CHAPTER 122: CHAPTER HUNDRED AND TWENTY TWO

It’s a new day, and Baroness Augusta was still furious from last night’s discussion with Henry. She stood at the front door of the Ellington manor with an unbearable expression.

"Where to, Baroness?" the driver asked, giving Augusta a respectful bow as he held the carriage door open for her.

"Baron Edgar’s residence," she replied, her voice sharp and clear as she got out of the front door. She looked up at the sky. The morning sun was already hot, beating down with an intensity that promised a sweltering day. She used her gloved hand to shield her face from the bright glare.

"Gable!" she called out, her voice echoing in the quiet courtyard.

Mrs. Gable, the head housekeeper, came bustling out of the front door. "Yes, Baroness?" she said, her head bowed low.

"Get me my hat," Augusta commanded. "This sun is unbearable. And be quick about it."

Mrs. Gable left to do as she was told. She returned a moment later with a wide-brimmed straw hat that was elegantly decorated with a yellow ribbon, a perfect match for the fashionable yellow dress Augusta was wearing. Augusta took the hat, put it on over her neatly styled low bun, and tied the silk lace in a crisp, firm bow under her chin. She then entered the carriage.

"I am going to take back the Ellington Textile Establishment today," she murmured to herself as the carriage began to move. "That old fool made a promise, and I am going to make sure he keeps it."

Soon, they arrived at the quiet courtyard of Baron Edgar’s residence. Augusta knocked sharply on the door, her impatience evident in the loud, rapid sound.

From inside, the butler’s voice asked, "Who is there?"

"It is the Baroness," Augusta replied, her voice laced with an authority that expected immediate obedience. "Open this door, Preston, or I swear I will have it knocked down."

Hearing the familiar, threatening voice of the Baroness, Preston quickly opened the door. Augusta swept inside, her yellow dress a slash of bright, angry color in the dim, quiet hall.

"Where is he?" she demanded, not even bothering with a greeting. "Where is my father-in-law?"

Preston replied, his own face a mask of professional calm. "I do not know, Baroness. He just left."

Augusta stood there in stunned silence for a moment. "A sickly old man left this residence in the middle of the night, and you, his head butler, did not know about it?" she asked, her voice filled with a sharp disbelief. "If something terrible has happened to him, how will you possibly take responsibility for your negligence?"

"He left after everyone had gone to bed, Baroness," Preston replied, his voice still even, though a hint of worry was now visible in his eyes. "The maids went to clean his room this morning and found that he was gone. His bed had not been slept in."

Augusta walked closer to the old butler, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. "Where are you hiding him, Preston?" she asked, her voice a low, dangerous hiss. "Or rather, where is he hiding?" She paused, her gaze unwavering. "You cannot possibly be this calm if your employer has truly gone missing."

Preston was silent, his loyalty to his master preventing him from saying another word.

Augusta pushed him aside with a dismissive shove and went straight to Edgar’s room. "Father! Father! Father!" she called out, her voice echoing in the empty hall. She opened the door and saw that he truly wasn’t inside his room. The bed was neatly made, and the entire room was cold and empty.

She thought back to the last time she had been in this very room, to the promise he had made her.

"Then you will agree to give Anne the Ellington Textile Establishment," she remembered herself saying. "It is only right, to further our plan and to secure her future."

"Sure, sure, of course I should," she remembered Edgar replying so quickly, so easily. "Why don’t you call a meeting with the family advisors? I will attend myself and make the formal announcement."

Augusta let out a cruel, bitter laugh that sounded ugly in the empty room. "So he planned this all along," she said to herself. "He tricked me." She looked around the empty room, at the signs of a hasty departure. "He assured me he would do as I asked, and then he runs away and hides like a coward."

She began to think, her hand on her chin, right below the perfect bow of her hat. Where would that old fool go? she thought, her mind racing. Then, it struck her. Yes. That suspicious, meddling palm reader. I bet he went there recently, to check on his pathetic fate again.

She gathered her skirts and swept out of the manor, her expression one of stern determination. She entered her carriage and gave the new destination to the driver.

Later, she arrived at the palm reader’s parlor and sat in front of the old woman, her posture rigid and impatient. "My father-in-law, Baron Edgar," she began, her voice leaving no room for games, "was here recently, was he not?"

The palm reader looked at her, her dark eyes as calm and deep as a well. "I do not know, my lady," she replied, her voice a soft, raspy whisper. "My vision sometimes fails me, so I cannot remember if he came here or not."

Augusta sneered and brought out a small, heavy pouch of coins, pushing it across the table until it was right in front of the old woman. "I believe this should be enough to jog your memory," she said, her voice dripping with contempt.

The palm reader opened the pouch and saw the glint of gold coins inside. Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second, and then she closed the pouch, her expression unchanged.

"Well," she began, her voice still a soft whisper, "I do remember that someone else came to ask for the Baron just the other day."

Confused, Augusta asked, "Who?"

"The Dowager Duchess, Elena," the palm reader replied. "She came to ask about the relationship between the Baron and his granddaughter, Delia. And I believe that the granddaughter was with her at the time."

Augusta was speechless. The Dowager Duchess. And Delia. Together. She stood up, threw a few extra coins on the table, and left without another word.

She stood outside on the busy street, her mind connecting the dots. Delia knowing about her secret dye sales to the southern isles. Edgar’s sudden disappearance. And now, this secret meeting between Delia and one of the most powerful women in the Carson family.

A wave of pure anger washed over her. "Edgar," she hissed to herself. "Delia. You two are toying with me."

She looked up at the hot, unforgiving sun, her face a mask of fury. "Where in all of Albion could that old fool be hiding?" she said, her voice a low, dangerous growl.