Death of a Duchess

by Nellie H. Steele

  She slapped me across the cheek. “I said, do you understand, girl?” the woman roared at me.

  Stunned, I clutched my cheek as tears escaped my eyes. I nodded. “Speak up, Lenora! Answer when spoken to!” she shouted, swatting at me again.

  “Ouch!” I shouted between sobs.

  “Stop your infantile sobbing!” she shrieked at me. I could not control my sobs, still reeling from the events. “I said stop!” She grasped me by my shoulders, pulling my face near hers. “Listen to me, Lenora! You shall not behave in this manner here! You shall behave as a mature young lady! Now cease this crying at once and answer me!”

  I choked back my sobs as she released me, nearly sending me sprawling onto the floor. I wiped at my face and sniffled. “I understand,” I choked out.

  “Say it again, this time, with your hands folded in front of you like a young lady.”

  I folded my hands in front of me. “I understand,” I repeated.

  “I understand, headmistress,” she corrected.

  With a sniffle, I repeated the words again. “I understand, headmistress.”

  She nodded her head at me, crossing the room to stand behind her desk. I turned to face her. “Now, I shall also not tolerate any nonsense like you displayed at the convent.”

  “I understand, headmistress,” I repeated a third time.

  Seemingly satisfied, she continued, informing me I would sleep in the attic.

  Chapter 13

  A chill passed over me as I recalled my first night in the orphanage. The anniversary of my second abandonment by my caregivers always brought a sense of sorrow over me. This year proved no exception. However, Robert planned a trip to Glasgow in a few days’ time and invited me along. The dates would mean I would be in Glasgow on 10 March. The distraction would ease the melancholy.

  A knock roused me from my musings. I pulled my gaze from the scenery to find Robert at the door.

  “Hello, Lenora. I hope I’m not interrupting.”

  “Not at all,” I said. “Please come in.” I closed the open book on my lap and stood.

  Robert entered the room, a small box in his hands. “This just arrived,” he said, waving the box in the air.

  I studied it, curious as to why Robert climbed to the tower with it. The small cream-colored box was wrapped with a sapphire blue ribbon. “What is it?” I questioned.

  “Open it.” He handed the box to me. I accepted it, my brow furrowing as I glanced at the object. I raised my eyes to Robert’s, my gaze questioning. “’Tis a gift.”

  “A gift? Is there no end to your spoiling of me?” I questioned, sinking onto my window seat as I undid the bow.

  “It is not spoiling for a husband to give his wife a birthday gift!” Robert retorted.

  I stopped untying the ribbon. “It is not my birthday!” I exclaimed.

  “No, it is not,” Robert admitted. “It is a belated birthday gift. I was unaware your birthday had passed shortly after we wed. What a terrible husband I would be to miss my new wife’s birthday just after our wedding! I hope I have redeemed myself with the gift.”

  “No redemption is necessary,” I assured him. “And neither was the gift. Though I am delighted you thought of me.”

  “I hope you are keen on it,” Robert replied, joining me on the window seat.

  With the ribbon undone, I pulled the top from the box. Nestled in crushed paper inside the box laid a rectangular golden object. I lifted the small but heavy item out with care, studying it. Ornate decorations covered it. And a small bird was depicted on the top of the box where I also detected a hinge. “’Tis a singing box,” Robert added. He reached over and pressed a small knob on the box’s right side. The hinge on the top popped open, revealing a colorful bird. It chirped a tune as it flapped its wings.

  I had never witnessed such a clever contraption. I marveled at it as its sweet song filled the air. “It is to replace the box that you lost when Annie… well, never mind,” Robert said.

  “The porcelain figurine?” I questioned, recalling my heartbreak when the object smashed to the floor.

  “Yes,” Robert replied with a nod. “This one is not as delicate and thereby, should not break! I hope you find it an adequate replacement.”

  “Adequate?” I questioned. “This is more than adequate. I have never seen such an object before. It is enchanting.”

  A smile crossed Robert’s lips. “I am delighted you find it so.”

  “Thank you, Robert,” I answered, offering him a kiss on the cheek. “I adore it! I shall keep it here in my tower room. Oh, unless I should like to listen to it before I fall asleep, in which case I shall take it to my bedroom.” I chattered on, perhaps more than I should have.

  “I am not certain I have witnessed you so excited before, Lenora,” Robert mentioned.

  “Oh,” I murmured, wondering if I had babbled too much, “I am sorry. I did not mean to prattle on.”

  “Nonsense,” Robert answered with a wave of his hand. “I am pleased you enjoy the gift. I was most anxious when I sent for it that you would not care for it.”

  “I do,” I assured him.

  “Good,” he responded. He stood and kissed my forehead. “How are your preparations for our travel coming?”

  “Excellent,” I answered. “I am looking most forward to it.”

  “Hmm. I should think you would find it dreadfully boring. Have you plans?”

  “Not at all,” I assured him. “I am eager to visit Glasgow. I plan to visit with a friend from the orphanage.”

  “Eager to visit? Oh dear, perhaps you find Scottish country life dreadfully boring.”

  I chuckled at his comments. “No, dear,” I responded. “I do not find country life at all boring. However, it was around this date when I arrived at the orphanage. I often find myself dwelling on the memory of that distressing day. But, with the travel, I shall have plenty to distract me. And I am eager to see how Tilly is getting on.”

  “Ah,” Robert said with a smile. “I see. What a terrible memory to commemorate. Well, I am glad to be of some service to you during this time.”

  “You are more than just some service,” I answered, matching his expression.

  His grin broadened. “I will see you at dinner. I am going riding.”

  “Please be careful,” I warned him, recalling his injured leg.

  “I shall, dear,” he promised. His brow furrowed, and he added, “It occurs to me you have never asked to ride. If you enjoy it, ask Thomas, our stable hand, to prepare a horse for you whenever you like. The grounds are most beautiful to take in on horseback.”

  “I do not ride,” I responded.

  He paused a moment, as though uncertain how to respond. “Do not ride?” he repeated, his voice phrasing it as a question.

  “No,” I answered. “I never learned. Girls at St. Mary’s had little use for the knowledge and no means to acquire it, anyway.”

  “Yes, I understand,” Robert said. “Well…” He paused again, as though unsure. “I shall teach you. If you are keen to learn, that is.”

  “I should enjoy that,” I responded. “I would like to take in more of the estate than I am able to walk.”

  He smiled at me again. “Excellent. We shall begin upon our return from Glasgow.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  He offered me another kiss on my forehead before departing. Alone, I turned my attentions to my new trinket. The brass box sparkled in the sun streaming through the windows. I smiled down at it, pressing the button to trigger the mechanism that released the bird. The little blue bird leapt from his hiding spot, his wings flapping and his beak opening and closing as he sang his merry tune.

  I played it several more times before I worried I may break it on the first day I owned it. Instead, I returned my attentions to my book, though my mind wandered to preparations for my trip. As my mind listed items to be completed, my gaze fell upon the small singing box. Warmth filled my heart as I pressed the button, allowing the bird again to serenad
e me.

  This March, I would not feel melancholy. Wistfulness would be banished by the small chirping bird. I had finally found my home.

  My lips formed a broad smile. I reached for the box, caressing it. I closed my eyes, feeling its cool metal beneath my fingers. I rubbed the intricate details. My hand fell on the knob and I pressed the button again, freeing the bird to sing anew.

  The song ended prematurely. My stomach jolted, and a lump formed in my throat. Panic rose in my chest as I assumed I had broken the trinket already. My eyes snapped open. I focused my attention on the small box, but something else drew my gaze.

  Pale fingers rested on top of the box. I followed them up to a hand, wrist, arm and ultimately to stare at a pale face. Annie hovered over me; her fingers firmly pressed on the box. “Hello, Annie,” I said. Her dark eyes bored into me as though she could study my soul. “You don’t care for the bird’s song?” She raised her hand, readying to swat the box away. “No!” I shouted, leaping from my seat and grabbing hold of the box. “Do not touch it. It is mine, a gift. I shall not see it broken.” My eyes met hers. “Please,” I added.

  She lowered her hand, and I set the box on the table. “You haven’t visited in some time, Annie,” I continued. She stood unmoving; her mouth set in a grim expression. “I suppose we both needed a respite after the last encounter.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and she raised an eyebrow at me. “I do not believe you intended to hurt me,” I confessed. I paused. “Am I incorrect?”

  Annie pointed to the singing box. I furrowed my brow, attempting to determine her meaning. “What is it, Annie?” I questioned.

  Her arm did not move, continuing to point to the box. “The box?” I paused, assessing any reaction on her part. None showed. “It was a gift… from Robert.”

  Her arm lowered, and she nodded. I struggled to understand. “Does the gift disturb you? Is it the sound? Or perhaps the concept that Robert has given me a gift?”

  Annie shook her head. The crinkle in my brow deepened. “I do not understand,” I admitted. “You pointed at the box. What is it about the box?”

  Annie swung her head in agitation. I paced the floor, my hand resting on my forehead. “It isn’t the sound. It isn’t the box itself. It isn’t the fact that Robert gifted it to me. What is it?” I threw my hands out with frustration.

  Her arm raised, and she again pointed at the box. I sighed and returned to pacing. “Not the box itself…” I murmured. “Not the gift…” I replayed the conversation in my mind, trying to focus on what triggered the nod from Annie. I halted my pacing, staring at her, throwing my arms in the air. “Annie, I do not understand what you are trying to communicate!”

  Her arm, which never ceased pointing to the box, raised. I followed its trajectory. Her finger now pointed out the window. A horse rode from the stables, traveling away from the castle. I spun to face her again. “Robert!” I exclaimed.

  Annie nodded her head slowly, lowering her arm. I smiled at her, a sense of achievement filling her. This marked our first successful communication! The smile was quickly replaced by a confused expression. “But what about Robert?” I questioned as the crinkle returned to my brow.

  Annie continued to stare at me with her piercing gaze. I met her stare, squinting my eyes at her as though it may help me read her mind. “You are trying to communicate something about Robert. It is not your upset over the gift. What is it?” Annie stared, unflinching, in response. “Ugh,” I groaned, shaking my head. I resumed pacing again as I attempted to solve the puzzle. “Do you wish to communicate something to Robert?” I asked, pausing in my ambling to gauge her response. She shook her head. “No,” I said, resuming my pacing. “Are you unhappy with Robert?” I tried as my next query.

  A slight nod. I smiled, proud of myself. “You are unhappy with Robert,” I repeated. I paused a moment, thinking. “Is this… was he the cause…” A sharp shake of the head cut off my words. No, I pondered, no, Robert was not the cause of Annie’s suicide. I chided myself for even beginning to suggest it. The Robert I was acquainted with could never drive a woman to suicide. “So, you are unhappy with Robert now, not before your death.” Another nod. My mind whirled as I computed the information I possessed and tried to assimilate it into an answer.

  “What has Robert done to upset you?” I queried aloud. Annie responded by pointing at me. I glanced down at my chest where she pointed as though perhaps a message would appear there. I raised my eyes to hers, my expression questioning. “Me?” I paused again. “Is it our marriage?”

  Annie shook her head again. A snarling growl emanated from her. Her features darkened and her lips turned into a snarl. Frustration was growing inside her. “I am as frustrated as you,” I admitted. I returned to pacing. “Oh! If you could only speak!”

  She lowered her arm and her snarl ceased. Her features remained dark, but she made no move to leave. Her eyes bore into me. I breathed in a deep breath. “All right. I shall try again.” I paused, gathering all the facts I had, walking across the breadth of the room. “Robert has upset you. And the upset involves me. It is not the gift, nor our marriage.” I spun on my heel, ambling across the room in the opposite direction. I halted mid-step. My eyebrows raised and my jaw fell open. I twisted to face Annie. “You are upset that Robert restricted our communication! He removed the door to the tower and boarded the windows. He forbade me from pursuing our conversations!”

  The darkness lifted on Annie’s face and she nodded. I clapped my hands. “I have done it!” I exclaimed. I grinned at her, though she did not match my expression. “This is our first successful communication!” Annie’s lackluster response to my delight dampened my spirits. I replaced my grin with a more serious expression. I continued, “You have no reason to be upset with Robert. He only means to protect me. In his mind, he judged you intended to harm me. The encounter nearly resulted in my death.” A chill passed over me as I said the words and a lump formed in my throat. I swallowed hard, not allowing my mind to return to the fright I’d experienced. “Though I do not believe you intended to harm me, did you?”

  Annie shook her head, her brown eyes fixed upon me. “I have told Robert this. But he does not understand, Annie. You must give him time.” Annie’s eyes flashed red for a moment, a dark expression crossing her face. “I shall make him understand,” I promised.

  Annie stared at me another moment. Then she flitted to the doorway. She hovered there a moment before motioning for me to follow. Robert’s warning echoed in my mind for a moment before I chose to ignore it. I sped after her, catching her red dress disappearing around the turret’s curving stairs.

  I caught up to her at the bottom of the stairs. She led me through the hallways and straight back to the tower from which she’d thrown herself. I studied the steps ahead of me as Annie disappeared around the bend. My jaw quavered as I put one foot on the first stair. I steadied my jaw and my nerves and climbed after her. I reached the halfway point. The doorless portal yawned at me from above. Annie stood in the entryway; her eyes fixed on me.

  I swallowed hard, a knot forming in the pit of my stomach. I took another step up, my legs wobbling, threatening to collapse. My teeth dug into my bottom lip as my eyes brimmed with tears.

  My last experience here still frightened me. Perhaps more so now in retrospect than it had in the moment. While I maintained Annie did not intend to harm me, the recollection of dangling for those precious few moments from the tower window made my knees weak, my stomach somersault and my hands tremble.

  I opened my mouth to speak as Annie signaled me to approach her. My parched throat found it difficult to push the words out. “I cannot,” I finally managed before turning to flee down the steps. I stood at the bottom, my back against the stone wall as I gasped for breath to calm my frayed nerves.

  A tear escaped my eye, running down my cheek. My fingers wiped it away as I fought to pull myself together. I’d never been afraid of the dead before. Though, to be fair, I still was not. Annie did not frighten me.
Rather, fear of being harmed did.

  Silly, I chided myself. Annie did not intend to harm me. The experience only provided a mechanism for communication between us. I must steel my nerves and continue my investigation. I filled my lungs with air, drawing myself upright and pressing my shoulders back. With a determined expression, I swung around the corner and climbed the staircase.

  As I reached the halfway point, I paused. My gaze fell upon the open doorway. Annie no longer stood there. “Annie?” I called. I received no response.

  I considered turning back. Annie must have gone, figuring I would not return. No, I insisted with a shake of my head. No, I would continue. I must. I climbed each of the remaining steps, firming my resolve and my mind with each footfall. I possessed the strength to reenter that room, I told myself.

  I reached the top of the stairs, hesitating on the landing just outside the doorway. I peered inside, grasping the doorjamb to steady my legs, which threatened to betray me. An empty room stared back at me. My foot hovered over the threshold. After a breath, I placed it inside the room, followed by the other. I drew in another deep breath. I had done it. I had reentered the room and faced my fear.

  “Annie?” I called again. “I am sorry. My nerves remain rattled after my last experience here. But I have overcome my fear.”

  I waited a moment but received no response. Annie did not appear. “Annie?” I tried a third time. I waited another moment. “Next time then.”

  I exited the room and rushed down the stairs. Despite the courage I displayed moments earlier, my trepidation over the room remained. I hurried to put distance between me and that fated space.

  Over dinner, I broached the subject of Annie’s visit with Robert. Annie’s vexation with him may be mended with a simple conversation. At least I hoped so. “Annie visited me today,” I announced as I stirred my soup.

  “Oh?” Robert inquired, dropping his spoon from his mouth and staring at me.

  “Yes,” I continued. “As I listened to my singing box, she quieted it to draw my attention.” Robert’s jaw tensed, but I continued, determined to get my point across. “She is upset.”