Death of a Duchess

by Nellie H. Steele

  “No, I sustained no physical injury.”

  A knock sounded at the door and Ella rushed to answer it. Buchanan entered the room. “Mr. Buchanan,” Ella greeted him. “Duchess Blackmoore is ill and unable to attend dinner this evening. She would prefer broth and plain bread to be sent up and her excuses made to Duke Blackmoore.”

  Buchanan’s eyes widened under his thick eyebrows. “Shall I fetch the doctor?”

  “No, Buchanan,” I chimed in, “it is not necessary. Just the broth and bread, please.”

  “Yes, I shall see to it at once!” He turned his gaze to me. “Duchess Blackmoore, if there is anything else you require, please ring.”

  “I will, thank you, Buchanan. Could you see to it that Sinclair’s meal finds its way to my room?”

  “Of course, Your Grace,” Buchanan answered before exiting the room.

  Ella crossed back to my bed. She smiled at me as she sunk onto the bed. “Please, continue, Your Grace. What did Annie do that disturbed you so?”

  I shook my head. “It is nothing Annie did to me. It is what she communicated to me that disturbed me.”

  “Which was?” Ella inquired.

  I pursed my lips. “Something happened to her. Something terrible. I… I am uncertain if I can repeat it. My mind is still attempting to parse through it. Though I now believe I understand the reason she chose to end her own life.”

  Ella raised her eyebrows. “You have solved it?!” she exclaimed.

  I pondered the statement. It appeared I had, though I had no idea of the culprit behind the vicious attack on Annie. Yet something stuck in my mind. “I am not sure,” I answered.

  “But, you said…” Ella began.

  I nodded, interrupting her. “Yes, yes, though there are still unanswered questions.” I glanced to her. “As such, please keep this conversation in your confidence.”

  “Of course, Your Grace,” Ella agreed.

  “Even from His Grace, at the moment. I am sorry to ask this of you, but I prefer to have all the facts at my disposal before I speak with Duke Blackmoore.”

  Ella nodded in agreement. “I understand, Your Grace.” Silence fell over us before a knock sounded at the door. Ella raced to answer it. I spotted her curtsy, realizing it was not my broth but rather my husband.

  “Good evening, Your Grace,” Ella greeted him. Robert strode into the room. I hoped I possessed the wherewithal to face him after my encounter and the knowledge I gained from it.

  “Good evening, Sinclair,” he said with a nod. He turned his gaze to me. “Buchanan tells me you are ill? Shall I send for the doctor?”

  “No, dear. That is not necessary. I fear I overdid things with my outing earlier. I do not wish to ruin the dinner party tomorrow, so I felt it best to put myself to bed and rest.”

  Robert’s eyes narrowed at me as he considered my statement. I smiled up at him. “Are you certain I should not fetch the doctor?”

  “I am certain,” I assured him.

  “I promise to take excellent care of Her Grace,” Ella chimed in.

  Robert glanced between us before turning his attention to me. “I merely overindulged myself. Despite my promise to rest after lunch, I found myself restless. I supposed a change of scenery might settle my nerves. I attempted to climb to my tower room.” Robert clicked his tongue, shaking his head at me. “Yes, yes, I admit my folly. Which is why I have confined myself to bed for the evening. With enough rest, I shall be good as new by tomorrow for the dinner party.”

  “I am unconcerned about the dinner party, Lenora. My interest is your wellbeing.”

  “I shall be perfectly fine. Sinclair is taking expert care of me. I am beginning to feel better already.”

  Robert paused again, raising an eyebrow at me. “Well, if you are certain, then I shall allow you to rest. I will return after dinner to check on you.” He kissed my forehead, and I squeezed his hand.

  “I am sorry to leave you alone for dinner.”

  “Dismiss your concern, dear. I shall finish some overdue work on my accounts. I spent far too much time earlier reviewing the business Edwin proposed.”

  “Then I wish you a productive meal.”

  “Rest well, dear,” Robert said before departing.

  After the door closed, I whispered a thank you to Ella for her discretion. The next knock brought my meager meal along with Ella’s. She sat at my bedside as we ate. My stomach threatened to revolt after the first few sips, but the plain bread seemed to calm it.

  The meal fortified me as Ella suggested it would and I began feel more myself. After Ella plumped my pillows, I settled back, more relaxed than I had been.

  “How are you feeling now, Your Grace?” Ella asked after she returned the trays to the maid.

  “Much better,” I admitted.

  She offered a knowing smile. “I told you the food would help!”

  I offered her a genuine smile. “Yes, you did, and you were correct.” I grasped her hand, giving it a squeeze. “Thank you.”

  “Now, perhaps you should close your eyes and try to rest,” Ella suggested.

  I doubted my ability to rest given my experience, though I agreed to try. After a brief visit from Robert, I settled back for the evening. Ella eased back into the chair she retrieved. Within a few moments, I informed Ella she need not stay, though she disagreed. We came to terms with her staying under the bargain that she rest on my chaise.

  With Ella settled under a blanket in my sitting room, I nestled under the covers. My trying experience took a heavy toll and, despite my restless mind, I drifted to sleep in moments.

  I awoke hours later. I startled, drawing in a sharp breath as I spotted a figure near the foot of my bed.

  “’Tis only me, Your Grace,” Ella whispered as she straightened my bedcovers.

  “Sinclair,” I breathed, relief coursing through me. “You startled me.”

  “My apologies, Your Grace. I hoped not to wake you. I regret my clumsiness.”

  “No apology necessary. The fault is mine. I assumed you were Annie.”

  “Of course you did, poor dear. Shall I sit with you until you fall asleep?”

  “No. Were you able to sleep?” I inquired.

  “Yes,” Ella answered. “I found the chaise most comfortable.”

  “Good,” I answered through a yawn. “Sleep well, Sinclair.”

  She squeezed my hand and left me to sleep. I snuggled into my covers, hoping to return to my slumber. With my eyes shut, I breathed in and out in rhythm. After several breaths, my eyes popped open.

  I scanned the darkness. Nothing appeared. I rolled to my back, staring at the bed’s canopy. My mind whirled, thoughts raced in an endless parade. I longed for more rest before I faced the experience Annie shared with me and the repercussions.

  I sighed and rolled to my side. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to go to sleep. My efforts were not rewarded and within moments I surrendered to a sleepless night. I scooted to sitting as I allowed my mind to roam through the endless forest of questions.

  Thoughts tumbled through my mind before it centered on one question: had I stumbled upon the reason for Annie’s suicide? Had the attack on her drove her to such desperate lengths? Was there more?

  The child Annie showed me, the child she carried in her womb when she died, was this child the product of the attack? Did this add to her anguish? Four months, I recalled. Dr. MacAndrews said she had been four months along when she died. She had lived with the aftermath of her attack for four months. Why had she then chosen to take extreme action? Was she unable to continue to live with the memory? Did she grow more despondent with each passing day? Did she learn of the child then? Was this knowledge what drove her over the edge?

  Another question loomed in my mind. Who was the guilty party? Who committed such an abhorrent act?

  I had chosen to say nothing to Robert yet. I could not. Not until I obtained more information. I could not inform Robert of the perverse assault on his beloved Annie and the resulting child, if
my assumption proved correct on that front, without confirming the identity of the attacker. I could not burden him with that information without first possessing all the facts.

  I vowed to seek out Annie at the first opportunity and pursue answers. I considered climbing from my bed and sneaking from the room to find her. I feared awakening Ella and did not wish to disturb her rest. Nor did I wish to endure the inevitable tongue-lashing I would receive from her if caught.

  Instead, I bided my time, watching the sun crest the moors and dissipate the morning fog after hours of darkness. Ella entered the room as the sky turned from red to orange. “Good morning, Your Grace,” she greeted me.

  “Good morning, Sinclair,” I said, already climbing from bed. “Did you sleep well?”

  “I did. You should have woken me. I have slept far later than I intended!”

  I smiled at her. “I do not mind. I am pleased you were able to rest so well on your makeshift bed.”

  “Mr. Buchanan shall have my head if he learns of my late rising!”

  “Then we shall make sure he does not learn of it!” I promised.

  “And did you sleep, Your Grace?” Ella inquired as she helped me dress for the day.

  With a sigh I admitted, “Not after we spoke last.”

  Ella paused. “Oh, I disturbed you. My apologies, Your Grace!”

  “No, the fault is not yours. It is my own mind’s fault.”

  Ella shook her head as she brushed my hair. “I am sorry you did not rest, Your Grace.”

  I dreaded breakfast this morning, uncertain I could maintain the charade with Robert. I managed to get through the meal and assure Robert of my well-being and ability to host the dinner party this evening.

  After breakfast, I visited Samuel. I spent longer than I expected there. I found myself unable to tear myself from my son. Holding him in my arms soothed me. Though I lamented Annie’s situation further. Some devil tainted the miracle of life for her.

  I also did not yearn for my next task. I planned to seek Annie out. The confidence I possessed in the wee hours of the morning had dwindled. I no longer wished to pursue my inquiry. I avoided it as long as I could.

  As the morning hours waned, I pushed myself to relinquish Samuel to Nanny Browne for his feeding. With a wistful glance, I forced myself to depart from the nursery and traversed the halls to the fated tower.

  I stood at the bottom of the curving stairway, staring upward. My last visit here ricocheted through my mind. It cut at me like a knife, bringing fresh tears to my eyes. Twice I experienced peril in this room.

  With a sigh, I forced my foot to climb the first stair. I must continue. I must find answers. I repeated the words aloud to myself as I climbed a second stair. My pulse raced and my heart thudded in my chest as the doorless entrance came into view.

  As I reached the landing outside the room, I swallowed hard. My throat was parched and my mouth dry. I vacillated on my decision to enter. Perhaps I should inform Ella. No, I should not involve her. I did not wish any harm to come to her, physical or emotional. Still, perhaps someone should know I am here.

  With a deep inhale, I set my shoulders and firmed my resolve. My dithering only delayed the inevitable. I must take this step. I must confront Annie. Whether I informed someone or not, I would still need to enter this room.

  With solidified courage, I stepped through the doorway into the ill-fated tower room. My breath caught in my throat as I entered the room. I held my breath for a few moments as I gazed around. Memories of my last ordeal here flooded back to me in detail. I shuddered as I recalled the horrible sensation and fear I experienced.

  “Annie?” I called out in a hushed and shaky voice. “Annie, are you here?”

  Nothing stirred. “Annie,” I called again, courage bolstering my voice. “We must speak.”

  Still nothing. So, I continued, hoping to draw her out. “I understand now. I understand the emotions you experienced. I understand what drove you to take your own life.”

  The last comment garnered the reaction I sought. Annie materialized across the room. She paced back and forth, her fists balled.

  “Annie,” I soothed, “can you tell me who attacked you?”

  She ignored me, continuing her agitated march from wall to wall. “Please, Annie,” I entreated, “I must know. I do not wish to tell Robert without knowing all the facts. He will certainly wish to know who harmed you.” Annie ceased her ambling at the mention of Robert’s name, but the break was short lived. She resumed her pacing, clutching her fists tighter.

  “If nothing else,” I said, “perhaps we can prevent the man from doing to someone else what he did to you. Please, Annie.”

  She stopped and faced me. Her eyes burned red. My heart broke for her. The poor woman had been driven to her own death by the nightmare she endured. A nightmare which would have had a lasting effect on her life had she not chosen to end it. “I realize how you must feel. Because I felt what you did. Ashamed, alone. But you must realize what happened was not your fault, Annie. You must let go of any guilt you feel so you may rest.”

  I approached her and reached for her. She evaded my touch, turning her back to me. I proceeded despite the rebuke. Gently, I placed my hand on her shoulder. I felt her shrink away, but I held fast. “You mustn’t hold yourself accountable for this, Annie. The fault lies purely with your attacker.”

  Her shoulders shook as she sobbed. “He fathered the child, didn’t he?” I inquired. “Did you realize you carried it? Was it this that drove you to your decision?”

  Annie spun to face me, shoving my hand aside. Her eyes burned into me; a scowl set on her face. Fury replaced heartache, and a growl emanated from her.

  “Annie,” I attempted to reassure her, “your decision is understandable…”

  “NO!” she bellowed, her voice reverberating off the stone walls surrounding us.

  The admission, her first spoken word to me, stunned me. My eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Of course it is,” I began when she rushed toward me. She drove me back toward the boarded window. Had the boards not been there, I would have pitched through again.

  Pinned against the window, I struggled against her for a moment before pitching forward when she disappeared. I stumbled a step before righting myself. I glanced around the room. Annie was gone.

  I smoothed my dress and stepped toward the doorless entry. I scanned the room one last time before retreating down the stairs. I had only succeeded in upsetting Annie. Perhaps she needed more time. More time to come to terms with the attack. More time to come to terms with my knowledge of it. I was not sure but either way, I would learn nothing else today, I surmised.

  Chapter 23

  As the sun descended in the sky, I dressed for the dinner party. My mind still attempted to sort through the situation with Annie. It found no answers, only questions. I made my best effort to turn my attention to the upcoming evening. I should need all my wits to deal with the uncouth Sir Richard.

  “How is that?” Ella inquired after sliding the decorative comb into my hair.

  “Perfect, thank you,” I answered.

  “And how are you feeling? Will you have the strength for the dinner party after your illness yesterday?”

  “I have been asking myself the same question,” I admitted. “I do hope so. It is important to Duke Blackmoore.”

  “Then I wish you the best of luck, Your Grace.”

  “Thank you,” I said as I rose from the dressing table to pull on my gloves.

  I exited the room, traversing the halls to the drawing room. Robert awaited me.

  “How lovely you look, dear,” he said, offering me a brandy. I accepted, feeling I would need to draw on it for strength. “I do apologize for this intrusion.”

  “A dinner party is hardly an intrusion. I have been rather lax in entertaining as the mistress of the house.”

  “Nonsense. It is more than reasonable for you to have spent the first several months setting up your household before entertaining. Thou
gh I do not refer to the dinner party, but rather the company we shall keep while at it.”

  “Oh,” I answered, realizing his meaning. “Yes. Sir Richard would not have been my first choice in dining guests. However, we shall make the best of it.”

  “I do appreciate that sentiment, Lenora,” Robert responded as Buchanan appeared at the door with two couples in tow. I caught a barely perceptible grumble from Robert at the appearance of our guests.

  I plastered on a smile and greeted them. Edwin and Sir Richard Prescott brought with them two women from Edinburgh, one named Susie and the other, Goldie. The two giggled together like schoolchildren and draped themselves over their escorts in a most obscene manner.

  They polished off their drinks in short order, requesting a second prior to the dinner announcement. Only Edwin outpaced them in imbibing. By the dinner announcement, he had consumed enough alcohol to cause him to stumble as he stood from his chair. His companion found it most entertaining.

  As we entered the dining room, I faced the reality of an impending conversation with Sir Richard Prescott, seated to my right. I smiled to him as we were seated.

  “And how was your travel to our hamlet, Sir Richard?”

  “Agreeable,” he assured me.

  He studied me in a way that disconcerted me. I pressed on in an attempt to alleviate my uneasiness. “I hope your stay has been agreeable as well. Though I am certain you are accustomed to more extravagant accommodations offered in larger cities.”

  “It is true, the town of Blackmoore is no London, yet it has its… charms. At least, Blackmoore Castle certainly does,” he said with a wink.

  I was glad I had not eaten anything yet, otherwise it may have flown from my stomach. I bit back the bile creeping up my throat and plastered on another smile.

  “And how are you, Duchess?” he asked. “I heard you suffered an accident. Fell from your horse?”

  Sir Richard was well-informed, I mused. “Yes, though I am quite well. I only twisted my ankle and have recovered from it already.”

  “How fortunate for you,” Sir Richard responded. “I would so regret to see anything happen to you.”