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Aubrey 54



 Chapter 54

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There's that feeling. You don't want to look, you want to close your eyes right now, but you can't look away. It's like your eyelids are being forced open and your pupils are being forced open. That's what Aubrey felt when she saw Phoebe as a woman. Her scarlet hair rolling in gentle waves, her gorgeous red dress embroidered with gold thread, her lips so red they looked artificial. The cute little girl with the mischievous laugh had grown into a woman of great height.


"What's going on!"


Jonathan shouted, and Aubrey, finally seeing the first floor, had to suck in a sharp intake of breath. She saw Jonathan bending down to apologize to the patrons, the staff scurrying to clean up the mess, and beyond them, a pair of wild eyes. Jeffrik was watching. Or, more accurately, he was standing on the railing of the second floor.


He quickly covered his face with his hat and scurried away. Panicked, Aubrey turned to run after him, but stopped in her tracks at the sound of a voice that sounded like a hallucination. Phoebe, whose song had been interrupted, shook her head and started to walk off the stage. 


Aubrey couldn't think anymore. She couldn't let Phoebe go like this. When she let out a heavy breath, Aubrey grabbed Phoebe's arm. Phoebe, who had just come down the stairs, looked back at her in surprise.


"Hey, we need to talk."


"Pamela, do you know her?"


The man who had just approached asked. By the way he was dressed, he looked like he worked here with Jonathan. His angular jaw and bushy beard gave him a rugged appearance.


"No. I don't know her."


Pamela, no, Phoebe smiled as she said that. Then she brushed Aubrey's hand lightly. As she came down the stairs, she smelled irritatingly like melted candy and smeared it all over her body. But Aubrey stepped closer and grabbed Phoebe's arm once more. Her lean, hard forearm was cold. Phoebe stared at her with eyes even colder than that.


"I need to talk to you, just for a second......."


The hand holding Phoebe's arm began to visibly tremble. Phoebe didn't bat an eye at the pitiful sight, and the man who had seen her disappeared into the aisle, motioning for her to come in. Phoebe, who had been smiling at the man, stiffened and gently brushed Aubrey's hand away.


"Talk what?"


She gave her a practiced smile. But she said it in a very small voice. From a distance, it would have looked like she was giggling.


"If you don't know the way out, you can go that way."


Phoebe was treating her as if she were a complete stranger.


"Bye, then."


"Phoebe, I......."


Phoebe's stoic face contorted at the sound of Aubrey's name. Phoebe whirled around and smiled a hard smile.


"Don't be a fool and get out of here before that little bastard servant comes back."


Phoebe turned coldly away, then lifted the black curtain to the right of the stage and disappeared completely into it.


"What the hell is going on!"


"I'm sorry, I'm sorry."


Aubrey glanced back at the still-unsettled commotion. The offended gentlemen stared angrily at the young lady who had invaded their space. One by one, she could see the empty seats between them, until her eyes fell on Jeffrik’s earlier empty seat, which was now occupied. 



*** 


Aubrey returned to the mansion in a daze. She'd accomplished her grand plan, but she wasn't happy about it at all. The image of Phoebe's cold face haunted her.


Her mind kept traveling back in time, taking her back to Crysis Island: the deep night, the piercing screams, the skinny legs, the tearing yells.


"Ugh..."


Aubrey curled up with her head wrapped in her hands. Phoebe's changed appearance spoke of the time that had passed since she'd fled the island on her own two feet. The horrific days she must have endured alone took over her mind in hindsight. The guilt of having forgotten Phoebe, even for a moment, squeezed her heart. During Aubrey's time away from Phoebe, she had grown into a fascinating woman. Pamela, the Lady of the Shadowy Playground, the Lady of the Bookard Salon.


"Ah, miss!"


Trin's urgent voice called out. Aubrey looked up, and the door flew open. The missing Jeffrik stood there.


"Get out."


At the cold command, Trin stumbled backward, unsure of what to do. And the door slammed shut. For a moment, she stared. Jeffrik gritted his teeth, looking at Aubrey with a murderous expression that she had never seen before.


"Why did you go there?"


Jeffrik’s voice was heavier than ever. Aubrey stood up straight, as if drawn by the sound of his voice, and clasped her hands together respectfully.


"I asked what were you thinking? Why did you go there?"


"...."


"Okay. Let me change the question. What are you going to do now?"


This was not what she had expected. She hadn't expected Jeffrik to come out so brazenly after being caught having an affair. What could he possibly think? Aubrey slowly raised her head and stared at him.


"I won't tell anyone, so please pretend my marriage to Lord Hemburg never happened."


And with that, Jeffrik, who had walked up to her slowly, quickly slapped her. The touch was sharp enough to make her mind go white.


"You unscrupulous bitch."


Aubrey touched her tingling cheek and glared at him. There was no mask between them now.


"How dare you threaten me! Is this something you learned from that bastard, or did your parents teach you?"


"..."


"For some reason, the first time I saw you, I had a bad feeling, and I had to nip it in the bud. I shouldn't have let you in here, wherever you came from."


Her body shook with each inhale and exhale. Aubrey was trying to keep herself from getting angry. She couldn't let this get out of hand if she wanted to keep her one and only goal, her plan, her marriage to Murfrio, through this whole mess.


"Just pretend my marriage to Lord Hemburg never happened, and I'll keep what I saw today a secret until the day I die."


"You've gone mad at last."


"Say what you will, but I want to live quietly until I leave this manor, and that means without marrying him, so......."


It was a strange thing. The corners of Jeffrik’s mouth twitched, and he lifted his chin in a wicked grin.


"Who do you think is going to believe you?"


"My aunt will believe me."


"Hahaha, only someone so naive would."


Jeffrik gripped Aubrey's shoulders tightly.


"But it won't change anything if she believes you."


"...."


"I'm saying nothing will change. Except you."


Jeffrik shook her shoulder roughly from his grip, the recoil making Aubrey flinch.


"You say the wrong thing, and you'll be out of here in no time."


"...."


"All you have to do is stay quiet and marry that pig of a man."


With the words spoken like a curse, Jeffrik stormed out of the room. Trin ran to Aubrey, silently appalled.


"Lady, are you all right? Lady!"


Aubrey could only stare blankly at the spot where Jeffrik stood. The tip of the knife pointed back at her throat, so useless.



***


A few days had passed since then.


Unusual precautions had been issued to the occupants of the Ravant house. Aubrey Sandalwood's every move was to be monitored, as she had been banned from leaving the house a few days earlier.


Every evening, Garder, the butler, reported to Jeffrik about Aubrey's day, including what time she got up, what she did, what she ate, and who she talked to. Only Jeffrik, who ordered it, and Aubrey, who was the party, knew why. All Barbara knew was that Jeffrik was concerned about Aubrey's health.


"You've been out a lot lately. And with the cooler weather, he was worried that you might catch a cold. Do you understand, Aubrey?"


Barbara put on her angelic face and defended her horrible husband. Aubrey could only offer her a weak smile.


"Let's go out to the Plaza together, use it as an excuse to get a new coat for the coming winter. Sounds like a good idea, right?"


Barbara grinned like a child devising an adorable plan, her warm hand stroking Aubrey's hair. Aubrey looked up into her loving eyes, and swallowed hard, I'm lying to Auntie, and I'm using it to blackmail your husband but it’s back fire, and worst of all, you know anything about it.



"Auntie."


"Yes, Aubrey. Tell me."


"......Nothing."


It would have been better if Barbara had been the one to find out about Jeffrik’s affair, the one who would be furious, but as Jeffrik had said, she was the one who would be devastated even if she knew the truth. Aubrey couldn't decide what was more important to her aunt. Instead of locking her up in the mansion, Jeffrik had kindly told her she could use the library anytime she wanted. Aubrey wanted to spit in his face.


After a quick breakfast, Aubrey headed to the library. She planned to get some work done on the screenplay while she was cooped up in the house. She was about to open the heavy door when Trin arrived, holding out the letter and shaking her head.


"Another failure?"


"Yes, my lady. I couldn't get it out with Garder watching me with his eyes."


Not only had Jeffrik grounded her, he had intercepted her correspondence. He had cut off all contact with Khaled. Presumably, if he had written at all, it was in a pile in Jeffrik’s study.


"The Count will be waiting. What shall we do?"


"I'll send it again tomorrow, thank you."


Aubrey took the unsent letter and went inside. There were eight bookshelves lined with books of all kinds. Across the room, noon sunlight streamed in, illuminating every speck of dust that floated through the air. It was a scene that was almost too familiar. This, Aubrey thought, was the price she had to pay for her poor imitation: she was not that man, but she had tried to follow his ways without fear and had been punished.



So all she had left was a contract with him, a script for a play. But even that was unclear. She didn't know when he would turn on her, knowing that she had failed to stop her marriage to Murfrio.


"Answer me.”


He said he'd help, but Aubrey thought it was another threat, because that was the kind of man he was, he wouldn't say something like that with any other emotion.


"No. It's okay."


Aubrey forced herself to be optimistic. Her chances weren't all gone. If all else failed, she could go to Murfrio herself and overturn the marriage, but for now it was imperative that she write a scenario in which Khaled would feel comfortable offering 50,000 livres. Wandering from bookshelf to bookshelf like she was lost in a maze park, Aubrey searched for books on alcohol. She was going to spend her time doing research for her new screenplay.


When she found one, she smoothed out the hem of her dress and sat down on the floor, leaning her back against the bookcase behind her and opening it. The silence in the library, which was already quiet, was even more so. The heavy door didn't allow any noise from outside. Sunlight streamed through the arched windows, falling on red hair braided to one side and small hands flipping through the pages. Focused green eyes moved slowly from side to side.


She hadn't heard the knock for a long time, and now that she heard it, it was quite urgent. Aubrey closed the book she was reading and told her to come in. The door opened and a red-faced Trin appeared.


"Lady, the Count is here."


He couldn’t wait, Aubrey thought.


"Tell him I'll be right there."


"No, lady. He's not here to see you."


"What?"


Trin glanced back and whispered in Aubrey's ear. The words that came out were deeply disturbing.


"He’s telling the Count and Countess of Ravant he won't be engaged to Lady Emily."


***


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