A Cavendish’s Burden

After beholding those eyes, as gentle as the starlit sky, Colette finally calmed. A tide of weariness washed over the riverbank of her soul.

Flickering memories of childhood surfaced, as if from an age long past, as the creaking lid of a long-forgotten memory box slowly lifted.

She was dreaming now, reliving her own past.

“I require this child to possess impeccable virtue, pure thoughts, and graceful obedience.”

“She must be intelligent yet not cunning, talented without being overbearing, noble without haughtiness. She needs to become a true aristocrat.”

“A true Cavendish.”

Marin was an exacting father, always holding excessively high expectations for his children. It seemed less like hope and more like an obsession.

“I do not need mediocre governesses; they can produce decorative socialites, but they are utterly insufficient to educate a true Cavendish. Therefore, I entrust my daughter’s education to you. You are the most suitable and exceptional candidate I can imagine.”

The stern, middle-aged butler accepted Marin’s commission. Seven-year-old Colette stood nearby, only half-comprehending their exchange.

For reasons unknown, a tremor of fear ran through her. A gravely scrutinizing gaze fell upon her without reservation, assessing her as one might a flawed work of art, or perhaps an uncarved, precious raw gem.

She longed to flee to her room, to hide in her mother’s embrace, but her father would never harm her. At least, that was how it should be.

****

After an entire afternoon dedicated to classical literature and modern history, she would return to her etiquette lessons, where she would encounter the one person she dreaded seeing most: Mr. Jeff, the butler.

“Miss Colette, you must perform that movement again from the very beginning, with perfect precision.”

“But, sir, these high heels are truly hurting my feet. My feet are a little…”

“Patience is a virtue,” he stated, and even as he explained, his tone carried an unyielding authority. “You must accustom yourself to high heels in advance, so you can gracefully attend all future social occasions, because you are—”

Her heels were chafed raw; the raw, crimson flesh cried out in protest.

“I will… I will continue, sir… Please don’t say any more. I will endure it.”

Colette knew by heart the unspoken conclusion of that sentence. A surname hung over her heart, sharper than any blade; the Cavendish name awaited her at the end of every path.

From that day forward, she never uttered another word of dissent.

Yet, life was not entirely bleak; at least, she still had her family—her brother and her sister.

Daniel trained just as rigorously, but their opportunities to meet were exceedingly rare. Their conversations during breaks rarely strayed from academic matters, which Colette found incredibly dull; perhaps their sibling bond was merely one of shared hardship.

Audrey, however, was different. She was a fascinating individual, brimming with vitality and novel ideas; in her presence, Colette never felt constrained or distant.

Crucially, during those days, Audrey was the only one who offered her genuine smiles. She cared nothing for Colette’s other roles, seeing her simply as a sweet, endearing younger sister and never bothering with trivialities.

Whenever Colette confided her academic woes, Audrey would tenderly comfort her, then indignantly berate all the teachers and the butler. If the matter escalated, she would confront Marin directly:

“Do you even act like a father? Do you see your own daughter as nothing more than a tool for your display?!”

Audrey, her older sister, was in Colette’s childhood memories the safest haven besides their mother, a beacon of light, more dazzling than the sun itself.

But life is rarely without its complications. Emboldened by her sister’s protection, Colette grew a little too reckless, secretly sneaking out with Audrey to play.

Upon their return, she was met with her father’s profoundly disappointed gaze. He simply shook his head; the expected scolding never materialized, and he merely uttered a single, weightless sentence:

“You should not have been with her.”

Inadvertently, she overheard the servants’ whispers. Though mere idle gossip, the words shattered her:

“How pitiful the second young lady is! She could have enjoyed a joyful life, yet now she attends six lessons daily. The duty of upholding the family’s image was originally meant for the eldest young lady.”

“Indeed. The entire family dotes on the eldest young lady. The Old Madam speaks of no one but Audrey every day, as if she were the only granddaughter.”

“Who could blame the eldest young lady for her beautiful gray hair? The second young lady doesn’t have such fortune. She inherited her mother’s black hair. Out in public, who would ever know she belongs to the Cavendish family?”

‘Who would know she was a Cavendish?’

Colette did not sleep a wink that night. A bone-deep chill crept into her young heart.

It was as if countless questioning gazes seemed to pierce her at a grand gathering, as if countless whispers seemed to coil around her in the darkness. They all posed a single question:

‘Who is Colette? Does Colette even need to exist? Who could possibly love her?’

She held no status; she was merely a second daughter. She lacked even the pearl-gray hair that distinguished the Cavendish family.

Without glamorous adornments, without an elegant facade, without impeccable etiquette, without a comely appearance—

She was nothing. She was merely Audrey’s substitute.

Her chaotic thoughts spurred a sudden, violent retch onto her pillow.

Afterward, she gasped, drawing deep, ragged breaths. Gazing at the soiled pillow, she silently gathered it and, in the dead of night, went alone to the laundry room to wash it clean.

****

After that, nothing dramatically changed. Just as in every life, without sudden upheaval, things tend to remain ordinary.

She and Audrey remained close, and Colette still attended her seemingly endless daily lessons. If there was any change, it was that she genuinely began to live up to her own tireless efforts.

All the superficial work had been completed; she had meticulously crafted her persona. Her walk was so precise that she never took an unnecessary step, and her spoon remained as steady as a compass without a pivot when she drank soup.

Yet, her father’s subsequent demands left her utterly bewildered—

“We ought to maintain elegance, we ought to practice self-restraint, we ought to be warm and benevolent. We ought to harbor compassion, we ought to assist the vulnerable. We ought to serve as a role model, a testament, and an impeccable example; we ought to embody the true virtues and dignity of nobility.”

Indeed, how noble these words sounded, yet what could she truly accomplish? No one had ever taught her how to acquire such qualities; this was not as simple as taking a cake from a dining cart.

Later, she enrolled in a noble girls’ school, proudly representing the Cavendish family.

She rightfully received countless praises and became a model student, yet she found no joy in it whatsoever.

So many things adorned her outward self, yet the hollow space within her heart remained unfulfilled.

‘What is missing? What is truly missing? What could possibly be missing?’

As she posed these questions to herself, she heard nothing but the sneer of her own reflection in the mirror. No one else responded.

‘Hah, hah, hah. Poor Colette, you will never truly become anyone.’

“I will protect you.”

In a haze, a familiar voice echoed in her ears, and the familiar scent of gardenias from her sister’s hair filled her nostrils. Ah, it was her sister. She knew her sister’s scent all too well, yet how futile her efforts seemed.

Yes, only Audrey could fill the void within her heart. And only Colette herself could fill the space her sister left vacant in the family.

‘Ah, would her sister despise such a tarnished version of herself? Audrey was so perceptive; Colette had to meticulously conceal these sordid emotions.’

‘Even in death, her sister must remain a part of her. Audrey must be an inseparable component of her very being, a part no one could ever take away.’

Her sister merely needed to continue being happy, and Colette herself merely needed to continue taking her sister’s place. That was all. Colette consoled herself with this thought.