Two hours ago
That morning in Châteaubriant, Duke Félix sat in his study, eyeing the towering pile of papers awaiting his attention. Managing such volume of paperwork was hardly a challenge, nor was it anything new; he was used to handling far more. Yet, he felt unusually drained today for reasons he could not quite name.
Settling back in his chair, Félix retrieved his spectacles from his desk drawer and slid them onto the bridge of his nose. He had resisted the need for them at first, perhaps out of vanity, but with the sheer volume of reports demanding his attention daily, there was little sense in straining his eyes.
He began with the report on the large-scale farming project overseen by the earl. He ought to have reviewed it over the weekend, especially as he was due to visit the site today. He also had to meet with the king's cabinet that evening to discuss the project's advancement and future goals.
What he saw now, though, was not what he had expected. The duke's lips thinned as he read on, his brows drawing together. Was his mind playing tricks on him, or was something seriously amiss?
How had more than 500 workers been dropped in the past three weeks, and why was he only learning of it now? He needed answers. Yet the details in the report were vague. It did not help that Earl Vincent had reportedly been ill for some time.
The duke straightened and clicked his tongue, considering how best to arrange an impromptu visit to the sick earl. As he weighed his options, his stoutly built butler entered, carrying his morning coffee.
"Your tea, milord," the man said, setting it down with practiced ease.
"Cornelia asks if she should take your breakfast away or bring it up here," he added.
"Tell her to leave it," Félix said, eyes still on the report.
The butler hesitated. "When you say to leave it, do you mean you will go down to the dining hall soon, or—"
"You can see I'm working, Bach. I don't need that kind of distraction now," Félix said, still reading. Bach should have known better than to ask, he thought.
A thick silence followed immediately after, lasting long enough for Félix to assume that the butler had excused himself. But when he glanced up, the man was still there, standing with his hands neatly clasped before him.
Félix sank back in his chair and asked, almost idly, "How long would it take to reach Cleverview if we set out now?"
"Why? Is something important happening there?"
Félix had expected the question. Bach was nothing if not predictable. There was nothing particularly noteworthy about Cleverview, but it happened to be where the earl lived. Was there any harm in paying the man a visit under the guise of hospitality?
"I would appreciate it if you answered my question first."
"Forgive me. Three hours," the butler said.
That was an awfully long drive, Félix thought, but he kept it to himself.
He cleared his throat. "You did say the earl reported being ill a while back."
"For two weeks now, precisely," Bach replied.
"Two weeks?" Félix exclaimed. "What man lies about for fourteen days? He is just lazing around at this point."
Félix frowned. Especially when he had so much to do.
"I wouldn't say so," the butler interjected. "From what I gathered from Ger last time, the earl's illness seemed quite serious. It may well be a contagious flu, for all we know. Is he the reason you want to go to Cleverview?"
Félix eyed him but said nothing.
Ger was Vincent's butler and right hand, and he might as well be covering for his master's excesses. With that in mind, the duke gripped the arms of his chair, though his posture remained at ease. "Have Étienne gather some healthy plants from the garden. We are paying a visit to a sick man."
Bach nodded and left.
***
Hot sweat trickled down her neck, pooling at her back as Theodore fastened the ropes around her wrists and ankles. They had made her lie face down on a thin wooden plank that could hardly support a toddler's weight. Yet, somehow, she managed to stay balanced.
The late morning sun did more than burnish her exposed back; she could feel it scorching her skin as though peeling away her flesh. But that, it seemed, was not punishment enough for the baroness and her daughters. They had ordered Theodore to deliver a good number of strokes across her bare skin.
Estella braced herself. Although she was exhausted, not just physically, but in a deeper more consuming way - tired of her fate and tired of being treated worse than a slave in her own father's house.
She hated him. Her father. He had simply stood there, watching and saying nothing. All the while Georgina was yanking at her hair.
Worse, he had walked over to the baroness to placate her as though she was the one hurting before retreating into the house with her, leaving Estella to the mercy of her older sisters who were all too eager to teach her a lesson.
"Tie her up properly!" Georgina snapped, standing just across from Estella.
"Her ankles are loose," Geraldine observed, pointing at the ropes. "Do you not know how to tie someone? Is this your first time?"
Theodore, spited by the remark, yanked the rope tighter until it bit into Estella's skin. She flinched but gave no further reaction. She was used to such torments by now.
"Hand me the cane," Georgina instructed.
Estella stiffened. Her sister had never caned her before. At least with Theodore, there had been order—blows delivered at intervals, predictable, even in their cruelty. She doubted Georgina would afford her the same restraint.
"The baroness asked me to do it," Theodore said.
"Well, my mother isn't here. Is she? Move aside while I ask nicely," Georgina replied.
The spiked whip tore across her back before Estella could fully process what had just been said. Pain ripped through her, stealing the scream from her throat before it could escape.
"Again," Geraldine ordered.
The second lash landed. Estella trembled as though seized by a violent chill. She could not survive this.
"Again!"
Footsteps pounded against the ground. Even without looking, Estella knew who it was.
Georgina snapped, "What is it?"
"Yes. Why are you running like that?" Geraldine demanded.
"I'm sorry," Lovetta gasped, catching her breath. "But your mother, the baroness, is requesting you both."
"Why?" the sisters asked in unison.
"You have a guest. A very important man is here to see your father, and the baroness has asked you both to look your best."
"Really? We should hurry, then," Georgina said, exchanging a glance with Geraldine. They turned to leave.
"What about her?"
Theodore's voice reached Estella, whose eyes squeezed shut, silently praying they would set her free.
Geraldine scoffed. "Cane her five more times so she learns never to frolic with a man who isn't the viscount again."
Defeated, Estella opened her eyes and let her tears fall freely.