Delia rushed back into the ballroom, her heart heavy with despair. The festive music now sounded like a funeral tune. Before she could even process the fresh wave of sadness, a group of palace guards blocked her path. Their stern faces gave her a sudden chill.
"We are looking for Delia Ellington," the captain announced, his voice booming through the sudden silence that had fallen over the grand room.
Baroness Augusta stepped forward with a false smile, her eyes darting to Delia for a split second. "She is my other daughter," she said, her voice smooth and falsely concerned. "How can we be of service?"
The captain's gaze was fixed on Delia. "She is under arrest for murder."
The words hit Delia like a physical blow. Murder? Her mind reeled. How? She didn't do anything. A cold wave washed over her, making her legs feel like jelly. She was frozen to the spot, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief.
Just then, Baroness Augusta moved closer, her movements subtle, almost imperceptible to anyone else in the room. She leaned in, her voice dropping to a low whisper that only Delia could hear. "Take the blame, my child. I promise I'll find a way to get the king to lower your sentence."
Delia's eyes flickered to Anne, who stood a few feet away, her face pale and her hands clasped tightly. Delia could practically feel Anne's nervousness radiating from her. That's when it clicked. A horrifying realization slammed into her. She was being framed.
Baroness Augusta continued her whispered manipulation, her words laced with a false sense of urgency. "Anne is too young to go through all this. And you are her elder sister, you are supposed to protect her."
Murmurs started flying around the ballroom. The whispers grew louder, like a buzzing hive of speculation. Delia remained silent, her mind racing, trying to piece together the nightmare unfolding around her. Her world crashing down in one night, her one sided love marriage and now her reputation in society is ruined
The captain of the guard, growing impatient, turned to Baroness Augusta. "Is she Delia Ellington?"
Baroness Augusta didn't hesitate. Her voice was clear, firm, and devoid of any emotion that would suggest she was sending her own daughter to her doom. "Yes."
Everything was moving too fast for Delia to comprehend. It felt like she was trapped in a terrible dream, unable to wake up. Her gaze swept across the room, desperate for a sign of hope. Her eyes landed on George. He stood by the arched doorway, his usual bright expression replaced with one of deep pity and shame. He offered her a small, helpless shrug, his eyes conveying a silent apology. Then, with a sad shake of his head, he turned and left, disappearing into the crowd.
In that moment, Delia's world collapsed. The last thread of hope, the possibility that someone might stand up for her, snapped. The pity in George's eyes was almost worse than the accusation itself. It confirmed her terrible fate.
Without thinking straight, a desperate instinct for survival kicked in. She couldn't stay. She couldn't face this. Her body moved before her mind could catch up. She bolted, pushing past confused onlookers, a sudden burst of energy fueling her flight. The guards, initially stunned, quickly recovered and gave chase.
She burst out of the doors and onto the moonlit street, her lungs burning. Her eyes darted around, searching for an escape. A lone carriage stood a short distance away, its driver dozing on his seat. With a desperate cry, Delia flung open the door and scrambled inside. "Drive! Anywhere! Just go!" she shrieked, her voice hoarse with fear.
The startled driver, confused by her frantic tone and the shouting guards behind them, whipped the horses into a gallop. The carriage lurched forward, rattling violently as it sped through the narrow, cobbled streets. The rhythmic thud of the guards' horses' hooves echoed close behind, a terrifying drumbeat of impending doom.
Delia huddled in the corner of the carriage, tears streaming down her face, her chest heaving with ragged breaths. She clutched the small ruby ring she held earlier, her knuckles white.
The carriage rushed around a sharp bend. Suddenly, blinding light erupted from around the corner. Another carriage, returning appeared out of nowhere. There was no time to react. The drivers screamed, the horses neighed in terror.
A deafening crash. The world spun. Delia was thrown violently forward, her head slamming against the wooden interior. A sharp, searing pain shot through her body. Everything went black for a moment. She felt herself falling, the carriage collapsing around her.
When she opened her eyes, the world was blurry. She could hear distant shouts, the creaking of splintered wood, and the frantic whinnying of horses. A warm, sticky liquid was spreading beneath her. She felt numb, yet every fiber of her being screamed in agony. Her fingers, still tightly curled, clutched the ring.
Her breath hitched, a faint, almost inaudible whisper escaping her lips. "If only... I could go back."
Then, her eyes, filled with an unbearable sadness slowly closed. The ring, now loose in her lifeless grasp, rolled from her fingers and clattered softly on the ruined carriage floor. Silence descended, broken only by the approaching footsteps of the guards and the faint cries of shock. Delia Ellington was dead.