Chapter 19 - Nineteen
"Mama," Anne whispered, her face ashen, her eyes wide with horror as Delia’s shouted words echoed in the tense silence of the room. It was the last sound she made before her eyes rolled back into her head and she crumpled to the floor.
"Anne!" Augusta shrieked, her own drama forgotten in a sudden surge of terror. She rushed to her daughter’s side, falling to her knees on the rug. "Anne, my darling, wake up!" She frantically chafed Anne’s cold hands, her face a mask of pure panic.
"Somebody, call the doctor! Now!" she screamed at the petrified maids who had appeared in the doorway.
Delia stood there, a silent observer of the chaos she had unleashed. As Augusta’s frantic cries filled the room, a small, chillingly satisfied smile appeared on her face. The sight of Anne unconscious and her stepmother in a state of sheer panic was a deeply gratifying reward. This was just a taste of the suffering she intended to inflict. This is only the beginning, she thought to herself, the promise a cold, hard stone in her heart.
Her gaze drifted over to George. He stood frozen in the middle of the room, his eyes wide with worry as he stared at Anne’s still form. He looked like a man trapped between two warring armies, utterly paralyzed and useless. Delia took a step closer to him, her movements silent.
"You can go to her now," she whispered, her voice a low, mocking taunt meant only for him. "I’m sure she’ll need all the support she can get."
George finally tore his eyes away from Anne and looked at Delia. His face was a canvas of confusion and pain. "Why?" he asked, his voice low. "Why are you doing this to me?"
Delia almost laughed. To him. He still thought this was all about him.
Before she could answer, Augusta, having momentarily assured herself that Anne was still breathing, turned her anger back on Delia. "Guard!" she bellowed. "Seize her! Lock her in her room and do not let her out!"