Lost Relative

~This is a fictional world, setting is Early 19-Early 20th century and fantasy no real events or places are mentioned in this book~

Sarah, humiliated by her apprentice's mistake, rushed to Anne, helping her stand as she sobbed uncontrollably. "Your Grace, forgive us for our rudeness and insolence. This won't happen again," Sarah stammered, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she bowed her head low. "The jewelry we brought clearly didn't meet your standards. Next time, we'll ensure everything is more suitable. Please accept our sincerest apologies for displeasing you." She gently patted Anne's back, signaling for her to pack up.

Evangeline, sitting stiffly, folded her arms and narrowed her eyes at the two women. "Good. That's… good." Her voice was icy, and the subtle glare she threw at them as they gathered their things only deepened their sense of shame. As they left, Anne was visibly shaken, still wiping tears from her eyes, traumatized by Evangeline's cold treatment.

The room fell into a heavy silence as the doors closed behind them. Evangeline let out a sharp breath, scoffing in irritation. She snatched her gloves from the sofa, muttering to herself"Haaaaa!" and stormed towards the door she had come from. Her frustration was palpable, and she shut the door with more force than necessary, leaving Richard to quietly observe her exit.

As she left, Richard stood and zipped his trousers, adjusting his newly handed shirt. The servants, efficient as ever, had cleaned up the mess from earlier, picking up the fallen buttons. Richard ran a hand through his hair, shaking off the tension.

From a corner of the room, Magdalene watched quietly, arms folded. "You'll get used to it eventually," she said with a resigned sigh. "Evangeline has her moments, especially when it comes to sensitive matters like this. You just have to endure."

Richard smiled weakly, still straightening his attire. "I know her well enough by now. The jeweler's mishap triggered her, but something tells me it runs deeper. Dominic has been a source of her irritation lately, hasn't he?"

Magdalene's expression softened with understanding. "It's not just him. Evangeline can be difficult, but Dominic's return has her on edge. There's a lot you might not know about her personal struggles."

Richard raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Is today something special? She asked me the date earlier, and she seemed unusually irritated this evening."

Magdalene sighed, nodding slightly. "Yes, today's the day Dominic was supposed to return. She overheard him mentioning it before he left the manor. He's probably running late or caught up in something important." She paused, recalling Evangeline's earlier comment. "At the tea party, she was already upset. 'Another workload of problems from Dominic,' she said. He always stirs up trouble when he's around."

Back in the present, Magdalene added, "But more concerning is that Charles and I have been investigating something darker. We've found evidence linking the peach-flavored tea used in the attempted poisoning to someone in the cleaning department."

Richard's eyes widened in surprise. "The cleaning department? That's hard to believe. They've been loyal to the family for years."

"Exactly," Magdalene agreed. "But we found a cleaner's uniform with a faint scent of peach tea on it. The person who owns the uniform denies any involvement, but we can't rule anything out yet."

"Could it be a setup?" Richard asked, plucking a small blue flower from a vase nearby. "Maybe someone's framing the cleaner, like they did with you before."

Magdalene nodded thoughtfully. "That's possible. We've got two suspects for now, but neither adds up. We're keeping a close eye on them." She sighed, the weight of the situation evident.

**Flashback:**

Charles Willows, the sharp-eyed officer, walked through the lush garden with Magdalene. The scent of jasmine filled the air, contrasting the tension between them. They stepped away from the house to discuss the case without the risk of eavesdroppers.

"Dominic couldn't handle it," Magdalene confessed. "Ever since the attempt on Lady Evangeline's life, he's been overwhelmed. That's why he left the investigation to me while he's on a business trip. But I'm no detective, Charles."

"You're more than capable," Charles assured her. "You know the house better than anyone, and together, we'll figure this out."

Magdalene smiled faintly. "I hope so. It's hard to believe anyone here would try to hurt Evangeline. The cleaners have been loyal for decades."

"I've spoken with them, and they all vouch for one another," Charles replied. "But someone poisoned that tea, and we need to find out who."

Magdalene frowned. "We interrogated the cleaner with the peach tea scent on his uniform. He denies it. I want to believe him, but..."

Charles stopped, facing her. "We can't dismiss him yet. It could be a setup, as you said. Or someone's manipulating him."

"Maybe a spy," Magdalene suggested. "Someone new, like Peter. He hasn't been with us long."

Charles raised an eyebrow. "Possible. If someone is pulling the strings, we need to find out who."

Magdalene nodded, her voice steely. "We need to act fast. Another attempt could be more dangerous."

**Capulets' Home - Eardoznia's Largest Stakeholders:**

The Capulet mansion was an emblem of wealth and status, its grandiose exterior surrounded by high walls and a meticulously maintained garden. Bodyguards stood vigil, and servants bustled about, ensuring everything was in perfect order. Inside, the décor was regal yet understated, with elegant tapestries lining the hallways and chandeliers casting a warm glow over polished floors.

The strawberry blonde woman walked gracefully up the stairs, her red gown trailing softly behind her. At 5'6", with a slender figure, ginger-colored eyes, and striking red lips, she was an imposing presence despite her youth—barely eighteen. Her red kitten heels clicked on the polished floors as she was greeted by the servants with nods of respect. This was Clarisse, the granddaughter of Navier, matriarch of the Capulets, Eardoznia's most powerful family.

A few minutes later, Clarisse stood in the grand upstairs living room, explaining what she had seen at the lodge. Navier sat silently, her strawberry blonde hair—now streaked with age, fading into silver—gleaming in the soft light of the room. The elegance of the Capulet mansion, with its marble floors, intricately carved wood furnishings, and large portraits of Capulet ancestors, was a reflection of their power. Their status as Eardoznia's most significant stakeholders was evident in every corner of the estate.

Navier, the matriarch of the Capulets and one of Eardoznia's most influential figures, sat in the upper living room, her once-strawberry blonde hair now streaked with silver. Clarisse, her young granddaughter, stood before her, reporting what she had seen. She clenched her fist as she listened. "Is this true?" she asked, her voice low, a trace of weariness in her tone. Clarisse nodded, confirming the details. The old woman sat still for a moment before sighing deeply.

"Did you see his face?" Navier asked.

"No, I didn't," Clarisse replied, folding her arms. "I only saw his hair, but he has a nice figure. Should we punish him, grandmother?"

Navier, lost in thought, stared out the large window for a moment, her expression hard. There was a bitterness that never fully left her face—the pain of a mother betrayed, watching her daughter Marie leave the family for Victor Brusward. Years of frustration and suspicion now clouded her judgment, and anything connected to that man was met with caution.

"We'll keep an eye on him for now," Navier said finally, waving her hand dismissively. "Let's see what his intentions are. Do some digging on him."

Clarisse stomped her foot in protest. "What?! My lady… That's unacceptable!"

Navier's gaze shifted sharply. "Just follow my orders. Don't harm him yet," she said sternly, coughing lightly as she finished. Clarisse sighed in frustration but bowed her head, leaving the room quietly.

As Clarisse stormed out, Oliver, Navier's youngest son and Marie's brother, entered the room. With his silver hair and dark green eyes, he bore the signature features of the Capulet family, though his rugged charm differed from Dominic's more refined appearance. Standing at 6'1", Oliver's presence was commanding, even though his easygoing nature often masked it.

"I saw Clarisse's mood today. Did something happen, Mother?" he asked, kissing Navier's hand and sitting beside her.

Navier sighed, pouring herself tea. "She saw someone at the Bruthswick Lodge. He had hair like ours—strawberry blonde. He may be unaware of our family's rules, or perhaps he's a newcomer."

Oliver raised an eyebrow. "Some people don't realize that there are consequences for imitating our look," he said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. "How did Clarisse describe him?"

"She didn't see his face," Navier replied, taking a slow sip of her tea. "But she said he was handsome, with a good physique."

"That's concerning," Oliver said, straightening up. "We do have relatives outside of Eardoznia, but they all have silver hair. Except…" He hesitated.

"Except Marie," Navier finished for him, her voice suddenly tight with emotion. The mention of her daughter's name brought a bitter expression to her face. "Perhaps he's her son? After all, she has the same hair color as us."

Navier's grip tightened on her teacup. "Or perhaps it's another fraud," she said coldly. "Many have posed as our lost relatives, especially those with our hair color, trying to mock us or gain access to our power. Clarisse doesn't know that we have distant relatives abroad with only silver hair. But I thought the same—he could be connected to Marie."

Standing up, Navier moved towards the window, staring down at the lush gardens surrounding the manor. The vibrant roses and meticulously kept shrubs were a stark contrast to the turmoil within her. "As for Marie," she said, her voice tinged with pain, "she abandoned her dignity for that Brusward man. I don't know what happened to her or if she has children. We cut her off years ago because of her ridiculous choice."

Oliver lowered his head, understanding the deep wound Marie's departure had left. He missed his older sister deeply, but the family's sacrifice, the pain they endured, was something he had come to accept. He clenched his fists as Navier continued.

"If Marie has a child, we will decide what to do with him. But if the blood of that despicable Brusward man runs in his veins, we will be cautious. We've heard nothing from her since she left with Victor. Still, I can't be certain. This man could be another fake, mocking our family, using our hair color to gain favor." She clenched her fist as she spoke, her eyes narrowing.

Oliver straightened and spoke firmly. "I'll inform the others and keep an eye on the gentleman. If there's anything suspicious, we'll act. But you're right, Mother. We need to be careful. He could be dangerous—he's Victor Brusward's son, after all."

Navier nodded slowly, her eyes fixed on the horizon. "We'll punish him if he's guilty. I'll notify the president as well. For now, we watch. We don't want another Brusward in Eardoznia causing havoc."

Oliver sighed heavily, bowing his head. "I miss Marie. It's been years… I just hope nothing goes wrong."

Navier turned to the portrait of a young Marie on the wall, her heart aching as she remembered her daughter's vibrant smile. "So do I," she whispered, before walking back to the window, her gaze cold as she stared out. "But we can't afford mistakes."

Oliver nodded, leaving quietly as Navier stood alone, torn between the past and the present, her pain masked by the weight of her responsibilities.