Learning The Situation

Exiting her chamber and walking through the grand corridors of the Vosswell Estate, she took in the lavish surroundings—tapestries depicting historical battles, marble statues, and ornate chandeliers. It was both awe-inspiring and overwhelming.

As she approached the Duke's study within minutes—the most ostentatious room on the floor—Delphia paused, taking a steadying breath, she knocked lightly.

"Enter." Came a deep voice from within.

Delphia turned the knob and pushed the heavy oak door open, stepping inside the grand study. The room was just as imposing as the rest of the estate—dark mahogany bookshelves lined the walls, filled with ancient tomes and ledgers. The scent of polished wood and old parchment lingered in the air.

Behind a large, intricately carved desk sat Duke Easton Vosswell.

His sharp, light brown eyes lifted from a document as she entered, studying her with an air of reserved authority. He was every bit the handsome, imposing figure she had imagined him to be—broad, stern, and exuding an aura of command. His graying ash-green hair and neatly trimmed facial hair added to his intimidating presence.

"Delphia," he greeted her in a tone that was more acknowledgment than warmth. "You're late." She straightened, her calm exterior holding steady even as her mind raced. She couldn't afford any mistakes, not with the Duke. "I apologize Father," she replied smoothly. "I had a slight mishap this morning and needed time to recover."

The Duke arched a brow. "A mishap?"

"Yes," she nodded, keeping her tone even. "I slipped in the bathtub and hit my head. Nothing too serious, but I wanted to ensure I was in full-form before coming to see you." He regarded her a moment, his sharp gaze searching her face for any sign of deception. She held his stare, her calm demeanor betraying nothing. "Hmph," he finally grunted, leaning back in his chair. "See that it doesn't happen again. Handle yourself accordingly."

"Of course, Father." She said, bowing her head slightly in acknowledgment. Wow, what kind of father doesn't ask if their kid is feeling better after an accident? My family sucked, but at least they were considerate of each other, she thought. There was a brief, tense silence before the Duke gestured to a chair across from him. "Sit. We have some to discuss." Delphia obeyed, crossing the room and sitting gracefully in the offered chair, folding her hands neatly in her lap.

"Word has been spreading about Duke Faremont finding his real daughter, so a celebration is sure to be held," he began, his voice carrying the weight of expectation. "It will be a critical event for our family. I expect you to conduct yourself appropriately."

"Naturally," she responded, her voice calm but firm.

She wasn't entirely sure what was expected of the 'old' Delphia in these situations, but the 'new' Delphia had no intention of causing any unnecessary scenes. These events put me around the 'Inciting Incident' of the story, so we should be coming up to the 'First Plot Point' anytime soon.

The Duke's gaze hardened. "You've been unpredictable as of late, Delphia. There have been… reports."

"Reports?" She repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Your behavior at recent gatherings has been... volatile," he said, choosing his words carefully. "That will not be tolerated going forward. Our family cannot afford any more bad press."

The realization hit her—Delphia had clearly been a problem before the events set in the novel. That explained his rigid demeanor toward her. The novel itself skimmed over Delphia's backstory, so not much was said of her behavior at home. She only became apart of the story at the Faremont Celebration, then The Academy.

She took a moment before responding, weighing her words carefully. "I understand," she said. "I assure you, Father, I have no intention of repeating past mistakes."

Duke Easton studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he gave a curt nod. "See that you don't. The Crown Prince will be in attendance, as well as many other important figures. We cannot afford to lose dignity."

The mention of the Crown Prince—Alaric—elicited a slight internal wince. She knew all too well how her predecessor had thrown herself at him, obsessing over his every move. But she wasn't the old Delphia anymore; She had no interest in entangling herself in that mess.

"I will handle myself appropriately," she promised, her voice steady. "Good," the Duke said, his tone indicating that the conversation was over. He returned his attention to the documents on his desk, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. Delphia stood, her movements composed and graceful. She offered a slight curtsy before making her way toward the door.

"Delphia," her father's voice called out just as her hand touched the doorknob. She paused, turning slightly to look at him. "Do not disappoint me again," he said, his eyes locking onto hers with a warning.

She inclined her head, her expression unreadable. "I won't," she replied firmly, then exited the study, quietly closing the door behind her.

Once in the hallway, she exhaled slowly, releasing the tension she had been holding throughout the exchange. It had been a careful dance, navigating the expectations of a family she barely knew, in a world where one misstep could lead to ruin.

She made her way back down the corridor, her mind already calculating her next moves. Surviving in this world was going to take more than just keeping her head down—she needed to understand the power dynamics at play, and that meant learning the intricacies of the Aristocratic.

As she walked, her lips curled into a small, determined smile. This might be harder than I thought... but I'm not the real Delphia Vosswell. And that would make all the difference. She took a deep breath and walked down the lavish corridors of the Vosswell estate toward the dining room, easily descending the grand staircase to the first floor, the sound of her heels echoing faintly against the marble floors.

The ornate tapestries and polished statues felt imposing as ever, but she steeled herself. The conversation with the Duke had gone as smoothly as she could have hoped, but now she was about to face her stepfamily—a whole other challenge.

She approached the grand dining hall doors and paused a moment, centering herself before the inevitable onslaught of judgmental stares and underhand comments. Her relationship with her step-siblings had been notoriously strained, even in the novel when they interacted at The Academy. She held no hope what-so-ever for the stepmother, given the story, time, and place.

Delphia, as she had been written, was volatile and prone to sharp outbursts that alienated those around her. Not anymore, she thought. The new Delphia would maintain a calm, composed demeanor—untouchable.

Pushing the doors open, she stepped into the dining hall.

The long table was already set, gleaming with silverware and delicate porcelain. Her Grace, Duchess Larissa—her stepmother—sat at the head of the table with a placid smile that never quite reached her eyes. On either side sat her stepsister, Seraphina, and her stepbrother, Lucian.

Both siblings glanced up as she entered, surprise flashing briefly across their faces before they masked it with their usual guarded expressions. "Good morning, Delphia." Duchess Larissa greeted her, her voice smooth but with an underlying edge. "We weren't sure you'd be joining us, considering your... recent episodes."

Ah, right. 'Episodes.' The old Delphia had likely thrown tantrums at breakfast or isolated herself out of resentment. But not today.

"Good morning." Delphia replied, taking her seat with a composed smile. "I apologize for the delay. I had a small accident this morning—fell in the bathtub and hit my head. Nothing serious, just a slight headache."

Seraphina raised a brow, her lips curving into a barely concealed smirk, "How clumsy of you."

Lucian chuckled under his breath, clearly entertained. "Perhaps you should be more careful, sister. A knock to the head is severe."

Delphia met his gaze calmly, "Indeed. I'll be more careful in the future."

Duchess Larissa's smile remained fixed, though her eyes narrowed slightly, as if trying to decipher this new, composed version of Delphia. "Well, we wouldn't want you to be unwell with the Faremont celebration approaching. It's such an important event for our family's reputation."

"Of course." Delphia agreed, sipping the tea that had been placed before her. The bitterness of the drink was oddly comforting, a grounding sensation amid the undercurrents of tension. She grabbed the creamer in front of her and poured some in, "I'll be sure to recover fully before then." She finished and stirred the tea softly with the spoon placed next to it.

Seraphina, ever the opportunist, leaned forward slightly. "You must be excited, Del. The Crown Prince will be attending, after all. I imagine you're looking forward to seeing him again." Delphia caught the teasing lilt in her stepsister's voice, but she refused to rise to the bait.

She simply smiled as she spoke. "Yes, Sera, it will be a grand occasion." Seraphina's smile faltered slightly, clearly surprised by Delphia's lack of reaction. Normally, the mention of Crown Prince Alaric would send the old Delphia into an obsessive tirade about how they were destined to be together. But that Delphia no longer existed.

Duchess Larissa, sensing the change in dynamic, spoke again. "I heard from His Grace that you'll be meeting with Seraphina later to finalize the guest list for our tea party."

"Yes." Delphia said, nodding in Seraphina's direction. "I'm looking forward to it."

Lucian's smirk lingered, the conversation clearly still amusing him. "So, no dramatics from you today, Delphia? No grandiose declarations or... obsessions?"

Delphia stared back at him, her expression calm and unwavering. "I've already told you: I hit my head. It's left me with a headache, so I don't feel like talking much."

The room grew quiet as her words hung in the air. It wasn't the response they were expecting. The Delphia they knew would have lashed out at such comments, but this new version of her was composed and collected. There was a subtle shift in the dynamic, a sense that power had changed ever so slightly.

Seraphina, unsure of how to continue, took a small bite of her food before glancing at her mother. Duchess Larissa remained silent for a few moments longer, her mind working to understand what was happening with Delphia. "I see. Well, I do hope your recovery is swift. It would be a shame to have this injury during the celebration. It is important for all five of us to be seen together." Her Grace spoke, her gaze narrowing imperceptibly.

Delphia gave her a serene smile. "Of course, Duchess. You have my word."

Breakfast resumed in tense silence. The usual undercurrents of passive-aggressive comments and icy stares from her stepfamily continued, but Delphia was no longer fazed by them.

She had her own plans now, and it didn't involve engaging in petty rivalries or feeding into their expectations of her. As the meal came to an end, Delphia excused herself with poise, walking out of the dining hall with her head held high. She knew they were watching her, waiting for her to snap or show some sign of the old Delphia, but she was determined not to give them that satisfaction.