Death of a Duchess, Nellie Steele [non fiction books to read .txt] 📗

banister, peering over into the foyer below. I overheard my grandfather speaking before he ascended the stairs to comfort me.

“You did nothing wrong, child,” he told me.

Voices from below drew my attention before I could respond. “… should be going.”

“Oh, please, stay. Do not allow the child to ruin our tea!” my mother said, chasing after the woman who appeared in the foyer below.

“Oh, Helen, I am sorry, but I must go.”

“The girl is merely playing a game. You know children!”

The woman placed her hand on my mother’s arm and shook her head. “Take care, Helen.” She stepped toward the door, turning back before exiting. Her hand lingered on the doorknob. “I hadn’t realized your father was still alive. I thought he passed years ago, before Lenora was born. I am so pleased to hear he is well and taking an interest in Lenora. Goodbye, Helen.”

The women exited, pulling the door closed behind her. My mother leaned against the door, her forehead resting against the door jamb. Her shoulders slumped, and she pounded against the door with her fists.

After a moment, she whipped around, glaring up the steps. She spotted me peeking between the banister’s spindles. Her face twisted and contorted as she thundered up the stairs. “You wicked brat!” she screamed at me.

My grandfather stepped in front of me, shielding me from her fury. “Do not blame the child, Helen!” he pleaded with her.

She stormed toward me, passing through him as though he was only air. I scurried backward on my rear. “Grandfather told me to tell the truth!” I cried.

“No more, Lenora! Stop this talk!” she screamed. I backed to the wall where I was pinned. She continued toward me. I attempted to dart to the side to escape down the hall. She grasped my ankles, dragging me back. Her hands pounded against me, striking multiple blows to my legs and back. “You are a devil child! Your lies have cost me more than I can calculate! First your father and now my friends! You little demon! No more!”

I squealed with sobs. “I am not lying. Grandfather is right there!” I shrieked. “Please, Mum! He’s begging you to stop and listen to him.”

My comments further incensed my mother. She grasped hold of me, carrying me like a sack of wheat. She tossed me into my room and slammed the door shut. I heard the lock engage before her footsteps retreated down the hall.

I collapsed on the floor, still sobbing. My grandfather stroked my hair as I laid there in tears. “Poor child,” he whispered. “There, there, Lenora.”

I grasped his hand in mine, squeezing it. He tugged on it and I rose from my position on the floor. He led me to my bed, and I climbed onto it, cuddling into my pillow for comfort. I fell asleep there, only waking hours later after the sun had set.

I glanced around, finding myself alone. I rubbed my sore eyes and climbed from my bed. Outside, the moon already rose overhead. I shuddered, reminded of my experience the month prior. I wandered to my door, turning the knob. I discovered the door remained locked.

With a sigh, I trudged to my small trinket box and retrieved a hairpin. After months of being locked in my room regularly, I had found a means of escape. On several previous occasions, I had witnessed my mother use her hairpin to open my father’s liquor cabinet. I tried the technique on my door lock, finding it worked there too. My delight over my success caused me to clap my hands as I bobbed on my toes.

I used my trick to unlock my door. As I stepped into the hallway, I found the house dark. Mother must be in her bedroom, I concluded. I traversed the hallway, arriving at my mother’s room. The door was ajar, but the room was dark. I pushed it open, stepping inside. “Mum?” I called softly.

I received no response. “Mum?” I questioned again. In the dim light, I made out a lump on the bed. I crept forward and stretched my arm out to touch her shoulder. “Mum?”

She jolted when my fingers grasped her. “Go away, Lenora,” she groaned. Her voice was raspy, thick with phlegm from weeping.

I pressed on, despite her cold response. “Are you hungry, Mum? I can fetch some bread for you.”

“No.”

“I am sorry, Mum. I only wanted to tell the truth. I did not mean to upset you. I shan’t do it again,” I promised.

“Go AWAY, Lenora!” my mother said, raising her voice.

I swallowed hard, choking back my tears. I backed from the room. The moment I cleared the door, I spun and raced back to my room. I threw myself on my bed and wept. My mother remained angry with me. I was a terrible child who had disappointed my mother. I deserved to be punished.

After half of an hour, I quieted and lay staring out the window. My stomach growled with hunger, though I did not seek food. I fell asleep after a time despite my hunger, exhaustion overcoming me.

When I awoke, the sun had risen. I sat up and stretched. I had decided at the first opportunity to apologize and promise to be a better child. I considered seeking out my mother when a knock sounded at the door. My mother pushed through into the room. She appeared well, her hair kempt, her dress changed and her expression chipper.

“Good morning, Lenora,” she said with a smile.

“Good morning, Mum,” I answered, pleased to witness the change in her. She eased onto the edge of my bed, taking my hands in hers. I squeezed her hands. “I am sorry for being a wicked child…”

My mother shook her head, putting a finger against my lips. “Hush, child. We shall not speak of it. Instead, I have a surprise for you!”

“A surprise?” I questioned.

She nodded. “’Tis your birthday in a few days’ time,” she said.

“Yes,” I responded. “But I shall tell no one! I shall insist it is not