The maid brought the letter as soon as she received it. The house of Pembroke was eagerly waiting for this. Especially the lady of the house, Sarah. When she found about this love connection between Hester and her eldest daughter, she could not be happier than these. Her husband, Seymour was away from the house for a week and was yet to know about this news.

At least for now, Sarah had good reason to cheer. Because the younger one had vexed her spirits more than once.

Fiona Pembroke, lady of great beauty and brains, yet slightly immature but spectacular, young and sweet, alone and abandon. She was sad about the fact that she was going to reject him too after he made several attempts to impress her.

"But, is she to be questioned?"

She had not found such love yet in him.

Lord Wilkins Lodge is a brilliant member in Queen's Clarissa's court. And, he was the third person to court Fiona Pembroke, and was yet to receive an answer from her.

It was hilarious to mention, Fiona had kept him hanging on her fingers until she decides a beautiful, bright sunny day to kick him too, just like others.

Evelyn held onto the letter from her maid which seemed like an invitation from Marston abbey. She read out a loudly.

"Inviting for a marvelous Tea time at my house, you all are welcome." She smiled reading it. Count Sarah now took over the letter and hugged her daughter.

"I am so glad you have made a progress unlike your sister who is still on a edge."

"Mother ....." Fiona came in between, looked rough and arrogant. "I have made it super clear, until I find in him the very reason of his love for me, I would definitely say yes. But for god's sake, do not bother me with these faces of yours." She concluded.

Evelyn now picked up a glass of water and drank it before she could utter the word.

"Do you think they could like me?"

"Of Course, my love." Sarah spoke and sat down next to her. " I believe they have immensely liked you and that is why they have invited us."

"Invited us to say it frankly on our face, that these two love birds are not made for each other." Fiona intervened, "His mother does not like us. We know it for years; she never liked us mother."

"Stop Fiona....you are not helping." Sarah continued to pat on her elder daughter who had now made an accomplished move with her courtship with Lord Hester Marston.

Hester Marston was the son of Lady Finsbury Marston. The old witty lady who was known for her inappropriate comments and sometimes and irrelevant thoughts of anyone.

She is the wife of Earl of Carnia with immense wealth and popularity. She is respected all over when she showers her money but we cannot expect the same from her. She is a cunning lady who always gives a side eye whenever required.

Three days back, a ball had been arranged by the Queen to celebrate a victory in a battle. All the young men and woman were invited to attend the ball and participate in dance and dinners. Evelyn along with Fiona had attended the evening, participated profusely, enjoyed, and danced and the eldest found a rising love for Count Hester.

But the same thing cannot be said for miss Pembroke. She poorly looked at them and found none of them charming at all.

"Boring." As she whispered in her sister's ear.

"You must look into their heart, my sister?"

"Heart? You want me to tear their body and investigate into them? Replied Fiona sarcastically. Evelyn narrowed her eyes.

Fiona had little patient for the foibles of the society. She knew most of the men were looking her and gossiping, yet she was looking for something else. She wanted to flaunt her ideals of love, if one she could find such soul. Even the vicious eyes of few mothers were laid on her.

She hates them a lot. She despised the cruel eyes of cruel mothers because in previous balls, Fiona had largely refused their obedient sons as a perfect partner for her.

Oh , Poor Fiona, her dreams of having a perfect romantic love getting shredded day by day like the petals of an flower.

"Sister, why don't you go in that corner and meet Lord Crawshaw, I have heard of him, he is an excellent commander in British Army. He had just arrived this year and may need of a bride."

"Bride? You think I will become his bride?" Fiona flushed in anger. "I am not in need of a husband instead of a lover with whom I can perform my chiefly exoticism. Do you understand?"

"No ......" Evelyn shrugged and expressed a disdain towards her sister. "I am quiet done with you. If you stay clanged with me all the time, I perhaps doubt, I might end up without a match this year."

"But ......wait..." The elder one left the younger, dashing Princess alone in the crowd. Fiona was now looking for her mother for accompany but she was too indulged in conversation with other mothers and their daughters.

She looked flustered every time a man approached her with their proposals but she had no options rather than to accept at least one man for a dance or for a talk. She did and was very disappointed.

Last but not least, Lord Wilkins had managed to bring a peace of hope in Fiona but she was still confused if he was that right man? She was unable to make an assessment of him and thus could not give him any proper reply in return.

Lord Wilkins had everything, reputation, wealth, name, fame, two castles, and mastery in sword fighting. She had spoken only few words in the last ball when she met him, but only an ounce of uncertainty still existed in her heart and mind.

The arrival of the invitation letter in the Pembroke house had brought quite ample joy and rapture. Baroness Sarah instructed her maid to take the girls outside and get them some amazing dresses, which they would wear in the evening invitation. She had specially told her that Evelyn needed to look charming and that the maid must not make any mistake.

Fiona on the other side of the room engaged her sister in a conversation where she had no idea what to answer.

"Tell me? How he was able to woo your heart?" She questioned.

"He talked to me gently, kindly." She replied casually.

"That is enough? Gently and kindly? It is utterly preposterous" Fiona spoke sternly, " I believe most men on the very first instance would speak in genteel manners?? What do you expect them? To shout at you on the very first meeting??" She frantically asked, "Tell me more, what made you to think if he is right man?"

"Seriously, dear?"

"Please....you can help me so I would know if I like Wilkins."

His sister's absurd questions had now vexed her. She had to come up with an excuse now only to avoid her. She desperately looked around and found an instrument.

"I have nothing to say more than these. You must leave me alone; I must practice my Piana-forte for today's evening." And Evelyn excused herself, leaving her sister in brimming thoughts.

"She is always like this you know, less talk more excuses. I wonder I am adopted and this behaviour of hers proved, she is my step-sister." Fiona now turned to her maid. The maid simply smiled and listened her chattering while doing her chores.

"You know, I had a dream yesterday."

"Like what? The maid asked."

"That one day, I will be fatherless, motherless, alone and hopeless, penniless and friendless."

"You will soon be sister less. She is to be wedded shortly." The maid told sarcastically and now Fiona looked blank the moment her maid told this. Her face exhibited a vacant expressionless, stoic attitude.

"Marial.....Please. Evelyn is going next door just. A ten minute walk from the streets of Alte Burgweg. And, we are not sure yet, if she is really going to marry. Have you forgotten wily-witted, cunny Lady Finsbury?"

They both escaped a mild smile and then the maid returned to hall while Fiona sat next to the windon of her room and gazed outside.

Fiona was young, curious of the world, of the things surrounding her. Her heart was full of wonder and excitement but she too had questions, mysteries to solved. She would venture forth in gardens, near rivers or small steams, and think like an idiot, 'What it mean to be loved selflessly? And how does that happen? 

With Wilkins she had felt an ounce of hope but she was in state of discontent when she could not feel if it is the love she was seeking. This young maiden had insatiable thirst to discover the mystics of love, either rich or poor, with lot of pain or joy.