White Roses, Black Doves

A hunger through time-15

The four weeks preceding the wedding were a fever dream of velvet swatches, floral arrangements, and the suffocating scent of lilies. My father was ecstatic, his business affairs seemingly flourishing under Cornelius’s guidance, while I felt as though I were drifting through a beautiful, gilded haze.

But Lucy had become a splinter in my soul. She was a constant shadow, her once-haughty disdain replaced by a sharp, jagged malice that flickered in her eyes whenever she looked at me. She would critique my gown, scoff at the menu choices, and whisper cruel, cryptic warnings about "glass houses" whenever we passed in the corridor. I had no answer for it, only a growing, hollow ache where my sisterly bond used to reside.

The only reprieve was Cornelius. His devotion was absolute, a steady anchor in the mounting chaos.

It was during a quiet afternoon, while the house was heavy with the silence of a mid-day nap, that I discovered the secret that would tether me to him for eternity. A sudden, dizzying realization—the missed cycle, the gentle, growing weight in my center. I was with child.

That evening, I pulled him into the small, shadowed alcove of the library. When I whispered the news, the change in him was visceral. The mask of the polished suitor cracked, revealing a raw, overwhelming joy that moved me to tears. He pulled me into his arms, his hands trembling as he pressed his face against my stomach, whispering promises to a future he would protect with his life. He was a man reborn, his possessiveness now tempered by the sacred weight of impending fatherhood.

"You have given me everything, my love," he murmured, his voice thick with a vulnerability I had never dared to believe possible. "This child... you... this is my entire world." He said as his eyes glistened with tears.

But the light of our secret was short-lived.

The next morning, the air was crisp, and the carriage waited at the front gates for Cornelius and my father to depart for the counting house. I watched from the upper landing, heart light, until I saw Lucy intercept Cornelius on the gravel path.

She stood close to him, her expression a mask of manufactured concern. She didn't shout; she spoke with a calculated, low cadence that carried on the wind.

"You look pleased, Cornelius ," I heard her say, her voice dripping with a poisonous, saccharine sweetness. "But tell me, has Alice mentioned how often she met with Lord Harrington in the gardens? A curious amount of time to spend with a suitor, don't you think? It’s a pity, really. I wonder if the child she’s so fond of mentioning to you is truly yours, or if the Lord’s blood is the one running through your future heir’s veins."

She reached out, brushing a speck of lint from his lapel with a predatory grace, her eyes darting up to the balcony where she knew I stood.

Cornelius went rigid. I saw his jaw clench, his knuckles white against the frame of the carriage door. The warmth I had seen in his eyes only hours before was extinguished, replaced by a cold, hollow void that felt like a death knell. He didn't look back at me. He simply climbed into the carriage, his face a mask of iron-grey stone, and left me standing in the doorway, the world suddenly tilting on its axis as the seeds of doubt took root in the most dangerous heart I had ever known.

Why would my sister imply such dark thoughts to him? Why would my sister say such hurtful things and imply i am unfaithful in any way towards my beloved?