Death of a Duchess

by Nellie H. Steele

  “Thank you,” I responded, matching his expression. “The castle and my room are quite beautiful. I am sure I will find myself content here.”

  He nodded again and departed, pulling the doors shut behind him. Alone, I continued gawking at the room. The bedroom I shared with seven other girls at the orphanage was smaller. I wondered if the room may compete in size with the entirety of the upper floor at the orphanage. A silly thought, of course, but it adequately conveys the overwhelming size of the room in comparison to what I was accustomed.

  Despite the journey being tiring, I sank onto the chaise lounge before undressing. I took several deep breaths as I surveyed my surroundings again, each time noticing something new. Shock began to set in as silence settled around me. What had I agreed to, I pondered? I was engaged to be married in three days’ time to a man I’d only met one hour ago. A man who had me driven sight unseen from an orphanage to a castle in the Scottish Highlands.

  I shook my head. I’d given my response, and I intended to keep to my word. Dwelling on my choice would only prove to drive me mad. It appeared my life had taken a turn for the better, regardless of the strange circumstances that brought this to fruition.

  Before my mind chose to wander any further, I rose from my seat and dressed for bed. Carefully, I folded my dress and opened the wardrobe to place it inside. I found three other dresses inside, none of which were mine. Fine materials made up each elaborate dress. Two appeared to be for day and one for evening.

  I placed my dress in an empty spot and closed the wardrobe, crossed the room and climbed into bed. As I slid beneath the bed linens, my feet touched warmth. A bed warmer had been placed at the bottom of the bed. I’d never experienced the luxury of warm sheets on a chilly night in the past. The sensation was pleasant. I laid in bed staring at the canopy over me, my thoughts crowding my mind, each vying for my attention.

  I recalled those thoughts as I gazed out of the window from my tower room. Thoughts which seemed foreign to me now. In three months, I had grown into my role. Tomorrow night, we would attend our first event as a married couple, my first event in high society. I would ring in the New Year as a duchess among the lords and ladies of the land.

  The dinner gong sounded, breaking into my thoughts. I pulled myself from my ruminating, setting my book down on the nearby table. I traversed the many halls to my room, pulling the cord on the wall as I entered to summon the maid.

  She arrived within moments, undoubtedly anticipating the call. “Good evening, Your Grace,” the girl greeted me.

  “Good evening, Elsie.”

  The girl, a housemaid, doubled as a ladies’ maid, helping me to fasten my dresses and finish my hair. I used her as little as possible since it pulled her from her other duties. It was a rather unfair situation to have thrusted upon the poor girl and one that I planned to remedy soon. I thanked her for her assistance as I pulled on my gloves. She excused herself from the room with a curtsy and I found my way to the drawing room where Robert and Henry Langford awaited me.

  “Good evening, Your Grace,” Henry addressed me.

  “Good evening, Mr. Langford. I am so pleased you could join us for dinner.”

  “Good evening, Lenora,” Robert said. “And how was the dress fitting? Ready for tomorrow?”

  “Yes,” I replied.

  “Are you looking forward to the party?” Mr. Langford inquired as we made our way into the dining room.

  “I’m afraid Lenora may be rather dreading it,” Robert admitted as he took his chair at the head of the table.

  “I am not,” I countered. “Though I cannot imagine you are looking forward to explaining my humble beginnings on our first outing.”

  “You care too much of others’ opinions, Lenora,” Robert warned. “I shall explain nothing to anyone beyond what I want them to know.”

  We continued the meal, discussing the advent of the new year and Robert’s upcoming trip to Glasgow in early January. I excused myself after dinner, allowing the men to speak about their business, and retired to my bedroom.

  Chapter 3

  I presented myself early the following morning, awaiting Robert’s arrival at the breakfast table. “Good morning, Lenora,” he greeted me. “You are up early.” He seated himself at the head of the table, retrieving his newspaper.

  “Good morning, Robert. Indeed, I am. I confess to having an ulterior motive.”

  “Oh?” he inquired, setting his paper aside.

  Our breakfast was served, and I proceeded with my request prior to my meal. “I should like to take on a ladies’ maid. I hoped to travel with you to Glasgow to engage one. Are you agreeable?”

  “To Glasgow? Have you someone specific in mind?”

  “Yes,” I confirmed. “I won’t be any trouble. I shall not interfere with your business dealings, I promise.”

  Robert chuckled and set his gaze on me. “Dear Lenora, you could never be trouble.”

  “So, you agree?”

  “Yes, I agree. It is a splendid idea.” I offered a slight smile, beginning my breakfast. “I’m quite pleased, Lenora. You are finally settling in to your new role.”

  “I am quite settled,” I assured him. “The castle is most comfortable. I have no complaints.”

  “No, I do not imagine you would, dear, even if something was not to your liking. Yet you’ve held yourself just beyond accepting your role fully. I worried you may never accept it.”

  My brows pinched together as he spoke. I fulfilled all duties required of a mistress of a dwelling such as this. I consulted with the staff regarding meals, ran the household and performed other tasks a lady such as myself was responsible for. I attempted to create an atmosphere in which my husband was at ease. It was, after all, his castle. Though we were a married couple, our marriage was in name only.

  I set my spoon on the underplate, prepared to discuss the issue. “Have I been remiss in some duty?” I inquired.

  “No, Lenora. You fulfill every duty expected of you, with expert precision, from what Buchanan has told me. The staff quite enjoys working for you.”

  “While I am pleased to hear this, I am troubled over your statements. If there is something lacking in my duties, I should prefer to be informed.”

  “There is nothing lacking on your part, Lenora. I merely refer to your tendency to disallow yourself to truly become part of the household. Your delay in seeking a ladies’ maid, or making any household changes, for example. I suppose the fault is mine. With our rather rushed marriage, you’ve been brought into the house more like a staff member than family.”

  “There is no fault on your part. Your offer was and continues to be generous. I shall work harder to…”

  Robert waved his hand to interrupt me. “I understand some of your reluctance may stem from the less-than-courteous treatment you’ve received throughout your life. You should not work harder, though, dear, you should not work at it at all.”

  I pondered his statements. Had I a reluctance to allow myself to be folded into a family? Family was not a foreign concept, but I had not experienced the comforts of a family for most of my adolescent life. Did I hold myself at a distance? In a marriage of convenience, this seemed expected. Yet…

  Robert interrupted my thoughts. “Eat your breakfast, Lenora. Do not dwell on it. There are no shortcomings on your behalf.”

  I nodded, retrieving my spoon to eat my porridge. “I shall not dwell on it,” I promised, though I was certain my mind would return to it.

  Robert eyed me sideways for a moment but did not return to the conversation. Instead, he moved on to a new topic. “The party this evening will provide a good opportunity to introduce you to many of the country’s society members.”

  I nodded with a curt smile. “Indeed.”

  Robert offered a small smile and returned to his newspaper. We finished our breakfast, and I excused myself to prepare for my final dress fitting, pleased that my plan had been approved.

  Buchanan showed my dressmaker to my room by mid-morn
ing. She carried the garment for the event this evening with her. The maid followed her, prepared to assist me in dressing. I gazed at the dress as the dressmaker fussed at its form, which she draped over the chaise. She faced me, a pleased expression on her face.

  “It is lovely,” I commented. “The detailing is exquisite. Shall I try it?”

  “Yes,” Madame Worth encouraged. “It should be perfect. But let us be sure. We must ensure your first outing is magnifique!”

  I nodded as the maid collected the dress and we disappeared behind the dressing screen. As Elsie began securing the dress, I gazed down at the gathered beige-gold fabric, at the bow and rose detail intricately stitched at the shoulder and around the bottom of the top skirt. The train of the dress was bustled thrice, roses adorning each gather. I fretted for a moment, worried I had allowed myself to be led into an overly extravagant choice.

  Elsie continued pulling at the bodice to tighten it around my waist. After a few moments, she finished the task. “Finished, Your Grace,” she said, stepping back. I emerged from the dressing screen and approached the full-length mirror.

  Madame Worth clasped her hands together in front of her face, thrilled with the result. “OH! Your Grace! You shall be the belle of the ball!”

  I gazed into the mirror, admiring the dress. The fabric, the cut and the detailing were impeccable. Madame Worth’s talent was obvious. “Is there anything amiss, Your Grace?” the woman asked when I did not respond.

  “No!” I assured her, rousing myself from my own thoughts. “I was lost in admiration of your work.”

  The woman placed a hand over her heart. “Your Grace, you are too kind.”

  “I am not,” I countered. “Your talent is obvious.” I glanced into the mirror again. “Are you sure it isn’t too ostentatious?”

  “Not at all, madam,” Madame Worth assured me, approaching me. “You must remember, you will be the highest-ranking lady at the party. I was sure to check the guest list before designing for you.”

  I nodded at her, catching her eye in the reflection. “I am very pleased. I shall feel as though I am the loveliest woman at the party, I am certain.”

  “As you should, Your Grace.”

  With Elsie’s assistance, I changed into my day dress and dismissed her to her other duties. Madame Worth and I chatted over tea. After she departed and I finished my lunch, I climbed to my tower room, settling into the window seat for a few hours of reading before dressing for the ball.

  After glancing over the winter landscape, I focused on the book I’d selected from the library. When I arrived, the library and its selections had thrilled me. I’d never beheld such an abundance of books in one place. The library at the orphanage had been small, tiny in comparison. I struggled to find suitable books to read that were new to me. Here, I should be kept satisfied for a long while.

  My most recent read, The Scarlet Letter, came from this library and was new to me. Published only thirteen years earlier, the orphanage’s library would never have included something so new.

  As I settled into the engaging story, a noise sounded from across the room. A low rattling growl called my attention to the doorway. I glanced up from my book, finding what I expected standing in the doorway. A dark-haired woman stood there, her disheveled hair escaping in every direction from her swept-up style. Dirt smudged her red dress. Her dark eyes bored into me, a sneer on her lips.

  “Hello, Annie,” I greeted her. “Are you planning to stay this time?”

  The preceding Duchess of Blackmoore narrowed her eyes at me. Her gray, sunken cheeks puffed at me as she elicited a hiss in my direction. I set my book aside and swung my legs over the side of the window seat. The movement spooked my specter, and she hastened away from my view. I sighed, regaining my perch next to the window. I would not give chase, I had tried that on a prior occasion and it had ended in disaster.

  On my second encounter with Annie, almost two months after my arrival, Annie had appeared to me in the hallway leading to my bedroom. She pawed at my bedroom door as I approached it when returning from dinner. When my proximity to her became too close for her comfort, she dashed down the hall. I followed. She led me in a winding chase through the castle, ending up in another turret, the very tower from which she had thrown herself. As I entered the room, my eyes fixed on her figure, I realized the error I’d made. What I beheld in front of me was no more than a mirror image. Annie stood behind me, slamming the door shut with a growl and locking me in the tower.

  I raced toward the door as it swung shut. Annie’s eyes glowed red as she sneered at me from beyond the threshold. I pushed against the door with all my strength, but it did not budge. I pounded against the door, calling for help from Annie first, then anyone who may hear me. No one came.

  I spent a cold night on the stone floor before a maid found me early the following morning after a search had commenced when I failed to turn up for breakfast. Despite insisting my well-being had not been compromised by the incident, I was put to bed with a hot toddy. An unfamiliar sensation for me since, even when ill, one was not permitted to remain in one’s bed at the orphanage.

  Mid-morning, Robert visited me, concerned over the episode. “Foolish of me,” I fibbed. “The door swung shut behind me and I had failed to check the lock.” I did not see a reason to provide the whole story. The living did not often understand the machinations of the dead. They sometimes operated in a curious way. In many cases, they were the antithesis of themselves when alive. The entire escapade was only a bit of mischief, an attempt to frighten me or exert some dominance. Robert studied me a moment as he weighed my words. “I am really quite fine.” I pushed myself up to sit straighter.

  “What were you doing in that tower at night?” he questioned.

  I pondered my response before giving it. “Following a lead on my special project,” I replied.

  He cocked his head, staring at me with his stormy gray eyes. “You have encountered Annie again,” he surmised.

  I nodded, confirming my second experience with the ghost of Annie Fletcher. “Yes, she awaited me at my door after dinner last night.”

  “Did she speak to you?” he inquired.

  “No,” I responded. “She is not up to communicating yet.”

  He nodded, his disappointment clear. “She will come around,” I promised. “It takes them time. They go unnoticed in most instances. It is often shocking to them when they do not. And they do not always communicate as we do.”

  His gaze fell to the bedcovers, and he failed to respond. “She will come around,” I reiterated, understanding the emotional toll the process took on him.

  “My apologies, Lenora. It pains me to learn of Annie’s apprehension.”

  “I understand. I shall be gentler with her in future encounters.”

  He waved his hand at me, dismissing the comment. He stood, stalking across the room. “It also troubles me that you endure this treatment.”

  “I have endured nothing,” I responded.

  “A night locked in a cold tower is not to be dismissed,” he countered.

  “That was my own foolishness.”

  “Lenora,” Robert chided, “the door does not lock itself.” He gleaned my explanation a deception. The jig was up.

  “There is no cause for worry,” I assured him. He glanced toward me. “I have sustained no injury.”

  “She was not like this in life,” he stated, returning his gaze out the window.

  “I am sure she was not,” I assured him. “The dead behave differently than they did in life. They can be confused and disturbed. They need time and understanding.”

  “I have endangered you by bringing you here. Lenora,” he paused, turning toward me, “I am sorry. I did not expect this when I sought answers.”

  “You owe me no apology,” I asserted. “I was aware of what I was taking on when I accepted. Besides, there is no harm done.”

  He offered a half-smile. “You take the situation very much in stride, Lenora.”

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nbsp; “I am well-acquainted with it. It has been my entire life.” I pushed the bedcovers back, intent on rising and going about my day. At the orphanage, a day spent in bed was not permitted unless one could not remain on one’s feet.

  Robert approached the bed. “Is there something you require?”

  “No,” I responded, standing. “I do not need to remain abed.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Yet you shall.”

  “It is unnecessary,” I contended.

  “Necessary or not, I insist upon it.” He paused. “As your husband,” he added, a coy expression on his face.

  “As my husband?” I queried with a chuckle. He raised his eyebrows again, cocking his head at me. I raised an eyebrow but climbed back into my bed. “Very well. I shall agree only by virtue of protecting the investment you made in me and to remain a dutiful wife. I have yet to provide you any answers. I do not wish to become ill and fail to hold up my end of our bargain.”

  “I do not wish you to become ill for any reason, bargain or otherwise.”

  I pulled the bedsheets around me. “Here I shall stay then.”

  My mind snapped back to the present. I’d made little headway since then. In three months, I’d had three encounters with the former mistress of Blackmoore. She was testing the boundaries with me, determining what she could and could not do. With any luck, as our comfort with each other grew, I would glean some evidence about her demise.

  Until then, I had other business to attend to. The dressing gong rang early. Given our travel plans, dressing would take place earlier than normal. I set my book aside and made my way to my bedroom.

  Elsie met me there to begin the process. Elsie’s hair styling ability had improved considerably in the few months she attended me. Using a recently learned technique, she swept my hair up in a smart style. I commended her on the style as I pulled my gloves on. She spritzed perfume on my hair. Though unaccustomed to wearing such frivolities, I was adapting to the habits of ladies in my station.