Chapter 25 - Twenty Five
The morning sun did little to brighten the somber mood in the Ellington manor. Anne carried a tray with a small glass of water and her father’s daily medication, her steps slow and deliberate. This was not an act of daughterly care; it was an attempt to get an audience with her father, to understand the betrayal she felt so keenly.
She entered his room and found him resting against a mountain of pillows, his gaze distant.
She placed the tray on his bedside table. Baron Henry received it with a weak but grateful smile. He took his medication first, then drank the entire glass of water. "Thank you, my dear," he said, his voice raspy.
Anne went to sit in the large, brocaded armchair closest to his bed, the one usually occupied by her mother. She didn’t speak, but her posture was a study in misery. She was sulking, her lower lip pushed out slightly, her gaze fixed on the floor.
Her father looked at her, his tired eyes filled with a familiar fatherly concern. "Have you eaten this morning?" he asked, his voice soft.
Anne looked up, her expression wounded and accusatory. "I didn’t know you actually cared about me," she replied, her voice sharp with self-pity.
The Baron sighed, a weary sound. "Of course I do, Anne. You are my child."
"Then why did you approve their marriage?" she spat, the question she had been burning to ask. "I met him first! He was meant for me!" The injustice of it all felt like a physical weight on her chest, making it hard to breathe.
"Because he loves her," Henry replied simply, his voice gentle but firm. "And a man who is truly in love can do anything for the one they love. That kind of devotion is a rare and powerful thing."