Augusta stared at her daughter, her mind still reeling from Anne's dismissal of her lifelong quest for revenge.
"Then why are you here?" Augusta demanded, her voice a sharp, frustrated whisper.
Anne leaned back, her expression one of pure, transactional coldness. "Money," she replied simply.
Augusta was taken aback. "Money? What money?"
"I can't live in that pathetic house with those pathetic people forever," Anne said, her voice dripping with disdain. "You are a master of sches. You must have so money hidden away sowhere. A secret account. So jewels you buried. I need money. Give money."
A look of genuine, helpless surprise crossed Augusta's face. "But I don't have any money, Anne. Everything was seized by the authorities. Every last coin. I have nothing left."
Anne sneered, a contemptuous curl of her lip. "Then I ca all the way here just to hear you nag and complain for nothing."
She hissed and began the difficult process of pushing her heavy, pregnant self up from the hard chair. "I'm not visiting you anymore."
She stood up, her belly protruding, a symbol of a future that had nothing to do with the woman sitting before her. "Don't look for when you get out."
A flicker of real fear, of loneliness, entered Augusta's eyes. Her face, which had been so hard and full of sches, suddenly looked old and sad. "What do you an by that?"
Anne turned to face her fully, her expression as cold and unforgiving as a winter stone. "Don't you get it?" she said, her voice a cruel, deliberate blow. "I'm abandoning you. Mama."
She turned to leave, but stopped at the door, delivering one final, devastating shot. "Oh, I forget," she said, a small, ugly smile on her face. "You're going to rot in here until you die. So I suppose that's beneficial for . No loose ends."
The words hit Augusta with the force of a physical assault. "Anne!" she cried, jumping to her feet. "Anne, wait!" She tried to run after her daughter, but the two guards in the room imdiately stepped forward, their large hands clamping down on her arms, holding her back.
"Anne! Anne, don't leave !" Augusta shouted, her voice cracking with a desperation she had never shown anyone. She struggled against the guards' firm grip as she watched her daughter walk away without a single backward glance, disappearing down the long, grey corridor.
"ANNE!" she scread, her voice echoing in the cold, empty room until she could no longer see her.
Augusta's strength gave out. She went limp in the guards' arms, and they lowered her to the floor as she began to sob, the raw, ugly sounds of a heart breaking. They took her back to her small, dark cell, her cries echoing all the way. As one of the guards locked the heavy iron door, the warden spoke to her through the small grate.
"Baroness Ellington," he said, his voice flat and official. "That was your last visit. We were inford this morning to tell you that, due to the involvent of the king concerning your attempt on his nephew's wife , your visiting privileges have been permanently revoked. You won't be leaving this cell until your last breath."
The finality of it, the absolute, inescapable truth of her situation, finally broke sothing inside Augusta's mind. The sobbing stopped. An eerie silence filled the cell. Then, a strange, high-pitched sound escaped her lips. She was laughing.
"Anne will co for ," she said, her voice a strange, singsong whisper. Then her voice grew louder, more frantic, her eyes wild and unfocused as she stared at the stone wall. "ANNE WILL CO FOR ! MY SUNSHINE WILL CO FOR !"
She began to bang her fists against the door, her laughter mixing with her shouts, the sounds of a brilliant, manipulative mind finally, completely, shattering into madness.
~ ••••• ~
Miles away, in a sun-drenched dining room filled with the scent of fresh flowers and good food, Delia took another spoonful of chicken soup. "I think my nauseous feeling has finally stopped," she announced with a relieved smile. She reached for another bowl and served herself a generous portion.
Catherine, who sat opposite her, smiled back, her own face full of a gentle, motherly relief. "Thank goodness," she said. "I was so worried you weren't eating enough for the baby."
Delia was spending the afternoon at her mother's manor. As she ate, she noticed several servants carefully carrying packed trunks and boxes out of the main foyer.
"Are you traveling, Mother?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.
Catherine shook her head, a soft, happy blush on her cheeks. "No, my dear. I'm moving. I will put the manor up the rent. I'm going to Ellington Manor."
Delia dropped her spoon onto the table with a soft clatter, her eyes wide with surprise.
Catherine continued, her voice full of a quiet, certain joy. "Your father and I have reconciled," she explained. "After all these years. I'm going there to live with him. And to take good care of him."
The news was so wonderful, so unexpected, that it took Delia's breath away. A brilliant, radiant smile spread across her face, her eyes shining with happy, unshed tears. She reached across the table and grabbed her mother's hand, squeezing it tightly.
"I'm so happy for you two, Mother," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "Truly. After all this ti, after all the pain. Finally, you two can be with each other again."
Catherine nodded, her own eyes glassy with tears of joy. "Finally."
Delia picked up her spoon and took another bite of food, her appetite now imnse. "Your food is the best, Mother," she said, her mouth full.
Catherine smiled, a picture of pure contentnt. She looked at her beautiful, healthy, pregnant daughter, her own future with the man she had always loved finally secure, and felt a profound sense of peace. The long winter of their lives was finally over, and spring had, at last, arrived.
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