Reborn: The Duke's Obsession Chapter 287: Chapter Two Hundred And Eighty Seven

Augusta fixed her gaze on her daughter, her thoughts still a jumble from Anne's rejection of her lifelong pursuit of vengeance.

"Then why have you come here?" Augusta questioned, her voice a sharp, strained whisper.

Anne shifted back, her expression radiating an unadulterated, business-like chill. "For money," she stated plainly.

Augusta appeared bewildered. "Money? What money are you referring to?"

"I cannot endure remaining in that wretched hovel with those pathetic folks indefinitely," Anne declared, her tone laced with utter contempt. "You are renowned for your cunning plots. Surely, you must possess some hidden funds. Perhaps a secret account, or some buried jewels. I require funds. Provide them to me."

A look of sincere, helpless astonishment flickered across Augusta's features. "But I am completely without funds, Anne. All my assets were confiscated by the authorities. Every last cent. I have nothing left."

Anne scoffed, a disdainful curl twisting her lip. "Then my entire journey here has been in vain, only to listen to your complaints."

With a hiss, she began the arduous task of rising from the hard-backed chair, her pregnant form cumbersome. "I will not be visiting you again."

She stood, her pronounced belly a stark emblem of a future utterly disconnected from the woman seated before her. "Do not seek me out once you are released."

A subtle hint of genuine fear, of profound loneliness, surfaced in Augusta's eyes. Her face, once etched with determination and cunning, now appeared aged and sorrowful. "What do you imply by that?"

Anne turned to face her completely, her countenance as frigid and unyielding as ancient stone. "Do you not comprehend?" she inquired, her voice delivering a cruel, calculated blow. "I am disowning you. Mother."

She turned towards the exit but paused at the threshold, delivering one final, devastating remark. "Ah, I had forgotten," she added, a small, unpleasant smirk gracing her lips. "You are destined to languish in here until your final breath. I suppose that serves me well. No loose ends to worry about."

The words struck Augusta with the impact of a physical blow. "Anne!" she cried, springing to her feet. "Anne, please wait!" She attempted to pursue her daughter, but the two guards present immediately advanced, their substantial hands gripping her arms, restraining her.

"Anne! Anne, do not abandon me!" Augusta pleaded, her voice fracturing with a desperation she had never displayed before. She thrashed against the guards' unyielding hold, watching as her daughter departed without a solitary backward glance, vanishing down the long, monotonous corridor.

"ANNE!" she shrieked, her voice reverberating through the desolate, vacant chamber until her daughter was no longer in sight.

Augusta's strength abruptly vanished. She slumped in the guards' grasp, and they gently set her on the floor as she commenced weeping, the raw, unvarnished sounds of a shattered heart. They escorted her back to her confined, dim cell, her laments echoing throughout the journey. As one guard secured the heavy iron door, the warden addressed her through the small viewing grate.

"Baroness Ellington," he stated, his tone devoid of emotion and strictly official. "That marked the conclusion of your visits. We received instructions this morning to inform you that, owing to the king's direct involvement concerning your attempt on his nephew's wife, your visitation privileges have been revoked indefinitely. You will remain within this cell until your life's end."

The absolute finality of the decree, the stark, inescapable reality of her predicament, finally fractured something within Augusta's mind. The sobbing ceased. An unnerving silence descended upon the cell. Then, a peculiar, high-pitched sound emanated from her throat. She began to laugh.

"Anne will return for me," she murmured, her voice an odd, lilting whisper. Her tone then intensified, becoming more frenzied, her eyes wide and unfocused as she gazed fixedly at the stone wall. "ANNE WILL RETURN FOR ME! MY SUNSHINE SHALL RETURN FOR ME!"

She commenced striking the door with her fists, her laughter mingling with her exclamations, the symphony of a once brilliant, manipulative intellect utterly, irrevocably succumbing to madness.

~ ••••• ~

Many leagues away, within a sun-drenched dining hall redolent with the perfume of fresh blossoms and delectable cuisine, Delia savored another spoonful of chicken soup. "I believe my bouts of nausea have finally subsided," she announced with a sigh of relief. She reached for another serving and generously filled her bowl.

Catherine, seated opposite her, returned the smile, her own face alight with gentle, maternal satisfaction. "Thank goodness," she expressed. "I was quite concerned you were not consuming enough for the baby."

Delia was spending the afternoon at her mother's estate. As she dined, she observed several servants meticulously transporting packed trunks and crates from the main entryway.

"Are you embarking on a journey, Mother?" she inquired, her curiosity piqued.

Catherine offered a gentle shake of her head, her cheeks suffused with a soft, contented blush. "No, my dear. I am relocating. I intend to lease out the manor. My destination is Ellington Manor."

With a gentle clatter, Delia's spoon met the table, her eyes widening in astonishment.

Catherine's voice, imbued with a quiet, assured happiness, continued, "Your father and I have made amends," she clarified. "After all these years. I am going to reside with him. And to cherish him."

The tidings were so magnificent, so utterly unforeseen, that Delia found herself breathless. A radiant, jubilant smile bloomed on her features, her eyes glistening with unshed tears of joy. She extended her hand across the table, clasping her mother's firmly.

"I am overjoyed for both of you, Mother," Delia declared, her voice trembling with feeling. "Indeed. After such a long stretch, after all the heartache. At last, you two can be reunited."

Catherine concurred, her own eyes shimmering with tears of elation. "At last."

Retrieving her spoon, Delia savored another mouthful, her hunger now voracious. "The cuisine you prepare is unparalleled, Mother," she managed, her words muffled by the food.

A beatific smile graced Catherine's lips, radiating pure contentment. Gazing upon her lovely, vibrant, expectant daughter, and with her own future alongside the man she had eternally adored now assured, a deep sense of tranquility washed over her. The protracted winter of their existence had finally yielded to the dawn, and spring had, at the eleventh hour, emerged.