Death of a Duchess

by Nellie H. Steele

  “Yesterday, my wife called upon you to discuss the placement of a girl from your school as a ladies’ maid. You were unable to accommodate the request. I find it surprising you were unable to assist her, though I suspect that had little to do with the lack of availability of a suitable girl.”

  “Well…” Headmistress Williamson began, her eyes darting around the room as though searching for an answer. “I… I…” The headmistress swallowed hard. “I am not sure what Len… Duchess Blackmoore imparted about our discussion, but the fact is, Duke Blackmoore, there were simply no girls I felt acceptable for the position.”

  “No girls acceptable for the position or my wife not acceptable for your girls?” Robert pushed. I realized in that instant the true nature of the visit. My husband had no intention on offering a donation. He meant to scold the headmistress for her treatment of me. Guilt washed over me. I should not have mentioned my disappointment over the incident yesterday.

  “Robert,” I whispered, reaching for his hand behind his back.

  Headmistress Williamson’s mouth quavered as she considered her answer. “I... That is…”

  “That is what, headmistress?” Robert pressed on.

  “This isn’t necessary,” I breathed as I stood.

  “An apology from Headmistress Williamson is completely necessary,” Robert assured me. “Please sit, dear.” I regained my seat at my husband’s behest.

  “Apology?” Headmistress Williamson queried as she seated herself. “Yes, I do apologize for our inability to fill your staff position, however…” Her voice faltered as she glanced to Robert. Robert raised his eyebrows at the word, waiting for her to continue. “However, given Duchess Blackmoore’s… unique view of the world…” she paused. “I am not sure if you are aware of it, but I felt it most inappropriate to …”

  Robert held up his hand. “I shall stop you there, madam.” Robert clasped his hands behind his back again, pacing in front of the desk. “Your apology should be directed toward my wife for your less than courteous treatment of her. I am very much aware of her ‘unique view of the world,’ as you put it. And it has carved her into a beautiful, caring, compassionate individual. Qualities that should be prized but instead are scorned. Qualities you obviously lack, headmistress.”

  “I am sorry if you deigned my behavior less than suitable, Duchess Blackmoore,” Headmistress Williamson responded. “It was not my intention. I merely considered the situation less than ideal. Though I…”

  Robert held up his hand again, stopping her. He raised his voice, heat entering it. “That’s quite enough. You misunderstand my meaning, headmistress. I do not wish you to apologize for my wife’s perception of your attitude. I wish you to apologize for your attitude, intended or otherwise.”

  Headmistress Williamson stared at Robert, swallowing hard again. She offered a brief smile at him, turning her gaze to me and repeating the gesture. “I am sorry, Duchess Blackmoore,” she responded just above a whisper.

  For a decade, I had endured poor treatment at this woman’s hands. She spurned me for my ability, though, as with most, she failed to understand it. Instead, she viewed it as abnormal, evil, a thing to be reviled. Her attitudes regarding my capabilities with the dead led her to treat me as subhuman in many instances.

  Still, in this moment, as uneasiness bordering on fear flashed through her eyes, I experienced only empathy for the woman. “Thank you, Headmistress Williamson,” I replied. “Please let us consider the matter concluded.”

  Headmistress Williamson glanced to Robert, her eyes questioning his evaluation of her performance. “My wife is most gracious,” he noted.

  “Indeed,” Headmistress Williamson breathed. “Again, I meant no disrespect.”

  “Understood, though in the future,” Robert responded, “you may consider exercising greater judgement in your behavior. You oversee the development of several young women who should be taught better judgement than you displayed.”

  “Indeed,” the headmistress repeated.

  Robert nodded his head at her. “We shall take up no more of your time, Headmistress Williamson. Come, Lenora.”

  Headmistress Williamson stood as I did. “Perhaps an arrangement can still be made…” Headmistress Williamson began.

  Robert turned back toward her. “That will not be necessary,” Robert replied. “We have made other arrangements. I am afraid you may be correct in your assessment that girls from your school would not fit within our household.”

  “I see,” the headmistress responded. “Then perhaps you would consider a…”

  Robert interrupted her for the third time. “A donation?” he inquired.

  Headmistress Williamson paused a moment. “It would further the girls’ educations so that perhaps we would provide a more appropriate match for households such as yours in the future.”

  Robert considered her request for a moment. “I leave the decision of your request to my wife,” Robert answered, setting his gaze on me.

  I glanced between the two of them before responding. “I am sure the girls here would benefit from a donation,” I responded.

  Robert nodded. “I shall see that my man provides you a generous donation within the week, headmistress. Good day.” Robert drew me through the door, guiding me across the foyer.

  “Thank you!” Headmistress Williamson called from behind her desk. “We are most grateful!” Her voice echoed in the entryway as we departed the building. We descended the stairs, climbing into the carriage, and set off.

  As the carriage pulled away, I glanced to Robert. “You are more generous than I am, Lenora,” he admitted.

  “That was unnecessary,” I replied. “I do not mean to be ungrateful nor lecture you, though I did not require an apology for her poor behavior.”

  “Require or not, you deserved one. I cannot imagine how you tolerated that woman for over ten years.”

  “I had little choice,” I conceded. “One becomes accustomed to their surroundings and learns to accept them.”

  “One should never accept such poor treatment.”

  “Which is why I chose generosity. Those girls do not have a choice to accept their lives or not.”

  Robert gazed at me a moment. “The wisdom you display at your young age is a constant surprise to me.”

  “I have a significant advantage,” I quipped, referencing my ability.

  Robert smiled at my attempt at humor. “Well, at the very least, she should not trouble you any further if you have any future dealings with her. Though I would not recommend it.”

  I smiled and nodded at him, settling back into my seat for the journey.

  Chapter 7

  As the carriage rumbled along beneath me, a smile crossed my face as the notion of us inching closer to Blackmoore Castle, my home, swirled in my mind. My thoughts turned from my impending arrival at home to the life I’d left behind. The confrontation with Headmistress Williamson frothed in my mind. Competing memories fought for my attention. I replayed the conversation between my husband and the headmistress over. Despite the harrowing years spent at the orphanage, I’d experienced compassion for her in that moment. With the reputation of the orphanage on the line, she had been backed into a corner and forced to apologize. I doubted the sincerity of the apology, but she had still made it, if only to save her own job.

  My mind regressed further, pouring over that decade spent at St. Mary’s. Following the unceremonious drop off by my previous guardians, who imparted the details of my mysterious affliction to the headmistress, I had endured less than pleasant treatment. Headmistress Williamson viewed my special talent as a curse. I spent my first night in the orphanage in the attic. No bed existed at that time in the attic of St. Mary’s. Instead, I spent a chilly night on the floor, a tattered blanket the only item offered to me. I curled under it as tears spilled down my cheeks. A second time abandoned in less than two years, I, a child of seven, struggled to accept my fate.

  As I sobbed, a woman, appearing aged and frail, approached.
She pulled me into her arms, drying my tears with the papery skin on her fingers. She possessed surprising strength for a woman of her age. I buried my face in her bosom, weeping as she pulled me close. She offered no warmth, but the comfort of her presence soothed me enough to sleep.

  The next morning when I awoke, prodded by a stick I would later be struck with for oversleeping, I confessed my midnight visitor. I inquired about her, hoping she would be a teacher there, some kind soul I could draw strength from. After providing a careful description of the woman several times, I managed to raise Headmistress Williamson’s ire. She slapped me, calling me a wicked child and scolded me about the evils of lying.

  “I’m not lying!” I cried, my face smarting from the crisp smack.

  “You are you wicked child!” she screamed at me, her face red and twisted with fury.

  “I am not!” I insisted, a tear escaping my eye and sliding down my cheek.

  Another slap landed across the other cheek as I sniveled. “You are lying, admit it. Admit it, Lenora! Say you are lying, and you will spare yourself some of the further punishment you will receive for your wicked ways.”

  I remained silent, sniffling and choking back sobs. “Stop your sniveling, you wicked brat. If anyone should shed tears, it is I. I, out of the kindness that resides deep in my heart, took you in, against my better judgement. Your former guardians at the convent informed me of your… vice. What have you to say for yourself?”

  Again, I remained quiet. She spun to face me. “Answer, girl!” she shrieked. “Speak when you are spoken to!”

  I sucked in air, my breath unsteady. “I cannot control it,” I wept, tears falling to my cheeks. “They are real to me.”

  Her slap knocked me from my chair. I fell to the floor on my knees, gasping as I clutched my cheek. “Stand up,” Headmistress Williamson insisted. I did not move. “STAND UP!” she yelled, yanking me to my feet. “Now, admit your lie.”

  I stared at the floor, tensing my muscles, my jaw tightening. I swallowed hard, firming not only my posture but my heart as well. I would know no peace here, no acceptance. To survive, I would need to adapt. I licked my lips, my gaze flickering up to the headmistress’ face. My bottom lip quavered as I spoke. “I lied.”

  “About?” she queried.

  “I did not see the woman,” I responded.

  The woman’s lips curled into a cruel smile. She paced the floor behind her desk. “You shall be punished for your lies. You shall go without dinner and you shall spend your night scrubbing the entry floor on your hands and knees. While you do so, you shall consider the sin you are committing with your lies. It is a habit you should break, Lenora. My punishments will seem kind compared to the wrath of God you shall incur. Tomorrow you will write one hundred times the words ‘I shall not lie’ in good penmanship. If your penmanship is lacking in any way, you shall write it again. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, headmistress,” I responded, my head bowed.

  It was not the last night I would spend paying for my purported vice. Though I tried to hide my gift, it was, at times, impossible. On several occasions, unable to hide the truth, I had paid a terrible price.

  As the years passed, I learned to control my reactions and ability, earning me less hostility from Headmistress Williamson and the other girls. At the age of thirteen, nearly an entire year had passed without incident when I was awakened from my winter slumber at quarter after midnight.

  An older woman, her hair white as snow, wrinkles set deeply into her face, stood at the bedside. I ignored her, rolling onto my side with my back toward her. Her brown eyes bore into my back. I closed my eyes, attempting to shut out her presence.

  An icy hand pressed against my shoulder. I shrugged away from it, pulling the bed covers higher. A moment later, the covers slid off me. I clutched at them, attempting to stop the woman from stripping them from my bed. “No!” I whispered, glaring at her.

  Her eyes, fixed on me, made a silent plea. “Please, go!” I begged. “I cannot help you.” As forlorn as her gaze, my plea matched hers in desperation. While the dead had visited me over the course of the past year, I had experienced no additional instances with the headmistress. I did not wish to incur her wrath again.

  I pulled the covers from her cold, gnarled hands, twisting to face away from her. But that would not be the end of the experience. Cold hands grasped my shoulders, shaking me with enough force to drive me from my bed. “All right,” I acquiesced in a whisper. I held my finger to my lips, not wanting to wake the other girls. I motioned for her to follow me as I tiptoed into the hall.

  She followed, though her footsteps made no sound. Glassy eyes stared at me as I eased the door shut. “What is it you want?” I questioned, wrapping my arms around me as I shivered from the cold.

  Her arm raised and a frail finger pointed down the hall. Her eyes met mine as she continued to point. I shook my head. “No!” I insisted.

  I spun to reenter the bedroom when her icy hand grasped my wrist. “No!” I maintained, yanking on my arm. The woman did not relent. “Please,” I begged. “You do not understand.”

  She cupped my face in her hand, pulling me closer to her. Cool air caressed my skin as she whispered in my ear. My jaw fell open at her words. I met her gaze, swallowing hard. I nodded. “All right,” I acceded.

  Together, we proceeded down the hall in the direction she signaled moments earlier. With much trepidation, I turned the door handle, easing the door open. The moonlight cast long shadows in the room. I had never seen the interior of the room before. It was decorated with rich woods and thick velvet draperies.

  A large bed stood against the far wall. Headmistress Williamson lay sleeping under a thick coverlet. With a quick glance at the woman, I crept into the room, approaching the bed. My trembling hand reached toward Headmistress Williamson. I touched her shoulder, and I gently rocked her.

  It took several attempts, but eventually I roused her from her slumber. She startled awake, staring at me with bleary eyes. “Lenora?” she barked, recognizing me. “What are you doing here? How dare you enter my bedroom!”

  “I apologize,” I replied, shrinking back from her bed. I glanced toward the specter behind me. “It is urgent.”

  “Has something happened to one of the girls?” Headmistress Williamson questioned, rising from her bed and donning her robe.

  I shook my head. “No,” I choked out.

  “Well, what is it then, girl? Do you find this an amusing game?”

  “No, headmistress. My apologies, however…” I paused.

  “Spit it out, girl!” Headmistress Williamson responded, approaching me.

  “It is your mother,” I explained.

  Her face changed, anger at being awoken replaced by confusion. Her brows knit together, and her jaw slackened. She stared at me, silent for a moment.

  The ghost clutched my shoulder, whispering in my ear. “She has several things she would like to say,” I began.

  Headmistress Williamson found her voice, cutting me off. “This stunt is not entertaining, Lenora. And you shall be punished for it in the morning. I am too tired to deal with your games now.”

  “You do not understand…” I protested.

  “I understand perfectly well, it is YOU, Lenora, who does not understand. You consider yourself clever, playing this ruse of my mother visiting you. However, my mother is alive.”

  I pressed my lips together as sorrow filled my heart. “She passed earlier this evening, headmistress. I am so very sorry.”

  Headmistress Williamson stared at me, frozen in her place for a moment. “What a horrible girl you are, Lenora. Your antics disgust me.”

  “I am sorry, but it is the truth. She has suffered from pneumonia these past months and succumbed to it earlier this evening.”

  She grimaced at me, but I continued. “I can prove it,” I claimed.

  “Prove it?” she scoffed.

  “Yes,” I insisted. Cool air brushed past my ear as the specter whispered into it. I
spoke, recounting what she told me. “When you were young, about six, you found a kitten, gray striped, tiny and with a malformed back foot. You took it in, caring for it. You hid it from your mother, assuming she would not allow you to keep it. Despite the care you gave it, it died. And you wept for three nights over it. Your mother knew, and she wasn’t cross with you. In fact, she admired you for it. And she wanted to tell you its death was not your fault. The kitten could not have been saved, but your care of it made its only days on earth tolerable. It knew love, and she was very proud of you for what you did.”

  Tears filled Headmistress Williamson’s eyes and her breath caught in her throat. “How…” she choked out.

  I continued, information still flowing into my ear from the specter of Headmistress Williamson’s mother. “She wants to tell you she is very proud of you. Your position here is an achievement. She forgives you for not coming when she wrote to say she fell ill. You could do nothing to change the outcome.”

  A tear fell from Headmistress Williamson’s eye and she clutched her stomach. With a gasp, she collapsed onto the bed. I approached her, putting my hand on her shoulder. “Your father’s departure was not your fault.” Headmistress Williamson’s head bobbed up. Her eyes stared into mine. Her lips trembled as she held back sobs. “He and your mother had a terrible falling out. He rushed out of the house. Your mother let him go. He did not return. She heard a rumor later that he had been drinking. He was always an angry drunk. An altercation occurred, and he died. She did not have the courage to determine if the story was truth or rumor, so she continued to deny it. It led you to believe your father may return, that he had left because of something you did. But that isn’t true. She wanted you to know. She did not want you living the rest of your life believing you drove your father away.” I paused. “She loved you, Miriam.” I offered a slight smile as she gazed at me.

  She wept, bending at the waist and resting her head on her knees. I eased onto the bed next to her, allowing her time to grieve. I placed my hand on her back as I fixed my gaze on her mother. The specter stared at the huddled form next to me. She shifted her gaze to me, a tiny smile crossing her lips. She nodded to me. I returned the gesture, and she stalked across the room without a sound. She glanced back before passing through the door.