Chapter 166 - Hundred And Sixty Six

Words : 1317 Updated : Sep 29th, 2025

Mrs. Doris, her eyes still glistening with tears of disbelief and joy, took Delia into the small, clean room at the back of her store. It was her home. It was humble, with simple, well-worn furniture, but it was filled with a quiet, dignified warmth. She gave Delia and the well-dressed Prescott two small wooden stools to sit on. Now seated, she held both of Delia’s hands in her own, her gaze searching the young woman’s face as if to confirm she was real. "So, you are married now, my lady?" she asked, her voice full of a gentle wonder. Delia nodded and smiled. "Is it... is it to that George?" Doris asked, a hint of old worry in her tone. Delia shook her head. A wide, relieved sigh escaped Mrs. Doris’s lips. "Good," she said with a firm nod. "I never did like that boy. He never had a strong enough heart for you." Delia laughed, a soft, genuine sound. It felt so good to be with her old nanny again. "And your husband," Doris asked, her eyes now full of a protective concern. "Is he a good man? Is he good to you?" "Yes, Mrs. Doris," Delia replied. "He is the kindest man I have ever known. If you had kept living with us at the manor, you would have met him by now." Doris patted Delia’s hand, a sad, wistful look on her face. "I know! If only I hadn’t gotten kicked out so unfairly." Mr. Prescott, who had been sitting in a state of calm observation, inputted, "If it is alright with you, Mrs. Doris, we would very much like to hear what happened on the day you were dismissed." Mrs. Doris took a deep, shaky breath, her mind going back to that terrible time. "It all started," she began, her voice a low, sad murmur, "when the Baron and the Baroness had their first truly terrible fight. And it was all because of you, my dear Delia." She explained how the Baron, in a rare moment of standing up to his new wife, had insisted that Delia be given a proper education and a fair share of the inheritance, just as his own legitimate daughter, Anne, would have. "After the Baron left the house that evening to cool his temper," Doris continued, "that woman, the Baroness, she began to throw and break things. She was so angry that day, like a woman possessed. And then, that very same day, you got terribly sick after eating your dinner. I was so grateful to God that you had only eaten a very little bite that day, you were such a picky eater then." "She brought her own doctor, a man I did not trust, who said it was nothing to worry about, just a child’s weak stomach. But from that day on, I started keeping a close eye on everything that concerned you. I even used my own wages to hire another, more reputable doctor to come and see you when everyone else was out of the house, just to be sure you were safe. That doctor, he told me the truth. He said you had all the signs of arsenic poisoning, but that you were out of danger because you had only taken a very, very small portion of it." Delia’s mind began to reel from this new, horrifying information. "I became so careful after that," Mrs. Doris said, her grip on Delia’s hands tightening. "And every single day, I could see the way she looked at you. The more you grew, the more you looked like your own beautiful mother, the more angry the Baroness became. It turned out the argument she had had with the Baron that day was all about your inheritance." "One day," she continued, her voice dropping to a near whisper, "I saw her with my own two eyes, putting a small, white powder into your bowl of soup before it was sent up to you. I was now completely certain that she was the one who had poisoned you that first time. So, I started to prepare two bowls of food for you every day. I would leave one in plain sight on the kitchen counter for her to see, and I would hide the other one. She would always poison the one that was left in plain sight. I would then feed you the safe one that I had hidden, and I would discard the poisoned one in the garden." "I tried to tell the Baron, my lady, I truly did. But he was not always around, he was so busy with his work at the court. And when he was at home, the Baroness made sure that none of the servants ever had a private conversation with him. She was always there, watching." "One night, I came to your room to check up on you while you were sleeping. I heard angry footsteps coming down the hall, so I quickly went and hid inside your large wardrobe. The Baroness entered your room. She stood over your bed and looked at you with such a pure, cold hatred in her eyes. And she started talking to you, even though you were asleep." Doris’s voice began to tremble as she recounted the terrible words. "She said, ’How dare you crawl back into this house? Why can’t you just die, like your useless mother did? Why do you want me to go through so much trouble to have to kill you, too? Why can’t you just die, once and for all?’" "I saw her," Doris said, her eyes now wide with the remembered terror, "carrying one of your large, fluffy pillows. She placed it directly above your sleeping head. She was going to suffocate you, my lady. But just as she was about to press it down, the Baron came home unexpectedly early. He called for her from downstairs, and she dropped the pillow and went to answer him." "I came out of the wardrobe after she had gone," Doris said, tears now streaming down her face. "I just cradled your sleeping body in my arms, and I cried and cried at how one human being could be so cruel to a small, innocent child. I decided then and there that it had gone too far. I would tell the Baron everything, even if it meant I would lose my job." "But before I got the chance," she said, her expression now one of deep, sorrowful regret, "the Baroness had already framed me for stealing some of her silver jewelry. All of the evidence was there, glaring and pointing directly at me. The Baron, your father, he does not condone such an act. He dismissed me immediately, that very morning, even before you woke up. I did not even get the chance to tell you goodbye." She looked at Delia, her old, kind face now full of a fierce anger. "That woman is a snake, Delia. A venomous snake. To the Baron, and to the world, she acts all virtuous and noble. But in private, she is a witch who will become aggressive and violent if things do not go her way. She even brought another man around to the house sometimes, when the Baron was away. A man with cold, dead eyes. I was sure she was having an affair with him and I think he was the one who gave her that arsenic poison. And I suspected that she knew that I knew what she was doing. That is why she planned to get rid of me so quickly, before I could expose her." Delia’s mind began to reel from the sheer, overwhelming horror of the information she had just been given. Her past, which had been a sad story of neglect, was now a terrifying tale of multiple, cold-blooded attempts on her life.

Chapter 166 - Hundred And Sixty Six

Comments (0)