Death of a Duchess by Nellie Steele (the beginning after the end novel read TXT) 📗

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