DEATH OF A DUCHESS (PAPERBACK)

The imposing silhouette of Blackmoore Castle rose from the mist, standing in stark contrast against the ominous gray sky. Its grand towers and turrets with banners waving rose high above the landscape. The castle, perched on the cliffs, beckoned me home as my carriage trundled up the path toward it. 

It still had the power to take my breath away as it did when I first laid eyes upon it, drenched in moonlight, some three months ago when I arrived. I recalled the journey into the Scottish Highlands as though it were yesterday. Filled with a mix of excitement and trepidation of what would become of me, I rode in silence with my traveling companion, Henry Langford, a middle-aged estate agent with a kind face in the service of the Duke of Blackmoore, the castle’s proprietor. 

The foreboding façade of the castle may have sent shivers up the spine of most women my age. However, the turmoil of my short life of eighteen years and two months created within me a façade almost as formidable as the castle’s. Instead, the brooding castle with its gothic design and blackened stones generated a stirring of home inside me. And despite my questioning mind regarding what would become of me, I feared not what secrets the ominous castle held within its walls.

As the carriage bounced over the rocky pathway, I closed my eyes, recalling the night I had first arrived. My day had started like any other, with no indication of difference from the days before it. At the orphanage, my home for ten years, six months, and three weeks, days were rarely unique. Mundaneness and routine thrived at the orphanage above all things. I passed most of my time reading and learning. I had been returning from the orphanage’s paltry library on that morning when I overheard the tail end of the conversation between the Duke of Blackmoore’s man and the headmistress. I shall make clear one thing: I was not eavesdropping. However, upon passing through the foyer to the staircase leading to the bedrooms, I overheard my name. Intrigued, I stopped to listen. 

Headmistress Williamson protested, “There are far better girls beyond Miss Hastings in this orphanage for this sort of thing.” 

Far better for what? my mind questioned. Her comment did not surprise me and her dislike for me was well-known. She despised my quick wit. As much as she hoped to rid herself of me, she sabotaged every possibility of my departure. I had long since resigned myself to becoming a teacher at the orphanage. 

I did not recognize the voice that answered her. “Miss Williamson, I am not here to ask your opinion, merely to pay for any expenses Miss Hastings accumulated during her time at your facility and to retrieve her,” he argued.

My brow furrowed. Who was this mystery man, I wondered, and what right of claim did he have to me? He wasn’t my father. An uncle, perhaps. My mind wandered from possibility to possibility as the doors to Headmistress Williamson’s office flung open.

Headmistress Williamson spotted me, her eyes wide. Her mouth set itself into its usual scowl. Her mousy brown hair, pulled back into its low bun at the nape of her neck, added to the dour expression on her face. “Miss Hastings,” she growled, glowering at me with those fiery emerald eyes, “how fortuitous to find you here. Mr. Langford is here to collect you.” She motioned toward the man who stepped behind her to fill the doorway.

I glanced at the man, exploring his features as I searched them for an answer. None came. Instead of explanations, what came was a quick swat on my upper arm. “Do not stand there dumbfounded, girl!” Headmistress Williamson exclaimed. “Mr. Langford does not have all day. He’d like to get an early start!”

The headmistress offered a contrite glance to Mr. Langford before spinning me on my feet and shoving me up the stairs. She huffed as we hurried down the hall toward the bedroom I occupied with seven other girls. “Quickly, now, Lenora, pack your things. You won’t be needing this.” She ripped away the book still clutched in my hands, discarding it on a nearby dresser. 

I had come to the orphanage with a small, well-worn suitcase which I kept shoved under my sagging mattress. Retrieving it from its hiding spot, I placed it on the bed and set about gathering the few possessions I had accumulated over the years. My meager belongings, consisting of a second dress, a tarnished gold hair comb missing the jewels that once adorned it, and a well-worn copy of Frankenstein gifted to me by a former teacher, were packed within minutes. I pulled on a tattered pair of gloves and secured a frayed cape at my neck. 

“Well, I suppose this is goodbye…for now,” the headmistress replied as I stood in my cape, suitcase in my hand. 

“For now?” 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you are returned within a month’s time,” she commented, a skeptical expression clouding her features as she considered my journey.

I heaved a sigh and stepped past her, making my way to the doorway. There I turned, giving one last glance at what had been my home for just over a decade. I held no melancholy in my heart despite the extended time I had spent here. Without a word, I continued through the doorway, descending the stairs to the waiting man below. Headmistress Williamson followed on my heels. “I do apologize for the wait, Mr. Langford. And please, if Miss Hastings does not work out for any reason, do not hesitate to contact me. I am certain we can suggest a more appropriate placement for you and His Grace.”

The vote of confidence in my ability was staggering, and I fought to restrain my tongue. “I am certain there will be no need for that,” Mr. Langford replied with a curt smile. He shifted his gaze to me. “Come, Miss Hastings. We’ve a long journey ahead of us. Good day, Headmistress Williamson.” He placed his hat on the light brown hair topping his head, tipping it to her and extending his arm to usher me from the building. I nodded to him, eager to leave the place behind. 

Outside, a carriage awaited, drawn by four large horses. As we exited into the street, Mr. Langford lifted the suitcase from my hands. I opened my mouth to protest, but he insisted, and passed my case off to the coachman. The man held it as he opened the carriage door, offering his hand to assist me into the contraption. I climbed inside, followed by Mr. Langford, and the door was closed behind us. The coachman set about securing my case to the rear of the carriage along with what I assumed to be Mr. Langford’s luggage. 

Mr. Langford fiddled with the latch on an attaché case. After clearing my throat, I inquired, “May I ask where we are going?”

“Blackmoore Castle in the Highlands of Scotland. Settle in, Miss Hastings,” he replied, removing a stack of papers and fixing a pair of spectacles to his nose. 

Though I had more questions, I quieted my tongue. Mr. Langford’s focus on the papers in front of him made it clear my queries were unwelcome at present. 

The buggy shimmied as the coachman climbed into his seat, taking hold of the reins. The carriage lurched forward and the characteristic sound of horseshoes on cobblestones filled my ears. I leaned forward, peering from the window at the orphanage as it slid away from my view. 

I folded by hands, placing them in my lap as I continued to watch the city fade away. After several hours, rolling green hills dotted with autumn foliage filled the view in all directions. The scene, though charming, became monotonous after a time, and I nodded off, soothed by the swaying motion of the carriage ride.  

When I woke, the moon, already high in the darkened sky, glowed brightly. Mountainous terrain now surrounded us, and I assumed we had entered the Scottish Highlands—though having never traveled there, I could not be sure.

I straightened in my seat, drawing my threadbare cape closer. The air, markedly cooler and damper here, penetrated my bones. Heavy mists clung to the moors, obscuring some of them. The large white moon glowed over the land, casting an eerie image across the landscape.

The carriage slowed, and I was pitched backward as we climbed. “We’re nearly there, Lenora,” Mr. Langford said with a smile. It was the first time he’d used my name. I noted he was devoid of his paperwork, likely unable to view it as the light waned to darkness. “All that remains is the climb to the castle.”

I gazed out the window as the carriage lurched around a bend, noticing the large structure perched on top of the moor. Lit by moonlight, I distinguished multiple features of the castle looming above us. Turrets and towers jutted from various areas of the sprawling framework. The moonlit castle struck an imposing silhouette against the night sky. 

I returned my gaze to Mr. Langford. “Am I to be a governess?” 

An amused smile crossed the man’s face. “No.”

“A companion, then? A ladies’ maid?” I did not understand what my new role was to be when we arrived.

“No,” he answered, “His Grace has better uses for your special skills in mind. He has far bigger plans for you.” I furrowed my brow in confusion. “You, my dear Lenora, are to be a duchess!”

1. Death of a Duchess
2. Letter to a Duchess
3. Asylum for a Duchess
4. Danger for a Duchess
5. Turmoil for a Duchess
6. Secrets for a Duchess