A Scandal By Any Other Name-Chapter 139 - Hundred And Thirty Nine

It was the dark, unspoken truth of the Farrington household. Her father, the Earl, desperately needed an heir to carry on his noble title, as all men do. Celine, being a girl, could never inherit the estate. From the very day she was born, she had been a massive disappointment to her father for being female, and a constant reminder of failure to her mother for being the reason her father distanced herself from her mother.

Lady Farrington pretended not to hear. She turned her head and looked out her own window, her face a rigid, unfeeling mask of stone, watching the scenery outside.

Celine scoffed.

It was a harsh, bitter sound. It was the sound of a girl who had finally realized that nothing she ever did would be good enough to earn her parents’ love.

Lady Farrington snapped her head back around. Her eyes narrowed sharply.

"Celine," Lady Farrington scolded, her voice dripping with proper society rules. "A lady does not scoff. It is entirely inappropriate and impolite."

"Stop it!!!" Celine screamed.

"I am tired of acting like a perfect lady!" She spoke loudly. She gripped the edges of her dark dress with trembling hands.

The fear that usually kept her silent was temporary gone, burned away by the sheer exhaustion of her miserable life.

"I am tired of you all trying to control and ruin my life," Celine cried out. The tears finally spilled over her lower lashes, rolling down her pale cheeks. "I am tired of being the Farring family’s puppet. You dictate what I wear. You dictate what I eat. You decide who I must marry. If you knew you hated seeing me so much, you would have left me in France!"

She pointed a shaking finger toward the window.

"You and father exiled me for three years to a cold convent," Celine wept, the painful memory tearing at her heart. "You locked me away because I shamed you. You should have just left me there to rot."

" at least I was free. Free from all of you." She thought to herself then looked at her mother straight in the eyes and continued. "It would be kinder than bringing me back just to use me as a piece of meat to catch a Duke!"

Lady Farrington sat up perfectly straight. Her chest heaved with sudden anger, but she kept her voice dangerously low and controlled.

"I do not hate you," Lady Farrington replied firmly. "I am your mother and mother knows best. I am doing what is best for you."

Celine shook her head. A sad, knowing smile twisted her lips.

"No, Mama," Celine replied. She looked directly into her mother’s cold eyes, stripping away the lies they had lived with for years.

"You are doing what is best for you."

Lady Farrington’s hands tightened into tight fists on her lap. "What do you mean by that?"

Celine leaned forward slightly. She decided to drop the heavy, terrible secret that the servants whispered about in the dark hallways of their home. It was the secret her mother tried so desperately to hide from polite society.

"Papa has a son outside, right?" Celine spoke. Her words were sharp and completely devastating.

Lady Farrington’s face turned completely white. The color drained from her cheeks in a single second.

"The son you couldn’t give him," Celine continued, her voice trembling but refusing to stop. "Someone else gave him. A mistress in the city who he takes care of and shields away from the prying eyes of society. He has a boy who looks just like him. The next Earl who will inherit the Farrington’s estate."

Lady Farrington’s breathing turned shallow and rapid. She stared at her daughter in absolute horror. This was her deepest shame. Her husband had looked elsewhere for an heir, proving to the world that she had failed in her only true duty as a noble wife.

"Now you are using me to seek validation from him," Celine accused, the bitter truth pouring out of her. "If you can secure the Duke of Ford for your daughter, Papa will finally look at you with respect. You are trading my entire life just to make Papa smile at you again."

Celine let out a wet, broken laugh.

"What a mother you are!" Celine shouted.

SLAP!

The sound of the strike was incredibly loud inside the small, enclosed carriage.

Lady Farrington had moved with blinding speed. Her gloved hand struck Celine directly across the left cheek. The force of the blow was so strong that it snapped Celine’s head to the side. Her hair came loose from its pins, falling over her face.

For a long moment, the only sound in the carriage was the rattling of the wooden wheels on the street.

A bright, burning red mark instantly appeared on Celine’s pale skin. The sting brought fresh tears to her eyes, but she did not cry out in pain. She did not raise her hand to touch her cheek.

Instead, Celine laughed.

It was not a happy sound. It was a dark, broken, and completely hollow laugh that sounded entirely wrong coming from such a young girl. It was the sound of a spirit that had been completely crushed.

Slowly, Celine turned her head back to face her mother. She brushed the loose hair out of her eyes.

"If that quells your anger," Celine said softly, her voice completely dead.

She leaned forward and deliberately turned her head, offering the other side of her face to her mother.

"You can keep hitting me," she turned the other cheek. "Strike me again, Mama. Go ahead. Break my skin. Leave a bruise the maids will have to cover with powder. After all, I am your only child. You have no one else to punish."

Lady Farrington stared at her daughter’s offered cheek. Her hand was still raised in the air, trembling violently.

She looked at the red mark she had just created. She looked at the utterly defeated, empty look in Celine’s bright blue eyes.