[Early 1800s]

Last night, Annabel learnt about the death of the woman she loved, Lenore.

The last thing she wanted to do that day was to meet suitors, alas she had no choice but to do so. As much as she hated it, it was nonetheless her third and last social season. Even if none of her numerous suitors succeeded to best her in a game of chess, she'd be married off to a nobleman her father deemed fit.

Once Annabel finally got back to her bedroom in the evening, she let herself fall onto her bed with a defeated sigh. She was soon sobbing silently.

You knocked on her door. "..milady? May I come in?"

Annabel took a few deep breaths, fixed her gown and ringlets in order to regain somewhat of her composure and sat back up hastily. "Y-yes, you may." She told you in a tone she wanted calm, although there was a noticeable tremble in her voice.