Three Days Before the Ball…
The midday sun filtered through drifting clouds, and the breeze carried a gentle hint that spring is near. Lady Margaret left the manor accompanied by her daughters; Rosalyn, Kate, and Amber followed by a few maids and uniformed guards.
Their destination: the grand market at the heart of the city, in preparation for the upcoming ball.
Margaret, her tone brimming with excitement:
"We will accept nothing less than perfection. Everything must be worthy of the family name."
Rosalyn, with a carefully composed smile as she walked beside her mother-in-law:
"I promise I'll choose every piece with care… befitting our standing."
Kate leaned slightly toward Amber, whispering:
"When?"
Amber, keeping her eyes fixed on the road ahead, murmured:
"Soon… he said he'll be waiting behind the market, in the alley near the jeweler's shop."
Kate gave a small nod, then raised her voice:
"Mother! Would you like to see the new collection of gloves? I heard the French merchant brought in rare designs!"
Margaret, instantly intrigued:
"Oh, truly? We must see them."
While the others were distracted, Amber slipped away quietly, moving between the crowd until she vanished into the narrow alleys.
But Rosalyn was not entirely preoccupied with shopping. She caught a glimpse of Amber's dress disappearing from sight. Her brow furrowed slightly before she approached her mother, speaking with feigned sweetness:
"Mother, I have a small errand to attend to… I won't be long, just a few minutes."
Margaret, too absorbed in choosing fabrics, waved her off:
"Go ahead, dear. Just don't be gone too long."
In the back alley…
Amber stood before Eric, her eyes bright with a mix of nervousness and joy.
Eric took a small box from his pocket:
"I worked hard to get these for you… the color reminded me of your eyes."
He opened the box to reveal a pair of delicate blue earrings, set with soft stones that shimmered with a gentle light.
Amber lifted a hand to her mouth in surprise:
"They're so beautiful… you shouldn't have."
Eric stepped closer, his voice low:
"I only do what feels true. I may not be able to give you palaces, but I can give you, my heart."
Amber blushed, smiling shyly:
"I don't care about material things. What matters to me is that we're together."
She stepped forward and embraced him quickly.
Without them knowing, Rosalyn was standing just a few steps away, hidden behind a stack of fruit crates. Her sharp eyes fixed on the scene. She tried to move closer to hear, but the noise of the market and the merchants drowned out their words.
She muttered under her breath; her tone laced with venom:
"Foolish little girl… what are you doing, Amber?"
A sly smile curved her lips before she slipped away, returning to the market before Margaret or Kate could notice her absence.
That evening, back at the manor…
The family returned home looking tired, servants carrying boxes and packages while Lady Margaret issued instructions to the butler.
Amber began climbing the stairs, intending to go to her room, when she heard soft footsteps behind her.
Roslyn's voice, sweet yet dripping with malice:
"You look tired. We didn't see much of you at the market today."
Amber turned, hiding her tension behind a small smile:
"I was looking for something specific… but I didn't find anything I liked."
Rosalyn moved slowly, ascending until she was almost level with Amber, watching her from the corner of her eye:
"Strange, because I saw you with something… or someone… who seemed exactly what you were looking for."
Amber's breath hitched ever so slightly, but she composed herself:
"Really? I don't recall seeing you."
Rosalyn chuckled softly:
"I'm quite good at appearing where I'm not supposed to be."
She leaned in, whispering:
"And I'm very good at listening… even when nothing is said aloud."
Amber's brows lifted slightly as she met Roslyn's gaze:
"Then why are you telling me this?"
Rosalyn stepped back, adjusting her gold bracelet:
"Oh, nothing. I simply dislike seeing someone… entangled in something unbecoming of our family."
"The ball is near, and more eyes will be on you."
Her thin smile spoke volumes: I know everything.
Amber's reply was quiet but edged with steel:
"I'll do my best to meet everyone's expectations—just as you always do."
Rosalyn resumed her ascent:
"I hope so…
Some earrings, if worn at the wrong time, can shine a little too brightly."
At the final step, she glanced down before walking away, leaving Amber standing halfway up the staircase, surrounded by questions… and a heavy, suffocating silence.
The manor's halls pulsed with activity only one day remained until the ball, and every tile seemed to beat in rhythm with the preparations. Flowers were arranged with care, furniture polished with soft cloths, chandeliers wiped until they reflected light like stars.
Peter, the eldest son, stood in the main hall reviewing the guest list with the head butler, Jordan.
Peter, in a firm tone as he scanned the paper:
"Ensure the rooms in the west wing are fully prepared. The Count and Countess de Maire arrive tomorrow evening, and they are accustomed to a certain standard."
Jordan, standing straight and speaking with calm precision:
"The wing has been readied as befits them, sir. Special instructions have been given to the chefs regarding their menu, and I've informed the head chef that the Count does not consume dairy."
Peter folded the paper and handed it to him:
"Good. We cannot afford mistakes this time."
Before he could continue, a loud crash echoed from upstairs. For a moment, everyone froze, as though the very air had stilled.
A maid came rushing toward them, her face pale and voice trembling:
"Master Jordan! Something's happened! One of the servants fell from the stairs while cleaning the grand chandelier!"
Jordan hurried off, Peter muttering with impatience:
"Go handle it. I'll return to my office."
Jordan arrived to find a servant sprawled on the floor, surrounded by others. Shards of glass and faint traces of blood marked the marble.
The man's leg was clearly broken; pain etched across his face as he tried to stifle a groan. Another servant pressed a cloth to the injury.
Jordan's voice was firm:
"Stand back. Everyone returns to your duties. Call the doctor immediately; and stay calm."
He turned to a few nearby servants:
"Take him to the back wing and don't leave him alone until the doctor arrives. He may be unable to walk for days."
The head of the cleaning staff, an elderly woman with a stern gaze, approached with concern:
"Sir, this is bad… We're already short-handed. Some staff have been on leave for weeks, tasks are piling up, and now Mario's fall will cost us dearly on the night of the ball."
Jordan clasped his hands behind his back:
"I'll handle it. This isn't the time for complaints."
Before he could leave, Lady Margaret descended the stairs, eyeing the scene in surprise:
"What is this commotion? Jordan, what happened?"
He bowed immediately:
"My apologies, madam… A servant fell while cleaning the chandelier. He'll be fine, but he won't be able to work during the ball. We will be short one man."
Margaret's gaze swept over the broken glass, her voice sharp:
"Damn it. The last thing we need right now is an accident like this. Do you have a solution to the shortage?"
Jordan hesitated, then answered carefully:
"Madam, I have a suggestion, but I'll need your permission. There's someone… Levant, the gardener in the son of the late gardener Edgar. He grew up here and knows the manor's rules well. He's not an official servant, but I'm confident he could fill the gap during the ball."
Margaret considered him:
"You mean that thin boy who used to sneak into the gardens as a child?"
Jordan allowed a faint smile:
"He's grown now, madam. And he holds the family in great respect."
Margaret nodded slowly:
"Very well… Bring him in at once. I want everything to run smoothly."
Jordan:
"As you wish, madam."
He turned to carry out the order, while Margaret's gaze lingered on the staircase. She murmured to herself:
"Just one night… I ask for one night without chaos."