Chapter 249: Chapter Two Hundred And Forty Nine
The doors of the Carson drawing room opened, and Philip entered with Anne on his arm. They moved with a confident grace, their faces arranged in matching smiles. It was the kind of entrance designed to command attention, and it did. Elena and Lyra both looked up, a silent question hanging in the air.
"Grandmother," Philip said, his voice smooth and pleasant. "We have some wonderful news to share with you."
He led Anne to the sofa opposite Elena’s chair. They sat together on a plush velvet sofa, a perfect picture of a united, devoted couple. Opposite them, in two high-backed armchairs, sat the two most powerful women in their world: the Dowager Duchess Elena, her back ramrod straight, her expression stern and questioning; and Duchess Lyra, her face a calm, unreadable mask, her intelligent eyes missing nothing.
Philip had requested this meeting two days ago, stating only that he and Anne had a matter of the utmost importance to share with the heads of the family.
He cleared his throat, breaking the silence. He did not speak, but instead reached into the inner pocket of his finely tailored coat and produced a single, folded sheet of high-quality paper. He leaned forward and presented it, not to Lyra, but directly to his grandmother, the ultimate authority in the family.
Elena looked from Philip’s serious face to the letter, then back again. With a slow, deliberate movement, she took the paper from his outstretched hand. The only sound in the room was the soft crinkle of the paper as she unfolded it. She picked up a pair of spectacles from the small table beside her and placed them on her nose, her eyes scanning the neat handwriting of the doctor’s report and the seal of the doctor’s wax stamp.
As she read, the stern, questioning look on her face dissolved, replaced by one of pure shock. Her mouth fell slightly open. She looked up from the paper, her wide, disbelieving eyes meeting her daughter-in-law. She wordlessly handed the report to Lyra, who took it, her own expression of calm observation tightening as she read the definitive, two-sentence diagnosis.
Anne and Philip sat there through it all, faint, polite smiles fixed on their faces.
Philip finally spoke, his voice a smooth, rehearsed mixture of reluctance and happy responsibility. "I wasn’t sure when to share the news," he began, his gaze fixed on his grandmother. "With everything that has been happening in the Ellington establishment and our own crisis, the timing felt... complicated. But we couldn’t just keep it a secret."
He reached over and placed his hand over Anne’s, a gesture of warm, protective affection. He looked at her with a feigned look of adoration that was a masterpiece of acting. "Anne will soon start to show," he continued, "and I want to protect her dignity and her reputation. I want to do the right thing by her, and by our family."
Elena looked from Philip’s sincere face to Anne’s shy, smiling one. She looked down at the doctor’s report still resting in Lyra’s lap. "Is this real?" she asked, her voice a stunned whisper. " Is she really with child?"
Anne, playing her part perfectly, replied with a smile, her voice soft and full of a practiced, gentle joy. "Yes, Grandmother. The doctor says it is a healthy baby."
"They say a child brings happiness and new life to a home," Philip added, his final line a sentimental arrow aimed directly at the Dowager Duchess’s heart.
And it hit its mark. Elena touched the paper again, her fingers tracing the doctor’s signature as if to confirm its reality. A small, wondrous smile began to show on her face. The shock was still there, but it was now being overshadowed by a new, powerful emotion: the profound, instinctual joy of a matriarch at the prospect of a new generation. A great-grandchild. The continuation of the Carson line.
Lyra, however, just sat there, a silent spectator to the entire performance. Her face was a study in neutrality, but her mind was a whirlwind of suspicion. She wasn’t looking at the happy couple with the same softening expression as her mother-in-law. She was observing them, dissecting them.
Since when does Philip care about a woman’s dignity? she thought, her eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly. He had always been the cold one, the calculating son, the one who saw relationships as transactions and people as pawns. This sudden transformation into a doting, responsible father-to-be was too abrupt, too convenient. And Anne... Lyra looked at the girl, at her bright smile and her downcast, modest eyes. She looked more like a frightened girl playing a part than a happy, expectant mother. There was a tension in the set of her shoulders, a brittleness to her smile that spoke of deep anxiety, not joy.
Philip, sensing he had won over his grandmother, decided to press his advantage. "Of course," he said, his tone now one of quiet, respectful purpose, "this means that we must make arrangements for a wedding as soon as possible."
"Yes," Elena agreed immediately, her mind already shifting to matters of propriety and social standing. The scandal of a pre-marital pregnancy could be managed, but only with swift and decisive action. "Yes, you are right. A wedding. It must be a quiet ceremony, given the circumstances with her family, but a respectable one. As soon as it can be arranged."
Philip and Anne exchanged a brief, almost imperceptible glance. It was a look of pure, triumphant victory. They had done it. Their audacious plan had worked.
But across the room, Lyra watched that fleeting glance, and her suspicion hardened into a cold certainty. It was not the look of two people in love, relieved that their family was accepting their news. It was the look of two conspirators who had just successfully pulled off a difficult and dangerous deception. She didn’t know what the true story was, but she knew, with a mother’s unsettling certainty, that the happy family scene playing out in her drawing room was a complete and utter lie. And she would find out why.