitterly cold, the wind howling, yet I felt a fire burning inside me. The long wait and hiding were finally over—the curtain of revenge had risen.

Taking a deep breath, I straightened my cravat and calmly descended the stairs back to the hall. Rhodes, seeing me return, eagerly leaned in and asked, “How did it go?”

I gave a slight nod: “Well enough.”

“Wonderful, you’ve got your chance…” Rhodes rambled on, while my eyes kept searching the crowd for Berry.

I saw her standing among a group of noblewomen, all whispering excitedly. “She wouldn’t be foolish enough to tell others outright, would she?” I muttered under my breath.

“What did you say?” Rhodes asked, puzzled.

“Nothing.” I quickly replied. Just then, an elderly gentleman raised his glass and tapped it with a silver spoon, the crisp sound drawing everyone’s attention.

The old gentleman smiled and said, “The ladies have just proposed a game.”

“What game?” the younger gentlemen asked eagerly.

“A guessing game. Each lady and young lady will contribute a personal item, and the gentlemen will guess their owners,” the old gentleman explained.

“Oh, how improper! What if it damages the reputations of the ladies and young ladies? Wouldn’t that be awkward?” Some of the more reserved noblewomen objected.

“It’s just a game. If an item is guessed by many gentlemen, it only proves its owner is the most beautiful and striking—isn’t that the greatest honor?” the old gentleman countered.

Alright, let’s give it a try.” Some young unmarried gentlemen eagerly stepped forward, their gazes fixed on their respective sweethearts, causing many unmarried maidens to blush.

Thus, the game began with the ladies’ half-hearted consent. The old gentleman ordered a large cardboard box to be brought in, filled with items collected from the ladies earlier—mostly fans, handkerchiefs, and sachets.

The old gentleman took out a pink handkerchief and introduced, “This is a pink silk handkerchief with a faint scent of jasmine.”

As soon as he finished speaking, the gentlemen began arguing. “This belongs to Madame Louis.” “No, it’s Miss Griffin’s.” After some debate, a young man finally guessed correctly. He took the handkerchief and walked up to a young lady, gracefully returning it to her. The maiden shyly accepted it, and good-natured laughter erupted around them.

Items were presented one after another—some were guessed correctly, earning applause and smiles; others remained a mystery despite prolonged guessing, frustrating their owners who stepped forward to reclaim them.

Just then, the old gentleman took out an item—a long silk ribbon. He frowned, seemingly puzzled about what it was and how to describe it, completely oblivious to the fact that some in the room had already turned pale.

“Hmm, this is a long patterned ribbon. Forgive my ignorance, but I don’t know where such a long ribbon is meant to be tied. Well, gentlemen, guess which lady this belongs to,” the old gentleman said, waving the ribbon.

“Oh, that looks like…” A young lady started to say something but suddenly blushed and lowered her head.

A lady, unfazed, covered her mouth with a fan and exclaimed loudly, “Good heavens, who put an undergarment strap here?”

Many men had already recognized it as an undergarment strap. Though eager to guess, they hesitated to speak up, not wanting to embarrass anyone. Among the guests were frequent visitors to Baker Manor, and some noticed the ribbon’s pattern—both novel and familiar. A certain young lady had once flaunted a dress with such a design.

Many eyes turned toward Freya in the room, followed by hushed whispers. Freya turned pale, as if about to faint. The Lloyd family, including Viscount Lloyd, panicked, and the atmosphere grew tense.

Garrett naturally noticed the awkward situation and demanded sharply, “What’s going on? Whose item is that?”

“That’s not mine…” Freya stammered nervously. Just then, someone shouted, “I’ve seen Miss Freya Lloyd wearing clothes with that pattern.”

“How dare you!” Viscount Lloyd flew into a rage and threw a punch at the guest who spoke. Chaos ensued—male guests scrambled to break up the fight while female guests screamed and reveled in the spectacle. Rumors spread like wildfire, though no one could recall who started them.

“I heard Freya has been carrying on with a manservant named Bayou from their household—a secret affair even the servants knew about.”

Garrett’s face darkened. He had already hinted to many about his plans to marry Freya, but now he remained silent, turned on his heel, and left. Freya chased after him, running out of the hall.

What followed became a scandalous tale that circulated in Yorkshire for years. Some said Viscount Garrett left Baker Manor overnight and never mentioned the marriage again, as if it had never happened.

The Christmas banquet’s mood plummeted, and guests quietly slipped away, not even bothering with farewells, as the host was in a thunderous rage.

“What is the meaning of this! Aren’t you in charge of the young lady’s clothing? Why was her undergarment strap there?!” The viscount roared, gripping Freya’s personal maid in fury.

The maid, her face covered in tears, trembled and said, “I don’t know, I really don’t know! That sash went missing long ago. I couldn’t find it when I dressed the young lady that night, and I reported it to the mistress. She said, ‘If it’s lost, forget it, just buy a new one.'”

The viscount turned angrily to his wife, who now appeared flustered and stammered, “I don’t know either, I thought…”

“What did you think?! How could something missing during dressing end up there? Ask your daughter if she undressed outside! And those rumors!” The viscount burned with rage. “I found it strange when she said she’d marry with a male servant! That servant named Bayou, bring him to me! I’ll have him tried in court! And those servants, why didn’t they report such rumors to me sooner!”

“We can’t make this public, no. If it escalates, our reputation will be ruined. Father, please calm down.” Lauren tightly gripped the viscount’s arm, trying to quell his anger.

The viscount took a deep breath and, after a long pause, said solemnly, “Take this maid to court and charge her with stealing the young lady’s belongings.”

“I didn’t, I didn’t!” The maid struggled desperately, her face filled with disbelief. Stealing such expensive items could mean the gallows.

“If you didn’t steal it, how did my sister’s things end up there!” Lauren raised her voice, demanding angrily.

“It was the young lady and Bayou…” The maid tried to explain.

“Silence!” The viscount immediately cut her off, his voice harsh. “This wretched woman has been bewitched by the devil. She stole the young lady’s sash and tarnished her reputation. Her crimes are unforgivable! Let the judge hang her!”

As soon as the words were spoken, the poor maid was dragged away mercilessly.

Though the matter seemed resolved, the damage to their reputation was irreparable. The rumors of the viscount’s unmarried daughter and a male servant, true or not, had spread throughout Yorkshire. Worse still, the young lady had been jilted by her fiancé, fueling the scandal further.

After the party, the male servant named Bayou was expelled from the estate. Soon after, he was found dead on the streets of Yorkshire, his corpse horrifically mutilated. The incident seemed to leave a heavy lesson for all involved.

“Did you plant the sash there?” The viscountess finally asked the question that had weighed on her heart for so long, when only she and Lauren were present.

“Mother, I thought you weren’t as foolish as the others,” Lauren replied with a frown.

“But you tore Freya’s dress that day…” The viscountess’s suspicion resurfaced.

“Even if I resented Freya for stealing Viscount Garrett, I wouldn’t jeopardize everything. Besides, Freya and I are sisters. If her reputation is ruined, does that mean mine improves? Now I’m mocked whenever I go out!” Lauren bit her lip indignantly. “That fool Freya, she’s reckless and drags me down with her…”

At the door, Freya’s personal maid widened her eyes in disbelief. She had come to summon Lauren to Freya’s room but overheard this conversation unexpectedly.

The maid glanced at me nervously. I gave her a helpless look, shook my head, and whispered, “I never thought it was… sigh… How could Lauren do this…”

The maid clenched her lips. Another maid who had served Freya with her had been sent to court over this and might face the gallows. Even if she escaped death, she could be exiled to America or the southern continent. Without waiting further, the maid silently slipped away…