Death of a Duchess

by Nellie H. Steele

  “Yet, it appears not to have been,” Robert replied, studying the mess on our floor.

  “No, it does not appear so, does it?” I agreed. “A pity. But I shall keep trying.”

  Robert smiled at me. “I realize you will, though please be careful, Lenora. Her… hijinks… grow bolder. I loved Annie, but I do not want to see you harmed by her in her misguided distress.”

  “I shall be,” I promised. Robert nodded to me. “Oh, were you searching for me? In all the commotion, I’d forgotten you arrived here. I assume you needed something?”

  “I wanted to determine if the room had been prepared adequately for you. I worried Buchanan may not have built a fire and it may be too cold.”

  “Buchanan did not forget,” I acknowledged, motioning toward the roaring fire. “Well, with that settled, I shall set to work tidying the room.”

  “No, I shall have Buchanan handle it. Perhaps you should rest, given the travel and… the latest events.”

  I gathered my book from the floor. “I shall read in my room.”

  “I hope you are undisturbed.”

  Chapter 9

  Days passed before I encountered Annie again. Mr. Langford arrived with a ladies’ maid in tow, having sorted the matter out in the course of two days. Ella Sinclair arrived at Blackmoore Castle with little more than I did. The girl, older than I, which seemed strange to me, had come from a reputable estate with good references in hand. Her previous employer had passed on. She did not mind the change of scenery and gushed about the beauty of the highlands and the estate despite the dreariness of the winter landscape.

  I had never seen the grounds in the spring and summer, so I could not offer much regarding any changes, but her appreciation of the landscape matched mine, allowing us to converse easily.

  Her arrival prompted a visit from Annie. On her first night while she assisted me in dressing for dinner, the door to my room creaked open. “Oh!” Ella exclaimed as she fussed with my hair. “My apologies, Your Grace, I must not have latched it properly.”

  Ella set the comb down on the dressing table. “Leave it,” I instructed. “It is no bother.”

  “Of course, Your Grace,” Ella responded, resuming her hair styling. In the mirror’s reflection, I could detect the reason for the door’s sudden and unexpected movement. I recognized the familiar dirty red dress and dark hair hanging around an obscured face.

  Annie had visited to assess the new arrival. A new addition to the home could, of course, prove disturbing to her. I hoped she took Ella’s arrival in stride and did not pester the poor girl.

  I fixed my gaze on her as Ella put the finishing touches on my hair. My eyes offering a silent warning to behave. Ella noticed the direction of my eyeline and offered another apology. “Next time, Your Grace, I shall be sure to latch it.”

  I offered her a smile through the mirror. “It is not your fault, Sinclair. No amount of latching could have prevented it.”

  She stared at me, an odd expression on her face. Best she was prepared should my silent warning not be enough for Annie, I reflected. Her lips moved, but no sound came out as she struggled to form a response. She settled on, “I’m not sure I take your meaning, Your Grace.”

  I rose from my seat and faced her. “Have you heard any rumors regarding me? You have mentioned none, but I cannot discern if that is due to politeness bred into you or lack of knowledge.”

  “Rumors, Your Grace?”

  “Yes. You make speak freely, Sinclair. If you have heard tales of my unique ability, please acknowledge this.”

  “I have heard no tales, Your Grace. Though, Lady Merton, my previous employer, was nearly a recluse for the latter part of her life prior to her passing.”

  “I see, then you should sit down before I explain.”

  “There is no need for that, Your Grace,” Ella assured me.

  In discussing my ability, I have often found bluntness to be the best approach. Dancing around the subject often led to confusion or misunderstanding. Therefore, I launched directly into my explanation. “The dead often walk among us. Most people do not witness them, but I do. And I can communicate with them,” I responded, cutting to the chase. The admission took a harder toll than Ella was prepared for. She collapsed onto the chaise with my assistance. Her face turned deathly pale, her eyes wide and her jaw slack. I allowed her time to recover.

  “Forgive me, Your Grace,” she said after a few breaths, still clutching my arm, “I… I…”

  “I understand,” I assured her.

  She swallowed hard and glanced at the open door. “The door…” she stuttered, staring at me, her eyes questioning.

  I nodded in response. “Yes,” I responded.

  “A ghost?” she whispered, the words sticking in her throat.

  “Yes,” I confirmed, easing onto the chaise next to her and squeezing her shoulder.

  She shook her head, her face paler than it had been already. Her eyes were wide and filled with fear. “There is nothing to fear, Ella,” I assured her, choosing to use her first name to soften the conversation. “She was only here to observe. I warned you only in the event that you experience some anomalies. Being a new addition to the castle, she is curious.”

  “She?” Ella questioned, her eyes still wide with shock.

  “The previous Duchess of Blackmoore,” I explained. “Duke Blackmoore’s first wife.”

  Ella nodded slowly. “Is she… dangerous?”

  “No,” I reassured her. “Beyond creating some mischief, she is not. And she would likely not target you with such behavior.”

  “And you can… see them? See her?”

  “Yes, I can see them and communicate with them.”

  Ella sat silent for another moment. “Thank you for trusting me with this information, Your Grace,” she said.

  “While secrecy is not my objective, I do ask that you do not spread the information about,” I requested.

  “You may rely on my discretion, of course. And I apologize for my outburst.”

  I waved my hand, dismissing her apology. “There is no need for an apology. The information is difficult to comprehend and accept. Your reaction is better than most. And I trust and appreciate your discretion.”

  She squeezed my hand before standing. “How brave you must be, Your Grace. I am not sure I would possess the strength you display if I witnessed such things.”

  “I am no braver than any other, merely accustomed to the situation.”

  Ella offered me a tight-lipped smile and a nod. “Is there anything else before dinner, Your Grace?”

  “No, thank you, Sinclair,” I answered, returning to the formal method of address with her.

  She curtsied before departing, pulling the door shut behind her. I pulled on my gloves, waiting to determine if Annie would return. She had disappeared during my conversation with Ella. I wondered if she would return or if her attention was focused on prowling after Ella. The novelty of her arrival would intrigue her.

  The curiosity displayed on Annie’s part during this encounter reminded me of my first encounter with her. Details flooded into my mind of my first experience with Annie.

  One month after my arrival, on the eve of my birthday, I sat reading in my tower room late one evening. Nestled in the window seat, my book in my lap, I curled under a blanket. The quietness of the castle still amazed me. I found the stillness comforting. Engrossed in my book, I failed to notice the movement at the door.

  I glanced outside into the night sky. The moonlight bathed the late autumn landscape in a luminous light. The stars in the sky were plentiful. From my perch in the sky, as I referred to it, it seemed as if I sat among them.

  As I gazed out of the window, studying the twinkling lights, a reflection of red caught my eye. My brow furrowed, and I turned my gaze to the doorway. There stood the specter of Robert’s first wife. She wore a red dress with black trim, the outfit she had died in. It was smudged with dirt and tattered.

  Her black hair hung in tangles aroun
d her pale gray face. Her eyes sunk deep into her face; her lips almost blackened. She snarled at me, a hideous hissing sound escaping her lips. Anyone else witnessing this phantom would undoubtedly have shrunk away or perhaps shrieked at the sight, frightened by the menacing façade. I, on the other hand, failed to be alarmed. I had experienced sightings of the dead my entire life. Not all of them proved pleasant. Depending on the manner in which they had passed, the dead often did not appear or act as they had in life.

  Annie proved to be no exception. The circumstances surrounding her death were tragic, shocking. Her mind, twisted enough to have thrown herself from a turret, still fought to recover from the circumstances.

  Despite it having been years, I was likely the first person to witness her in her current form. She still carried with her all the emotional afflictions that drove her to her suicide. They displayed themselves in her physical manifestation, twisting her appearance into a gruesome presentation.

  I stared at her, unafraid and unflinching. “Hello,” I offered in a simple tone, trying not to sound aggressive or overzealous.

  Her dark eyes widened and the sound emanating from her ceased. Silence filled the space between us. My gaze remained fixed on her. Abruptly, she turned, fleeing from the doorway.

  I stared after her for a breath before my gaze fell to the floor. The reaction did not surprise me. Often the dead are shocked when their presence is acknowledged by the living. For the most part, they remain unnoticed, skulking about alone, unseen, unheard.

  The shock Annie experienced would wane. At least now she realized that someone could communicate directly with her. I resolved to report my sighting to Robert over breakfast, though I would omit the details of Annie’s appearance and leave those to his imagination. Robert’s emotions only allowed him to view Annie as she had lived, not as she had died. I hoped to spare him any further pain by only reporting the progress.

  I finished pulling on my gloves, disappointed by my lack of progress in the months I had been here. But the dead did not work on the timetables of the living. Annie needed time to adjust. Her death did not provide the escape she so desperately sought, and, in recent months, a number of changes rocked her current realm. I would continue to allow her to come to me, hoping to earn her trust enough for her to communicate on an increased basis.

  Robert and I dined alone that evening. I took the opportunity to fill him in on the details of Annie’s appearance earlier.

  “I’ve had another sighting,” I announced as we ate our main course.

  “Oh? You appear unharmed. I hope this means progress was made, for your sake.”

  “No progress, really,” I admitted. “She arrived to inspect Sinclair. I did tell the girl about my ability. I worried Annie may attempt a bit of mischief with her and did not wish her to be riled.”

  “Do you consider that wise? How did the girl take it?”

  “Quite well,” I commended her. “She was shocked but did not fall to pieces. Given the closeness with which we worked, I consider it best she understand my uniqueness. Also, I was not certain if she perhaps already knew about my ability.”

  “How would she learn of it?” Robert inquired.

  “I know of no specific avenue by which she would learn of it, merely a guess.”

  “Did she know of it already?”

  “No,” I responded. “She was blissfully unaware. A luxury she is no longer afforded.” A moment of silence spanned between us before I issued a query of my own. “How did you learn of my ability?”

  Robert studied me for a moment before responding. “Lord Robertson informed me. He took on a girl from St. Mary’s. Discretion was not the girl’s strong suit. She confessed your secret to several other staff members, including Lady Robertson’s ladies’ maid. The tale spread from Lady Robertson to Lord Robertson and then to me.”

  I considered his response. “It seems a rather odd tale to spread within your circle,” I mused aloud, not really expecting an answer. The information about an orphan’s odd ability seemed of little interest to high society, no matter how unique it may be.

  “Quite. He divulged the information to me when I was at rather a low point. We had held a séance to attempt to reach Annie, which was disastrous. Lord Robertson offered the tale as a proposed alternate solution. I believe he meant to offer me hope. I am certain he did not expect me to pursue the avenue as zealously as I did.”

  “I see,” I responded, parsing his answer in my mind.

  Robert continued. “When I learned of you, I searched for information, questioned the girl who was your classmate and tracked you down at St. Mary’s. You know the rest.”

  I offered a smile. “You spirited me here and offered me a new life, yes.”

  “I offered you anything I could because you offered me so much more. You offered me hope, Lenora. An avenue to reach out to my former wife, to determine why she…” He glanced to me, trying to force a smile on his face but it faltered, and he lowered his eyes to his plate.

  “Let us not speak of it,” I replied. “We shall concentrate on the hope you experienced instead.”

  Robert met my gaze, offering me a fuller smile. “Yes. Yes, we shall concentrate on the hope.”

  I nibbled at my carrots, a question nagging in my mind. I preferred not to ask it, realizing the pain Robert already endured by speaking of Annie’s demise. Instead, I offered a pleasant expression as I glanced up from my plate.

  Robert continued to stare at me for a moment. His eyes narrowed and he pursed his lips before speaking. “What is it, Lenora?”

  I swallowed, avoiding eye contact. “What do you mean?” I responded.

  “Something is on your mind,” Robert presumed. “What is it?”

  “It is nothing,” I dodged, still avoiding his gaze.

  “Lenora,” Robert prodded. “I already know you well enough to realize something pervades your thoughts.”

  “My mind is clear,” I assured him.

  “You would fib even to your husband?” he teased.

  The coquettish witticism roused a chuckle from me. “All right,” I surrendered. “I confess a question is darting around my mind.”

  “What is it?”

  “You mentioned an ill-fated séance. I was curious about it. Though if it is too painful a memory, we need not discuss it.”

  “Oh, yes,” Robert responded. “It is not too unpleasant. We’d had… disturbances in the household since Annie’s passing. A distant relative wrote to me and suggested it may be Annie reaching out and we may attempt contacting Annie through a séance. I had no experience in the matter, but the avenue provided a distraction in the form of research.” I set my fork down, giving Robert my full attention, listening to the recounting. “I found a medium, and she recommended I gather several individuals to participate. I followed her instructions, inviting Lord and Lady Robertson, Edwin, one of Edwin’s friends and his spouse.

  “With the details set, everyone arrived on a stormy spring evening. I realize how stereotypical this must sound, like a gothic novel, but...” Robert’s voice trailed off as though unsure he wanted to continue.

  “Not at all,” I responded, encouraging him to go on. “Please continue.”

  “Everyone gathered in the drawing room. Buchanan set up a large round table as instructed and the medium, Madam Goldstone was her name, explained that we should douse all but one candle, be seated, join hands and close our eyes. In retrospect, it was all very dramatic, I should have known better.

  “After a few moments, the woman began moaning and told us Annie was near. She included various details about her as she described her entering the room and standing near the table. I inquired about her death, but no answers were forthcoming. I begged Annie to impart even the smallest amount of information through Madam Goldstone. Yet all the woman imparted were simple things such as how she loved me or missed me.”

  “She gave no other details?” I questioned.

  “She gave one additional detail,” Robert informed me. �
�As I pressed for more information, she conveyed a detail about Annie’s death that struck me. Annie wore a red dress when she took her life. Madam Goldstone claimed she wore it because red was her favorite color. Immediately, I became suspicious as red was not Annie’s favorite color. I assumed the information untrue and broke the circle by releasing Madam Goldstone’s hand.

  “She told me we lost the connection due to my inability to follow instructions. I informed her of her gaffe regarding Annie’s favorite color. She claimed to only be repeating what Annie told her, but the information did not match. After an argument, the woman suggested we try again. Foolish of me, but I agreed. I was so desperate.”

  “Of course,” I murmured, encouraging him to continue.

  “What happened next…” Robert’s voice trailed off again as he shook his head. “She claimed Annie returned. She babbled on about her suicide being the result of a terrible row we’d had recently. She continued that Annie had never recovered from the argument and the things said during it and threw herself from the turret in a fit of despondence over our failed marriage. It was at this moment that I broke the circle again and demanded the woman leave the house.”

  I raised my eyebrows at the statement and Robert continued speaking. “Annie and I had no such quarrel. Certainly none that would have caused such a reaction. The woman was a charlatan and had outed herself as such by trying to provide details that did not fit.”

  “Why would she take such a risk?” I pondered aloud.

  “I came to learn later that the woman corresponded with anyone who may have details of the person in question prior to her séance. She used the details to establish herself as being legitimate.”

  “Yet she had certain details incorrect. How did she come to have incorrect information?”

  “The details surrounding Annie’s death were an embellishment created by Madam Goldstone. In an effort to appease me, since I had pushed for information, she created what she believed to be a likely scenario regarding a married couple. She assumed within the months leading to her death, there would be some trouble between us that I’d latch on to as the cause.”