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

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