Chapter 151 - Hundred And Fifty One

Words : 1021 Updated : Sep 27th, 2025

Anne's carriage came to a smooth stop in front of the Pembroke's grand but slightly faded manor. A figure quietly opened the carriage door and entered. Inside, sitting on the plush velvet seat across from Anne, Evelin leaned forward, her eyes shining with a greedy light. "So," Evelin began, her voice a low, excited whisper. "You want me to stroke the fire of this scandal even more?" She said, replying to the request Anne made. Anne, looking out the window at the familiar facade of the Pembroke house, replied without turning her head. "Yes," she said, her own voice cool and determined. "The first pamphlet was a good start. It was a success but it is not enough. The story will fade. I need you to escalate it. Can you think of anything else you can add to the narrative? Something to make it even more scandalous, more permanent, more damaging?" Evelin thought hard for a moment, her mind racing through the bits and pieces of gossip she had heard. She then remembered the vicious, unsubstantiated whispers she had heard from a friend who was with Lady Margaret and her circle in the park. An ugly, but brilliant, idea began to form. "Well," she said, her voice dropping even lower. "There is something I heard from my friend who is close to a well known lady in the society. She said that Delia… well, she said that Delia often flirts with the male servants in your manor." She watched Anne's face for a reaction before delivering the killing blow. "And that, on one occasion, she actually became with child. And that she secretly went to a back-alley doctor to… get rid of it." Anne turned her head slowly from the window and looked at her. For a moment, she was silent. Then, she laughed. It was not a happy sound, but a short, sharp, and utterly cynical one. "Delia?" she said with a scoff. "My dear Evelin, that girl has never even seen a naked man before in her life, not even your own brother, I assure you." She stopped laughing, her expression turning cold and hard. "The people of Albion are just so incredibly stupid. They will believe anything." "So," Evelin asked, her eyes gleaming with opportunity, "should I meet with this Lady Margaret to get more details? Or should I just use the information I have already heard and have the pamphleteer blow it up into a bigger story?" Anne nodded, a slow, malicious smile spreading across her face. "The second option. Less witnesses, more room for creativity and less chances of getting caught." She then looked at Evelin, her smile turning charming. "Do you want to go shopping with me? I find myself in need of a new parasol and perhaps a hat from Madame Colette." Evelin's eyes widened. Madame Colette was the most renowned French artisan in the entire kingdom, a milliner so exclusive that only royalty, highest-ranking duchesses and rich aristocrats could afford her creations. "The Madame Colette?" she breathed. "If you do a good job with this next pamphlet," Anne said, her voice a silken promise, "I will make it worth your while." "Of course, Anne," Evelin smiled, her mind already filled with visions of exquisite hats and luxurious ribbons. "Of course. I won't let you down." Anne's carriage drove off, leaving Evelin on the steps of her own home, her heart pounding with a mixture of greed and a thrilling excitement. Later that night, after changing into a simple, dark dress and covering herself with a heavy, hooded cloak, Evelin slipped out of the side door of the manor. As she was hurrying towards the gate, a figure stepped out from the shadows. It was her brother, George, a thin plume of smoke rising from the cigar in his hand. He walked faster and grabbed her arm, his grip surprisingly strong. "Evelin," he said, his voice a low, angry growl. "Where are you going at this late hour?" Evelin tried to remove her brother's grip from her wrist, her own voice full of a sharp annoyance. "It is none of your business, George or should I tell mama you are back to smoking?" "You are up to no good again, aren't you?" he replied, his eyes searching her face in the dim moonlight. "I told you, Evelin. I told you to find a way to take that disgusting gossip down. To apologize publicly and tell everyone the truth. Do it now before it's too late." Evelin was confused by his sudden, passionate defense of Delia. "What is wrong with you lately, brother?" she asked, a genuinely puzzled expression on her face. "What is wrong with me?" George repeated, his voice full of a frustrated disbelief. "Yes, you," Evelin replied, her patience snapping. "Delia is the reason our family is in this state of ruin! We did not get the money the Baroness promised us from that marriage. We could have used that money, and any of the other money that Delia would have brought into our family, to clear all of our debts. Our mother is constantly crying and stressed out every single time the debt collectors come to harass her. She is withering away before our very eyes! Does that not make you angry?" "You are destroying an innocent woman's reputation," George replied, his voice a low, miserable sound. He reached up and pulled the hood of her cloak down, revealing her face to the moonlight. "And just because you do these dirty deeds at night, you think you won't get caught if you wear this ridiculous disguise?" Evelin angrily put her hood back up. "Whatever," she spat. "If you are not going to help me save this family, then don't you dare talk to me." She turned and continued walking briskly towards the gate. "Evelin!" George called after her. "Evelin Pembroke, you come back here!" But she was already gone, a small shadow disappearing into the darkness of the night, on her way to commit another act of treachery.

Chapter 151 - Hundred And Fifty One

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