Another lonely night

Countess Cassandra Percival sat elegantly on the balcony of the grand Percival Mansion, the golden hues of the setting sun casting a warm glow over her melancholic face. She sipped delicately from her teacup, savoring the exquisite aroma of the finest tea imported from distant lands.

It was a variety of black tea which brought out the finest quality taste of the tea leaf and she couldn't even begin to explain how pleasant it felt in her chaotic life to have a moment like this.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed her young and radiant maid, Lily, pouring more tea into her cup with a cheerful smile. The girl's bright demeanour seemed to pierce through the quiet melancholy of the moment.

Cassandra's brown eyes flicked toward Lily, curiosity sparking in her gaze. "Lily," she began, her voice smooth and commanding, "you seem unusually cheerful today. Has something good happened?"

Lily's cheeks flushed as she quickly straightened her posture, her hands lightly gripping the teapot. "Oh, nothing of the sort, my lady. I am just happy to serve you...and Count," she replied with a polite bow, her voice tinged with nervousness.

Cassandra's lips curved into a faint smile, though her eyes held a glint of skepticism. "Is that so?" she murmured, taking another sip of her tea. She set the cup down gently, her manicured fingers brushing against the fine porcelain. "Well, then, since you're in such a good mood, fetch me some biscuits to accompany my tea. I would like if you add some extra sugar."

"At once, my lady," Lily responded, her smile widening as she curtsied. She turned and hurried away, her youthful energy evident in every step. Cassandra's gaze lingered on the maid's retreating figure, her sharp eyes tracing the curve of Lily's waist and the sway of her hips and her buttocks.

Looking at Lily, Cassandra was reminded of her own youth when she wasn't worried about her skin getting wrinkles and her hair starting to get gray.

As the maid disappeared into the mansion, Cassandra leaned back in her chair, her expression darkening. Her painted lips parted, and she muttered under her breath, "Such a young harlot..."

Her words dissipated into the cool evening air, unheard by anyone but herself. With a sigh, she picked up her teacup again, the taste now bitter on her tongue. She directed her gaze toward the sprawling gardens below, their beauty marred by the sight of her husband, Count Jamie Percival, striding up the path leading to the mansion.

Jamie was a tall, broad-shouldered man with an air of authority, but the warmth that once resided in his eyes was long gone for her. Cassandra's chest tightened as she watched him. Not a single shred of happiness flickered in her heart at his return, only a dull ache that had become all too familiar.

Just by looking at that man she was reminded of the gri future that awaited her. A death without shred of happiness in her life.

The Count glanced up at the balcony, his piercing eyes briefly meeting Cassandra's. For a moment, it seemed he might acknowledge her, but then his gaze shifted away, and he strode past without a word. The cold indifference cut deeper than any harsh word ever could.

They were only husband nad wife in the name. The love that should exist in this relationship wasn't there for both of them. Was it like that from the beginning?

Cassandra's hand tightened around the teacup, her knuckles turning white. She set it down on the table with deliberate care, unwilling to let her emotions betray her composure. The setting sun bathed the world in a fiery glow, but to Cassandra, it only signaled the approach of another lonely night.

"How tiresome," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her eyes remained fixed on the horizon, the light fading as shadows crept across the land. "Another night in this prison of silk and gold...without a single shred of happiness in my life."

***

Late in the evening, the grand corridors of Count Percival's estate lay shrouded in silence, save for the faint creaks of old wood and the whisper of the wind brushing against the towering windows. Among this silence, a figure moved stealthily—a maid with a candle held low, her face shadowed by her bonnet. 

She crept towards Count Percival's quarters, her heart pounding as if it feared discovery. The door to his room stood slightly ajar, an unspoken invitation in the otherwise rigid rules of the household.

The maid hesitated for a moment, glancing left and right. She knew this room was forbidden unless summoned. Yet, with a quick breath, she slipped inside and gently shut the door behind her. The sound of the latch was soft but final, sealing her inside with whatever secrets the Count's quarters held.

Cassandra stood in the shadows of the hallway, watching everything. Her brown eyes narrowed, her delicate hand clenching into a fist. She ground her teeth, anger simmering beneath her composed exterior. 

She had been passing by, only to notice the maid's suspicious behavior. The sight of the maid sneaking into the Count's private chambers without a summons filled Cassandra with a mix of fury and indignation.

Moments passed. Cassandra remained rooted near the door, her keen ears picking up muffled voices. She caught the Count's deep chuckle mingling with the maid's lighter laugh. Soon, the sounds shifted—soft, amorous murmurs that grew into unmistakable moans. 

"Ahhhhhh~ Yes, Master!" Lily muttered, as she kept moaning. Cassandra wasn't stupid to not understand what was happening in the room.

Cassandra's face flushed with anger and humiliation as she heard Count Percival's voice rise, proclaiming, "You're the best woman I've ever known. I love you more than words can say."

Her knuckles whitened as she clenched her hands tightly. She turned abruptly and retreated to her chambers, her heart heavy and her mind racing with thoughts she dared not voice aloud.

Back in her room she looked at the mirror illuminated by the candlelightand she slightly ran her hand though her face. She touched the wrinkles that appeared with her age and the grey hair. Her youth was starting to disappear with her approaching her forties.

The next morning, the estate buzzed with its usual activity. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, illuminating the grandeur of the dining hall where Cassandra sat with an air of practiced calm. She sipped her tea slowly, her sharp gaze resting on the maid who approached with a tray of fresh pastries.

"Good morning, my lady," the maid greeted with a polite bow. She set the tray down with practiced ease, her expression serene and pleasant.

Cassandra regarded her for a moment before speaking. "Tell me," she began, her tone light yet edged with something the maid couldn't quite place, "how does it feel?"

The maid blinked, confused. "My lady? I'm afraid I don't understand."

Cassandra offered a tight smile. "How does it feel to be a maid for Percival household? Is it enjoyable? Do you find it fulfilling?"

The maid's confusion turned into a shy smile. "It's my passion to serve the Percival family," she said earnestly. "My parents served here before me, and I've always felt it was my duty to continue their legacy."

"Is that so?" Cassandra replied, her tone unreadable. She was about to press further when the sound of hurried footsteps interrupted them.

A butler rushed into the room, his usually composed demeanor replaced by urgency. "My lady! A young man stands at the front gate. He refuses to leave despite our requests."

Cassandra frowned slightly, setting her teacup down with deliberate care. "Call the guards and have him escorted out. We don't entertain strangers loitering at our gates."

The butler hesitated. "My lady, forgive my boldness, but you may wish to see him for yourself. He's…"

"Out with it," Cassandra commanded.

"He's unusually well-dressed for a wanderer," the butler explained. "And he… carries himself like someone of importance."

Curiosity piqued, Cassandra rose from her seat. She stepped towards the balcony overlooking the grand front entrance, her long gown flowing behind her. As she peered down, her breath hitched for a moment. 

The man at the gate was indeed no ordinary visitor. He was tall and striking, with sharp features and an air of confidence that made him stand out among the estate guards who watched him warily.

Cassandra's lips curved into a faint smile. "This is no vagrant," she murmured to herself. Turning back to the butler, she said, "Tell the guards to stand down. I'll handle this myself."

The butler hesitated but bowed deeply. "As you wish, my lady."

With that, Cassandra made her way towards the main entrance, her mind already racing with possibilities about who this mysterious visitor might be and what he wanted from the esteemed Percival estate.