Letter from Argyll

[ September 6th | when first light of dawn approach ]

Letter from Argyll has already arrived shortly before Amaryllis arised from her slumber, with drowsiness still lingering she got herself down from second floor and settled on her favourite single couch, with Nightshade as her lovely companion lying beside her feet.

Amilia had already notified her earlier about His Grace’s envelope, and as expected its arrival had been postponed due to the Duke’s forethought, his intention as clear as crystal, for this is the only chance to bind his pawn in a proposal she cannot turn down.

Granted, how much she longs to vanish, he didn’t allow her to do so. 

Bitterness started creeping its way to the tip of her tongue as a paper knife had been handed over by the housekeeper, ember orbs flickered down to look at the envelope which held a wax seal bearing Ainsworth’s name, a coat of arms she has been born under, an emblem she once thought would take it down with her to the grave.

Amaryllis knew by heart that she would be wed off one day to the Duke’s satisfaction, bringing Ainsworth a more glorious future, a reason she completely have no opposed to begin with, all of them can go any length if it means Ainsworth could thrive its name till the end of the world.

Yet there is a wavering glint flashed across the lady’s eyes.

When did it all start?

She pondered.

Perhaps, when camellia had fallen upon one’s hand.

A hand―she cannot hold.

The knife cut open the letter in one swift move, Amaryllis brought the paper carrying significant contents out and shifted her gaze down to read them with collected manner, unreadable expression added.

Moment pass, not so long, a pathetic weak laugh left Lady Ainsworth’s lips, along with allowing herself to lean on the couch’s backrest, an action the perfect elite lady may not do.

An engagement proposal.

Which His Grace already accepted without her consent, an arranged marriage, to be precise. Though not like it was out of her assumption, on the other hand this outcome was the most possible one, with her age being one year ahead close to thirty, Hemlock cannot wait any longer.

Then why she still has a glimpse of hope,

When his words are always echoing in her ears.

Trust no one.

A crushed sound can be heard, the pitiful crumpled paper got thrown away like an unworthy trash no one cares about.

“Infuriating as always,” Amaryllis clicked her tongue, frustratingly, she slightly tapped her left index finger on the armrest. “That scum old man.”

Luckily enough she has her own plan prepared specifically for this occasion. She cannot vanish, nor perish to her own gratification. The time she has prolonged finally comes to an end on her twenty-nine birthday.

She has nowhere else to escape in this situation.

The only way is to face it ― similar to what Roland had said to her the night prior. Lady Ainsworth is not an individual who will let others control her life so easily just because she is his daughter. If she’s not willing to submit, he cannot force her. Though it would be a long way for this plan to succeed, she had enough patience to wait. As her pride will still ablaze its existence to this scandalous society. Might he regret to name her Amaryllis ― a symbol for such determination, pride, and patience.

May the best of us win, father.

----- completed : the letter from Argyll -----