Lydia Winthrop surveyed her daughter with a disdainful glance, who chose to lower her gaze to the ground rather than confront her mother. 

"Foolish child! I could dissect myself for you, and yet you remain indifferent to your own affairs! Do you wish to be condemned to spinsterhood, Mary? Is that your heart's desire?!" 

Mary knew that engaging in an argument with her mother was futile – when Lydia set her mind to something, she could traverse obstacles with the determination of an unstoppable carriage on cobblestone streets. Although Mary harboured hopes that her mother's pursuits had not yet involved actual carriages and obstacles, but perhaps it was only a matter of time ere she would leave fatalities in the wake of her anger. It had been several years since she had witnessed her mother so agitated and disdainful.

"Your duty was to enter that room, identify the Marquess, and provoke a scandal. What was so challenging about that?!" 

Mary couldn't comprehend her mother's fixation on the Marquess, despite acknowledging him as a remarkably handsome man. Yet, she couldn't fathom him as a potential husband, let alone entertain thoughts about what mysteries lay beneath his reclusive facade. Over the years, she had come to realise that disputing her mother on such matters was an exercise in futility.

"Mother, I implore thee, compose thyself. Princess Augusta Frederica entered the room with other esteemed guests and commanded my departure – I could not contest her wishes, of course." 

Mary opted for a discreet silence regarding Miss Ward and Captain Hayes, recognising that the Princess' desires held a weightier significance than her own mother's severity. 

Lydia abruptly seized her daughter's chin and compelled her to meet her gaze. "This is because," her mother hissed in her face, "you indulged yourself at the banquet, you miscreant, and deny it not, for I witnessed it! Truly disheartening to know that if I were in dire straits, my daughter would prefer sustenance over filial duty!" She then released her with equal suddenness and added, "As if you had not beheld your reflection! Plump sow! Who would willingly take thee as a spouse?! Repulsive oaf!" 

Mary quivered beneath the onslaught of insults but endeavoured to rein in the emotion that surged in her throat, attempting to persevere through the tears in her eyes. She possessed her imperfections, yet she did not perceive herself in as harsh a light as her mother sought to portray. 

"Mother—" she commenced, but Lydia cut her off. 

"Hush and remove thyself from my sight! My guests shall arrive presently."

Her daughter made no attempt to converse further but swiftly withdrew. 

What an insufferable girl, Lydia lamented in her thoughts, so utterly incapable! What transgression am I atoning for, that Providence has burdened me with a daughter!

At that moment, her servant announced the arrival of her companions, Percivaline Chatterton and Elinor Merryweather. Lydia donned a false smile and a glint in her eyes, concealing her inner agitation from those social parasites. After all, nothing was irretrievably lost.

"My esteemed friends!" Lydia warmly greeted them. "I am delighted that we have once again managed to reconcile. Pray, take a seat. What may I offer you? I confess, I have a great inclination for a glass of red wine."

Percy and Elinor exchanged swift glances, with Percy stating, "Dear Lydia, truly? Wine before luncheon? Do you perchance have cause for celebration?"

Lydia maintained her smile, detecting the sarcasm in her friend's tone. 

"The cause for celebration will present itself once she triumphs in the wager," Elinor spoke on her behalf, seating herself on the settee and grinning, "I failed to observe your courtship of Marquess St. Arcey at the ball – do you mean to surrender already?"

"I surrender nothing," Lydia retorted, more vehemently than she intended, "so, what shall it be – tea or wine?"

"Wine," Percy replied with a smile, earning an approving glance from Elinor.

"Let us observe, for she is quite elated by the viscount's interest in her daughter," Elinor remarked towards Lydia, who gracefully signalled to the servant and commanded the delivery of wine. Seated across from her companions, Elinor continued, "Well, it's no surprise, considering Percy's relation is none other than Lady Kendall – always possessing insight into every matter. Who knows what secrets she might have been privy to about the viscount that compelled him to engage with Rosalind."

Percy chuckled, though her eyes betrayed no hint of amusement. "Those are mere conjectures, dear Lydia. Rosalind is a charming, virtuous, and intelligent young lady; she requires no aid from my esteemed relation to secure a husband."

"Conjectures, you say," Lydia replied with a raised eyebrow. "I believe you were merely bluffing with that ace of yours, my dear. Indeed – what purpose does it serve to have such a potent relative if she cannot offer counsel on capturing the Marquess?" Lydia mused aloud, earning a nod of concurrence from Elinor.

Percy momentarily furrowed her brow but then nonchalantly shrugged. "Perhaps you are correct, dear Lydia, and perhaps my triumph lies in the fact that both of you shall be defeated. A distinct possibility, particularly since the Marquess appears to have turned his gaze toward his governess."

Upon hearing this, Lydia and Elinor exchanged concerned glances. 

"You speak as if you possess certain knowledge," Elinor remarked with curiosity.

Percy disdainfully curled her lip. "I needn't be privy to all matters; a discerning eye and astuteness to one's surroundings suffice. Apparently, during the soiree, your observations were confined to the artists alone, for otherwise, you would have witnessed how the Marquess unabashedly captivated that enchanting young lady." 

"She was present in the company of your own kinswoman," Lydia increasingly frowned, "a circumstance that perplexed me, especially given the Marquess' strained relations with Lady Kendall on account of his younger brother. This leads me to inquire – is your relative acquainted with Miss Ward?" 

Percy narrowed her eyes but resisted falling prey to the ploy. "By happenstance, my dear, Lady Kendall does indeed know Miss Ward. How else do you think the governess traversed from Newcastle to our midst?" 

Lydia contemplated her friend's words momentarily but then exclaimed, "Why does that servant take so long? Perhaps he met his demise en route!" 

Fortuitously, he promptly arrived with the cups, earnestly apologising for the delay. Lydia waved off the apology, and as all three had their glasses filled, she proposed a toast: "I propose a toast to our aspirations, felicity, and propitious matches for our daughters!" 

All three took genteel sips, and the discourse momentarily shifted away from the Marquess and suitable matches to other topics.

"You are aware, Lydia, that Elinor and I do harbour a touch of envy for thy circumstance." 

At this admission, Lydia's eyebrow lifted in surprise. "Truly, Percy?"

"In my estimation, you do not grasp the extent of thy good fortune, that your husband does not disperse his seed hither and yon across the land, and he is not even a decrepit old gentleman whose faculties have ceased to function. In matters of the heart, you have undoubtedly emerged triumphant among the three of us."

Lydia smiled, pleased by Percy's words, and took another sip. "In truth, I have never contemplated it thus. I have never compared myself to anyone, for my concern had ever been solely for my daughter's happiness."

"And does your daughter regard Marquess St. Arcey as her potential source of joy?" inquired Elinor with a raised eyebrow.

"She shall need to. I selected him for her to ensure a secure life until the end of her days, as well as for her progeny."

"I must confess," Percy began, "that I never quite comprehended your fixation upon the young Marquess. Are you compensating for some past misfortune, perchance a rejection by Robert St. Arcey?"

Muscles on Lydia's countenance tightened, and ere she replied, she drained her wine.

"Pray, slow thy pace," cautioned Elinor, "for you shall soon find thyself inebriated, my dear." 

"In mine own abode, I surely may," retorted Lydia sharply, then fixed her gaze upon Percivaline. "And you – how dare you dredge up such a distant past against me?! Do you consider thyself the purest amongst us?" 

Elinor nodded whilst Percy's countenance began to assume a shade of crimson. "She speaks true, Percy. Robert was a fine gentleman, but by no means a saint. To this day, I cannot fathom how he ultimately chose such a pallid damsel as Corinne Stillwater to become his wife. May she rest in piss." 

"A fine gentleman?!" exclaimed Percy indignantly, "What fine gentleman pledges love to three women meant to last beyond the grave per his own words?! And do not pretend that he stole nought but kisses from the three of us!" 

A weighty silence descended amongst the ladies, during which Percy and Elinor duly partook of their wine, whilst Lydia poured herself another glass. 

"Well, 'tis a puzzle how we could so expeditiously divert our discourse into the darkest recesses of our past," Elinor spoke first, "apparently, there lies some enchantment in this wine." 

"If there be an enchantment in this wine, then it must be the verity," said Lydia venomously, "so I expect a truthful answer to my query, Percy – why do you bring forth this matter today, just as each of us contends for the young St. Arcey?"

Percy drew a breath before she uttered: "Because I cannot with certainty declare which of you would stoop to such practices in an endeavour to secure him before the altar, such as the incendiary act of burning down his estate."

"That's preposterous!" immediately exclaimed Elinor, while Lydia began to laugh heartily.

"Insanity, pure insanity," Lydia said, as soon as she had finished laughing. "My dear, you should consider writing novels; conspiracies seem to be your forte. That estate was already engulfed in flames during Robert's lifetime."

Percy smirked, yet her countenance betrayed no trace of amusement. "Exactly! Both of you possessed compelling motives to seek retribution against Robert, just as both of you now harbour reasons to entice the Marquess here to Marlborough through nefarious means."

"And you don't?!" cried Elinor. "You don't feel wronged?!"

"Aye, but no matter how aggrieved I may feel, I would never descend into the role of a callous arsonist," Percy retorted solemnly.

Both friends burned her with their gazes. 

Finally, Lydia spoke: "Percivaline Chatterton, I must humbly request that you take leave from my residence."

Percy's countenance flushed with displeasure. Nevertheless, she gracefully stood, curtsied, and departed without uttering a word, proceeding to the front of the residence where her carriage waited by the side. Along her path crossed the young Mary Winthrop, who, having already composed herself after her mother's dramatic outburst, cheerfully inquired, oblivious to the recent events between the friends:

"So soon taking leave, Mrs. Chatterton?"

With swift steps, Percy approached Mary and, in a hushed tone filled with frustration, shared her sentiments, "My dear, I lament that you have such an unpleasant creature as Lydia for a mother. Exercise caution in your dealings with her and do not place too much trust in her words nor actions, do you comprehend?"

Having conveyed this, Percy departed, leaving Mary in surprise as she watched until Percy and her carriage vanished beyond the horizon of their estate. Later, Mary made an entry in her journal:

Dearest journal, 

Not only has my mother, but also her companion, succumbed to a state of lunacy – she dared to articulate aloud what everyone here already suspects, and I have likely known since my infancy. They seemingly quarrelled again over the matter of Marquess St. Arcey, with Mrs. Chatterton conceding this time. And why should she not, when Rosalind boasted to me previously that a Viscount is expressing interest in her hand. Rosalind is no longer the youngest, as she has reached the age of five-and-twenty – yet her mother appears to possess more prudence than mine and Mrs. Merryweather combined. 

The day unfolded much like those prior – my circumstances remain unaltered, and I can only harbour hope, though perhaps in vain, that the gentleman of my dreams will present himself at our doorstep voluntarily. And if not, I have unearthed Gothic novels in the library that will, for a while, ameliorate my solitude.

With a sigh, she closed the diary and re-entered the estate.

Meanwhile, life in the abode of Travis St. Arcey transpired tranquilly – Travis and Bella devoted their attention to young Teddy, while the butler, Mr. Lafferty, quietly hummed as he strolled through the corridors. Life could not be more auspicious and serene than in this moment – such divine tranquillity almost implored to be disrupted by some unfavourable tidings. 

However, as of yet, nothing indicated such an occurrence; even Corliss made an appearance before Lafferty. They exchanged broad smiles, and as they passed each other, the butler couldn't resist gallantly seizing her around the waist, prompting a delicate exclamation from her.

"Pray, Lafferty, what folly is this? We risk being spied upon," chided Corliss with a demure smile.

"I am seized by a yearning for thee," he rejoined, sighing.

She surveyed their surroundings discreetly and suggested in hushed tones, "There lies a forsaken lodge nearby – should you find the leisure—"

"I shall make time for it," Lafferty interjected, and swiftly they agreed upon a clandestine rendezvous, parting with a protracted kiss upon the lips.

As Lafferty ambulated past the study's door anon, he momentarily halted, listening intently.

"The letter 'S' as a steed!" exclaimed Teddy, applauding himself.

The steward couldn't suppress a smile. Teddy had recently marked his fourth natal day in the company of Bella and Travis during the August festivities, and Lafferty perceived that the trio had indeed forged a close bond. 

It was high time, indeed, he ruminated. Perhaps now, I could unravel the enigma of the harlot with the cross adorning her limb, and tranquillity might at last reign. One could only hope.

In the study, Bella, in the interim, bestowed a gracious smile upon Teddy, with a soft smile gracing Travis' countenance. It appeared to him that equilibrium had been restored to the world – Teddy had taken a liking to him, despite the reduced time they spent together, and the affection for Bella warmed him akin to a diminutive sun in the recesses of his soul, where erstwhile shadows lingered. 

Amidst the splendid gathering, he found delight in observing her, and more so in the touches exchanged between them... the resonance of those caresses was discreetly noted by those unfortunate souls who happened to be in close proximity to the chamber discreetly assigned by Travis for their private diversions. 

He was on the verge of posing a question to her when, all of a sudden, young Teddy rose with his hands placed upon his cheeks and declared: 

"Bella, Bella! I recollected a tome on steeds – it seems to have lingered in Reading, for my mother and I often perused its pages together when she lay ailing in bed. Might we venture to retrieve it?" 

Bella swiftly cast a glance at Travis, equally taken aback that the lad spontaneously broached the subject of their mother, without immediately succumbing to tears. 

"Well, I shall embark upon a journey to Reading in approximately a fortnight, and I can fetch it for you. Just that singular volume, or might there be other literary treasures left behind?" queried Travis. 

Teddy pondered briefly before exclaiming once more: "One more! It bore gold and showcased an image of a winged white steed, carrying a man and a lady. And trailing behind them were verdant serpents." 

The Marquess promptly recognised the literary work Teddy referenced – Greek myths, graced with the image of the soaring Pegasus transporting Perseus and Andromeda on his back. The serpents in tow symbolised the presence of Medusa. The volume was gifted to him by Corinne when Travis was of a similar age as Teddy, and with its exquisite engravings, it swiftly became his favoured tome ere he acquired the proficiency to peruse with finesse. 

This recollection pricked somewhere within his bosom, yet he compelled himself to bestow a fraternal smile. "Very well, Teddy, I shall procure for you those tales from the Grecian myths you spoke about."

However, it did not elude Bella, the fleeting shadow traversing upon his visage, and subsequently assigned Bethany to accompany Teddy on a brief promenade whilst she ventured into Travis' study. On this occasion, she entered sans announcement, and her regard alighted upon the Marquess with his hands restfully upon the desk, his countenance enshrouded in his palms as if a tormented soul. 

The resonant thud of the closing door compelled him to raise his gaze. "Oh, 'tis you, Bella! I harboured apprehensions that Lafferty had ventured hither with yet another audacious notion," he uttered, rising from his station, advancing towards her, and enfolding her in a robust embrace.

She luxuriated in his redolent fragrance, which tantalised her senses, yet she remained undeterred. "I perceived your countenance whilst delineating that volume, Travis," she uttered with gentleness, "does it bear some significant import for you?"

She felt him nod, as he deeply inhaled the fragrance of her tresses.

"This was a gift from my mother, received at an age similar to Teddy's. However, I do not recall ever perusing this tome with her, or any other for that matter," uttered the Marquess in hushed tones.

"I express my deepest sympathies," spoke Bella, sensing tears welling up in her eyes.

He distanced himself, allowing his hands to fall alongside his person as he strolled back to the table. "No need for sorrow, my love," he said slowly. "It is a bygone era, unalterable. Deceased, gone for eternity, taking with it all its woes. Did you know I shed not a single tear for her after her demise?"

"Nay, I was not aware, though your perspective is comprehensible, considering her coldness towards you," she replied, drawing near and taking his hand. "But, Travis," she swallowed the lump in her throat, "mourning for one's mother is customary. It is also appropriate to grieve for the mother she never was, yet could have been. What is inappropriate is stifling these emotions within – harbouring all that anger and resentment only impedes your progress in life."

The Marquess had to shut his eyes against the surge of tears; some managed to escape beneath his lids. He felt two hands encircling him about the waist while he battled to master the overwhelming sensation of suffocation.

"Bella, I... I shall never ascertain why," he lamented, "why she failed to apprise me of her health condition?! Why did she not harbour a smidgen of affection for me?! Why must she afflicted me with a scar on my countenance and spirit?! Why... why did father meet his demise?," he buried his countenance into her tresses. "My mother has departed, and I... I remain devoid of any elucidations. A-and I shall never attain them henceforth."

They lingered in an embrace for a long moment, until Travis regained composure and found himself able to proceed to luncheon. They exited together onto the corridor when Lafferty approached them with a parchment in hand.

"My Lord, you ought to peruse this," he conveyed, presenting him with the document.

Travis accepted it and swiftly perused its contents. A caricature adorned the page, portraying a woman remarkably reminiscent of his mother, Corinne, brandishing a rifle aimed at a tall man with undulating auburn locks and hands aloft. A crimson circle marked the locale of the man's heart. In bold script, the document proclaimed: 

DISCLOSED ENIGMAS FROM THE AFTERLIFE? 

Beneath that, the text inquired: It has long been known that Lady CST never harboured affections for her spouse, but could her sentiments have driven her to eliminate him? Who discerns what further secrets this hoary lineage conceals – would you not wish to peer into the life of our neighbour, the comely Marquess TST? Perchance we would glean intelligence that would surely dissuade matrons from union with that peculiar recluse... unless a winsome governess has already entwined him in her charms. And what of you – would you forfeit life for love?

Travis' countenance underwent a tempestuous transformation. "This is unheard of, absolute nonsense! Lafferty, whence did you happen upon this pamphlet?!" bellowed the Marquess, fixing Lafferty with a penetrating gaze. 

"I chanced upon it whilst perambulating through the manor – resting upon the table in the drawing room," rejoined the majordomo. 

Bella gazed upon the pamphlet with a demeanour akin to being petrified – she had encountered a similar missive before... 

"Excellent," scoffed Travis, "so I harbour a turncoat within these walls, conveying such tidings from Lady Kendall directly unto my desk."

In that moment, a revelation dawned upon Bella. "A like pamphlet was devised for my sister and Earl Sullivan years hence in London – yet Lady Kendall swore to me it was not of her making." 

"Lady Kendall possesses no scruples about swearing falsely, hand upon the Bible," declared Travis with ire, "it is no mere coincidence that she graced this locale, and in short order, such a heap of absurdities befalls us, given her failure to secure some time with Teddy." 

However, Bella shook her head. "Considering the manifold times she has rendered assistance, it seems improbable she is the architect behind these pamphlets." 

"Even if she aided me a thousand times, I would remain cognisant of her ulterior motives, which exclusively serve her own needs and ambitions," retorted the Marquess, prompting a resigned sigh from Bella. 

Forsooth, he spoke no falsehood.