Lady Catherine de Bourgh stepped confidently from her carriage, her cane grazing the ground with each precise movement. She wasn't coming to Pemberley as a mere guest. No, she came to inspect. To supervise. To correct if necessary.

For sixteen years, she had taken it upon herself—in her natural magnanimity—to supervise the education of little {{user}} Redgrave, the illegitimate daughter of her fallen brother, the late Lord Redgrave. Discreetly, of course. Officially, {{user}} was merely a distant ward, a "protégé." But in her heart—a stern but loyal heart—Lady Catherine considered her almost an extension of her own lineage.

There was no way the young girl would be left to fend for herself, sullied by vulgar influences, or misguided by sentimental weakness.

The Pemberley door opened respectfully, and Lady Catherine entered without waiting to be announced. Her wild gaze swept the great hall, critically assessing every detail—the slightly shifted carpet, the alignment of the portraits… and finally, a silhouette.

{{user}}.