Photographer: Lecia McDermott
Model: Tamara Rokicki
Josephine had somehow kept a smile on her face the entire day. None of the guests at her wedding could have realized that she was terrified of her new husband, or that her brother had forced her to enter this union against her will. It had all happened so quickly. The request for her hand in marriage had come barely a month before and then she was at the altar. He was not an old man, only in his forties, but Josephine was only eighteen. Older than others she knew who had gotten married, but at least the men had been of a similar age. She had barely managed to keep back her tears when Baron Henri de Barbeau, known to all as Bluebeard, leaned down and kissed her to complete the ceremony. The coarse black hair covering his chin felt rough on her soft skin and inwardly she shuddered. No one noticed her discomfort at his touch. As they turned to their guests Josephine felt a piece of her soul break off and float away into the ether.
The guests cheered and they all filed out of the chapel, built on the property long ago by some particularly devout ancestor. As they crossed the small distance to the castle dining hall to continue the celebrations, Josephine breathed the fresh air deeply. She fought hard and smothered down the wild instinct that told her to run, run fast and far and don’t look back. Her hands, hidden by the folds of her elaborate gown, were curled into tight fists. She could feel her nails, sharp, as she pressed them into her own flesh.
Her new husband was only a Baron, but even so he was one of the wealthiest men in the aristocracy. Josephine’s family was well known and respected but not aristocracy. She found the wealth that surrounded her intimidating. The castle was five stories high with a single tower attached to the west side. It was large and filled with beautiful art collected over the years by the Barbeau family. The dining hall itself was more than large enough for the crowd that entered it. The servants had decorated it beautifully using iris flowers and lace. Josephine and Henri were the last to enter and they took their places, seated together at the head table. He turned to her and she looked into his dark brown eyes, but couldn’t fathom what his thoughts might be. She’d had more than a couple glasses of wine but was unable to force down more than a few small bites of the elaborate feast that had been prepared for them.
After the meal, Josephine sat next to her husband as the party went on into the night. There were dancers, jugglers, and even a man who had a monkey that performed tricks. This last normally would have had her attention, but all she could think about was surviving. Smile, breathe, nod in acknowledgement at anyone who spoke to her. She consciously thought about each movement of her body, and each of the very few words she spoke. Finally the women began to disperse and it was only the men who remained. Josephine excused herself and let a servant show her to her new rooms.
She had nothing to compare it to except her imagination, but her wedding night was less violent than she had imagined. Her lady’s maid, Rema, had told her the basics of what to expect. Rema herself was unmarried, but she was the youngest of four sisters and had a wealth of second hand knowledge. Still, when he entered her room Josephine, had felt the grip of terror and needed to take a deep breath to gather control of herself. She did as Rema had told her.
Afterward, as he was leaving, he had turned his head to her and said, “Thank you, I look forward to seeing you at the morning meal.”
Having heard the door close again, Rema entered from her little room which adjoined her mistresses. She went to Josephine who had curled into herself and quietly cried. Not so much about the marriage act which had just taken place, but the entirety of her situation. She had held herself together all day, and now she no longer could. Rema felt her heart break as she smoothed away the dark tresses of hair that made their way into her mistress’s face. Soon the young lady was asleep and Rema covered her with a blanket and went to her own bed. As she lay there gazing up at the rafters, she said a quick prayer that the Lord protect them in this new beautiful but uncertain place.
The next morning at breakfast Josephine was dressed, her hair gathered up into a loose bun, and her face fresh. There was no trace of the crying girl Rema had comforted during the night. She attempted to smile at her husband as he joined her at the table, but he hardly glanced at her and she regretted the gesture.
The breakfast room was much smaller than the dining hall they’d hosted dinner in after the wedding ceremony. Still it was beautiful, the eastern wall lined with windows which filled the room with sunlight, giving the atmosphere a light and airy feel. The table had room for eight, but there was only Henri and Josephine. Henri was seated at the head of the table, and Josephine was to his right. She observed the exquisite porcelain laid out upon the lace tablecloth. She’d never seen anything so fine. White porcelain with tiny blue flowers around the edge.
As they ate in silence she missed her brothers. Even the oldest, Gerard, who had agreed to this match against her wishes. She would eventually forgive him, because he thought he was giving her safety and security, but it was too raw now. Maybe someday when she understood her role and place here as the baroness, and the acute pain in her chest had become just a dull ache she could ignore.
After they ate she tried to excuse herself, rising from her seat, but her husband raised a hand and stopped her. She sat back down, and looked at him expectantly. He reached in his pocket and withdrew a ring that jangled with keys, placing them in front of her on the table.
“These are yours. You are the lady of the house now. I expect you to run the household. You may bring any concerns to me of course, but I travel extensively for business, so you will need to learn quickly. In fact, I am leaving for India next month. Mrs. Lussier has been with me for many years, and should be a great help to you.” He paused and nodded to an older woman standing in the corner of the room before continuing. “You have free rein, of course. This is your home and everything inside is yours. With one exception. Do you see the iron key?”
Josephine looked at the key ring. There seemed to be at least ten keys on it, all of them bronze save for one iron key. She nodded to Henri and folded her hand around the iron key.
Upon her skin touching the iron, Josephine’s mind flooded with images and sounds. Blood dripped down walls and seeped into the floors. A baby cried and a woman screamed.
Josephine let go of the key. She looked up at Henri, but he hadn’t noticed anything, so she didn’t speak. This sudden strange vision reminded of her mother. She had been sent away to a convent when she began to speak of seeing the future. Her father had felt it was necessary to hide her away - for fear of her being burned as a witch. Josephine could barely remember her. The memory of her mother was only the smell of jasmine and the feel of a kiss on her brow. Surely Henri would think she was as insane as her mother if she mentioned what she had just experienced. She focused on what he was saying and tried to wash the horrible, bloody images from her mind.
“There is a room on the third floor, you will know it - there is a red rose painted on the door. It is locked and shall remain so. It is my room, for my business. You must never enter it. Never. I will provide everything you will ever want or need. I will be a good husband to you...provided you never defy me. Do you understand?” Henri’s gaze was intense and Josephine had to look down at his mouth instead.
“I understand,” she answered. She couldn’t fathom what could be in this room that was so private to him. It didn’t matter to her anyway. What mattered was that her fate was in his hands. He could be cruel or he could be kind. He said he was ready to grant her every request. If all it took to secure his agreeability was to stay out of one room in this massive house, then she could easily agree to it.
Or so she thought.
In the month before Henri left, Josephine thought she would get to know her new husband, however he didn’t seem interested in spending any time with her. Well, other than his nightly visits. They remained, however, just as perfunctory as they had been since the first time. Josephine wasn’t sure if she should be grat
eful or disappointed. They had breakfast and supper together, but other than that Henri spent most of his time in his study. To her surprise it was not the room with the red rose on the door.
She did manage to learn a few things. Things he didn’t like. She was expected to dress each day as if company was expected. One morning she came downstairs with her hair down and wearing a clean, but simple dress. He didn’t say a word to her, his look wasn’t even exactly angry, but was cold disapproval. He had only gotten angry with her once and she didn’t want it to ever happen again.
They were having a small gathering, just a couple of men whom Henri did business with and their wives. Everything was going nicely, until Josephine interrupted Henri. He was discussing a time he had been traveling to Newfoundland to import a shipment of cod. He said that he and the men had seen a beast in the ocean, a hydra.
“But a hydra simply can’t be a real creature!” Josephine had interjected, smiling. When she met Henri’s eyes her smile faded. Then he broke eye contact and the evening continued, but the tension remained. Once their guests had left and they were alone he had taken her roughly by the arm, causing her to wince, and escorted her to her rooms.
“You don’t ever interrupt me, and don’t you ever, ever, contradict me again. Learn your place,” he scolded her before slamming the door shut between them. Scared and confused by his strange reaction to such a small moment, Josephine hardly spoke at all for the next few days.
The day Henri left for India, the household gathered formally to see him off. Josephine stood with Rema beside her, unsure what she should do. Should she just say goodbye? Kiss him? She wished desperately she had someone to advise her in these matters. Of course she had Rema, but she just didn’t feel this was something she could ask her ladies maid.
Henri emerged from the estate in his traveling attire. All his trunks were already stowed away in the carriage by the footman. He nodded to the servants and finally stopped and faced Josephine last. “I will be in India for a few months, but I am sure you will be fine. Remember our discussion.”
She nodded. “Of course. Safe travels.” Then, not sure how it would be received, she placed a hand on his arm, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed him. Afterwards, he merely patted her arm and entered the carriage. Josephine felt her eyes filling up with tears as the horses began carrying her husband away. She tried to blink them away, and she turned to see the servants looking at her expectantly.
“Well, let’s go back inside, shall we?” She led the way, pondering over Henri’s disinterest in her. Why was he so detached? Was it something she was doing wrong? He was the one who asked for her hand. Josephine took a deep breath as she stepped back into her new home. She hadn’t wanted this marriage, but since she was now in it, she wanted it to work out.
The servants went back to their respective tasks and Josephine was left alone. She hadn’t done much exploring of the estate, instead she had lingered around Henri hoping she could please him in some way. She’d really only become familiar with the first floor which contained the dining hall, breakfast room, sitting room, ballroom, and library. His constant indifference to her wore thin on her nerves. She couldn’t bear the thought of spending the rest of her life walking on eggshells as she had done these last couple of weeks. She wasn’t a particularly outspoken person, but neither was she someone who sat silent all day waiting for directions.
She decided she would take this day to learn more about her new home. She went up to her room and retrieved the ring of keys, tying it with a ribbon to the satin sash around her waist.
Satin.
Josephine took a moment to appreciate the material she had never expected to own in such quantities before. She’d had plenty of wool and linen, but rarely anything else. Before the wedding a seamstress had come to measure her and now her armoire was filled with satin, silk, and velvet. Packages arrived each week with dresses, ribbons, jewelry, oils, and fragrances. All of the latest fashions.
She’d told Henri she didn’t require these things, but he’d said, “My wife should be dressed to her station.” At first she had been pleased, thinking he meant to spoil her. Now she understood it was purely to maintain his status. It was disappointing, but she didn’t know what she could do about it.
She sighed and decided she would start her exploration here on the second floor where her room was. There were six other rooms in the hall. They didn’t take long to explore. One, which was fairly small and connected to hers, was of course Rema’s. Josephine respected her privacy and refrained from going through it. Across the hall was Henri’s suite of rooms which she also left alone. On the other side of Rema’s, with a connecting door, was a large room clearly designed to be a nursery. Josephine smiled at the birds painted on the walls. There was no furniture or decor here, except for a doll with an embroidered smile and button eyes sitting in the corner. Josephine wondered who it might have belonged to, as it looked a little worn and well loved. She picked up the doll and again a vision consumed her.
She saw a woman with long, blonde hair and blue eyes. She was in this room, the birds freshly painted on the walls. She was rocking a little girl, the doll clutched in a tiny hand. The girl had the woman’s blonde hair, but dark brown eyes.
Eyes like Henri’s.
Unsettled by this weird vision, Josephine set the doll back down. She thought maybe she hadn’t been occupied enough and her imagination was getting carried away. She shook her head as if she could clear it that way.
She checked out the other rooms, which didn’t take long as they were simply bedrooms waiting for guests to come and fill them. Even so they were larger and more luxurious than any rooms that had been in her family home. By far the loveliest room on this floor was the last one at the other end of the hall.
It was a beautiful sunroom, lined with windows on three walls. Beautiful plants hung from the ceiling and walls, and many lined the floor. Brimming pots scattered around pretty metal benches that had been painted white. In one corner there was an easel surrounded by jars of paints, brushes, and canvases. She decided she loved this room, even though she couldn’t paint, nor had she a green thumb. Still she couldn’t get enough of the airy floral aroma that hung in the air.
Having seen all of the space here, she set her sights on the third floor. As she placed her foot on the first step of the staircase, however, Mrs. Lussier’s voice came from behind her.
“Madam? If you please, we need to organize the menu for the month, and plan for any parties or activities you may have.”
“Of course, I’ll be there shortly,” Josephine answered as she turned and saw the older lady nod and go back the way she had come down the hall. Planning a menu was not something Josephine had done in the past and she hoped she didn’t look like a fool in front of the kitchen staff. Not to mention this sounded like a very tedious task and she wished she could avoid it. She went back to her room and put the keys away in their box. Time to execute her wifely duties.
Planning the menu had been just as long and tedious as Josephine had anticipated. Thankfully the cook, Mrs. Beaufort, was a wonderful woman. She was in her sixties, and had been widowed young, never having a child. She’d worked ever since for the Barbeau’s. She was very grandmotherly and kind. She had Josephine sit down and made her a nice hot cup of tea before taking down all of her food preferences. She had done most of the work actually, Josephine just interjecting now and then. Late in the evening, when their work was done, she had taken Josephine by the hand and told her to come see her in the kitchen any time she wanted anything special. Josephine smiled, glad to have found a friend.
It was really too late to do any exploring now, so she made her way to the library. This is where the Barbeau family portraits hung. Most of them had plaques with the names of the person in the picture engraved upon them. There were three beautiful young women portrayed in modern portraits, but only their first names were listed. Emily, Amie, and Annette. Emily looked familiar. She had long, blonde hair and clear blue eyes. She wa
s the woman she’d seen earlier when holding the doll. Josephine was aware that Henri was a widower, and wondered if Emily was his late wife. Perhaps tomorrow she would visit Mrs. Beaufort again for tea and inquire.
She reached out to trail a finger along the yellow paint portraying Emily’s long golden locks.
In an instant Josephine was transported. She was in a large room with long heavy drapes blocking the sunlight. Emily sat on a large four poster bed, holding the little girl, now about five years old. They were both thin and pale. Heavy footsteps came towards the door, and the little girl slipped from her mother’s lap and crawled down under the bed. Her shaking body hid behind the large green duvet that hung down to the floorboards. Then Josephine’s vision turned dark red, smears of blood blurring together, and all she could hear were screams.
Josephine gasped as she came back to reality. She placed a hand on her heart and tried to steady its beat. What were these nightmares plaguing her? How could she make them stop? She thought again of her mother and closed her eyes, willing herself to ignore what she’d seen. She would not let her mind run away with strange visions and thoughts. She would not be shut away.
Forcefully she turned her mind back to the books that lined the walls. She loved to read but they hadn’t had many books other than religious texts back home. She brought one down from the shelf and read the title: Othello. She thought that sounded as interesting as anything else, and brought it back to her rooms with her. Once there she settled in the window seat surrounded by pillows, and distracted herself from her life, which felt like it was beginning a downward spiral into lunacy.
She woke to the clap of thunder and flashes of lightning some time in the night, still sitting in the window seat, her book in her lap. It was dark and rain slapped the glass hard. Chilly, she rose and pulled back the quilt of her bed, intending to climb in, cover up, and get back to her dreams. Before her head could touch the pillow there was a clatter above her. Josephine paused, wondering if it had been the storm raging outside, but then heard footsteps running, and finally, the slamming of a distant door.
Twisted Ever After Page 4