- - -

Baroness Isabel Ratched Bryant was shaking with anger because her husband was an absolute fool. Herbert Bryant paced around the sitting room, throwing his hands up in the air.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you. Briana’s always ill! We have the best physicians in the capital on call, Catherine and I make no difference! For God’s sake, what’s your problem?”

“My problem? My problem is that you care about that tramp you picked off of the streets more than you care about our daughter! You’ve changed, Herbert! She’s manipulating you!”

Herbert shook his head furiously.

“So it’s still about Catherine! I’ve told you, she’s my daughter, and at the very least you’re going to treat her with decency, like it or not! I brought her into this household, and she’s not manipulating anyone. I love you and I love Briana, just as I love her.”

“You love her? The wench you’ve known for five months? I don’t give a shit if she’s some saint, she doesn’t belong here. If it’s not her, then it’s that foul man that raised her! God knows what he did with her! She has no sophistication whatsoever, like a peasant!”

“Charles is very loyal to me, and he did his best. It’s not his fault that-”

“Then why didn’t he bring her back to you earlier? You think I don’t know he was your valet? Their heads were both messed up in that accident, that’s why! He’s always muttering, mad like a dog. Persecution mania, that’s what!”

Herbert’s chest heaved. They stood face to face, and his eyes flared. He let out a cold laugh.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Maybe I don’t, because you won’t tell me! After all these years, you still don’t trust me. Remember when you thought I was spying for Daddy? Well, Daddy’s dead! Oh, is that why you waited to bring her back? Because you knew Daddy would never have stood for this?!”

Isabel trembled, knowing from the flash she’d caught on Herbert’s face that she’d struck a nerve. It was all too horrible. She remembered it clearly, returning from Daddy’s funeral, eyes still red from crying, to see that bitch for the first time with Herbert wrapped around her fingers, daring to trespass into her home, and the rage that had replaced her grief was finally unleashed.

“Daddy adored Briana, and he told me it was because she tied you to me! He knew you never cared about me in the slightest! When we first married, you wouldn’t even look at me. Now you expect me to put up with that thing in my house, bringing shame to our name, embarrassing our family, and dragging our reputation through the mud! You must see that she’s rotten, Herbert! You have to cut her off!”

“Then that’s where we disagree. She’s a part of this household, and that’s not up to debate! Instead of trying to ruin her image for me to get rid of her, if you’d helped her, we wouldn’t be here!”

“You want me to associate with such a lowly-”

“Spare me your ridiculous bias! Hell, you were a commoner before you married me! It’s that Avington girl’s fault, isn’t it? Putting ideas into your head? Isabel, you’re a goddamn Bryant! Think for yourself!”

“I did, and I know it’d be better for our family if that wench left! You’d see it too if you weren’t so damn stubborn! I also think that Daddy was right, and I should’ve never married you!”

She panted, hoping against hope that her husband would get on his knees and beg for forgiveness for his stupidity, or even just sweep her into his arms and apologize, and promise to make things better. Instead, he spoke coldly.

“Don’t be absurd. I could’ve told you that long ago.”

Before she knew it, her palm landed on his cheek in a loud slap. Her hand stung as she stormed out of the room, her heart pounding with a wild mix of emotions as she tried to neglect the instantaneous regret filling her.

She hadn’t known where she was going, but she found herself in front of her daughter’s room. With her feelings more calm, she went in quietly. The peaceful scene of Briana sleeping brought a slight smile to her face. No, even if it were only for her beloved daughter, she did not regret her marriage.

Isabel gently sat on the bed and took one of Briana’s tiny hands in her own. She brushed aside a lock of hair from her daughter’s face and kissed her forehead. Sitting up, she noticed again how much the girl resembled her father, and thought of when she’d first fallen for him.

She had been a shy and silly girl of seventeen. He’d been one of Daddy’s countless business partners, and they’d spent time together working on a real estate project. He’d made her laugh, but he was ten years her senior, married, and had a newborn daughter. Daddy had warned her, but she’d known what she wanted, and Daddy wanted his title too.

“My love.”

Soundlessly, Herbert slipped into the room. She ignored him as he sat beside her and embraced her with a whisper, preferring to remember.

Well, she’d gotten what she wanted, like Daddy had promised, though she wasn’t exactly sure what he’d done. About a year later, when she was eighteen, a very convenient accident happened, and after the appropriate mourning period, he’d married her. Her little sister died shortly after, and though she didn’t grieve much since they’d never been close, it did add to the misery of her desolate newlywed life.

Herbert had treated her coolly and reasonably, providing everything she needed except his affection. She’d spent seven years desperately trying and failing to become part of high society, only to be laughed at and shunned. Her husband had ignored her, and she hadn’t a single friend.

“I’m sorry. I was upset about one of my plans not going right, and I was taking that out on you too. I didn’t mean what I said.”

He took her hand, which still clutched their daughter’s, and raised it to kiss her knuckles. She held out a little longer, but her wrath was ready to dissolve.

Lady Valentina had given Isabel a new life. She’d taught Isabel to have confidence, to not feel like an imposter in her own household, and to beautifully reveal her real character to her husband. Under her guidance, she finally got Herbert to soften and grow fond of her. A year later, almost like proof of her growth, Briana was born, and numerous ladies sent their congratulations. Sweet, sweet, Briana, the best blessing she’d ever had, along with her father.

She’d loved him rashly when she’d married him. She’d loved him despairingly when he’d disregarded her. She’d loved him fiercely when he’d grinned so happily the first time he saw Briana. Now, after sixteen years of marriage, she still loved him deeply.

Isabel leaned into his arms and closed her eyes, serene in her murmur.

“It’s all right. We can agree to disagree, but we won’t fight.”

Her stubborn hostility towards the girl was not lessened, and she was determined to remove her by any means necessary to restore true peace. Yet she felt slightly guilty for using Briana to deceive Herbert, though she was nevertheless proud of her daughter’s acting, so expertly taught by her and Lady Valentina.

Regardless, in that moment, she could almost pretend that they were back in the time before Daddy’s death and Catherine. And she was happy.

- - -

Catherine slipped out of Lady Briana’s room, relieved that the couple had not noticed her.

The baron, the baroness, and their daughter. A real family, with love and intimacy. It was an image she did not belong to, despite Father’s efforts. She did not wish to ruin it further and felt awful enough for the damage she’d already caused. Perhaps they’d all be happier if she simply disappeared. Sometimes she thought she would.

Catherine hadn’t meant to intrude, but even after Lady Briana had fallen asleep, she didn’t dare leave without permission, lest the girl woke up and was angered by it. Thus, she’d taken a book from the child’s shelf and moved to a corner. When Lady Bryant had charged in so terribly distraught that she didn’t even notice her, she’d been too frightened to make her presence known and ultimately chose to sneak out as quietly as possible, which resulted in little speed. She’d made it out when she was certain the family’s attention was enraptured by each other.

“Oi, Cat!”

She’d wandered into one of the many unfamiliar halls and swirled to see who had called her. The usual sentiment and apprehension rose when she saw Uncle.

“I heard from the servants you’re going to some banquet?”

“Ah, no. Lady Briana is ill, so we’re not.”

Uncle snorted and waved a hand.

“You’re the firstborn and daughter of a proper lady, the old mistress. You’re worth ten times that little brat, with how well I’ve raised you!”

Catherine simply tilted her head and looked at Uncle curiously. He continued without acknowledging her.

“I’m heartbroken, y’know. Your father doesn’t want me around anywhere, not like the good old days. Keeps me shut up in my rooms so no one sees me and asks awkward questions. After all I’ve done, shouldn’t he be making sure of that? And you too! Ungrateful child, never coming to visit me!”

He turned an accusatory glance to Catherine. She inhaled sharply.

“I’m sorry, Uncle.”

“Hmph. As I was saying, the baron…”

Catherine had much practice mindlessly making affirmative sounds and didn’t hear what he said. She scolded herself for not being better at showing appreciation and spending time with Uncle, but then she realized that she did not enjoy his company. Her heart always beat faster around him with the fear that he would be displeased. In his voice there was none of that tenderness the baron and baroness had when addressing Lady Briana or each other.

She had assumed she loved Uncle, and she was sure that she did, but it occurred to her suddenly and terrifyingly that she did not really like him. It was wicked of her, but it would also be wicked to lie to herself, and a part of her felt that she’d secretly known long ago and simply refused to admit it. The confession almost came with relief, to know how alone she truly was and to lose herself in the sorrow of that loneliness.

Would she ever have something like what the Bryants had? A family to love and call her own? It seemed impossible in this life. How could she escape this home that did not want her?

“My lady! The prince is here to see you!”