novelraw Chapter 220 220: You're aren't you!
Chapter 220 220: You're aren't you!
A history of toys shared, of attention divided, of expectations unevenly distributed, now crystallizing around this single, impossible man.
Isabella felt the conversation slipping from her grasp, sliding down a slope she hadn't anticipated. She had come prepared for denial, for practical arguments, perhaps even for tears of a different, more frustrated kind. She had not come prepared for this icy, pre-emptive strike, this assumption of bias so profound it felt like an indictment of her entire motherhood. She took a steadying breath, clinging to her intended purpose.
"Dear… I didn't come here to say that." She forced her voice to remain calm and placating. "I came to convince you not to leave the man for your sister, but so that the both of you will abandon such unruly thoughts of chasing after him." She laid the truth out plainly, the universal solution she had crafted in her mind.
What age truly wanted was for both daughters to take a step back, and for the family's honor to remain intact, the disruptive elements removed. Honestly, it was a clean and sensible idea but the question stood, would they agree to it?
"What?!" Victoria exclaimed, her eyes widening in genuine, unfeigned shock. The cold mask shattered, revealing a flash of raw, wounded passion beneath. "But why?!"
"Victoria, dear, please, just take a moment to listen to yourself," said the Viscountess, her own composure beginning to fray at the edges. She paused, drawing in a breath that did little to calm the frantic beating of her heart. "If it had been one of your suitors, one of the young lords from an appropriate family who's been circling, I wouldn't have anything against it. I would be discussing dowries and prospects, not… not this."
"But you and your sister have set your eyes on a man who isn't only not nobility, but is already spoken for!" The Viscountess blurted out, her exasperation breaking through. "He has a betrothed, a woman waiting for him somewhere. Not to mention he even has a family of his own!" The words hung in the air, ugly and stark.
"The both of you can't be serious about this. Have you stopped to think what others would think? The scandal would be insurmountable. Or worse," she leaned forward, her voice dropping to a horrified whisper, "how your father would react once he hears of this? After all this man has done for us, to repay him with this… this dishonor?"
"But mother…" Victoria said, and now her eyes held not ice, but a desperate, pleading fire. It was a look so unlike her that Isabella felt another pang of disorientation. This was not the strategic, dutiful heir she knew; but a woman fighting for something she believed was hers.
"You don't understand. I can't stand to live without him, I want him." She pleaded. " Even if he makes me his mistress, I'd be happ–"
"Victoria, that's enough." Isabella's voice took on the finality she used to end debates in the household council. "Whether you like it or not, you are the first-born heir of this household. With your brother's… proclivities, the responsibility rests on your shoulders until he comes of age, and likely beyond. It is your duty to uphold the standard your father and those before him have painstakingly built. That standard does not include stealing another woman's betrothed, no matter how clever or helpful he is!"
"Shouldn't Henry be the one to do such?" Victoria shot back, a defiant, desperate pivot. "He's the son. The blood heir. Let him bear the weight of your precious standards!"
"Victoria, don't try to change the subject," Isabella snapped, her patience evaporating. "We both know how you feel about your younger brother ascending to the family seat. You've spent a decade proving you're more capable, and you are. That is precisely why you cannot afford this folly! Your position is precarious enough without adding a devastating scandal!"
"It's still not fair…" Victoria whispered, but the plea had vanished, replaced by a seething, smoldering resentment. She clenched her fists in the fabric of her skirt, her knuckles white. "Why are you being so harsh with me?" She lifted her gaze, and the look in her eyes was one of pure, unadulterated betrayal.
"I'm sure you didn't say the same things to Esmeralda. You didn't lecture her about duty and standards, did you? You held her and wiped her tears and promised to fix it for her."
The accusation was a direct, poisoned arrow, and it found its mark. For a moment, the Viscountess looked utterly taken aback, her mouth slightly open.
The memory of Esmeralda's devastated face, her own soothing promises, rose up to condemn her. She had come here to be the stern voice of reason, assuming Victoria would need it, while she had been the soft haven for Esmeralda.
The disparity, laid bare by her eldest daughter's piercing gaze, was undeniable, and it shamed her. She cleared her throat, grasping for justification.
"Yes, I didn't, but that's because you know how your younger sister is—" The words were out before she could stop them, the classic, clumsy defense of the more volatile child.
"That's a lie!"
The words were not shouted, but they were uttered with such concentrated venom, such absolute conviction, that they seemed to suck the air from the room. Victoria was on her feet now, her composure incinerated by a rage years in the making.
"Victoria!" The Viscountess exclaimed, recoiling as if physically struck. She had never, in all Victoria's disciplined life, been spoken to in such a manner.
"It's obvious you're clearly favoring her!" Victoria's voice rose, trembling not with tears but with a fury so long suppressed it came out like an erupting volcano. "I'm sure the only reason you're saying all this to me is to make me give up on him so that Esmeralda can secretly get together with him! You think I'm the obstacle to her happiness, so you've come to remove me! That's it, isn't it?"