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

her stare, squinting my eyes at her as though it may help me read her mind. “You are trying to communicate something about Robert. It is not your upset over the gift. What is it?” Annie stared, unflinching, in response. “Ugh,” I groaned, shaking my head. I resumed pacing again as I attempted to solve the puzzle. “Do you wish to communicate something to Robert?” I asked, pausing in my ambling to gauge her response. She shook her head. “No,” I said, resuming my pacing. “Are you unhappy with Robert?” I tried as my next query.

A slight nod. I smiled, proud of myself. “You are unhappy with Robert,” I repeated. I paused a moment, thinking. “Is this… was he the cause…” A sharp shake of the head cut off my words. No, I pondered, no, Robert was not the cause of Annie’s suicide. I chided myself for even beginning to suggest it. The Robert I was acquainted with could never drive a woman to suicide. “So, you are unhappy with Robert now, not before your death.” Another nod. My mind whirled as I computed the information I possessed and tried to assimilate it into an answer.

“What has Robert done to upset you?” I queried aloud. Annie responded by pointing at me. I glanced down at my chest where she pointed as though perhaps a message would appear there. I raised my eyes to hers, my expression questioning. “Me?” I paused again. “Is it our marriage?”

Annie shook her head again. A snarling growl emanated from her. Her features darkened and her lips turned into a snarl. Frustration was growing inside her. “I am as frustrated as you,” I admitted. I returned to pacing. “Oh! If you could only speak!”

She lowered her arm and her snarl ceased. Her features remained dark, but she made no move to leave. Her eyes bore into me. I breathed in a deep breath. “All right. I shall try again.” I paused, gathering all the facts I had, walking across the breadth of the room. “Robert has upset you. And the upset involves me. It is not the gift, nor our marriage.” I spun on my heel, ambling across the room in the opposite direction. I halted mid-step. My eyebrows raised and my jaw fell open. I twisted to face Annie. “You are upset that Robert restricted our communication! He removed the door to the tower and boarded the windows. He forbade me from pursuing our conversations!”

The darkness lifted on Annie’s face and she nodded. I clapped my hands. “I have done it!” I exclaimed. I grinned at her, though she did not match my expression. “This is our first successful communication!” Annie’s lackluster response to my delight dampened my spirits. I replaced my grin with a more serious expression. I continued, “You have no reason to be upset with Robert. He only means to protect me. In his mind, he judged you intended to harm me. The encounter nearly resulted in my death.” A chill passed over me as I said the words and a lump formed in my throat. I swallowed hard, not allowing my mind to return to the fright I’d experienced. “Though I do not believe you intended to harm me, did you?”

Annie shook her head, her brown eyes fixed upon me. “I have told Robert this. But he does not understand, Annie. You must give him time.” Annie’s eyes flashed red for a moment, a dark expression crossing her face. “I shall make him understand,” I promised.

Annie stared at me another moment. Then she flitted to the doorway. She hovered there a moment before motioning for me to follow. Robert’s warning echoed in my mind for a moment before I chose to ignore it. I sped after her, catching her red dress disappearing around the turret’s curving stairs.

I caught up to her at the bottom of the stairs. She led me through the hallways and straight back to the tower from which she’d thrown herself. I studied the steps ahead of me as Annie disappeared around the bend. My jaw quavered as I put one foot on the first stair. I steadied my jaw and my nerves and climbed after her. I reached the halfway point. The doorless portal yawned at me from above. Annie stood in the entryway; her eyes fixed on me.

I swallowed hard, a knot forming in the pit of my stomach. I took another step up, my legs wobbling, threatening to collapse. My teeth dug into my bottom lip as my eyes brimmed with tears.

My last experience here still frightened me. Perhaps more so now in retrospect than it had in the moment. While I maintained Annie did not intend to harm me, the recollection of dangling for those precious few moments from the tower window made my knees weak, my stomach somersault and my hands tremble.

I opened my mouth to speak as Annie signaled me to approach her. My parched throat found it difficult to push the words out. “I cannot,” I finally managed before turning to flee down the steps. I stood at the bottom, my back against the stone wall as I gasped for breath to calm my frayed nerves.

A tear escaped my eye, running down my cheek. My fingers wiped it away as I fought to pull myself together. I’d never been afraid of the dead before. Though, to be fair, I still was not. Annie did not frighten me. Rather, fear of being harmed did.

Silly, I chided myself. Annie did not intend to harm me. The experience only provided a mechanism for communication between us. I must steel my nerves and continue my investigation. I filled my lungs with air, drawing myself upright and pressing my shoulders back. With a determined expression, I swung around the corner and climbed the staircase.

As I reached the halfway point, I paused. My gaze fell upon the open doorway. Annie no longer stood there. “Annie?” I called. I received no response.

I considered turning back. Annie must have