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Thread: The Appalling Strangeness of the Mercy of God [M - Hannelorian x DuchessLivilla]

  1. #31
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    Arabella had lost herself in rage as the girl ran from her presence and found herself giving chase. Yelling in her anger she slowly, too slowly began to understand what was about to happen. The girl's words were piercing and enough to give her pause.

    “You’re a monster! No wonder you are barren! God hates you as much as we all do!”

    God did hate Arabella, and she knew it with every fiber of her being. She had been cursed, there was no need for Hetty to impose anything additional. As she ran, her eyes widening, the anger subsiding and the heartbreak setting in she was immediately recalled to her past. Standing on the edge of the highest tower of their childhood home. The last time she had driven someone to their death. She could feel the wind from the heights slamming against her dress, sending the fabric flowing wildly, echoed only by the way striking her as she ran after the maid.

    Arabella could picture it as clear as day, the girl raising her arms much as Hetty was doing, thinking she could fly and just falling. The Duchess had peered over the edge to stare at the mangled body of her friend. A friend who had jumped because she had the audacity to believe the future Duchess. Here Hetty was on the edge, standing and cursing her.

    "For God's sake please don't!" Arabella cried as she ran to the same edge the balcony, arms out in front of her in an attempt to grab the girl but it had been too late. The Duchess now stood torso over the edge, hair falling terribly out of place as she looked down. Hetty had the same look on her face that Lucy had, a kind of tortured, contorted face. A face that was staring up at her as a small pool of blood began to form around the girls mangled and broken body. The Duchess was in a state of shock, silent tears beginning to stream down her face. She remained there for several moments in absolute silence, torso peering out over the railing just looking down as if staring into an abyss at the exact moment the abyss began to stare back at her.

    The Duchess slowly righted her position and stepped backward, stumbling almost away from the edge, she turned to look at Alexandra and Alice, she ambled toward them as though in a daze, stopping before her sister. The Duchess turned and rested her hands on Alexandra's arms and pulled her close to her before finally letting go. "Go... send for the ambulance... and the Duke. Please." The Duchess' tone was soft, and somewhat scattered. She then made her way down the steps to come to the body where the Duchess knelt, knees in blood. By now word had spread and every servant had made their way, lining the gallery, or in the great hall itself.

    Arabella pulled the body up to her and cradled it. She could feel that the girl while still had not yet been dead, but instead lay dying in her arms now, her breaths becoming slower and shallower. "You poor thing..." Arabella whispered as held Hetty. "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me." Arabella had broken now twice wearing the mantle of murderer. She prayed now for Hetty's immortal soul, and her warm welcome to Heaven where surely should would be made to suffer no more. The Duchess kissed the top of the girl's head and held her close, gloved hand holding Hetty's as she drew her last breath and passed into eternal silence.

    "You are right... I am nothing more than a monster cursed by God..." Arabella whispered, paying no mind to the eyes around her, watching her. It was too late.
    Thanks to Hayabusa/Ryoku for the set.

  2. #32
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    Alexandra watched her sister descend the stairs, the same strange expression on her face as she did so. She glanced to Alice and said softly, “Go and tell John to call a doctor. He need not rush in coming if he is busy…The poor child is beyond suffering now anyway.”

    She too walked down the stairs, pulling on a pair of gloves as she did so -she had a pair kept in the hidden pocket of her gown just in case- and thinking to herself that she felt so strangely calm. There had been a brief shock, but then it had faded and now she looked over the scene with a detached, almost clinical eye, more interested to see how Arabella reacted than anything else.

    Her silken slippers, worn by most ladies when inside and resembling what would one day be called ballet pumps or flats, made no noise as she stepped onto the marble and came closer to her maid, who had just died in her tormentor’s arms. It was a sick image, if every there was one. Her sister, near weeping, over a child -Hetty was not yet seventeen and now never would be- she had driven to this fate.

    She took in the bruises and marks upon her face and shook her head slowly. She could hear the approaching servants, hurrying from all directions at the sound of the screams. Just before they came, she whispered softly, so that only her sister heard, “Exodus 21:12*, sister…” She straightened and said, in her normal voice, “I shall fetch his Grace.”

    Alexandra turned, “Mrs Lyle, please have one of the girls fetch a blanket. Hetty has had an accident and need not have everyone stare at her,” she shot her a meaningful look and the housekeeper, so stunned by the scene, leapt to do as she was told, despite her mistress being the Duchess, not her sister.

    Moving with calm assurance, that rather stunned the servants, Alex took control and gave orders to them all before she went to find the Duke, bringing Mrs Lyle, who looked rather stunned and followed her without a word, with her as her chaperone. Even in times such as these, rules had to be upheld.

    Richard was still in his study, writing letters to send to his cronies, almost crowing about the royal visit. He snapped, irritated, when the knock came and looked even more annoyed when it opened to reveal Alexandra and Mrs Lyle, who looked rather ill.

    The Duke frowned, “Yes?” He said, in a tone that suggested ‘hurry up, I am very busy and have no desire to speak to the likes of you’.

    Mrs Lyle, coming to her senses and thinking this was her time to talk; after all, she was the housekeeper and the maid was her charge, and besides, she knew full well the Lady Alexandra had no right to order her about, came forward and went to speak. She got no further than, “Your Grace-“ before Alex held up her hand and shot her a look that even Arabella would have been proud of.

    “Mrs Lyle, you forget your place,” she said, stepping forward instead. “Your Grace, there has been an incident involving your wife’s maid. She was being corrected by her and, for some reason, who can say, took fright and fled. The child was unhinged and fell to her death from the gallery to the floor below. The Duchess is very shaken and asks for you.”

    Richard blinked, stunned both at the calmness and strength that Alexandra was displaying and the way she had spoken to Mrs Lyle. He had always thought the girl wet and biddable…He saw now he had underestimated her. They all had, it seemed. Then he stood, concern for his wife overruling this new development. He could deal with that later.

    He could also deal with the scandal that could erupt if the truth was known…He could read between the lines of the words ‘corrected’ and ‘incident’. The Duke, as quick as his old body could, hastened from the room, followed by Lyle and Alexandra.

    “Darling!” He hurried down the stairs and took in the scene; his wife cradling the maid, who was clearly dead, blood staining the silken gown the Duchess wore. Arabella looked horrific and was whispering prayers over and over. He came to her side and gently opened her fingers, forcing her to let go of the body.

    As she did, one of the maid’s came forward and covered Hetty with the blanket. Richard held his wife in an embrace and whispered, “Dearest, calm yourself…” as he stroked her hair. His gaze strayed down to the covered body then up to where she had fallen from, then to the door to the reception room. His heart froze.

    Had the Prince’s man left before this happened?

    He cast about for John and, seeing him coming, nodded to the door silently, his eyes questing.

    John, adept, as most servants are, at communicating without words, nodded slowly, and signalled the man had gone some time before.

    The relief of the Duke’s face was clear. This could all be swept under the rug. “Darling,” he said gently once more, “Do not cry…An accident is all. The child fell, you tried to save her, I am sure of it. In fact, Lady Alexandra assures me you did,” he looked to Alex, as did the servants, to see what she would say.

    Alexandra stared back, her lovely face calm and serene. She adjusted the cuff of her dress as she did so and smiled sadly, “Yes…Of course. Her Grace did. She is, after all, the spirit of kindness.” The words, and even the tone, were right and perfect…but no one was left in any doubt as to the sarcasm that washed over what she said.

    All three knew that Alex now had a powerful bargaining chip, and one no one could deny given how many witnesses there had been. Lucy had been swept under the rug and never mentioned…This. Well, this was a stick with which to beat that could not be broken so easily.

    *“He who strikes a man so that he dies shall surely be put to death.”

  3. #33
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    The Duchess in this moment was a woman broken by the consequences of her own actions. An act her sister would not let her forget. Alexandra reminded her chapter and verse. She knew the quote well. Normally, such an act would perceived as a threat. It was clear her sister was now emboldened by what transpired. However, the Duchess for all of her catastrophic faults found herself in agreement with her sister. As her husband emerged and pried her away from the body Arabella stood and felt herself collapse against the Duke. Arabella had calmed herself at her husband's command. She could do anything he asked of her without question.

    The Duke found himself leading his wife away from the hall. Before she departed the room the Duchess turned to her sister, as the ducal couple passed she stopped short to whisper something into Alexandra's ear. "I should have been executed a long time ago for my actions. I am a monster, cursed by God." The Duchess was genuine, remembering her own sins in horrific detail. The Duke brought his wife, now catatonic to her chambers to undress and get into bed.

    Alice meanwhile, once the doors had sealed behind the ducal couple sighed deeply, overwhelmed by her own emotions. Many of the household staff were still staring. "Everyone, that is enough. Back to work." Alice called, having surprised herself as her own conviction. "No one comes through this hall until this has been resolved." Alice didn't want to paint Hetty as simply something that needed to be cleaned up. Normally such order would come from Mrs. Lyle, however she seemed to still be in a state of shock. Alice turned her attention to the Lady Alexandra, who to her credit had been composed and handled the incident rather swiftly.

    "Your Ladyship, I beg your leave so that I may remain with Hetty until she is attended to." This was her request, while the maid should not be gawked at, a part of her felt it would be unkind to leave her alone. Alice felt terrible sorrow for Hetty. She was never prepared to work in a house like this, or for a woman like that. A woman who perplexed her to no end. The Duchess was kind to one person and one alone, her husband. The Duchess seemed to genuinely believe in the teachings of the Church, the Church which did not regard kindness as the highest virtue. How could one so devout and pious become so unfathomably cruel?

    She reflected on the knowing glance the Duke had given John. The two were perfectly adapted and matched for one another. Alice couldn't help but watch John from the corner of her eye, he too was more mysterious than the Duchess. Alice stood in silence behind the blanket that covered the remains. She would wait patiently until the Doctor arrived, Mrs. Lyle and Mr. Carson answering questions having emerged themselves and directing them to take the body away. Alice herself would clean the blood from the marble, even though this was not the work of a ladies maid, she felt she owed this much to the deceased.

    There would be no serious questions asked, at least not for the time being. Servants died all the time, they were killed all the time. This would be chocked up to an unfortunate accident. Alice would then return herself to the service of the Lady Alexandra until ordered otherwise. Whispers ran through the halls like wild fire. The Duchess had finally snapped. No one could say they were surprised. Everyone knew Hetty was unstable and would crack under the pressure of such a cruel hand. Everyone else simply steeled themselves, did their jobs, stayed out of the way. For Hetty this was never a real hope.
    Thanks to Hayabusa/Ryoku for the set.

  4. #34
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    Alexandra nodded and smiled gently, “Yes, of course, sit with her…” she sighed, shaking her head, “Poor child…She deserved better. You all do,” she added softly, out of earshot of Mrs Lyle and Carson, who stood by the stairs, staring at the sheet covered body.

    As she stood, waiting for the doctor to arrive, Alex pondered what would come of this. Everyone had seen her sister’s little performance, and servants loved to talk, even in this society. Households talk too. If you wanted to know something, Arabella had always said, you interrogated the household’s maids. She imagined it was a common enough thing. The party would provide the perfect opportunity for any of Bella’s rivals to overhear thigs and to have their own maid’s, who came with their mistresses and waiting in the servant’s hall for them, to speak and gossip…

    Bella would have a fight on her hands to contain this. Not the death, no. God forbid, no one in society would care about the death of a maid, nor even the suicide of one. Such things happened every week, even in the royal household. No. What would cause talk would be the Duchess’s reaction. It was not ladylike; it was not how a Duchess should be and it spoke of an unhinged mind…Talk of that nature was often enough to ruin even the highest member of society.

    In her death, without knowing it, Hetty may have gifted her mistress a way to survive and even thrive in the viper’s nest that was society. The word of a lady, though hardly useful to a man, was as gospel to other ladies; if Alexandra said the servants were lying and Arabella conducted herself as she should…well, no one would say otherwise. If Alex happened to remain silent and let the servants talk…

    She could not help but give a little smile. It was cruel, she knew, but perhaps, after all, she was what her sister had always wanted her to be.

    “I am what you made me,” she thought as she watched Carson cross to the door to let the doctor in.

    -

    The doctor, who had seen similar before, was profession but disinterested. He took the body with him when he left, leaving a note for the Duke to arrange whatever funeral and such he wished, or, if none was needed, the body would be delivered to the medical school for use by the students in their autopsy studies.

    That made Alexandra cringe and she revolved to unsure Hetty was given a proper burial. As she and Alice went to her room, she said as much and sighed. “Poor child,” she repeated. “I should have…I don’t know. Done something more. I knew she could not handle Bella…” She opened her bedroom door and, annoyed at herself, tore off her gloves and threw them on the bed.

    “And what a show she put on,” she added, biting her lip. “Sadly, I do not think it was an act though. If she behaves like that at the party, God help her, and the family.”

    -

    Meanwhile Richard sat beside his wife’s bed, holding her hand, and looking at her, concern growing in his gaze. “Belle, dearest one…Please, stop this. You must be strong, for me, and for the family. We cannot have this behaviour. You have a royal visit to plan, turn your mind to that. She was only a maid, there is no need for such hysterics.”

  5. #35
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    The Duchess, having regained much of her composure had come to a decision, a rather radical one at that, but she could see no alternative. Her behavior would be an embarrassment. A Duchess was not fit to lose her head such as she had. "Richard... the time has come." Arabella, sitting up in bed, covered appropriately looked at her husband. "You know what I mean." She spoke softly and with a sense of hesitation. Arabella could not bring herself to say it so easily. "The maid, Hetty. Her death is my fault. I drove her to such action. That is ungodly." Just as she had done with her father so many years ago, she repeated now to her husband. She accepted responsibility for her actions. "My behavior following was unbecoming of the nobility, and with the Prince of Wales coming... Alexandra will make sure it is known. It will bring you great shame." The Duchess was almost humbled by the experience, and unsurprisingly candid with the man she had come to love so dearly.

    "You must ask the King for an annulment... or divorce." Arabella knew the gravity of her words. "Please, don't think I've lost my head as well." She arose from the bed and walking to her husband's chair, in the privacy of her rooms she set herself upon the arm of the chair, leaning her head now against his. "It's been six years, my love." The Duchess understood that above the shame of this incident, there was the well known shame of her inability to produce an heir. "I have not given you even a single child, nor a miscarriage, nothing." The tears had returned to her eyes as she brought up the subject. "I have prayed and prayed. Yet God has not deemed me fit for motherhood. I have failed you. I have failed God, and for that great shame I can only apologize." Arabella had grown tired, and the love of her husband was the only thing that had carried her forward, and now she had done nothing but fail. She wanted him to have what she could not give, she wanted his good name to be spared.

    "We can wait until after the visit from His Royal Highness. My sister can be free from her marriage proposal, as the sister of a disgraced Duchess is undesirable. You'll be rid of her as well." Arabella felt herself shaking, she felt at least if she offered, it was better than being simply told later. Richard's last wife ended up in an asylum, and Arabella would be determined to avoid that fate. Rather she would condemn herself to a life of service for another great family. "I have loved nothing greater in my life than you... but you mustn't let me take you down." It would be easy for the Duke to cast her aside and to do so before the situation dramatically worsened.

    Her fall would likely take Alexandra part of the way, but she would then finally be free to lead her own life. Perhaps with reduced prospects but with options never the less. "This is me being strong for you and for our family. This is me admitting what needs to be done." She moved to let a bare hand find his own and intertwine their fingers. "Let me do this one last thing for you." Arabella humbled herself for perhaps what would be the final time.

    Alice meanwhile had returned to service, wishing they all had been dismissed for the afternoon, something, anything. "There was nothing you could have done, your Ladyship." Alice spoke rather quietly. It was the truth, no one could have stopped what had happened except Arabella. Alice attended to the gloves thrown on the bed, looking them over for traces of dirt or loose threads before folding them neatly. "I think it was...reassuring to know she's still human under all that armor." Alice was distressed by the entire situation. "Still, I suppose everyone gets their comeuppance sooner or later." This much was true, society had a way of being cruel.

    "Though I hope her actions do not reflect upon you in any way... This whole thing has been something of a nightmare. Her poor family... just thought they were sending their daughter up in the world... working for nobility and all." Alice was at a loss for words, what exactly could she have done? Should she have worked harder to reassure Hetty, to calm her down after the lashing, more than likely. Yet she too had failed. Everyone had failed the young maid.
    Thanks to Hayabusa/Ryoku for the set.

  6. #36
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    The Duke sat, listening, and staring off at the wall as she spoke. He thought of many things as he listened…His first two wives and the loss of them, his place in the world, of which he was so assured of, his future, his name and house, his dynasty…that hung so on him and Arabella…Such a little thing. He cast his mind back to his own parents and their marriage. They had seemed happy, he thought, from a child’s point of view but now he could see there had been strain and tension.

    He had five sisters, all older than him and had been thoroughly spoiled by them all; life had been good. He had not noticed the unspoken words and looks, the endless visits to spas and such for cures…His mother had died in the end, when he was four, trying to give her husband a second son. All families needed that, the heir, and the spare, just in case. After that his father had become obsessed with protecting him as his only son, and also in begetting more.

    It had not been a happy house for the adults after that. His sisters were quickly married and soon he was left alone in the schoolroom…waiting for the day when a little brother might come. That day had never arrived, though 4 stepmothers had tried and failed.

    He had married Arabella because she had been young and pious and from a good family; he had not expected nor looked for love. From either side. He had respected her and been all he should be, but…slowly but surely, he had fallen in love. And, surprising, she had fallen in love with him too. It was a marriage that many would kill for. A happy one, with trust and respect and a deep connection. They had no children, but he knew many of his friends who had many children yet were miserable.

    And what if Arabella did become pregnant and died in the attempt? Yes, he may have an heir, but he would lose her. If she and the infant died, it would all have been for naught.

    Like a voice from God, he knew his choice. He gripped her hand and pulled her to him in an embrace. “No,” he said softly, kissing her forehead. “No. My love, I shall not give you up for anything…I would give up my title, my wealth, my dynasty. You are mine, and that is that.” He brushed her hair back from her face and smiled kindly. “I love you, Arabella,” he spoke softly. He rarely used her name but now it was more precious than any pet name. “We are married, we swore…for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health. I shall not abandon you. Never. Even if commanded to by his Majesty himself. You are mine. And I am yours.”

    He moved back to hold her hands gently in his, his thumbs stroking over her bare skin. “We have options, my love…There are…ways and means. That do not carry a risk to your health.”

    -

    Alexandra sighed. “Perhaps. I’ve not seen that side to her in many years. I had almost convinced myself that she had never been the sister I knew her as once. I thought I had imagined it all but…She is still there. I just wish she could be herself again, or…come back to herself. She was always pious, but she did not delight in cruelty.”

    She lay back on her bed, staring up at the embordered canopy. “She wants a baby so much, but I worry if she could be a mother. She…she lashes out easily. I know she would not do much of the caring, with nannies and governesses being employed but still. I worry.”

  7. #37
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    A teenaged Arabella had met her husband's second wife once and only once. She would later write in her diary that she found the woman to be deeply unpleasant. It was clear to any that met her, she had been an unhappy woman. She had no idea that in just a few short months she would be the woman's replacement. Though perhaps she should have seen it coming. Arabella was a beautiful girl, loved by the King and all who met her. She had charm and social graces and the piety of a saint in the making. Arabella, over the years retained all of those features, though her cruelty had only grown. The ugliest part of her grew uglier with time, with the reinforcement of the Church and her husband. Yet this woman, for all her faults, was a woman truly and unequivocally in love and in this moment of kindness she fell deeper still.

    The Duchess, making herself smaller still crawled into the Duke's lap and allowed herself to melt into him. There was no safer place in the world for his wife than in his arms. The two were uniquely matched for one another. He used her name, he so rarely used, but here... it was perfection. It was the comfort she longed for, it was her entire world, right there. She wished to never hear someone speak her name again, only him. She watched his last wife fall, she watched as the woman descended into madness, a raving lunatic, a shadow of the woman she had once been. Even without children he chose her. Arabella had done it again, and too, would have no other.

    Arabella, after some time stood up, and taking his hand into her own she stood him up and pulled him into her bed. In this moment she would sin again, she wanted him for him, the idea of a child be damned. Then again, this could be the time, the moment. Probably not.

    In the intervening days things had changed in the great house of the Suffolks. Arabella, the day after the incident went back to her routine as though nothing had happened. She arose at the same time, with another maid filling in for the late Hetty. Though the Duchess made no complaint when things were not done to her unreasonably high standard. In fact, it was noted that Arabella said nothing on a great many things that normally she would have unleashed her rage for. The Duchess prayed, she ate, perhaps a bit more than usual, she read the latest journals on the home and practiced her embroidery. She met with dress makers, florists and the like all in preparation for a party which was now in two days time. The Duchess smiled and nodded to those servants she passed in the hall. She simply allowed them to attend to their lives as she would her own. For now.

    As Arabella approved final changes to the menus, she took note of Alice in the hall. "Sutton." Arabella bade, though there was little in the way of greeting. "Pardon the interruption. Would you be so kind as to see if the Lady Alexandra has a few moments to meet with me? There's something I'd like to discuss."

    I'll bet there is... Alice thought, but instead nodded her head politely. "Blessed day. Of course your Grace." Alice responded in kind, noting that the pardon was new and largely quite surprising. This couldn't last long, that is not who the Duchess was. Alice, knowing not to stay too long and take her chances went about looking for Alexandra. Alice understood they had bells in all of the rooms but for the love God why couldn't they attach little bells to the people so they could always be found and heard. There were too many places one could be hiding in this place, and unlike the Duchess, Alexandra liked to amble from place to place. Almost like a cat in search of a sunny spot. But on days like today, nice days it was somewhat easier to narrow down the list of places.

    Her Ladyship, unlike the mistress of the house never seemed to mind the sun and could be found outside among the gardens. Sure enough this is where she was. "Your Ladyship" Alice greeted and curtsied as was tradition, especially outside of the confines of the lady's chambers - out here, all eyes watched. "Her Grace would like to know if you had a moment or two to spare for her?" It was odd. Typically there were edicts, demands, never questions from the Duchess to anyone. If Lady Alexandra accepted, which she would more or less be obligated to, the Duchess would wait in her own chambers.
    Thanks to Hayabusa/Ryoku for the set.

  8. #38
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    Life had, for Alexandra, almost become pleasant, or an approximation of pleasant anyway. When the seamstress came, she had expected the normal abuse and lack of choice but to her shock -and the seamstress’s herself she reckoned- her sister gave her full reign in choosing a dress and was even complimentary about the choice, saying it suited her. The Duchess had even smiled! And it had appeared, for all the world, as if it was a real smile.

    An outsider looking at the scene would have assumed this was a pair of devoted sisters, being fitting for a party they planned to attend. Even the poor seamstress seemed most confused and had to adapt her methods, rather than being unpleasant as she normally was.

    The result was that Alexandra’s dress suited her figure perfectly and, even the coldest soul, would have said she outdid her sister. Not that Arabella would have believed it, her own confidence was too high for that.

    Alex’s gown was sapphire blue, to compliment her dark locks and blue eyes. Cut in the latest fashion with a small waist -helped of course by a corset- and full skirt, it sported the most up to date court fashion of having the shoulders exposed; the sleeves staring just under her arms and falling to her elbows. There was a strip of skin before her white gloves took over.

    For jewellery, which no lady could appear without at such an event, Arabella graciously allowed Alex to wear a sapphire set she -Alex- had been left by her mother and had never been allowed to wear it as the Duchess thought it too grand for her. It consisted of a choker of silver, made of connected parts, and decorated with carves leaves and flowers, with tiny sapphires interspersed with diamonds. At the base, hanging to her throat, was a larger drop sapphire, surrounded by clusters of tiny diamonds. The set contained matching earrings and a jewelled comb for her hair.

    Said dress and jewels were now sitting in her dressing room, waiting for the night of the party. Alexandra couldn’t help but go in to look at the gown throughout the day. She had never been allowed to look so pretty. She had her suspicions why Arabella was being so nice but said nothing. Why break the spell? She might as well enjoy it while it lasted.

    She also had more freedom, at least for now, and could go for walks in the garden without having to ask permission or for Mrs Lyle to come with. Testing the waters, she had sent a request to take a carriage ride around the park, with a chaperone, of course…Permission had come less than ten minutes later and she, and Alice, had spent a lovely few hours travelling through the great parks, admiring the scenery.

    For Alice it had been a rare treat, even more so than for Alex.

    Since the change in her situation, Alexandra had settled into a routine. She ate breakfast, in her room normally or the gardens, often joined by Alice, where they would talk like any two girls…rather than Mistress and maid. Of course, neither were reckless and each was careful to keep to suitable topics. She would then spend the morning in the gardens, or down at the pond watching the swans while she read or sewed. The afternoons were spent in similar vein, though she had spent a few hours a day with Alice, practicing dance steps for the party.

    She and Arabella had avoided one another; Bella because she likely did not wish to speak to her if she could help it, and Alexandra because she was saving herself for the right time. So, she gave a coy smile when Alice came to find her, saying her sister wished to, if she had time, see her. She could not help but chuckle a little. The Duchess gave orders and demands; she did not ask.

    “I wonder,” Alex said, closing her book -a suitable one given she was not in private- and standing, “What would happen if I said no, Alice?” She smiled. “Well, maybe I shall save that. I am rather eager to see what she wants, I confess.” They fell into step and made their way towards the house. As they walked, she said, smiling, “Oh, could you ask Mrs Lyle to have some tea sent to my room? You can wait for me there and take a break. I don’t know, I should have asked, forgive me, but if you like to read, you are welcome to look at any of my books. Most are dreary things that are approved but some are interesting. A few approved titles have some rather interesting ideas that suggest to me that whoever approved them had not actually read them.”

    Alexandra walked through the corridors, taking little notice of the portraits now. They could judge all they wanted…for now, at least, she was untouchable. Was this how Arabella felt? Maybe…Then again, for all her power, she was answerable to Richard and could be put from the house in a second if he wished. Alex had no such threat, not yet anyway.

    If anything, the change in the Duke was more startling than the change in the Duchess! He had, from the moment she arrived after their marriage, regarded Alexandra as an unpleasant irritant in his house. Something to be tolerated for as little time as possible then removed and never spoken of again as one might do if one had a rat infestation.

    But now he was strangely courteous and respectful. Of course, she didn’t see him often, only at the rare meals he took in the dining room and at chapel, but the change was clear. He looked at her with new eyes and always nodded at her in greeting, even sometimes asking how she was and had she had a nice day. Twice, at supper, he had asked her advice on some household matter. Alexandra had glanced at her sister, who merely gave a clipped smile, then answered him. He seemed rather impressed by the answer.

    It was all rather strange and new…And she was not overly sure she liked it or not. The man repulsed her, and that would never change. She had no desire to replace her sister! But it was something to be respected by a man. The number of women his Grace valued was few.

    This was all in her mind as she bid Alice goodbye and knocked on the door to her sister’s sitting room. She heard the answer and entered, smiling in greeting before coming over to where Arabella sat, working on her embroidery. “Sister, blessed day,” she said gently, taking a seat on the opposite chaise. “What fine work,” she added, nodding to the tapestry. "Sutton said you wished to see me?"

  9. #39
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    The change in the Duchess' attitude toward her sister was maddening. Absolutely without a doubt maddening. It was the Duchess now who felt like a hostage in her own home. It was time for all of this to come to an end before it killed her. She simply had to get the girl out and as soon as humanly possible. Alexandra had kept Arabella waiting, something that Arabella absolutely detested, though she understood. Alex was now trying to see how far her new found freedom would stretch. Too far, in the Duchess' opinion. When her sister did finally enter, Arabella looked up with a smile and set her embroidery aside.

    "Yes. Thank you for coming." Arabella tried her best not to snap and for the most part was successful. "Richard and I think John ought to marry." The Duchess spoke with no great sense of disdain or impatience, it for all intents and purposes appeared to be a genuine desire to begin conversation. "I was thinking about Alice." This was likely the first time the Duchess had used Sutton's given name, however as the two were sisters and were alone, there was little need for the typical formalities. In fact, a small part of Arabella was relieved. "I don't think she's a true believer, but when has that stopped anyone in this day and age?" Many people, it stopped many people because being a non believer usually lead to violent execution. "I think she's a good woman, with a good head on her shoulders, she's young... and he couldn't hurt a fly." Arabella confessed now "I think he's a bit weak willed... but there are worse qualities in a man." It had likely been years since the Duchess simply spoke to her sister like a human, about normal things that wasn't somehow a twist of the knife or a dagger to her sister's back.

    "He wouldn't have been a bad match for you... unfortunately as he's fallen... Anyway..." Arabella had maintained eye contact and for a moment there was a softness in her face, a gentleness in her eyes that she hadn't shone Alexandra in ages. "I'd like your thoughts, but that isn't why I asked for you." Arabella sighed deeply and rested her hands in her lap, she uncrossed her ankles now and actually pulled her dress covered legs onto the chaise, resting comfortably. "I've had enough of the tension and certainly enough of you pushing the bounds of my patience." The statement was entirely matter of fact rather than accusatory or exasperated. "What do you want?" The elder sister now perfectly direct with the other.

    "You can ruin me, yes. I accept that now. What do you want so that you'll discredit the whispers when you hear them? Is it money? Is it freedom, is it out of your upcoming marriage?" Never in her life had Arabella spoken so freely, a part of it was truly liberating. Another part of it was terrifying as the genuinely had no idea what her sister would come up with. "We both know the truth. You may love me, but you hate the woman I am." Arabella was smiling, though not of out of cruelty. "For a long time I wasn't sure if I ever loved you." The Duchess knew this would be a painful thing to hear but it was nevertheless true. "You were always mother's daughter, and I was always father's daughter." Of course during their lifetimes, being your mother's favorite counted for almost nothing, save perhaps a more pleasant childhood. "I have resented your existence most of my adult life." The Duchess sighed heavily and continued, even if it was unwanted.

    "But then I remembered." Arabella wasn't all cruel, though mostly so. "We were inseparable. It was you and me against the world. Mother even put us in matching outfits." A soft smile had returned to her face. "We would run and play, getting lost in the woods at the edge of the estate. Henry the grumpy gamekeeper would have to come find us." There were fond memories. "I have always loved you, Alex. I will always love you, for you are my sister. My flesh and blood." Arabella stood, and moved to sit next to Alexandra. "But we aren't those girls anymore. I haven't been that girl in a long time... I don't approve of you or the way you want to live your life. But I don't have to like you... so help me resolve this mess between us." Arabella nodded her head, and in a rare show of letting her guard down, she removed her gloves, casting them to the floor.
    Thanks to Hayabusa/Ryoku for the set.

  10. #40
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    Alexandra sat, her face calm, her body relaxed and ladylike in the upright pose, as her sister talked. She remembered that time too; two little girls, dressed the same, delighting in their privileged life before reality hit them, as it does all children. Things began to change when Bella entered adolescence and Alex was still in the nursery…suddenly her big sister did not have time to play; she had lessons in dance and singing and etiquette to go to, and books on managing a large household to read. Her mind was suddenly focussed on marriage, children, and duty, not make-believe and fun.

    Slowly but surely the Bella she had known and loved began to die, to be replaced by…by what she was not sure, even now, but Bella had gone, that was for sure.

    “Why did you resent me, sister? You have told me, since you were about seventeen and due to have your season, that I was less than you, less pretty, less clever, worth far less, if anything at all. Why resent me? If I was so worthless? I can bear your resentment and hatred, it does not concern me, we all have a cross to bear if you believe the priests, but I would like to know the why, at least.”

    She shifted her in her seat a little, smoothing her dress as she did so before she spoke again, “You are right, I think, about John. He is a good man, and will make a good husband for Sutton, if she wishes to wed. I will not force her to, but if she accepts, I think it will be a good match. He is gentle hearted and kind, from what I have seen.”

    Alexandra paused again, considering. It was rather like playing chess or cards. A rash move could upset the board. “As for my own marriage… I will not marry the Marquess; I do not think I need to give my reasons. They would be your own reasons if Papa had suggested him as your match. Pious he may be, human, I am not so sure. I should rather take Hetty’s place than marry the man. But,” she looked at her sister, “I, like you, have no more desire to live under the same roof as you, than you do with me, so I will marry, but I will chose who I wed. The party is a fine chance. I did not have a season, but I know enough. I will find a suitable match and you and the Duke shall arrange it. We can part on happy terms and, if needs be, never see one another again. That is my price. And when I go, I shall take Alice with me as my maid. If she has wed John already, they can visit each other. I know such arrangements are common.”

    She turned to face her, side on, beside her on the chaise. “You know sister, I do not hate you. I think I never did. I may not have always liked you, after you showed me your claws, and I shall never forget nor forgive you for what you did to Hetty…but neither will you, and I think that is punishment enough for one such as yourself. There is no torment I could devise that would be worse than your own. You must live with it, go to bed each night, and see the image of her. No. I have no desire to torture you over it.”

    Alex sighed softly and took her hand. “No, I do not hate you, sister. I feel sympathy for you. You love you husband; it may be the one redeeming feature in your character. And you would love your children but you and I both know…you will not have any by Richard, Bella,” she spoke softly, not for fear of being overheard but rather because she knew what she said would hurt and she wanted her sister to know she did not say it to hurt. Sometimes you had to be cruel to people, for their own good. “None of his wives have ever conceived by him. He married his first years ago, in his prime, and she in hers…And nothing happened. The second was the same. Nothing.” She paused, wondering if she should voice a secret she had heard.

    Maids, after all, know everything, and Alex was kind to them…She learned lots of things that way.

    “He cannot have children, Bella. It’s not your fault,” she stroked her hand. “His second wife had a child in the madhouse…3 years after she was put in there. It was all hushed up, but a nurse told a maid and,” she shrugged, “They talk. It was never her who was the problem, it’s not you. It’s him. You love him, I know, and I cannot fault that. He loves you; anyone can see. He loves you more than the others combined, but you know the rules. A man must have an heir. He has no brothers. The line ends with him. He needs a child, and he cannot have them, but no one will blame him. They will blame you, and his previous wives, and his future ones. If the King ordered him to, he would, even though he loves you…put you aside and remarry. Or else he would lose his title.”

    She looked down at her sister’s hand then back at her face and said softly, “Give me children, or else I die”. A line they had all be taught. A line that had been drummed into them, as something to strive for and…a threat, a very real one. Whether you die in the attempt, in a salvaging for an invented crime so you husband could be rid of you, or else in a madhouse for your failure…It was not just a pretty line.

    “I am scared, for you,” Alexandra said gently. “You are my sister, my blood. I will not stand by and watch you starve yourself to death in an attempt to make God listen to you, when it is not your fault, and this,” she gripped her wrist, the differences were night and day. Alex’s fingers nearly went around Bella’s wrist and her bones felt too delicate to be healthy, “Is not helping. Your health is delicate. You shall not conceive when you are like this. Do you even bleed anymore?”

    Alice had told her it was rare, and when it happened, Bella suffered greatly with pains. “You must eat and grow healthy…And then you…” she swallowed, wondering if this had occurred to her sister too, “Then you must find a trustworthy man…And…do what needs to be done, to save yourself from a worse fate.”

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