Our Seven Deadly Sins

Gossip and Potions

Chapter 4

Florence

“I am tired of this cold weather trapping us indoors, Florence.” The Countess complained to her friend while they played a card game.

“As am I, Elizabeth.” Florence answered evenly with a forced smile as she dealt the deck of cards. But her mind was elsewhere, with Lady Joan, in fact. Was she completing the task assigned to her by Florence? Probably; she had been very eager when she heard what it entailed.

“You’ve dealt out too many cards.” The Countess frowned.

“I am sorry.” The words slipped off Florence’s tongue, but she didn’t mean them. Who cared if she dealt too many cards? She didn’t even enjoy playing cards! It was a servants’ game, anyway.

Florence reached her hand out too collect the cards, but the Countess waved her hand away.

“It doesn’t matter now.” She stood up, leaving Florence at the table. Florence watched as she moved to the open window, now lacking the grace she had possessed but a few years ago.

Grace seemed like such a trivial thing when one had such a grand title as Countess, but Florence knew how much it meant to Elizabeth. She didn’t care so much about grace so much as what losing it signified; old age.

The Countess shivered, almost as if she could hear the Baroness’s thoughts. The Countess has despised her old husband; he had been so old, so unattractive to her, she had confessed all this to Florence one evening with the help of a little wine. She had yearned for a younger, handsomer romantic partner, and now that she had found just that man, the perfect man, the Countess had grown so old so rapidly, it seemed to both she and Florence.

“Luther is out on the grounds, riding the stallion I gave him.” The Countess remarked with a smile.

“Why did you not join him?” Wrong question.

The Countess whipped around and glared at Florence with cold, hard, black eyes.

“You know why not! I can’t, you fool!” Florence sat stone-still, waiting patiently for the Countess to calm down. She was used to these angry fits.

The Countess calmed down presently and sank back into her chair across from Florence, holding her head in her hands.

“I am so old, Florence! So old!” She sobbed. “Luther is so young and handsome. He could have any woman in my household!” A maid walked in and stared at the crying Countess. Florence motioned for her to look away, so the maid went to the fire and began stoking it.

“Yet he chose you, Elizabeth, and for good reason.” Florence tried to comfort her.

“What good reason? I will tell you, because he knows too well I will die soon and he will have all my riches!” She cried bitterly. She was probably right, but Florence knew better than to say that out loud.

“No, he chose you because you are beautiful and charming. You are everything any woman could hope to be, and do you know how I will prove that? With a masquerade!” The idea had come to Florence like a stroke of genius, and she saw the Countess Elizabeth visibly perk up at the idea.

“How will that prove anything?” Florence smiled at her question.

“He will not know who you are, yet he will still choose you. Besides that, it will also keep us entertained.” Of course, Florence would have to tell Prince Luther what the Countess would be wearing, because Florence knew he would never choose her if he didn’t know. He would choose a pretty, young, lively, graceful girl, but Florence would make sure he didn’t.