Chapter 129: The lion, the witch, and the audacity of this bitch.
Cassandra returned to the palace that evening, her carriage passing through the familiar gates and into the quiet bustle of the royal residence.
She stepped down when the footman opened the door, gathered her skirts, and made her way inside, her thoughts already turning to the work awaiting her after being away for most of the day.
There would be correspondence to answer, arrangements to review, and no doubt some new detail concerning the wedding that someone would insist required her attention.
She had barely made it halfway to her chambers when her lady’s maid came hurrying toward her.
"My lady." The petite woman called after her, quickening her steps to catch up. "You have a visitor."
Cassandra glanced at her without slowing.
Her mind immediately supplied one possibility.
"Is it His Grace?" she asked lightly. It was somewhat later than the usual hour of his visits, but she did not mind. "Tell him I shall join him shortly."
"No, my lady. It is not His Grace."
"Oh?" Cassandra frowned. "Then who is it?"
Perhaps another well-wisher. Several of the noblewomen she befriended had lately made a point of offering their congratulations on her engagement.
Everyone except Hester Cavendish.
Not a peep from the conniving she-devil. Though, given who she was, Cassandra could hardly say she was surprised.
"It is Lady Ashford, my lady."
Cassandra stopped dead.
The answer shocked her down to her core. Activity continued around her like normal even while her mind came to a screeching halt. The faint murmur of conversation drifted from another part of the palace but Cassandra barely heard any of it.
Slowly, she turned to face her maid.
"What did you say?"
Her voice had dropped so low that the girl visibly stiffened.
"It is Lady Ashford, my lady," she repeated, a nervous note creeping into her voice. "She requested an audience with you."
"How long has she been here?"
"Hours, my lady. We informed her that you were absent, but she refused to leave without seeing you. She was very adamant."
Of course she had been.
Vivienne Ashford had always been stubborn when she wanted something. Once she had decided on something, nothing short of force could persuade her against it.
Most likely, this was another attempt to draw Cassandra back into whatever game she was playing.
Another cry for attention.
Just like that letter.
Cassandra’s lips thinned at the thought of it. She tossed the damned thing into a fire the moment she returned to the palace after everything that had happened with Whitmore.
Vivienne must have been out of her mind if she believed Cassandra would still give her anything after what she had done.
"Are you certain she is still here?"
The maid nodded. "I am certain, my lady."
Cassandra looked away.
𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦
For one brief moment, she considered simply continuing toward her chambers as though the interruption never occurred.
She could leave Vivienne waiting.
She was under no obligation to receive her mother. Nor did she have any reason to indulge Vivienne.
If Vivienne wished to remain there for the rest of the evening, why should Cassandra care?
She had already waited for hours. What difference would a few more make?
The temptation was almost irresistible.
There was something deeply satisfying about the thought of making her mother wait, of forcing Vivienne to sit there and confront the reality of how thoroughly her place in Cassandra’s life had changed.
Very tempting indeed, an opportunity to humiliate her mother and show how insignificant she had become in Cassandra’s life that she wasn’t even worth a second thought.
But beneath the allure of such a plan was a well of anger as tumultuous as a storm tossed sea.
It churned inside Cassandra, dark and violent, rising with every recollection of what she had endured.
How dare she?
After everything that had happened, after everything Cassandra had endured at their hands and after everything her mother had allowed to happen to her, Vivienne still had the gall to walk into the palace and demand an audience like it was her right, like she still possessed some unquestionable claim upon her daughter.
The anger that rose through Cassandra was swift and all consuming.
The maid scurried away after telling Cassandra where Vivienne could be found.
Cassandra stood there for another moment. Then she made her choice.
She needed to put an end to this now, or Vivienne would only continue finding reasons to seek her out. If Cassandra wanted to prevent that, she would have to swallow her revulsion and face her mother once and for all.
Each step brought Cassandra closer to the woman who had spent years placing Edmund above her. Vivienne was not incapable of love; she loved her son well enough. Cassandra had simply never inspired the same affection in her, and Vivienne had never made much effort to hide it.
The disparity was evident in everything, from the privileges granted to each child to the way Vivienne spoke to them and treated them. Edmund was the heir, the favored child, the one whose happiness and wellbeing seemed to matter most. Despite being the firstborn, Cassandra somehow always came second.
In the past, Cassandra would spend countless hours wondering what she could do to earn her mother’s affection. She made herself more obedient, worked harder, and pushed herself to excel. She was better than Edmund in almost everything, yet none of it earned her the praise she had secretly hoped for.
She swallowed her disappointments, endured criticism, and kept telling herself that perhaps one day Vivienne would finally look at her and see not an inconvenience or a lesser child, but a daughter deserving of love.
Now, she no longer cared whether that day ever came.
Whatever part of her that once yearned for Vivienne’s affection was long gone.
Cassandra reached the parlour and pushed the door open, taking a brief look inside before stepping through and closing it behind her.
Vivienne immediately rose from her chair, a smile appearing on her face.
"Oh, there you are, my dear." She smoothed the front of her gown before folding her hands neatly in front of her. "I have been waiting for quite some time. Your maid told me you were occupied with running errands."
There was not the slightest trace of unease in her voice. If anything, she sounded almost cheerful. It was a facade, of course. Cassandra knew her mother well enough to recognize one when she saw it.