Reborn: The Duke's Obsession-Chapter 62 - Sixty Two

Disclaimer: this Chapter has scenes of attempted sucide. Read at your own risk.

The morning light streamed into the drawing room of the Ellington manor, but it brought no warmth to the cold, tense atmosphere within. Augusta sat stiffly in her usual armchair, a cup of calming tea held in her hand.

"Gable," she called out, her voice sharp.

Mrs. Gable, the head housekeeper, appeared by her side almost instantly, her expression one of polite respect. "What can I do for you, Baroness." She had brought the tray of tea just moments before. Augusta took a sip, but the fragrant steam did little to soothe the knot of anger in her stomach.

"Has my daughter woken up yet?" Augusta asked.

"Well, Baroness," Mrs. Gable began, her voice hesitant. "Lady Anne returned very late last night. There was... a commotion. She went straight to her room, crying. I tried to call her down for breakfast this morning, as you instructed, but she... she shouted at me to get out."

Augusta stopped sipping her tea. Her carefully maintained composure faltered. "What happened to her?" she asked, her voice tight with a sudden, real concern. She dropped the teacup on the table with a clatter and stood up.

"I do not know the details, Baroness," Mrs. Gable replied honestly.

Just then, a young maid came down the hallway, carrying a tray with a single cup of lemon-infused honey tea, Anne’s favorite remedy for a sour mood.

"Give that to me," Augusta commanded, intercepting the maid. "I’ll take it to her myself." freēwēbnovel.com

Augusta collected the tray and walked up the grand staircase, her steps quick and determined. She got to Anne’s door and knocked gently, her voice softening into a familiar, loving tone. "Anne? My sunshine? It’s Mama. I’m coming in."

She opened the door, a small, reassuring smile on her face. But the smile vanished instantly. The scene before her was so horrifying, so utterly nightmarish, that the silver tray slipped from her numb fingers. It fell to the ground with a deafening crash, the porcelain teacup shattering into a thousand pieces, its sweet, lemony contents spilling across the expensive rug.

"ANNE!" she screamed, her voice a raw, animalistic sound of pure terror.

Anne was hanging from the large, ornate chandelier in the center of the room. She had used a thick, silk bedspread, draping it over the crystal arms, its end clutched tightly around her neck. Her body was suspended a few feet off the ground, her legs kicking repeatedly, frantically, in the air. Her face was a terrifying shade of purple, her voice coming in short gasps.

"Guards! GUARDS!" Augusta shrieked, her mind unable to process anything beyond the horrific sight of her dying child. "Somebody, anyone, come here, NOW!"

Two household guards burst into the room, their own faces paling in shock at the scene. They reacted instantly, one lifting Anne’s struggling body to relieve the pressure on her neck while the other climbed onto a chair to untie the makeshift noose.

"Call the doctor!" Augusta demanded, her voice shaking uncontrollably. "Hurry!"

The guards carefully lowered the now-limp form of her daughter to the floor. As they left the room to follow her orders, Augusta scrambled to her daughter’s side, gathering the unconscious Anne into her arms. She looked down and saw a small, silver fruit knife lying on the floor near the bed, as if it had been dropped. Her mind pieced together the terrible sequence of events. Anne must have taken the knife to slit her wrists first, but couldn’t go through with it, before turning to this even more desperate, more final act.

Augusta held her daughter’s body, rocking her back and forth, her own composure completely shattered. "My baby," she sobbed, tears streaming down her cheeks, washing away her pride, her anger, her schemes. "Oh, my baby, my poor, poor baby."

A few agonizing moments later, the doctor arrived and attended to Anne, shooing the agitated Augusta out of the room. After what felt like an eternity, he left, assuring the Baroness that her daughter was stable and would wake soon.

Augusta sat by Anne’s bedside, watching and waiting. Finally, Anne’s eyelids fluttered open. She looked around the familiar room, her gaze empty, before settling on the ceiling. Her mother was sitting beside her bed, her eyes red and swollen from crying.

"How could you do such a thing?" Augusta reprimanded, her relief quickly turning to a sharp, pained anger. Anne just stared blankly at the ornate plasterwork above her. Augusta continued, her voice rising. "Don’t you know how I raised you? Don’t you know how much I love you?"

Anne didn’t respond.

"I gave you the best of everything!" Augusta said, her voice cracking. "The finest clothes, the best tutors, the best governess, the grandest parties! You are one of the most envied noblewomen in the entire kingdom! How could you throw it all away?"

Anne spoke, her voice flat and lifeless, still looking at the ceiling. "You must be so disappointed in me."

"No, my sunshine," Augusta replied, her anger melting away again, replaced by a wave of love and sorrow. "How could I ever be disappointed in you?"

Anne tried to sit up, and Augusta immediately moved to help her, propping pillows behind her back. Once she was settled, Anne finally looked at her mother, her eyes holding a deep, dead emptiness that frightened Augusta more than her anger.

"I went to see the Duke last night," Anne said, her voice dull. "He told me that I am not as good as Delia. Mama... he compared me to Delia." She let out a short, bitter laugh. "Ever since I was a little girl, you have always told me that I am the real, legitimate daughter of the Ellington family, and that Delia was just a mistake. You told me I was better than Delia, that I was prettier than Delia, that I was more elegant than Delia, and that Delia would always, always be beneath me."

She turned her hollow gaze to her mother. "Then tell me, Mama, why did I hear the exact opposite from him last night? He said she shines brighter than I ever could."

Augusta’s eyes, still red from crying, now flashed with a fresh rage. "How dare he..." she began, but Anne cut her short.

"I am tired of this," Anne said, her voice suddenly sharp, disrespectful. "All you do is talk, Mama. You were never like this. You used to be the one who made sure things were done right for me, that I always got what I wanted. But now... now you can’t do anything right. She walks all over you, and you do nothing." She looked at her mother with a new, cold suspicion. "Aren’t you tired of fighting her? Or have you finally decided to side with Delia now, too?"

Augusta was speechless. She stared at her daughter, at the stranger who was looking at her with such contempt. This was the first time in her entire life that Anne had ever spoken to her with anything less than complete adoration.

Anne, seeing the shock on her mother’s face, pushed the blankets aside and got out of bed. She walked past her stunned mother without another word and left the room, leaving Augusta sitting alone in utter shock.

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