Few days passed in what felt like a strange blur.
Christiana quickly noticed a pattern forming, though it was one that made very little sense. Trays of food continued to appear in her room with almost unnatural timing. Sometimes she would look away for only a moment, and when she turned back, a tray would already be sitting on the table.
It was as if the person delivering them moved like a shadow.
Along with the meals, letters kept arriving as well.
Every single one of them was from Robert.
At first, Christiana had opened them out of curiosity. But after the first few, the letters only made the anger inside her grow stronger.
They were polite.
Too polite.
Each note carried apologies for the inconvenience, small reassurances that she was safe, and vague promises that things would make sense soon. Yet none of them answered the only questions that mattered.
Why was she here?
And when would she be released?
Those questions burned in her mind day and night.
Not a single minute passed without her thinking about her family. Her parents must have noticed her disappearance by now. They would be searching for her, asking questions, worrying themselves sick.
Her chest tightened every time the thought crossed her mind.
They had no idea where she was.
They didn't know who had taken her.
For all they knew, she could already be dead.
Christiana clenched her fists whenever those thoughts surfaced.
Several times, she had considered writing replies to Robert's letters, demanding answers from him. But the opportunity never came.
The trays of food and the letters always appeared when she wasn't looking.
It was infuriating.
Sometimes the food would arrive in the middle of the night. Other times it would be waiting for her when she woke at dawn. On certain days it appeared during noon, and on others just as the sun was setting.
There was no predictable time.
She had tried to stay alert.
She had even forced herself to sit by the door for hours, determined to catch whoever was responsible.
But somehow, every single time, she would become distracted for only a moment—a glance toward the window, a shift in thought, a brief moment of exhaustion.
And when she looked back—
The tray would already be there. No footsteps. No voices. No sign that anyone had even entered the room.
The more it happened, the more irritated she became.
It felt impossible.
Christiana pressed her lips together tightly as frustration simmered beneath her calm exterior.
Whoever was doing this was clearly avoiding her on purpose.
And that realization only made her more determined to uncover the truth.
At Barrowberg, within the grand residence of the Thel family, Tabitha stood in her chamber before a tall standing mirror while her personal maid worked quietly behind her.
The room itself was spacious and richly decorated, befitting the daughter of a noble house. Pale silk curtains framed the wide windows, allowing soft daylight to spill across the polished wooden floors. A vanity table cluttered with perfume bottles and jeweled hairpins stood nearby, while neatly folded gowns rested across the cushioned bench at the foot of her bed.
Tabitha, however, paid little attention to the luxurious surroundings.
Her focus remained entirely on the reflection staring back at her.
Her maid tightened the last of the delicate laces at the back of her dress, fingers moving carefully so as not to wrinkle the fine fabric. The gown Tabitha had chosen for the day was a soft shade of blue—an elegant dress made from layered silk that shimmered faintly whenever she moved.
It was not a random choice.
Christiana had worn blue the night of the ball.
And that had been the night everyone noticed her.
Tabitha's lips curved into a satisfied smile as she examined herself.
Her golden hair had been styled with equal care. The maid had arranged it into a rose-shaped bun at the back of her head, carefully twisting the strands so that the style resembled blooming petals. A few loose curls had been left to fall gracefully along the sides of her face, framing her features in a way that looked effortless yet intentional.
It was almost identical to the way Christiana had worn her hair that evening.
Tabitha tilted her head slightly, studying every detail of her appearance in the mirror.
For a moment, she imagined the ballroom again—the music, the lights, the whispers that had filled the room when Christiana entered. The way the attention of the guests had shifted instantly toward her.
A flicker of irritation crossed Tabitha's mind.
But just as quickly, another thought formed.
If that was the appearance that captured everyone's attention…
Then she could do the same. Perhaps even better.
The idea made the smile on her lips widen.
A sharp knock suddenly sounded from the door, pulling her from her thoughts.
"My lady," a servant's voice called politely from the other side.
Tabitha turned away from the mirror, smoothing the front of her dress with a satisfied look before walking toward the door.
Moments later, she stepped out of her chamber and made her way through the halls of the residence.
Outside, a carriage already waited at the front of the estate.
Her older brother stood beside it, dressed neatly and waiting with the composed patience of someone used to his sister taking her time.
Without hesitation, Tabitha approached the carriage and got in. Moments later her older brother joined, and soon they departed.
When Tabitha arrived at the soirée, she wasted no time.
The gathering was already lively, with nobles scattered across the grand hall in clusters of conversation. Gentle music drifted through the room while servants moved gracefully between guests, offering wine and small plates of delicacies.
Tabitha stepped into the crowd with practiced elegance.
Within minutes, she had begun weaving herself into conversations, greeting familiar faces, exchanging polite laughter, and allowing just enough charm to draw attention without appearing desperate for it.
Soon, a glass of wine rested lightly in her hand as she stood speaking with a gentleman near one of the tall windows.
"Lord Brimsley," she said casually, swirling the wine in her glass before lifting it slightly to her lips, "I heard you've been searching for the home address of that dark-skinned girl from the ball."
The man's reaction was immediate.
He turned toward her with sharp interest, his posture straightening as though someone had just struck a bell beside him.
"Do you happen to know where she lives?" he asked quickly, his voice filled with barely concealed eagerness.
Hope flickered plainly in his eyes.
Tabitha watched him carefully.
Then she smiled.
"Oh, I've been there," she replied smoothly. "And while I was visiting, I was informed of a rather tragic… terrible thing."
Her tone carried just enough intrigue to catch attention.
A few nearby guests who had overheard the exchange slowly turned their heads toward them. Within moments, several more people drifted closer, curiosity drawing them like moths to flame.
Tabitha noticed immediately.
And she enjoyed it.
She took a slow sip of her wine, allowing the silence to stretch just long enough to build tension.
"What tragic thing?" Lord Brimsley asked, clearly unable to contain himself.
His heart seemed to hang on her answer.
Tabitha lowered her glass and leaned slightly closer, as though sharing a delicate secret.
"Well…" she said softly, though her voice carried just enough for the small crowd around her to hear, "I was told that she has gone missing."
A ripple of gasps moved through the group.
Guests exchanged startled glances, murmurs beginning to spread.
Tabitha watched them carefully, hiding her satisfaction behind a composed expression.
"I did have a chance to speak with her briefly at the ball," she continued thoughtfully. "And during our conversation, she let something slip rather carelessly."
She paused again, ensuring every ear around her was listening.
"She confessed that she was in love…"
Her lips curved faintly.
"…with a farmer."
"Great God!" one of the guests exclaimed immediately.
"That must mean she eloped with him!" another voice added.
The whispers began spreading almost instantly, speculation passing from one guest to another like wildfire.
Tabitha simply stepped back, offering a polite smile as if she had only shared a harmless piece of information.
"Please excuse me," she said lightly before slipping away from the growing crowd.
From a quiet corner of the room, she lifted her glass once more and watched with clear amusement as the rumor traveled through the hall.
Exactly as she intended.