* * * *
Morning arrived after spending the night alone. John did not return to speak with me after he stormed off from the parlor. While stirring in bed, a knock came at the door.
“Who is it?” I sat up and pulled the covers to my bosom.
“Mrs. James, your ladyship. I am here to introduce you to your new lady’s maid.”
After sighing in relief, I ran my fingers through my hair to try to straighten the unruly mess of curls. “You may enter,” I answered.
The door opened and Mrs. James arrived with another woman who I had seen on a few occasions. She wore the same black dress with white collar and cuffs like Melanie. Rather than being young, she looked to be in her thirties.
“Your ladyship, this is Margaret MacDonald. She would like to serve you for the next few days as your attendant. If you approve of her skills, she desires to remain in the position.”
“Very well,” I said.
“Your ladyship,” Margaret said, curtsying. “It’s a pleasure to serve you.” Her thick Scottish accent brought a smile to my face.
I watched as she carried the tray of hot tea and bread to my night table. A feeling of dread washed over me, and I glanced away as if I were looking at death itself.
“Mrs. James, I know it’s the custom to bring me tea and bread in the morning, but I think that I would like to dispense with the practice immediately.”
“Why is that, your ladyship?” She cocked her head at me apparently surprised over my break in protocol.
Why. My mind spun around in circles trying to think of an answer to spurn the morning household ceremony. “It spoils my appetite for breakfast frankly.” My excuse sounded reasonable. “I would rather wait to partake of my morning tea and toast in the dining room.”
“As you wish, my lady,” she replied, readily accepting my explanation. She turned toward Margaret. “Well, I shall leave the two of you alone to get acquainted.”
Mrs. James retreated and closed the door behind her. I cautiously lifted my eyes to my new lady’s maid, feeling leery of her presence. My paranoia increased another notch.
“Is it your habit to bathe in the morning?” she asked, smiling at me kindly.
“About three times a week,” I answered. “I know it’s excessive, but I enjoy a hot bath.”
“Would you like me to fetch a chambermaid to bring water this morning?”
Chambermaid. Even the title brought fear. “As long as it’s not Melanie,” I replied, pulling my eyes away not wishing to see her reaction.
“Of course, your ladyship.” She picked up the tray. “I will return your tea to the kitchen and summon water for you.” Before doing so, she slipped her hand into her pocket and retrieved an envelope. “Please forgive me, but I’ve been asked to give this to you by Miss Wright.”
Her trembling hand held out an envelope, and I stared at it in suspicion. Naturally, I hesitated taking it, but my curiosity incited me to do so anyway.
“Thank you,” I said, snatching it with my fingers. Margaret looked relieved that I had taken it and not reprimanded her for offering to deliver the note. “You may go now.”
“Thank you, your ladyship.”
After she had departed, I stared at the envelope for some time before finding the courage to open and read the contents. What could she possibly want? Maybe it was an apology and plea for forgiveness so that she could win John’s favor. I had given her more credit than I cared to extend.
Cautiously, I slipped out the paper from the envelope and read the contents.
Lady Broadhurst,
His lordship has expressed to me his disappointment in my behavior. You had every right to dismiss me from my position. However, I know that you possess lingering questions about my relationship with your husband.
If you would be so kind as to meet me this afternoon, I will be happy to reveal everything to you in order to put this matter to rest. Perhaps it will bring peace to us all.
I will be at the tower at two o’clock and hope to see you there so that we may speak in private.
Your humble servant,
Melanie
Her words sounded somewhat repentant but could I believe them? I did have lingering questions about their relationship that needed to be answered. Due to John’s unwillingness to pursue the subject further with me, I suspected that I would never get the entire truth unless I sought it myself.
I placed the opened letter on my night table. At two o’clock, I would excuse myself and take a ride to the tower to find out if their relationship had ended. If it had, I needed her assurance that she accepted things as they were. Otherwise, I would never have peace while living at Blythe Court with Melanie in our household.
Tragedy and Truth
Lured to the tower by Melanie, I arrived at two o’clock, anxious for honest answers. A few hours beforehand, I connived that I might convince her to leave if she would accept financial help. Surely, John would agree to such an arrangement for the sake of our marriage. I could not find any reason for him to keep her at Blythe Court except for his own pleasure.
As I pushed the door open and entered the interior, the same dim lighting filtered through the cracks of the shutters. I expected to see Melanie come out from the shadows to greet me, but the room was silent.
“Melanie?” I called her name and glanced around the first floor. She was not there, so I climbed the stairs to the second story. “Melanie?” My first reaction was to check the bedchamber, but I found it empty.
After glancing up the staircase, I noted that the door to the roof had been left open. Thinking that she had retreated outside for a breath of fresh air, I climbed another flight of stairs. As soon as I exited out-of-doors, I was blinded by the bright sunlight. I squinted, shielded my eyes with my hand over my brow, and glanced about the area. Melanie stood on the far side of the roof looking out over the landscape, not far from where John and I once stood together when we first met.
“Melanie?” I called after her as I approached.
Upon hearing my voice, she slowly turned and looked at me. At first, she appeared void of emotion, but I detected a glint of disdain in her eyes as I drew near.
“Here we are,” Melanie began, taking a few steps in my direction. “Two women in love with the same man.”
The sarcastic tone of her voice terrified me. I knew at that moment the conversation would not be a pleasant one. “Yes, but only one woman is married to him,” I quickly clarified. Melanie flashed a smug grin.
“And if it weren’t for you,” she said, sounding like a hissing cat, “John would still be visiting my bed instead of sharing yours.”
Melanie’s tone, laced with malice, indicated she had no intention of making amends. I swiftly changed my attitude.
“Is that why you poisoned my morning tea with arsenic?”
“How did you discover my little game? I thought it quite amusing actually,” she said void of any remorse.
“My physician recognized the symptoms,” I said. “I would have dismissed you immediately, but it appears you still have a few of your claws in John that have not yet been released.”
“If I wanted to kill you right away, I would have poured in a lethal dose,” she blatantly admitted. Melanie took an aggressive step toward me and her eyes darkened. “However, I found more pleasure in adding only enough to make you miserable with stomach pain and headaches before I did away with you completely.”
Melanie’s confirmation only solidified my intent in ridding myself of her. “One way or another, I’ll see you out of Blythe Court for good,” I seethed through clenched teeth.
“You are quite right in your assumption, my lady,” she replied, eyeing me with loathing. “One of us will leave, but death will be the doorway by which this entire affair ends.”
All of sudden, Melanie reached out and grabbed my hair with both of her hands and began yanking me forward. She accosted me with such ferocity that I screamed from the pain in my scalp. It felt as if her nails would rip ev
ery strand from my head. The agony was so great that I felt helpless. If I pulled away, she tugged harder, so I let her drag me forward to relieve the dreadful pain.
“Let go of me!” I screamed at the top of my voice hoping someone would hear me. My arms flailed wildly trying to hit her but failed.
She released her grip but wrapped her arm around my waist, dragging me toward the edge of the roof. Already weak from the poison in my body, I did not possess the strength to wrestle myself away from her death grip.
“In a minute, you’ll be flying to your eternal rest,” she screamed.
When we reached the edge, she pushed me against the waist-high stone edge and attempted to shove me over. I fought and screamed, but what little power I possessed evaporated as I tried to defend myself. She saw me falter and increased her efforts to give me one more shove to cast me downward to my demise.
“Melanie, don’t!”
I heard John’s voice shriek in panic. Melanie spun me around and wrapped her arm around my neck so tight I thought she would snap it like a twig. He cautiously came within a few feet of us and halted.
“Let her go, Melanie, please,” his trembling voice pleaded. John’s eyes radiated horror. “Killing her will solve nothing.”
“It will solve everything,” she replied, heaving between breaths. “I find it impossible to share you with her any longer. My heart cannot bear the pain of losing you so you will lose her instead.”
“You said you understood,” John replied softly. “I thought you accepted our arrangement.”
Arrangement? My mind whirled around in terror trying to understand their cryptic conversation.
“Yes, at first. But after you wed I realized that I could not continue,” she replied dispassionately. “As I saw your affections turn from me and grow for her, I knew one of us had to go.”
She tightened her grip around my neck, and I begged for mercy. “Melanie, please release me,” I pleaded, gasping for breath.
“Release Ann,” John anxiously beseeched. “We can talk about this rationally. If you kill her, you will have no future with me and will hang for your crime.” John reached forward for my hand, and I reached out and grabbed it with one hand. “Please think what you are doing,” he said. “This will only end in tragedy.”
A few silent moments passed between us while my heart thumped wildly in my chest. Melanie reduced her grip as she thought about John’s warning. Her irrational actions had ruined whatever future she once held. If she killed me, she would die too. John would never recover from the loss.
“Please,” I begged once more, feeling hot tears stream down my face. Her arm suddenly trembled. A second later, she released her grip, and I ran into John’s arms for protection. He gathered me and wrapped me defensively in his embrace.
“Thank God,” he said, clinging to me ardently.
My eyes shifted to Melanie, who looked at us with an empty stare of brokenness and defeat. A moment later, she glibly smiled as if she accepted the inevitable. A despairing look in her eyes inferred the unthinkable. Before I could say or do anything to dissuade her choice, to my utter horror, she flung herself over the edge. A second later, I heard the hard plop of her body hit the ground below.
“No!” John bellowed. He released me and ran forward, peering over the barrier of the rooftop. “Oh dear God!”
He ran past me as if I did not exist and down the stairs. I followed behind, shocked at the tragedy unfolding before me. When I arrived outdoors, John knelt next to her lifeless body. Melanie lay limp in his arms while he sobbed, repeatedly calling her name. I brought my hand to my mouth as tears ran down my cheeks. The truth of their relationship unfolded in heartbreak. He had loved her, and even after we wed she held a special place in his heart. A moment later, I fell to my knees sobbing in empathy over his terrible grief.
* * * *
John arranged for Melanie’s burial at a nearby churchyard on the estate. Since the terrible affair, he had been estranged and distant. Using wisdom, I kept my distance understanding his need to mourn.
When the time came for the funeral, he did not ask me to stand by his side. I felt devastated but decided to watch from a distance. Practically the entire household staff stood around the coffin. John stared blankly at the hole where her body would be placed to rest. If he hadn’t discovered Melanie’s letter laying open on my night table that terrible day, I would have been the one laying in a dark casket.
As I hid peering around the trunk of a tree, I could barely see the ceremony from where I stood. Mr. Rhodes and Mrs. James stood on each side of him as if they were pillars of strength. Surely, they must have known of his relationship with Melanie.
The vicar pronounced the last few words, and for the first time since the tragedy, I felt sorrowful for what happened. I could not blame her for loving him when I too felt the same. We both suffered the pain of unrequited love in our relationship with John. Though she took her life, I hoped for God’s mercy.
“Into your hands, O merciful Savior, we commend your servant Melanie Wright. Enfold her in the arms of your mercy, in the blessed rest of everlasting peace, and in the company of the saints in light. Amen.”
As each person quietly left the graveside, John remained behind gazing at the coffin. As his wife, I felt drawn to offer comfort, so I came out from hiding and joined him at his side. He ceased his forlorn gaze upon my arrival.
“I’m sorry for your loss, John. Truly I am.” My voice quavered with my own emotions. To my surprise, he put his arms around me and embraced me tightly. We stood together for what felt like an eternity, and I lost myself in the beat of his heart against my ears.
“I have something to show you,” he said.
He pulled away, took my hand, and walked me toward the carriage. After giving directions to the driver, I climbed inside and sat next to him wondering where we were going. Aware of his raw emotions, I said nothing and quietly held his hand.
The carriage drove into Dorchester and stopped at a line of row houses. “Why are we here?” I glanced about trying to find the reason for coming to this part of the city.
“You will soon find out,” he said. He took my hand and led me to the door. After knocking softly, a woman opened it and immediately curtsied upon seeing John.
“Your lordship,” she said.
“This is my wife, Ann,” he announced. “Ann, this is Melanie’s aunt, Jane Wright.” Confused by the introduction, I questioned why we had come to visit and surmised it might be to speak of the funeral and give our condolences.
“Pleasure to meet you. Won’t you please come in?” she said.
As I entered into the modest home, she looked at me curiously. I glanced down the hall and saw a child running toward us. Her curly, long dark hair bounced up and down with each stride, and a bright smile spread across her face as she headed straight for my husband. A moment later, John knelt down and scooped her up in his arms. He kissed her tenderly on the cheek, and she curled her arms around his neck affectionately.
“How’s my little girl today?” he asked, giving her multiple kisses on the cheek.
The darling child looked to be about two years old, and her face held the likeness of her father and mother. As the revelation unfolded before me, I suddenly saw all the pieces of the puzzle fall into place. John and Melanie had a child together. No wonder their bond had been so close. I should have been shocked and angry, but for some reason, I felt no such negative response. The child’s blue eyes mesmerized me, bringing forth forgiveness from my heart.
“This is my daughter, Abagail,” John said, turning toward me. “Now you know why her mother’s affections toward me were so strong.”
“And now I understand why your heart broke over her death,” I replied sadly aware of the pain he must feel.
“Jane has been kind to raise Abagail and help her niece.”
“Do your parents know?” I asked, wondering who else had been privy to this secret.
“Only my father,” he admitted. “H
e is an expert at concealing family scandals.”
My poor father would probably have a heart attack once he learned his little girl married a man with an illegitimate child. Frankly, I found it quite humorous after all of his efforts to find me the perfect match. The duke did an excellent job of deceiving everyone.
“Why didn’t you keep her at Blythe Court?”
“He adamantly refused to let me bring her into our home so I have been providing for her care here.”
“Oh, John, why didn’t you tell me?” I reached out, touched the child’s cheek, and ran my fingers across her smooth skin. Her wide eyes looked at me, and she smiled. My heart melted into a puddle at my feet. She was so beautiful.
“How could I tell you?” he replied. “You would have never married me and neither would your parents have approved. The guilt I carried since the day we wed ate at my soul each time we were together.” His hand reached out and pushed back a strand of unruly hair from his daughter’s face. “The day that you saw me at the tower with Melanie, I had brought Abagail to visit her mother. She was inside with Jane waiting for her arrival.”
My eyelids closed. I wasted so many days believing a lie because of what I thought I beheld. If only I had known, perhaps Melanie would have reconciled with my place alongside John. I would have given her the acceptance and understanding she needed. Maybe she would not have viewed me as her enemy and ultimately given up life because of it.
“Can I hold her?”
“Are you sure?” He cocked his head, surprised about my request.
“Yes, please,” I begged.
My arms reached forward, and to my surprise she reached out toward me. When I had her securely in my embrace, I could not help but smile at the precious life. She filled the hole in my heart.
“Hello, Abagail,” I said. My eyes examined every inch of her beautiful face. I had wanted to give John a child and had failed. Now, I could give him another gift instead.
“Can we bring her back to live at Blythe Court?”
John’s mouth gaped open. “Are you serious, Ann?”
“Yes, my love. There is no reason that we cannot raise her together. After all, you are her father. She needs to be with you.” I glanced over at Melanie’s aunt. “That is if you don’t mind,” I added.
Blythe Court (Novella) Page 11
