A Tale of Betrayal and Revenge

Lady Sherry tucked the ribbon into her handbag, then, like a playful young girl, she laughed softly and left the balcony.

I stood still, watching her figure disappear.

What would this troublemaker do now?

These noblewomen are all the same—outwardly close like sisters, but in truth, they hate and undermine each other. Dear friend, if you were to live in misery, then I would be filled with joy.

The Viscountess tells anyone who would listen that Lady Sherry is a loose woman, involved with many lowly men. Does Lady Sherry not know this? Of course, she knows, and I suspect she grits her teeth in hatred, wishing to tear the Viscountess apart, wishing her to burn in hell.

What will she do? Will she tell Viscount Wilson directly, or will she spread the rumor secretly so that everyone knows?

But whatever she chooses, it has nothing to do with me.

The balcony was cold and gloomy, the wind merciless. My body was chilled to the bone, but inside, I burned with excitement. I had been waiting, lurking, and now my revenge was about to begin.

Taking a deep breath, I adjusted my bowtie and calmly walked down the stairs, returning to the ballroom.

The party continued, full of music and dancing. Simon, noticing my return, excitedly came over to ask, "How did it go?"

I nodded, "It went smoothly enough."

"Great! You've got your chance..." Simon prattled on enthusiastically.

I, however, kept scanning the crowd for Lady Sherry.

I spotted her standing among a group of noblewomen, all of them whispering excitedly.

"She wouldn't be foolish enough to tell them directly, would she?" I muttered to myself.

"What did you say?" Simon asked, puzzled.

"Nothing, nothing," I quickly replied.

At that moment, an elderly gentleman picked up a glass and tapped it with a silver spoon. The crisp sound drew everyone's attention.

With a smile, the old gentleman said, "The ladies have just suggested we play a little game."

"What kind of game?" The young gentlemen were intrigued.

"A guessing game. The ladies and young ladies will each contribute a personal item, and the gentlemen will try to guess to whom it belongs," he explained.

"Oh no, we can't play such an improper game! What if it damages the reputation of the ladies? How awkward that would be!" protested a more reserved noblewoman.

"It's just a game. If an item is guessed by several gentlemen, it only proves that the lady is the most beautiful and admired, doesn't it?" countered the elderly man with a grin.

"Alright, let's give it a try!" some of the young, unmarried men eagerly suggested, glancing toward their sweethearts, making several young ladies blush.

And so, the game began, with the ladies half-heartedly participating.

The old gentleman had a large box brought out, filled with items the ladies had just handed over—mostly fans, handkerchiefs, and scented sachets.

The old gentleman pulled out a pink handkerchief and announced, "A pink silk handkerchief, with a light scent of jasmine."

As soon as he spoke, the gentlemen began calling out their guesses.

"Lady Monica's!"

"No, it's Miss Caroline's!"

Finally, a young man guessed correctly. He took the handkerchief from the old gentleman and gracefully returned it to a young lady, who bashfully accepted it, while good-natured laughter filled the room.

Item after item was brought forth. Some were guessed correctly, earning applause and smiles; others left the gentlemen stumped, prompting the owners to retrieve their belongings in frustration.

Then, the old gentleman pulled out a long ribbon. He frowned, seemingly unsure of what it was or how to introduce it. He failed to notice that a few people in the crowd had already gone pale.

"Hmm, a long, patterned ribbon. Forgive my ignorance, but I have no idea where one might wear such a long ribbon. Gentlemen, let's guess which lady this belongs to," the old man said, shaking the ribbon.

"Oh, that looks like..." a young lady began, then suddenly blushed and lowered her head in embarrassment.

Some of the older women, however, were unbothered, covering their mouths with their fans as they called out, "Good heavens, who put their undergarment ribbon in there?"

The gentlemen had long recognized the ribbon as belonging to a piece of underwear, but they hesitated to guess, unwilling to embarrass anyone.

Several guests who frequented the Mormont estate noticed the ribbon's distinctive pattern and were reminded of a particular dress worn by a certain young lady.

Many turned their eyes toward Margaret, whispering quietly among themselves.

Margaret's face turned pale, as if she were about to faint. It wasn't just her—Viscount Bruce's entire family seemed to be in a state of panic.

Wilson, naturally, noticed the uncomfortable atmosphere.

"What's going on? Whose item is that?" Wilson asked sharply.

"That... that's not mine..." Margaret stammered, guilty and panicked.

Just then, someone in the crowd, eager to stir up trouble, called out, "I've seen Miss Margaret wear something with that pattern before."

"How dare you speak such nonsense!" Viscount Bruce, furious, lunged at the guest, throwing a punch.

Chaos erupted. The men tried to break up the fight, the women shrieked and gossiped, and a rumor quickly spread through the crowd, though it was unclear who had started it.

"I heard Margaret's been having an affair with that servant, Jason. Even the household staff knows about it," someone whispered.

Wilson's face darkened. He had already hinted to many people about his intention to marry Margaret. Without a word, he turned and left the room, Margaret chasing after him.

The aftermath of this incident would become a scandal that would be the talk of Yorkshire for years.

It was said that Viscount Wilson left the Mormont estate that very night, never mentioning marriage again, as if the engagement had never existed.

The Christmas banquet had ended in disaster. Guests quietly slipped away, not even bidding farewell to their hosts, as the household was in turmoil.

"What is the meaning of this! What is the meaning of this! You're in charge of Miss Margaret's wardrobe, aren't you? How did that ribbon end up there?" the Viscount demanded, furiously interrogating Margaret's maid.

The maid, in tears, replied, "I don't know, truly, I don't. That ribbon went missing a long time ago. I couldn't find it when I was dressing Miss Margaret that evening, so I reported it to the mistress. The mistress said, 'If you can't find it, just buy a new one.'"

The Viscount looked toward his wife, who was now flustered and stammering, "I didn't know... I thought..."

"You thought what? The ribbon was missing when she got dressed. How could it have fallen out? Ask your dear daughter if she's been undressing in public! And what about these rumors? I found it strange when she said she wanted to take a servant with her when she married! Bring that servant Jason to me! I'll have him hauled before the court! And those damned servants—why didn't they report these rumors to me sooner?"

"No, no, we can't let this spread. If the scandal grows, our family's reputation will be ruined. Father, please calm down," Catherine pleaded, grabbing the Viscount's arm.

The Viscount took a deep breath. After a long pause, he finally said, "Take that maid to court. Accuse her of stealing Miss Margaret's belongings."

"No, no, I didn't do it!" The maid struggled frantically, disbelief etched on her face. To be accused of stealing such valuable property would mean a death sentence by hanging.

"If you didn't steal it, then how did my sister's ribbon end up there?" Catherine shouted.

"It was Miss Margaret and Jason..."

"Silence!" the Viscount cut her off harshly before she could finish, then commanded, "This wretched woman has been corrupted by the devil. She stole the ribbon to ruin Miss Margaret's reputation. She is guilty beyond measure! Have the judge hang her!"

With that, the poor maid was dragged away.

Though the situation had been 'resolved,' the family's reputation could not be restored. The rumor of Margaret's affair with a servant, true or not, had spread throughout Yorkshire, and on top of that, her fiancé had called off the engagement. Could there be any more sensational gossip? The people of Yorkshire would have plenty to discuss over their tea for years to come.

As the drama came to a close, a servant named Jason from the Viscount's estate was driven out of the manor. Not long after, he was found dead on the streets of Yorkshire, his body in a horrific state.

...

"Was it you who put the ribbon in there?" the Viscountess asked Catherine.

When they were alone, just the two of them in the room, the Viscountess finally asked the question she had been holding back for so long.

"Mother, I thought you weren't as foolish as everyone else," Catherine replied, frowning.

"But you tore Margaret's dress that day..." the Viscountess said, suspicious.

"Even if I wasn't happy that Margaret was stealing Viscount Wilson from me, I wouldn't disregard the bigger picture. Besides, we are sisters. If her reputation is ruined, would that make mine any better? Now even I am mocked when I go out!" Catherine said, biting her lip. "That fool Margaret, not only ruining herself but dragging me down with her..."

At the door, Margaret's maid stood frozen in disbelief.

She was originally sent to fetch Catherine and bring her to Margaret's room. I had only asked her to wait at the door for a moment, but I didn't expect her to overhear such a conversation. 

The maid glanced at me anxiously. 

I gave her a helpless look, shook my head, and softly said, "I can't believe it... sigh... how could Miss Catherine do such a thing..." 

The maid bit her lip; the maid who used to serve Margaret alongside her had been taken to court over this matter and might face the death penalty or, at the very least, be exiled to America or the southern continent. She chose not to wait any longer and left in silence...