Reborn: The Duke’s Obsession

Delia looked out the carriage window as it rattled over the uneven cobblestones, leaving the familiar, orderly world of the aristocracy far behind. She was now in the commoner part of the kingdom, a place she had only ever glimpsed from a distance.

Here, life was vibrant and real. The streets were crowded with people, merchants shouting their wares, children chasing hoops down the narrow lanes, and the air was filled with a hundred different smells—baking bread, roasting nuts, and the earthy scent of hard work. She saw how simple everything was, how the people's clothes were practical and their smiles were genuine, a world away from the exaggerated, carefully constructed performances of the nobles she knew.

Prescott, her secret ally, had told her this was where he had hidden Baron Edgar. The carriage finally stopped in front of a small, anonymous-looking house, tucked away on a quiet side street. Delia got down, observing the simple but clean facade, the small pots of flowers on the windowsill.

"I must hand it to you Mr. Prescott, you were certainly right," she said to herself, a small, impressed smile on her face. "No one in a hundred years would ever think to look for my grandfather here and he will be safe."

She clutched the basket of food she had brought for him: A warm meat pie, some fresh cheese, and a small bottle of his favorite wine. and entered the house.

"Grandfather," she called out as she stepped inside the small, humble, cozy front room.

Edgar was sitting in a simple worn armchair near the window, looking out at the street. He turned as he heard her voice, and his tired old face immediately lit up with a raw, uncomplicated joy. "Delia," he said, his voice full of relief and affection. " You finally came to see me."

"Yes, Grandfather, I did," Delia replied, her own voice warm. " I have been quite busy that's why I haven't visited you in a while now."

She entered the room and sat in the chair opposite him, putting the things she had bought for him on the small table between them. "Have you eaten yet, Grandfather? Are you hungry?" she asked.

"Well," Edgar replied, a twinkle in his eye, "the very nice young woman you employed to take care of me made a very good pot of stew earlier. It was delicious . But I must admit, I still want to eat what you have brought for me more."

Delia smiled and served him a slice of the warm pie and poured him a small glass of wine. As he began to eat with a hearty appetite, Delia spoke, her tone turning serious.

"I met someone from the manor yesterday, Grandfather," she began. "Someone who was unfairly dismissed from our family's service many years ago."

"Really? Who might that be?" Edgar asked, his mouth full of pie.

"Mrs. Doris," Delia replied. "My old nanny."

Edgar touched his chin, his mind searching through the long corridors of his memory. "Mrs. Doris? Mrs. Doris. Mrs. Doris!" he said, finally remembering the woman. "Yes, of course, I remember her. Your father, Henry, told me he had to dismiss her because she was caught stealing silver from Augusta. He said he was afraid that you would not be safe with a thief in the house. I then suggested that Augusta should take over your care herself, to look after you together with Anne so that you bond with them more." He took another bite of his pie. "What about her?"

"She did not commit any theft, Grandfather," Delia replied, her voice quiet but firm. "She was framed."

"Framed?" Edgar replied, his expression turning to one of serious concern. "How so and by who?"

"Because," Delia said, her own voice now a low, angry whisper, "she was about to expose the Baroness for poisoning me."

Edgar's eyes widened in horror. The piece of pie he had been about to eat fell from his fork and clattered back onto the plate. "Poison?" he choked out. "Augusta?"

Delia nodded her head, her own face a mask of cold, hard anger. " Yes, grandfather. Poison."

She then told him everything Mrs. Doris had recounted—the arsenic, the two bowls of soup, the attempt to suffocate her with a pillow. She then added, "Mrs. Doris said that she, the Baroness, started to be extremely cruel to me right after she heard my father wanted to share the inheritance with me. She tried poisoning me countless times."

"Well," Edgar replied, his face now pale with a dawning, terrible understanding, "there is more to that part of the story than you know."

"What do you mean, Grandfather?" Delia asked.

"It was my idea," he confessed, his voice a low, guilty murmur. "After your mother's death, after Henry had finally agreed to marry Augusta, after the palm reader told me to right my wrongs, i decided to do what I was supposed to do. I was the one who told him that he must give the main Ellington estate to you. And I told him that he must share the profits of the Ellington Textile Establishment equally between you and Anne." He looked at Delia, his eyes full of a new, terrible guilt. "I suppose that is what truly angered Augusta. That is what must have driven her to do such terrible things. She wanted everything for her own child."

"Is that so?" Delia replied, her voice flat, as another piece of her family's ugly, secret history fell into place. Things were beginning to make sense. Augusta successfully killed her the first time, Mrs Doris saved her the second time but Augusta succeeded again when she framed her and led her to her death again but this time, she is taking control of this life she's living now and won't let Augusta take it away from her again.

Edgar nodded, then his expression changed. "How could I forget again?" he said. "Wait, hold on a moment. I have something here for you."