Chapter 5
The next day, rumors about the Farrow family spread like wildfire throughout Althoria.
Arabella, due to her actions the day before, found herself at the center of public attention. Most people criticized her for knowing a woman’s rightful place while only a few offered any sympathy or understanding.
It was no surprise. Arabella had once been the shining star–an only daughter, adored by the Marquis’s estate and showered with attention from all sides.
Her fall from grace only made it easier for others to kick her when she was down. Everyone would seize the opportunity to trample on her now.
At Silver Suite, after hearing about the situation from Clarissa, Arabella scoffed coldly. “Helena played her cards well. She’s using her father’s military achievements to force Tristan to intervene on her behalf.”
Clarissa looked at her with concern. “Ms. Everhart, if Tristan decides to favor her because of her father’s service, what should we do?”
Arabella clipped a branch of a plant with the scissors, cutting it cleanly. “Then I’ll threaten the Farrow family with divorce. I’ll force them to make a choice.”
She was eager to see whether, in the eyes of the Farrow family, securing a position for Helena would be more important than keeping Arabella, their prized asset, happy.
Clarissa chuckled lightly. “Now that you’ve said it, I’m not worried anymore.”
‘Not worried?‘ Arabella narrowed her eyes. The real storm hasn’t even begun yet.
At the palace, in the main hall of Royal Palace, Tristan stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his cold eyes fixed on the red walls and rooftops outside the window.
The solitude of the palace was suffocating. One could only endure such a life for so long without someone to confide in. He thought, ‘How could anyone stand these dull days without a trusted companion?‘
Just then, a shadow passed before him. In an instant, a masked man in tight black attire stood before him. He was the head of Tristan’s shadow guards.
“Your Majesty, last night Ms. Everhart claimed to be ill, and Mr. Farrow did not stay in her room,” the guard said.
Standing at a distance, James heard the report and couldn’t help but twitch his mouth. He thought, ‘The king sending spies to watch his officials‘ private affairs? If word of this got out, it would be a scandal of monumental proportions!
He didn’t doubt that if Charles had actually stayed in Arabella’s room, he’d be a stiff corpse by now. Tristan’s wrath wasn’t something to take lightly.
Tristan gave a quiet hum of acknowledgment, his gaze shifting to James.
James froze, realizing he was in a precarious position. He quickly lowered his head, muttering, “I haven’t heard anything, Your Majesty.”
Tristan let out a cold laugh. “Your hearing is poor, it seems. What use are you to me?”
James quickly corrected himself, eager to save face. “Your Majesty, I heard everything I should have, and nothing I shouldn’t.”
Tristan thought, ‘Clever enough!
Tristan twirled the jewel ring on his thumb and casually asked, “Do you think that if I elevate the Thornfield family’s daughter to Charles’s legitimate wife, she’ll just leave in a fit of anger?”
James blinked, thinking, ‘Is this something I, a mere official, am meant to answer?‘
Before he could speak, Tristan sighed and spoke to himself, “If Charles wants to make a woman her equal in the household, that’s a foolish fantasy. I wouldn’t dare to humiliate her in such a way–so why should they?”
Janes thought silence was his safest bet. The more you said, the more likely you were to make a mistake. He dropped his head without saying anything.
Tristan looked down at him, sneering as he observed James’s nervousness.
He thought, Anyone who has fought alongside me for the throne isn’t the type to be afraid for their life. Don’t think that a display of fear would make me let up.‘
1/3
Tristan said, “Beatrice isn’t a child anymore. It’s time we found her a husband.”
The moment James heard those words, he shot up from the floor like a spring. “If Your Majesty has any orders, just tell me directly.”
He thought, ‘Anything but that unruly princess. I can’t afford to cross her–but I can still steer clear.’
Tristan didn’t bother with small talk. He motioned for James to lean in, then whispered a few words in his car.
James’s jaw dropped. He stammered, “T–this… this won’t work, will it? They haven’t even–”
A cold glance from Tristan silenced him instantly.
“I… I’ll get right on it,” he said, backing away.
After James left, Tristan slowly pulled a handkerchief from his sleeve.
His rough fingertips lightly brushed over the name embroidered on it. His lips parted, and he murmured the name aloud, “Arabella.”
Just then, the lord chamberlain, Thomas Carver, entered from outside and bowed respectfully behind him. “Your Majesty, the Cabinet has sent over
several letters.”
Tristan turned unhurriedly, picked up the top letter from the tray, and opened it. Another one from that stubborn Lord Chamberlain, urging him to
to get a wife.
Talk of strengthening the royal household, securing the bloodline… the same old arguments. He tossed it back onto the tray without a second glance and reached for the next.
After skimming through it, he gave a simple command. “Back to Mercy Palace.”
For the next few days, Arabella claimed illness and refused to leave her quarters.
Outside, rumors were spreading like wildfire–that she couldn’t tolerate the daughter of a national hero and had forced Helena into becoming a bedchamber maid out of sheer spite.
Arabella couldn’t make sense of what the king was planning. Logically, rewarding a war hero’s daughter and elevating Helena’s status should’ve been as easy as a single decree.
But the palace had remained silent. No word, no orders sent to the Duke’s estate. The whole thing was unusually suspicious.
Clarissa, face full of worry, asked, “Ms. Everhart, do you think His Majesty, in honor of Marshal Thornfield’s sacrifice, might make Helena the principal wife?”
The Marquis’s estate had already declined. If the king ordered the Duke’s family to demote her to concubine, there’d be no one left to stand up for
her.
Arabella thought, “And then what? How could I hold my head up? Being cast down from wife to concubine–that is the ultimate disgrace for a
woman.’
Arabella pressed her lips together.
She had thought about that possibility. Alexander was gone, and with him, her standing. She was adrift, with no one left to depend on. If the king chose to sacrifice her to appease the ministers, there was nothing she could do to stop it.
As for the Farrow family? They’d be thrilled to see her fall. It would make her even easier to control.
“My aunt is still the consort of the late king, and she would never allow the Crown to disgrace our bloodline like this.”
She was trying to reassure Clarissa. But she was also trying to reassure herself.
Her aunt Olivia Moreau had once been a favored consort of the late king. She had no children, which was likely the only reason she survived the brutal battle for the throne two years ago.
Although the current king had allowed her to live out her days in peace, everyone knew the truth–new king, new court. No matter how noble her title, she still had to yield to the king’s mother and the king himself.
Clarissa clearly understood this too. Her voice trembled as she said, “Ms. Everhart, while the court hasn’t made a final decision yet, you still have time. Please, find a way to divorce Mr. Farrow.
“We can afford to lose some businesses or money–those things can be earned back–but if the Farrow family casts you aside as a concubine, it will ruin your future.”
2/3
She had barely finished speaking when a sharp, cold laugh rang out.
“Arabella, don’t even dream of divorcing my son. You’ll be demoted to concubine soon enough. And as for leaving–forget it. As long as he refuses, you’ll never escape the Farrow family’s hold for the rest of your life.”
