CHAPTER 227: CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED AND TWENTY SEVEN

The manor at Willow’s Creek was a beautiful sight to behold. Sunlight streamed through the tall, arched windows, illuminating the fine silk wallpaper and polished floors of the guest suite Philip had left for her.

Anne paced the length of the room, from the canopied bed to the window and back again, her footsteps a frantic, restless rhythm on the expensive rug. "What do I do now?" she asked herself for the hundredth time, her voice a raw whisper in the quiet room.

A soft knock sounded on the door. Anne froze, her heart leaping into her throat.

"My lady," came a young maid’s voice from the hallway. "There is a woman downstairs asking for you. She said... she said she is your mother."

Anne’s breath caught. Her mother? Here? How was that possible? She had assumed Augusta was in hiding, or worse. A surge of emotions—fear, relief, confusion—washed over her. "Let her in," Anne called out, her voice stronger than she felt. "Accompany her here."

"As you wish, my lady," the maid replied.

Anne waited, her hands twisting in the fabric of her silk dress. In a few minutes, another knock came on the door. "She is here, my lady."

"Let her in," Anne said, her voice tight. "You may go."

The door opened, and Augusta entered the room. The maid curtsied and pulled the door softly shut, leaving them alone.

"Mama," Anne breathed, the word a mixture of disbelief and profound relief.

Augusta’s face, though paler and thinner than usual, broke into a warm, loving smile. "My sunshine," she replied, her old term of endearment a comforting balm on Anne’s raw nerves.

Anne rushed to her, her questions tumbling out. "How did you find me? How did you know I was here?"

Augusta replied. "I didn’t, my dear. I came here to ask for Philip’s help. We used to have our private meetings in the manor sometimes, away from the city." She gestured around the elegant room. "But the maid at the door told me His Grace hasn’t been here in a while, and that a new lady was staying in the manor. Immediately, I knew it had to be you. So I told her to let you know your mother was here."

Anne was just looking at her mother, drinking in the sight of her. For the first time in days, she didn’t feel completely alone.

Augusta’s smile was full of a mother’s concern. She reached out and gently brushed a stray strand of hair from Anne’s face. "Look at your face," she said softly. "Why do you look so thin? Are you not eating?"

The simple, maternal question was the key that unlocked the dam of Anne’s fear and desperation. "Mama," she said, her voice breaking. "I don’t know what to do."

"Why? Did something happen?" Augusta asked, her expression full of gentle worry.

"Well..." Anne hesitated, the secret a heavy, terrifying weight on her soul. "I’m... I’m with child."

The words hung in the air between them. Augusta’s expression didn’t change. "What?" she asked, her voice quiet.

Anne’s voice trembled as she said it again, the confession now a torrent. "I’m with child, Mama. My courses were late, and I have been so sick in the mornings. I wanted to go to the doctor, but I was so scared, and with everything that has happened..."

Before she could finish, Augusta quickly enveloped her in a fierce, tight hug. Anne was confused by the sudden gesture. She had expected shock, anger, disappointment. This overwhelming show of support was the last thing she anticipated. "Mama?" she asked, her voice muffled against her mother’s shoulder.

Augusta pulled back, her hands holding Anne’s arms. Her eyes were shining with a strange, intense light. "I am so proud of you," she said, her voice full of a triumphant joy that made no sense. "That’s my daughter. My clever, clever girl." She cupped Anne’s face in her hands and pressed a firm kiss to her forehead. "How far along are you? Does His Grace, does Philip, know?"

"No, not yet," Anne whispered.

"What are you waiting for? Why didn’t you tell him?" Augusta demanded, her mind clearly racing. "You must hurry up and tell him."

Anne looked at her mother, completely bewildered. "What are you so happy about? This is a disaster!"

"Why shouldn’t I be happy?" Augusta replied, her smile widening.

"Think about it, Mama!" Anne cried, her voice rising in panic. "That family, the Carsons, they won’t welcome me just because I am with child. Especially not now." She took a deep, shuddering breath and confessed the ugliest part of her secret. "And besides... it’s not Philip’s. I... I drugged him that night, when I found out I might be with child. I drugged his brandy and slept with him to make it look like it’s his."

She expected her mother to be horrified. Instead, Augusta’s next words shocked her to her core.

"It doesn’t matter," Augusta said, her voice a low, excited hiss. She released Anne and walked to the armchair beside the window, her movements full of a new, vibrant energy. "This child is not just any child. Now, this child will be the Carson’s only potential heir."

She sat down and crossed her legs, a general surveying a new, unexpected battlefield. "The Dowager Duchess, Elena, is a sentimental old woman. She is a family-oriented woman, and she loves her grandsons so much. She has been desperate for a great-grandchild to carry on the family name." She looked at Anne, her eyes gleaming with a brilliant, cunning light. "If she finds out you are carrying her great-grandchild, she will move heaven and earth for you. She will love you. She will protect you."

Anne thought about what Augusta said, and she knew her mother was right. The old Duchess was a force of nature when it came to her family.

Augusta was already planning, her mind working with a terrifying speed and clarity. "We have to find the right way to break the news to the family. Not to only Philip, but to Elena. It must be done delicately. Oh, I am going to have so much to do."

As her mother schemed, Anne finally took in her appearance. The dress Augusta wore was simple, of a quality far below her usual standards, and her face, though composed, bore the faint marks of exhaustion. "Mama," she asked softly. "Where have you been all this while?"

"A friend’s place," Augusta replied dismissively, her mind still on her new plan. She noticed the way Anne was looking at her, a flicker of doubt in her daughter’s eyes. "What is it?" she asked.

Anne hesitated, the question she was terrified to ask finally coming to her lips. "You didn’t really poison Papa, did you?" she whispered. "Henry, I mean. Delia must have framed you. She must have lied. Right, Mama?" It was a desperate plea for reassurance, for one last thing in her life to be true.

Augusta’s expression softened into one of wounded innocence. "Of course I didn’t, my sunshine," she said, her voice full of hurt. "Why would I lie to you? Are you also suspecting me, just like they are?"

"No!" Anne said quickly, the guilt of her own doubt making her rush to reassure her mother. "It’s not that. Why would I?"

"Yes. Why would you?" Augusta said, her point made. " And don’t call him Henry, he’s still your father." She stood up and hugged her daughter again, a warm, protective embrace that was also a cage. "My Anne, I have protected and raised you all this time," she murmured, patting Anne’s hair. "I have always done what is best for you."

She pulled back and looked into Anne’s eyes, her own filled with a fierce ambition. "Be proud, Anne," she commanded. "Hold your head high. You are carrying the heir to the Carson duchy. No one can stop us now."

A smile, the first she had felt in days, spread across Anne’s face. She hugged her mother tighter, a surge of hope and a dark, thrilling sense of purpose flooding through her. And with her mother by her side, she was sure they could not fail.