A Scandal By Any Other Name

The complete, selfish lie was the final, breaking point for Celine.

Something inside the quiet, terrified, obedient girl finally snapped completely. The heavy, dark chains of fear and duty that had bound her to her toxic family for all the years of her life suddenly shattered into a million tiny pieces.

Celine sparked. She became incredibly, vibrantly angry.

She did not lower her eyes. She did not whimper. She let out all the heavy, dark, bitter emotions she had held down deep inside against her mother for her entire life.

"A good life for me?" Celine spoke, her voice thick with cold, biting sarcasm. "Or a good life entirely for you, Mama?"

Lady Farrington gasped slightly, taking a small step backward, completely shocked by her daughter’s harsh, disrespectful tone.

"Everything you do, every single decision you make, is for yourself only," Celine continued loudly, taking a firm, angry step toward her mother. "You have never once thought about my happiness. You never thought about me back then when Papa controlled us, and you certainly are not thinking about me even now."

Celine pointed an accusing finger directly at her mother’s chest.

"You are a completely selfish, manipulative, and deeply wicked woman," Celine declared, the harsh truth echoing loudly in the small, cramped inn room.

Lady Farrington’s face turned bright red with absolute fury. "How dare you speak to your mother that way!"

Celine scoffed loudly. It was a harsh, bitter sound.

"You want to use my body and my life once again to simply buy your way out of destitution," Celine accused her, her blue eyes blazing with a fierce, unbreakable light. "What a terrible, pathetic mother you are! Even a simple farm hen will not willingly leave her own chicks to the foxes. But you... you are completely ready and willing to sacrifice your own daughter’s entire life and safety purely for your own comfortability!"

Celine shook her head slowly, a single tear of profound, bitter disappointment escaping her eye.

"And here I truly thought I would give you another chance," Celine confessed softly, her voice filled with deep regret. "I thought you were trapped by Papa’s cruelty, exactly like I was. I thought that was why you did all those terrible things... why you always look away. But I was a complete, blind fool."

Celine looked directly into her mother’s angry, selfish eyes.

"Everything you ever did was for you, and you alone," Celine finished firmly.

Lady Farrington got incredibly angry. Her pride could not handle the blistering, undeniable truth coming from the mouth of her quiet daughter.

"You ungrateful, wicked child!" Lady Farrington shrieked loudly.

She raised her right hand high in the air, her face twisting into an ugly, furious snarl. She intended to strike Celine hard across the face, exactly as she had done so many times when Celine challenged a little.

She swung her hand down violently.

But the blow never landed.

Celine moved with sudden, surprising speed. She reached up and held her mother’s wrist firmly in mid-air. Her grip was tight and completely unyielding.

Lady Farrington gasped loudly in pure shock, trying to pull her hand back, but Celine held on tightly.

"Don’t you dare," Celine said. Her voice was incredibly low, completely cold, and utterly dangerous.

Celine shoved her mother’s arm violently away.

Lady Farrington stumbled backward awkwardly, her heels catching on the uneven wooden floorboards. She caught her balance against the small wooden table, her eyes wide with complete disbelief.

"If you ever hit me again," Celine warned her, her eyes narrowing dangerously, "I swear to God, I will hit you back."

Lady Farrington was completely shocked to see such fierce, absolute defiance. She rubbed her wrist, staring at the strong, independent woman standing before her.

"Celine?" Lady Farrington spoke, her voice trembling slightly with sudden, genuine fear. She finally realized she had completely lost all control.

Celine did not back down. She stood tall and resolute.

"I would rather scrub floors and work as a lowly scullery maid in a decent, honest noble household," Celine declared passionately, "than ever be forced to marry that terrible abuser just so you can have a comfortable bed."

Celine turned her back on her mother completely. She walked quickly over to her narrow bed. She grabbed her small cloth bag and her simple woolen cloak. She threw the cloak over her shoulders and tied the strings tightly beneath her chin.

After she was entirely done packing her few meager belongings, she picked up her bag. She walked over and stood firmly by the door of the inn room.

She turned and looked back at her mother one final time.

"Since it is such a very good, generous fortune," Celine spoke, her voice dripping with cold, mocking sarcasm, "why don’t you marry Lord Berwick yourself? Since you clearly do not care about me or my safety, I completely refuse to care about you or yours."

Lady Farrington clutched the edge of the wooden table, her face pale. "What do you mean, Celine? Where are you going? You cannot leave me here alone!"

Celine looked at her with completely blank, emotionless blue eyes.

"You are completely dead to me, Mrs. Farrington," Celine said clearly.

She deliberately used Lady Farrington’s new, deeply humiliating common title, knowing the older woman had been legally stripped of her noble standing by the Crown.

Celine continued, her voice entirely flat and devoid of any familial love.

"I absolutely do not want anything more to do with you," Celine stated firmly. "If we ever meet again in the street next time, you will treat me exactly as a complete stranger, and I will do the exact same to you. Stay far, far away from me. I refuse to have a wicked, selfish soul as my mother."

Celine reached into the small pocket of her gray dress. She pulled out a few small, silver hair accessories—some items of tiny value she possessed. She tossed them carelessly onto the small wooden table. They clattered loudly against the cheap wood.

"That is my shared payment for the rest of the week at this inn," Celine announced coldly.

She placed her hand firmly on the brass door handle.

"Goodbye, Mrs. Farrington," Celine said finally. "I truly, deeply hope we never meet again."

She pushed the door open, stepped out into the dark, narrow hallway, and closed the door firmly behind her with a loud, final click.

Lady Farrington stood frozen near the window. She couldn’t believe what she had just heard. Her mind simply refused to process the absolute, terrifying finality of the moment.

"My daughter is abandoning me?" Lady Farrington whispered to the empty room, her hands shaking violently. "No, no. That cannot be. She is just angry. She will come back. She needs me."

But the heavy, crushing silence of the small inn room told her the terrible truth. Celine was truly gone.

Pure, blinding panic suddenly seized Lady Farrington’s chest. She realized she was entirely, utterly alone in a harsh, unforgiving world without a single penny to her name.

"Celine!" Lady Farrington cried out in terror.

She quickly rushed out of the door, her skirts catching on the wooden frame. She ran frantically down the steep, narrow, dark stairs of the cheap inn, nearly tripping over her own feet in her desperate haste.

She burst out of the front doors of the inn and into the busy, noisy cobblestone street. She looked wildly up and down the crowded street, searching desperately for the familiar gray woolen cloak.

She saw Celine standing near the edge of the busy road. Celine was talking quickly to the driver of a cheap, open hired carriage.

"Take me directly to Hamilton House in Mayfair, please," Celine said firmly to the driver, handing him one of her small silver hairpins as payment. She knew Delaney Kingsley would be there, and she knew the Delaney and the Hamiltons would help her find an honest, safe position.

But Lady Farrington was standing too far away. She didn’t hear the destination over the loud noise of the merchants and the passing carts.

"Celine! Celine!" Lady Farrington screamed at the top of her lungs, waving her arms wildly in the air.

She began to run clumsily down the cobblestone street, her shoes splashing through deep puddles of brown water, desperately trying to catch up to the carriage.

Celine heard the shouting. She turned her head slightly and saw her mother running wildly toward her, looking completely frantic and ruined.

Celine did not hesitate. She did not feel a single ounce of pity.

She quickly hiked up her simple gray skirts and climbed up the small metal step into the back of the hired carriage. She sat down firmly on the worn leather seat and looked straight ahead.

"Go!" Celine ordered the driver sharply.

The driver clicked his tongue loudly and snapped the leather reins. The carriage jerked forward instantly, its wooden wheels clattering loudly over the uneven stones as it pulled quickly away from the curb.

"Wait! Celine, wait!" Lady Farrington wailed in absolute despair, running as fast as her legs could carry her.

But she was not fast enough.

Lady Farrington’s foot caught on a raised, uneven cobblestone. She tripped hard, crying out in pain as she fell violently forward.

She hit the street incredibly hard, scraping her hands and completely ruining her only good remaining dress in the muddy slush.

She pushed herself up onto her knees, gasping for breath, tears of bitter despair streaming down her dirty face.

She sat in the cold mud, sobbing uncontrollably, as she watched the small hired carriage turn the corner and completely disappear into the busy London traffic, carrying her daughter away forever. She was entirely alone, completely ruined, and utterly abandoned.