2 Betrayal

Nesta understood and thanked her for her initial comfort all the same. But the other ladies she had called friends and laughed with, none had come to check up on her to know if she was dead or alive.

They didn't even write to her, and Nesta had felt betrayed. She was done for. All the lords she admired, and who had eyed her at initial balls, and those she had found interesting, and those who had, in turn, found her interesting, no one, none acted like she existed.

This sometimes made Nesta blame her father, and other times, she pitied him. So many times had she thought about running from home, but she wondered what this would do to her father who was trying to make amends and so it made her stay herself. What they were seeking was a way out, and not a way to make more scandals.

Nesta saw a shooting star and thought to make a wish, then she thought it pointless. Superstitions.

That's what they all were. Wishes weren't real. Nothing was real. All there was to life was this existing life of torture and pain, one she was meant to feel.

She had made pain her friend. But pain becoming her friend hadn't spared her one bit.

Nesta returned to bed and pictured her late mother hum a song to her. It was as if the tune was before her, touching her like soft light hopeful whispers.

She could picture the face of her mom next to her, and she tried to trace it with her mind. Soon, she was fast asleep, grateful that some memories were still alive.

The warm glow on Nesta's face made her turn, and she wondered which idiot had left the window open, not remembering she was just standing there last night.

It could be it was left so to make the night and its bountiful stars have pity on her, and to make them have easy access to her. Maybe, that's how she had been able to sleep.

But there was no point in waking so early. There was little or nothing to do, save for the repetition of skills she had already acquired, one she may not be able to show anyone ever again.

Nesta heard the knock on the door and said, "Go away." Her body needed this bed, and she wasn't sure she wanted to face the day to give her a reminder of other days.

She pulled the cover over her head to continue her sleep, but all that was left was only a shadow of sleep.

"May I come in, My Lady?" Nesta still could make out Lillian's muffled voice.

Lillian Chernin, Nesta's maid was like a new best friend to her, and she was the one Nesta found interesting talking to these days.

Sometimes, she needed to be left alone, and sometimes, she needed someone to talk to, and that's the role Lillian played.

They talked about people they knew and anything their minds could think of. They talked about their hopes and dreams. They talked about childhood memories, to which Lillian's was more fun-filled.

"You may not."

"Please, My Lady. We've just received a letter from your father, and I wish for you to read it."

Reluctant, Nesta sat up, her eyes deem with sleep and she said, "Alright. Come in."

The polished doors of her room opened and Lillian came into the room.

"Good morning, My Lady," Lillian said. She came to Nesta's side and offered her the letter. "To you, from your father. He had a separate one for my mom. She says that he's coming home, but not alone."

Nesta wondered what this was. Not alone. Since when did father bring back visitors? Who would want to associate with him?

Nesta rubbed her eyes and broke the seal on the letter, then she opened it to read.

Father talked of having a new business partner, a young Earl, and he said he was bringing him home to meet his daughter.

Nesta arched her brow. For all she knew, the Earl could be like any other, ordinary maybe, but from her father's writing, he sounded elated. Best to keep reading.

It said they would be home in a fortnight because they still had some business deals to conclude.

Nesta thought two weeks was okay. It would give them time to bring the manor back to life. Not that it was dead.

But it was lacking something—so much, and Nesta had to make sure the servants saw to it. Sure, she couldn't make it look festive. But at least, she could try to make it welcoming for one Earl.

After all, they never had visitors.

Only those who didn't care about their reputation would make such venture to Devonshire.

Nesta finished reading the letter and looked at her maid with lazy eyes.

"Happy?" Lillian asked, a hidden gleeful look on her face. "An Earl and possibly a gentleman."

"I've known to never get my hopes up, Lillian. So, I'm not celebrating just yet."

"You'll see. Things would be in your favor."

And perhaps, Lillian was right. But Nesta didn't care. She was on the stage of the hopeless now, and it was the only theater with no guests.

She had gotten accustomed to this stage, and she had always danced in silence, no need to raise her voice with glee. The walls would only echo back what she had said.

Lillian left the room and returned shortly to prepare for Nesta a warm bath. Nesta was helped out of bed by her maid, and lazily, she moved to the bathroom.

When she was out of the bathroom and well toweled, Lillian helped Nesta into a yellow gown.

She stood before her reflection in the mirror, staring at herself, wondering if this was what she was, almost hopeless.

Joy recently hadn't been a part of her. Servants, save for Lillian now barely saw her laugh.

Very little made her laugh, and she was one who believed that it was good to smile since it aided once beauty.

Well, she still had it, and somehow, she preferred herself when she wasn't smiling. This had made Nesta see so much clearer, and at this point, she felt she no longer could be fooled.