Tea Party

A few days later, the west-wing tearoom at the Vosswell Estate was nothing short of magnificent. Carefully arranged chairs circled the spacious tearoom, where plush carpet and richly patterned wallpaper exuded quiet luxury.

Delicate lamplight bathed the room in a soft glow, offset by tall windows draped with velvet curtains, keeping out the winter chill. A small fireplace crackled softly against one wall, lending warmth to the polished floor beneath. The gentle clinking of porcelain and the soft murmur of Noblewomen's voices filled the air, accompanied by the subdued sound of wind outside—a reminder that the season had turned cold.

Delphia sat among the gathering of Noblewomen, her posture impeccable, the flicker from the fireplace highlighting the elegant details of her topaz gown. Around her, the women chattered eagerly, the subject of Duke Faremont's daughter—Calista—on everyone's lips. The capital had been buzzing with gossip about the upcoming celebration, and today was no different.

"Can you imagine?" Lady Vivienne Witchade, a tall, graceful woman with shiny white-blonde hair and deep green eyes, leaned in conspiratorially to the others. "All this time, Calista was living as a commoner. And now, just like that, she's thrust into the highest circles of Nobility."

"It's positively scandalous," Lady Muriel added, her fan fluttering delicately as she spoke. "To think, someone of such humble upbringing could suddenly become the talk of the entire kingdom. What will she even know of proper etiquette? The court will eat her alive." The other women murmured in agreement, their eyes gleaming with thinly veiled anticipation at the prospect of watching Calista struggle to find her place in high society. It was clear they relished the idea of a new face to gossip about, and Calista was proving to be the perfect target.

Delphia remained silent, quietly sipping her tea.

She had no interest in joining the chorus of gossip or petty remarks. In her mind, the less attention she drew to herself, the better. For now, she would remain an observer—detached, indifferent.

And yet, she could feel the eyes of the women lingering on her, sensing the shift in her demeanor. It hadn't escaped anyone's notice that Delphia Vosswell was behaving… Differently. Gone was the fiery, sharp-tongued Noblewoman they had known, the one whose words could cut through the air like a blade. In her place sat someone far more composed, almost distant.

It wasn't long before someone finally said what they were all thinking.

"Lady Delphia," Lady Vivienne said, her voice honeyed with curiosity, "you've been so quiet lately. Forgive me, I can't help but notice—you're not quite yourself these days." A ripple of agreement passed through the group, their eyes now firmly focused on Delphia.

Lady Muriel, perched beside Vivienne, added with a soft laugh, "Indeed. We were just discussing it. You seem… Changed. Has something happened?"

Delphia placed her teacup down slowly, letting the delicate porcelain settle on its saucer. She glanced around the tearoom, meeting the curious gazes of the noblewomen one by one. There was no judgment in their eyes, only confusion—maybe even a hint of concern. The old Delphia had been intense, passionate, and prone to outbursts, especially when it came to her obsession with the Crown Prince. But now, she was calm, detached, and altogether different from the woman they remembered.

She took a slow breath, carefully crafting her response.

This was her moment to solidify her new persona, to offer a plausible explanation for the sudden change. She couldn't afford to be seen as unpredictable or worse—unstable. She needed to frame her transformation in a way that would make sense to them.

"I suppose you could say I've had a recent string of bad luck," Delphia began, her tone measured and thoughtful. She allowed a small, wry smile to cross her lips, as if she found the situation mildly amusing in retrospect. "It all started with a rather unfortunate accident. I hit my head, quite hard, some weeks ago."

"Oh dear, we hadn't heard," Lady Vivienne said immediately, her brow furrowing in concern. "Are you all right?"

"Don't worry, it wasn't serious," Delphia assured them, smiling softly and waving a hand dismissively.

"But after that incident, something strange happened." She hesitated before speaking, gaining the onlookers interest. "I had a dream—no, more like a nightmare. It felt so real, as if I were living my life exactly as it has been. But in the end…" She paused a moment, letting the weight of her words hang in the air. "I was killed." She said simply, stating a fact.

The women around her gasped softly, their eyes widening in surprise. Lady Muriel's fan paused mid-motion, her gaze fixed on Delphia with a mixture of horror and fascination. "How dreadful," she whispered.

"It was… unsettling, to say the least," Delphia continued, keeping her voice calm, as though she were speaking of something far removed from herself. "But when I woke up, it left me with a question of 'why?'" She paused strategically, and met each of the girls eyes for a moment. "Why continue down the same path, making the same choices, if that is the potential outcome awaiting me?"

There was a long silence as the women processed her words, their expressions a mixture of intrigue and disbelief.

Delphia could feel their interest piqued, but just as she prepared to shift the conversation back to a more neutral topic, Seraphina, who had been unusually quiet throughout the whole exchange, suddenly spoke up. "I'm sure it was quite the shock," Seraphina said, her voice light, though there was a subtle edge to it. "But we've all noticed how… Different you've been, Delphia. It's almost as if you're not the same person anymore."

Her words hung in the air like a sharp blade, cutting through the polite atmosphere. Delphia glanced at her stepsister, noting the thin smile that played on Seraphina's lips, as though she were trying to twist the conversation just enough to make Delphia appear unstable—different enough to warrant concern.

Lady Vivienne and Lady Muriel exchanged curious glances, and Delphia could see the seeds of doubt Seraphina was trying to plant.

She kept her expression neutral, allowing the silence to stretch for a beat longer before responding.

"Indeed, I'm not. But isn't that what happens as you mature?" Delphia said thoughtfully, her tone measured. She met Seraphina's gaze evenly. "Is change necessarily a bad thing? It's certainly given me clarity about what's important in my life."

Seraphina's smile wavered, but before she could respond, Duchess Larissa chimed in, her tone dripping with the kind of subtle condescension only a seasoned Noblewoman could wield. "Well, my dear, it's only natural that after such an accident, one might feel a little… disoriented," Duchess Larissa said smoothly, offering a polite smile to the women around her. "But as her family, we've always been there to support Delphia through her… more challenging moments.Haven't we, Seraphina?" She finished sweetly and looked towards her daughter.

"Of course," Seraphina replied, her voice saccharine. "We only want what's best for you, Delphia."

The implication was clear—Duchess Larissa was positioning herself as the long-suffering, supportive stepmother, while subtly framing Delphia as someone who had always needed careful handling, someone who was prone to instability.

Delphia's jaw tightened imperceptibly, but she remained composed. She had expected something like this—a subtle attempt by her stepfamily to manipulate the narrative, to frame her as a problem they were gracious enough to indulge. They were trying to box her in, to make it seem like any change in her behavior was a sign of deeper instability.

But Delphia wasn't going to let them succeed. "I appreciate your concern tremendously," She said, her voice perfectly polite.

"But I assure you, I am quite well. In fact, this little accident gave me a new perspective. I've come to realize that there's more to life than the trivialities I once concerned myself with. I'm choosing to live with grace and purpose—focusing on the future—rather than being driven by past emotions." She spoke in a calm tone, not throwing out scathing looks with any word, and remaining perfectly in control as if this was who she really was.

Nothing could shake her new self. Not these people no less. I've dealt with far worse in my first life. You've seen nothing compared to them, she thought with an internal roll of her eyes.

The women at the table nodded, seemingly impressed by her response, and Delphia could see that Seraphina and Duchess Larissa's attempts to undermine her had fallen flat. The noblewomen seemed intrigued, even slightly admiring of Delphia's calm composure and her newfound sense of clarity.

Lady Vivienne smiled warmly at Delphia, "It's quite inspiring, really. A change for the better."

"Indeed," Lady Muriel added in her direction, her fan fluttering once again. "It's refreshing to see someone embrace change with such grace."

Delphia gave them a small serene smile, though inside, she remained ever watchful. This was how her stepfamily operated—quiet manipulation, subtle digs, attempts to maintain control of the narrative. But Delphia was no longer the reckless, impulsive woman they had once known. She would navigate this new world with care, playing the game with a calm mind and sharp awareness.

As the conversation shifted back to more mundane topics, Delphia glanced at Seraphina and Duchess Larissa, noting their disappointment as they realized their manipulation had failed to take root.

Delphia remained calm, detached, and most importantly, in control. And as she sipped her tea, she felt a quiet satisfaction settle over her. She had successfully started to distance herself from the expectations of the old Delphia. The persona she had crafted—detached, indifferent, and quietly philosophical—had intrigued them, perhaps even disarmed them. They weren't sure what to make of her now, and that was exactly how she wanted it.

She would continue to play this role, navigating the world of high society with careful detachment. If she stayed out of the way, avoided unnecessary entanglements, and kept her emotions in check, she could survive this story. She could change her fate.

But as the tea continued in the warm tearoom, with light chatter and clinking porcelain filling the air, a small part of her couldn't help but wonder—what else could she change? Could she reshape not just her own path, but the paths of the others around her? Could she rewrite the story entirely?

Her gaze drifted across the sumptuously decorated walls, the gentle firelight catching the gold trim of the ornate furniture. She was no longer just Delphia Vosswell, the tragic villainess of The Rose of Avalon. She was something more now—someone with the power to change her own narrative. And for the first time since she had woken up in this world, Delphia felt a flicker of something she hadn't expected.

Hope.