At Stenwulf House

Chapter 8: Lady Stenwulf

Chapter 8: Lady Stenwulf

Lady Lavinia Stenwulf was nearly everything Calden did not like in a person. She was strict and proud, and Calden had not once been happy when they had been living together. Lord Nicholas Stenwulf had died young at forty, leaving his son in the hands of his wife. If anything, Calden could never comprehend why his father picked the woman to be his partner. She had a personality that did not match his at all, and it was clear to him that his parents had not loved each other. Did his father not have other women to choose from?

Still, he was his mother, and he obeyed her every wish until the day he decided that he was old enough to leave the mansion — this mansion. Despite his mother's will to fit in snugly with society's standards, she was not one to allow her son to stay in a bachelor lodging that was not Stenwulf House, and had left on her own accord, much to everyone's surprise. He could still remember the little dance Martha did when she realised she needn't follow the lady out those doors. Not everyone was as lucky as her. Several maids cried in the privacy of their rooms, Martha had told him. It took an ounce of courage to be able to live with his mother.

And he was sure Miss Everild would never be able to withstand her wrath.

- - -

Lady Stenwulf sat with ease in the drawing room, sipping on her cup of tea. The door was closed, leaving Fayre alone with her; Mr. Stenwulf had left upon his mother's request to have a private word with 'the girl over there'. Her authoritative voice held a tinge of distaste, as though she saw Fayre as nothing but a problem to be solved — a problem that only she could solve.

Fayre took a moment too long to walk forward and introduce herself, her hands cold and clasped tightly in front of her. She continued to stand in front of her as Lady Stenwulf took another sip from her cup, eyes half-closed.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the lady put down her cup. Her searing gaze rested on her and assessed her. Fayre could tell from how her mouth was set that she was unimpressed.

"I see you take after your parents."

Startled, Fayre blurted, "Thank you."

One of Lady Stenwulf's thin eyebrows twitched mockingly. "I didn't mean that as a compliment."

Fayre immediately lowered her eyes in embarrassment. "O–oh. Pardon me."

There was a moment of silence. The clinking of porcelain filled the air again as Lady Stenwulf drank her tea.

"An interesting story has reached my ears, Miss Everild, that my son has made a purchase at an auction. My sources informed me that the person he brought home was you. Is that true?"

"Y–yes, Lady Stenwulf."

"And you were a lady of the night."

"Yes."

"You've put us all in a ridiculous situation, do you realise?"

Fayre forced herself to nod.

"Then why are you still here?" Lady Stenwulf's loud voice reverberated through the room just as she stood up from her seat.

Fayre took a shaky step back. The menacing woman in front of her was horrific enough to make her cower, but she couldn't, not unless she wanted to make matters worse. "I apologise. I didn't think—"

"Of course not," said Lady Stenwulf incredulously, taking a step towards her. "You're just like your parents, having no concern at all for what society thinks. I can assure you that the Stenwulf family would not tolerate such behaviour – or are you saying it is completely natural for a man my son's age to keep a mistress under the same roof?"