Love in Disguise by Rosa Sparks

Rochefoucauld Château de la Croix

Poitou, France

8:00 pm**_

Avril sat at her vanity, her gaze drifting off to the candlelit room, the flickering flames casting eerie shadows on the walls, the scent lavender wafting from the perfume bottle beside her.

Her auburn hair, cut in a mid-length style that framed her heart-shaped face, the subtle waves reaching just below her neck. Her deep green eyes sparkled with a mix of sadness, pain, and bitter emotions. Her slender fingers drummed a gentle rhythm on the vanity as she stared blankly at her reflection in the mirror lost in thought.

As the second in line of the family's main branch, Avril has always known that she bore a significant responsibility. It started when her older brother, Charles, had gone missing twelve years ago under mysterious circumstances when she was just a baby, and her parents' deaths six years ago had added another layer to the scar in her heart.

And worse more, she has to bear the weight of the duty as the stand-in of her parents. Her twin brother, Adrien, that resents her deeply , locks himself in his room, staying there, struggling to come to terms of their parents' deaths, leading him to become the shadow of his former self.

Avril felt the burden of upholding the family's legacy squarely on her shoulders. She was to marry well, produce heirs, and ensure the continuation of the family's influence, status and power.

But Avril had other plans.

Just as she was gathering her thoughts, she heard a soft creak of the wooden floorboards outside her room which broke the silence, signaling the arrival of someone. She knew fairly too well what that sound was -- and it was no other than the family's butler, Mr Jacques, she heard the sound again which followed by a soft knock on her door.

"You may come in, Monsieur Jacques," she said gently staring at the opening door. "You always find a way to recognise my presence every time, Mademoiselle Avril," there stood a tall, slender, old man in his late fifties, with a gaunt face, and sunken eyes with gentle smile but his eyes gave way to the deep sadness held there. His gray hair was slicked back, revealing a prominent forehead that seemed to furrow with concern.

Avril's heart sank, and she felt a shiver run down her spine, seeming to recognize that expression, which could only mean one thing. The summons from her grandfather, Lord le Comte de la Rochefoucauld, which was never a good omen.

Seeing her pale expression, he bowed slightly, with his eyes somber, with his voice low and gravelly, "Mademoiselle Avril, the Lord summons you at once to the family meeting room." Avril's face went pale, like the blood in her body has been sucked out.

The family meeting room was only used once in a while when certain matters arise, especially when it involves her. She knew this wasn't going to be any ordinary meeting. She steeled herself for what was to come.

She stepped out of her chambers and followed Mr Jacques behind through the dark, winding corridors of the château, the silence between them was palpable.

Avril could senses the butler's curiosity. The less he knew, the better. As he knows the affairs of the Rochefoucauld family wasn't as simple as you place it to be.

Avril's mind was in a whirlwind of possibilities. What could her grandfather want to discuss? The meeting room was located in the east wing of the château, a part of the manor that Avril rarely visited.

As Avril entered the room, she was met with a sea of expectant faces, from the different and farthest branches of the family, including her uncles and aunts, her cousins, and other distant relatives from below, each sides casting her disdainful looks which she obviously ignored, thereby angering them, while some just gazed at her intently.

Adrien, her twin brother, sat a seat before their grandfather's right, scoffing softly as their eyes met before quickly looking away intentionally avoiding her gaze.

While her eight years old younger brother, Étienne, sat quietly in the corner obediently, his eyes wide with curiosity. The room itself was dimly lit, with only a few candles casting flickering shadows on the walls, their soft glow illuminating the space. The air was heavy with the scent of old books, a reminder of the family's rich history.

At the far end of the room, sitting on his chair like the ruler he was, laid Avril's grandfather, Lord le Comte, the residing patriarch of the Rochefoucauld family. He sat majestically on his chair, its intricate carvings a testament to the family's long-legacy.

He was a weathered, elderly man but with a sturdy and distinguished face, and piercing grey eyes that seemed to bore into Avril's very soul. His hair, a deep, dark silver, was cut close to the scalp, revealing a subtle sprinkling of white hairs that added a touch of wisdom to his features, bathed by the soft, golden glow of the candlelight.

Avril felt a sense of unease as his fixed gaze was on her but didn't reveal what she was feeling. Why had her grandfather gathered everyone? What's going on? These were the very thoughts that occupied her mind.

Lord le Comte cleared his throat, as his gaze changed, his fingers entwined, as his piercing grey eyes scanning the room and the people in it, as well before settling on Avril once more.

"I have some news to share with you all," he began, his face indifferent but his voice firm laced with a hint of sadness. "The Westminster family has approached us with a proposal for Avril to marry their third son, Harrison Grosvenor."

The room erupted into a chorus of gasps and whispers; some snickered with sinister faces plastered on their faces.

"Ha! she's getting married to the illegitimate son of their family," a shrill voice cut through out the room.

"Isn't he the infamous playboy who has slept with almost half the women in London?." A woman from the table whispered.

"Yes! I heard he isn't even the son to his father!" Another snickered with a scowl on their face.

"And now dear Avril is getting engaged to a bastard's son," Another said to others with an insincere smile on their faces.

"Silence...Now!" Lord le Comte spoke up, his face calm but evident with anger, his voice thick, and his tone revered.

The whole room fell short of silence as he spoke, evident of the power of a patriarch.

Avril's face remained calm, she glanced over to Étienne with a concerned look in her eyes, hoping he hadn't overheard the conversation. But his downcast eyes told her it was too late, Étienne heard everything, he tried to conceal the sadness in his eyes but Avril noticed before he did.

She sighed quietly, with the rage boiling within her. How can they say such things in front of a child!? She signaled to Étienne with a hidden meaning, he completely understood, as he was escorted to his room by the servants summoned.

Now that her brother was gone she could finally reveal her true fury. She faced her elders with a expressionless gaze, taunting them for their previous remarks making their faces to twinge a bit. Adrien sat with his arms and feets crossed, with a hint of a smile playing on his lips, definitely enjoying the drama unfolding before him.

Avril's gaze then shifted to her grandfather. Her eyes widened with rage, and she felt her face grow hot with anger revealing all she kept inside. She stood up, her voice shaking with indignation.

"I won't do it," she said simply, in a low tone, like the anger in her face dissipated, her words echoing through the silent room.

"Perhaps, you've forgotten I'm going to university, and I've already applied for a scholarship to my dream university. I won't let you ruin my dreams."

The room fell into a deeper silence than before, with all eyes fixed on Avril. Did she just dare to defy Lord le Comte de la Rochefoucauld?!

Her grandfather's anger shone, as his face turned crimson red with anger, but just like her, he too spoke in a low, composed but even tone.

"You will do as you're told, Avril. You will marry the Westminster boy, and you will do it with a smile on your face."

Avril's eyes flashed, her hands clenched into fists as she faced her grandfather, her expression unwavering, "And I will not!" she declared, her voice firm.

"This is my life, my future, and my destiny. So hereby, I decide what to do with it. Which means I-WILL-NOT-MARRY-HIM." She retorted dauntlessly, her voice filled with defiance refusing to back down.

Lord le Comte gave her a deadshot pan look, his face expressionless. He fell silent for a few minutes, which felt like eternity. The room seemed to hold its breath. Family members shifted uncomfortably, their eyes darting towards Lord le Comte under his intense stare.

Finally, he spoke, his tone low, his gaze indifferent, and his voice resolute. "You will get married to Harrison Grosvenor. You will do it with no complaints. You will wear your white wedding gown with a smile on your face as you kiss your groom. This is my final judgement!"

As he said that, an oppressive silence descended upon the room, like a physical presence choked the air from their lungs. No one spoke a single word.

Avril stood silent for a long time, tears welling up in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Suddenly, a harsh, mirthless laugh tore from her throat, shattering the silence in the room. The sound was devoid of any joy. Everyone stared at her, bewildered, as if she'd lost her mind. Even Adrien, who'd been relishing Avril's misery, was taken aback by her strange laughter.

Avril continued laughing for more than thirty minutes, her head bowed, before finally raising it with an expressionless face which was fixed on Lord le Comte. She knew she couldn't match with power against him, but Avril stood her ground, her voice firm filled with defiance. "You're just a liar," she spat, her words echoing through the room.

"We had a deal, Grandfather. You promised me the freedom to attend the university of my choice if I agreed to marry someone from a family you chose. But you broke your word, and now...I'll break mine."

The room grew more tense, with some family members exchanging disapproving glances and others attempting to intervene, only to be silenced by Lord le Comte's raised hand. And Avril didn't stop just there.

"You've shattered the trust between us, Grandfather," Avril declared, her voice steady.

"Don't expect me to blindly follow your orders."

The room fell silent, as if the very air had been sucked out. Avril's words hung like a challenge, daring anyone to defy her. The weight of her defiance settled heavy on the room, and for a moment, no one breathed.

A whispered insult slipped through the silence: "Like father, like daughter."

The words cut deep, but Avril's gaze never wavered.

Finally, Avril's patience snapped. With a swift, decisive turn, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the room. Her footsteps echoed down the corridor, a staccato beat that underscored her fury. She burst into her room, slamming the door shut behind her with a resounding crash.

The sound reverberated through the hallway as she locked the door from the inside and refused to come out. Her chest heaving with emotion. Avril stood frozen, her back against the door, as if daring anyone to try and follow her.

***

Few minutes after followed the footsteps of Mr. Jacques, knocked softly on the door, his gentle rapping a stark contrast to the urgency in his voice. "Miss Avril, your grandfather requests your presence. Please, come out." But Avril, as stubborn as she was proud, refused to budge.

"Tell him I'm not interested!" she declared, her voice firm and resolute. "As a matter of fact, I'll never come out, no matter what he says! This is a strike!"

And she was dead serious. Avril was on a full-blown strike, and she wouldn't back down until her demands were met in full.

Mr. Jacques sighed, shaking his head gently, before turning to return and report to his master.

Avril's body crumpled to the floor, her mind shattered by the weight of her despair. She stared blankly into the void, her beautiful green gem eyes losing their sparkle. Then, a single tear drop fell, followed by a tsunami of tears. She was a sobbing mess, her body racked with convulsive sobs.

"Just why?" she wailed, clasping her hands to her face. "Why can't I break free from this chain?"

As she tilted her head against the door, her eyes looked like dried-up prunes. Just when all was lost for Avril, something sparkly caught her eye – a familiar glint tucked in from the messy corners of her vanity.

Her gaze fixed at the direction of the object with great intensity. "Ugh...why does it have to be so freaking far?" she groaned lazily, her hand outstretched.

For crying out loud, it was only 15 meters!

Still looking completely drained. Avril still dragged herself to the vanity, tripping on something invisible. She crashed to the desk with a resounding thud, her world spinning around her.

"Owwie! I think I just broke a nail!" she shrieked, examining her lavender dream acrylic nails. She sighed a breath of relief, "Phew! My babies are okay."

After confirming her nails were intact, Avril stood up, looking annoyed at the desk. "You stupid vanity! You almost cost me a new manicure!" With that, she kicked the desk, and something fell, straight down hitting her foot.

"Ahhh!" she yelled, gripping her right leg and hopping around on one foot. Her dignity in tatters, she performed a ridiculous dance, circling around the room.

Good thing her room was in the second floor of the west wing of the château.

Otherwise, her whole family would have witnessed the comedy show.

Just as Avril thought things couldn't get worse, her left foot got caught in the rug, and she fell flat on her butt with a slight pain.

"This is so not my day!" she bellowed internally, her hands clutching her butt, her mouth shut tight to contain her inner screams.

Then, she turned her head, and her gaze landed on something mysterious under her bed. The object sparkled, its pink glitter catching the faint light. Avril's curiosity was piqued. She ducked her head under the bed, phone in hand, casting a weak flashlight glow.

As her eyes adjusted, her jaw dropped. "Omg, is that...my journal?!" she exclaimed, her voice barely above a whisper.

With her head raised up to get a better look, she lost her balance and smacked her forehead against the bed frame. A loud thud echoed through the room, followed by Avril's pained yelp. "Ouch! My head," she bellowed, clutching her forehead. She had accidentally banged her head against the bed frame – again! adding to her growing list of mishaps.

"Just calm down, Avril... just breathe. Don't overreact, just breathe," she whispered to herself, taking a deep breath to regain her composure. As she steadied her nerves, her gaze locked onto the diamond-crusted, heart-shaped, glittery journal. A wave of nostalgia washed over her, transporting her back to cherished childhood memories.

With a hint of hesitation, Avril opened the worn pink leather cover of her old journal, releasing a faint scent of aged paper into the air. The pages, yellowed with time, crackled softly as she turned them, its worn pages revealing a treasure trove of childhood memories.

Her old designs and vibrant sketches of elegant gowns, intricate designs inspired by her favorite fashion icons, and heartfelt musings about the latest trends and styles. A faded ribbon bookmark, once a bright pink, now a soft blush, lay nestled between the pages, holding a special place.

Each piece was infused with hidden meanings and symbolism, was a testament to the creativity and imagination that had driven her passion for fashion from a young age, that transported her back to a time when her love for fashion knew no bounds.

The intricate beauty of each piece still shone through, a testament to the passion and imagination of her younger self.

As she immersed herself deeper into the journal, Avril stumbled upon motivational notes she had written to herself during tougher times:

*

_"Believe in yourself, Avril! Your dreams are bigger than your fears."_

_"You are capable of creating something AMAZING! Don't let anyone dull your sparkle."_

_"Remember, fashion is not just about clothes - it's about self-expression, confidence, and making a statement. OWN IT!"_

The words, penned in her own handwriting, brought back a flood of emotions. Her eyes welled up with tears as she turned the pages, each one a reminder of the dreams and aspirations she had once held dear.

Then, she saw it – her bucket list, she had made seven years ago. The first item on the list made her heart skip a beat:

_AVRIL'S BUCKET LIST_

_1. BECOME A WORLD-WIDE FAMOUS FASHION DESIGNER._

...

As she gazed at the list, she saw something beneath the list, it was written in looping, squiggly letters. Although, it was difficult to see but she could understand what was written:

"_Don't give up, Avril!!! You're going to be the BEST fashion designer EVER! Get into RCA, top all your classes, become VALEDICTORIAN and graduate!!! And show the WORLD YOUR AMAZING DESIGNS!!!_

_From: Your awesome younger self

To: Your super cool future self_"

***

As she read the note, she smiled at the goofy smiley face and heart that her younger self had scribbled at the bottom, With a wonky heart doodle and a sprinkle of stars surrounding it.

As she read those words, a spark ignited within her – a spark that had been dormant for far too long.

It was as if she had rediscovered a part of herself, a part that had been missing for years. The fire that once drove her to pursue her passions had been rekindled, and Avril felt a sense of purpose she hadn't felt in ages.

She closed the journal, her chest high and her head held mighty, her green gem eyes sparkling with determination. "Yes! Young me is right. I shouldn't give up just because of this minor setback!" Feeling a sense of newfound hope rekindled within her.

"I will go to England, to my dream university, RCA. And become a famous worldwide fashion designer, making Momma, Papa, and Grandfather proud!" She ran towards her balcony, journal in hand, her finger pointing to the sky.

As she stepped out onto the balcony, the warm evening breeze caressed her face, carrying the sweet scent of blooming flowers from the gardens below. The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the rolling hills and verdant forests that stretched as far as the eye could see.

The trees swayed gently in the wind, their leaves rustling softly, as if echoing Avril's declaration. With the journal still clutched in her hand, she raised her arms to the sky, her voice resounding mightily across the landscape.

"Get ready, RCA! Avril's coming for ya!" The sound of her voice seemed to carry on the wind, mingling with the whispers of the trees.

With her heart ablaze with determination, Avril steeled herself to face her grandfather's opposition, ready to take on whatever challenges England and RCA had in store for her. The sky wasn't her limit. Only she defined what her limits were!

"Get ready, England. Avril de la Rochefoucauld is coming!