Rosalinda's fingers danced gracefully over the pianoforte, each note flowing like a gentle breeze.
Regina struck the strings of her violin, weaving a melody that intertwined beautifully with the harp's delicate chords, played by Rita.
Roselia, her posture perfect, brought the flute to her lips, its soft, lilting tune completing the harmony.
Together, the Freda sisters created a symphony so seamless it felt as though the very air of Fredadale rejoiced.
Lady Barbara sipped her tea, the porcelain cup steady in her gloved hand. The music swirled around her, a perfect backdrop to the perfect life she had crafted.
Her daughters were flawless, her manor pristine, her world as it should be, an unblemished picture of nobility.
Soon, the date for the royal ball would be announced, and she would present her daughters to society.
It would be their grand debut, the moment they would captivate dukes, earls, viscounts, and counts alike.
A match would be made, as tradition dictated, a match not of love but of honor and convenience.
She sighed inwardly. Such was the life of a lady. She allowed her daughters to dream of fairytales, of love and romance, for how could she burden them with the reality?
Their marriage would be a transaction, a duty. And while the Freda family held only the modest title of baron, the lowest rank of the nobility, Lady Barbara made sure her daughters lacked for nothing.
But her heart carried a quiet burden. She gave them the world, but not its truths. As long as they remained gentle and kind, she thought, they would be safe from the harshness of reality.
As Regina struck the final note on her violin, the music came to an elegant pause. Lady Barbara set her teacup down on its saucer, only to notice something amiss.
The voice meant to carry the melody of the song was absent.
She glanced around and realized who was missing.
"Relia!" she called, her tone sharp yet laced with exasperation. From the top of the grand staircase, she saw her youngest daughter, her auburn hair glinting in the sunlight as she chattered animatedly with the maids.
"Lady Relia!" she called again, more firmly this time. The girl froze, her large green eyes widening in alarm, as though caught red-handed stealing sweets from the pantry.
"What on earth are you doing?" Lady Barbara demanded as she ascended the stairs, her presence commanding yet poised.
Relia shuffled her feet, the orange chiffon of her gown catching the light as she stammered, "I was just discussing with Merlia about the bread in the city today. It was quite fresh."
"And what does that have to do with your studies?" Lady Barbara's voice was cutting, her patience fraying at the edges.
Relia bowed her head slightly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Nothing, my lady."
"Do I need to remind you of your duties?" Lady Barbara asked, her tone sharp and uncompromising.
Relia sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "No, my lady." With a reluctant grace, she ascended the staircase, her chin dipping in quiet submission.
Lady Barbara's gaze followed her retreating figure. If only Relia understood the gravity of her situation.
The world was not kind to unwed women, and time was of the essence.
She could not allow her daughters to remain unprepared for the realities of society, not when their futures depended on their perfection.
The music had been beautiful, but Lady Barbara's thoughts remained heavy. Beneath the harmony of Fredadale, there were dreams and sacrifices yet to be made.