The Next Day...
The morning sun was muted, filtered through the high, arched windows of the Austen manor drawing room. Dust motes danced in the shafts of light, swirling in the stagnant air that slled of old wood polish, lavender potpourri, and the quiet desperation of a family clinging to fading glory.
Ashlyn sat on a velvet sofa, her hands folded primly in her lap, but her foot tapped a nervous, erratic rhythm against the polished floorboards. She was dressed in a gown of dark blue wool, a color ant to convey seriousness and stability, a stark contrast to the crimson velvet she had worn for her failed banquet. She had arrived early, slipping out of the Thompson estate before the servants were fully awake, driven by the pressing weight of Marissa’s deadline.
Twenty days. That was all she had. Twenty days before Marissa ca for the debt. Twenty days before she lost everything.
She thought about the closed door of her parents’ bedroom upstairs.
Finally, she heard the latch clicked.
The drawing room door burst open. Lady Anita rushed in.
She looked frantic. She was wearing a silk morning robe that was slightly frayed at the hem, her hair half-pinned in a ssy bun, looking flustered and anxious. She clutched a rolled parchnt to her chest as if it were a fragile child, her knuckles white against the paper.
She stopped in front of Ashlyn, her eyes darting to the closed door of the drawing room, ensuring they were alone. She leaned in, her voice a breathless whisper.
"This," Anita said, holding out the parchnt with trembling hands. "This is the deed to the Austen family’s old estate. The one your father gave as a gift twenty years ago. It is the only thing I have that is truly mine. Your father doesn’t even know where the key to the strongbox is."
Ashlyn stood up slowly. She reached out, her fingers brushing the cool, smooth paper. She could feel the texture of the old seal.
"Is the mortgaging absolutely foolproof?"
Anita asked, pulling the deed back slightly, her grip tightening. Her voice was high and thin with fear. "Ashlyn, look at . Is it safe? You know how your father is about land. If he finds out..."
Ashlyn forced a confident, reassuring smile onto her face. It was the sa smile she had worn when she told Carlos he was a star. It was the smile of a liar who believed her own lies.
"Don’t worry, Mother," Ashlyn said smoothly. She gently pried the deed from her mother’s grip, finger by finger. "I have investigated thoroughly. I have spoken to the lenders myself. It is a standard procedure. Safe as a church."
She unrolled the parchnt on the table, smoothing it out with her palm. The seal of the Austen family glead in the light, a symbol of heritage she was about to pawn.
"Using the silver from this mortgage," Ashlyn explained, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, leaning over the table so their heads were close. "We will invest in usury loans. High-interest loans to rchants who need quick cash for the winter trade. It is a gold mine, Mother. The rates are exorbitant."
She looked into Anita’s worried eyes, feeding her greed.
"It will double our money in under a month," Ashlyn promised. "Double. Think of it. We will pay back the mortgage in full, and we will have a fortune left over. Enough to fill a chest."
She leaned closer, painting a picture of wealth and security.
"Then," Ashlyn said, her eyes shining, "I will buy you several more shops in the capital. The silk shop you like on High Street. The jewelry store on the corner. You will have your own inco. You will never have to ask Father for a coin again. You will be independent."
Anita bit her lip. The promise of independence was tempting. She hated asking her husband for allowance. But the fear was stronger.
"But if sothing goes wrong," Anita whispered, looking at the door as if expecting her husband to burst in with a whip. "If the money is lost... if the estate is seized... your father will kill . He will cast out. This estate is his pride, even if it is in my na. He plans to retire there."
Ashlyn let out a small, frustrated whine. She stomped her foot lightly.
"Mother...." she complained, sounding like a pouting child. "Why do you doubt ? I have planned this for a long ti. I have calculated every risk. Do you think I would risk my own mother’s ho if I wasn’t sure?"
She took her mother’s hands in hers. Her palms were warm, persuasive.
"Not only will we make a fortune," Ashlyn said, her voice hardening, her eyes gleaming with a sudden, dark intensity that startled Anita. "But it will crush Marissa."
Anita froze. "Marissa?"
Ashlyn nodded slowly. A wide, thin line of a smile stretched across her face. It was a cruel expression.
"Marissa thinks she has trapped," Ashlyn whispered. "She thinks I am broke. She thinks she can take your estate because I cannot pay her debt. She is waiting for to fail. She wants to see us on the street."
Ashlyn squeezed her mother’s hands.
"But when I pay her back..." Ashlyn hissed, savoring the thought. "When I show up with double the money... she will be humiliated. She will see that I am not weak. I am smart."
"Just wait for the show," Ashlyn promised. "We will take everything from her. Her money. Her pride. Her power."
Lady Anita looked at her daughter. She saw the hatred in Ashlyn’s eyes, a hatred she had nurtured herself since they were children. She hated Marissa. She hated Marissa’s mother, the first wife. The thought of destroying Marissa, of seeing the perfect Grand Duchess fail, was a powerful drug. It was sweeter than safety.
Anita took a deep breath. She steadied her resolve. The fear of her husband faded, replaced by the thrill of vengeance.
"Okay," Anita said firmly.
She pushed the parchnt toward Ashlyn.
"Deal," she said. "Make her pay."
Ashlyn rolled up the deed. She tucked it into her reticle.
"I will," Ashlyn said.
She kissed her mother’s cheek.
"Go back to bed, Mother," She said.
Ashlyn turned and walked out of the drawing room. She walked out of the manor, clutching the deed. She climbed into her carriage and looked at the deed in her hand.
"One last gamble," she whispered.
If it failed... she would lose her mother’s ho.
But Ashlyn didn’t plan on failing. She planned on winning. And if she had to burn down her own family to do it, so be it.
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