Professionals are consistently tardy. "The piano tuner will arrive an hour later, the doctor may be slightly delayed." Now even the artist is running behind schedule.
Even though I made an effort to wake up 30 minutes earlier than usual in order to get ready for him, he still arrived late. It appears that everything always goes wrong in this dreadful house. This morning, when the artist eventually arrived, he was delayed by two and a half hours and turned out to be one of the most repulsive individuals I have ever encountered. He consistently responded with "Yes darling" and "No darling".
"Even my husband doesn't call me darling," he remarked, seating me on a low stool. He gazed down at me, perhaps trying to peer into my dress. After approximately ten minutes, an itch formed on my e
...ar and I couldn't resist vigorously scratching it. The moment I moved my hand, a voice emerged from behind the canvas, requesting, "Darling please stay still." How could he possibly anticipate me staying immobile? The living room was unbearably hot and I was compelled to wear my most exquisite attire - a cherry red ball gown adorned with delicate frills at the bottom.
I was also wearing my gold crucifix, which had started to stick to my legs. I wasn't sure how much longer I would have to endure sitting on the uncomfortable wooden stool. Nevertheless, I decided to disregard the artist's instructions and scratched my ear anyway. After all, who was he to dictate whether or not I, the duchess, could scratch my own ear? As I sat there, I observed him energetically applying paint to his brush an
then transferring it onto the canvas.
He appeared completely comfortable, diligently working like a small rodent constructing a home. Suddenly, a question popped into my mind: why did my spouse suddenly desire this image of me? Did he wish for me to bear a child and therefore desired a depiction of me prior to losing my physique? Or was he planning to send me away and desired something to remember me by? While these thoughts continued to circulate in my mind, the artist announced that he had finished. I proceeded to approach my portrait, but my husband interrupted and instructed me that I would see it at the appropriate moment. Naturally, I complied and retreated to my room to change out of my finest attire and rest. Upon entering my room, I summoned Gina to bring me warm milk and pastries.
The woman kindly helped me and gave me assistance in taking off the very sticky dress. She truly rescued me; I would have been stuck in it for hours without her help. The chilly winter season can be quite discouraging. I find myself confined indoors with no activities to keep me occupied. Today, I made the decision to explore different parts of the house. Although I have lived here for six months, I am only acquainted with the waiting room, drawing room, and my own bedroom.
Behind the house, there was a dimly lit staircase that curved upwards to a tower. Just as I was about to climb those steps, my spouse appeared with a serious expression and immediately prohibited me from ever going up that staircase.
He had a worried expression on his face as I gazed
at him. He held tightly onto a canvas under his arm and swiftly vanished up the staircase. Feeling downhearted, I returned to my quarters and lay down. However, my curiosity got the better of me, so I resolved to explore later that night. At approximately eleven o'clock, I exited my room and made my way towards the rear of the house. Discovering the staircase, I commenced ascending.
Upon feeling the initial stone step with my bare foot, I immediately recoiled due to its icy temperature. After proceeding to the tenth step, I hesitated and questioned the validity of my actions, but my overwhelming curiosity compelled me to continue.
I decided to investigate the mystery of what my husband was concealing at the top of the stairs. Hastily, I climbed the remaining steps and entered a circular room adorned with a bronze statue of Neptune cradling a sea horse. Continuing my exploration of the room, I noticed four portraits of youthful women. Suddenly, my husband materialized before me.
He appeared extremely angry and disappointed in me, likening me to everyone else who had let him down by not following his instructions. He gestured towards the paintings, urging me to see what had happened to the others who had disobeyed him.
I started with the image he pointed out, showing a blonde girl who appeared to be around twenty years old. She was wearing an incredibly unusual ball gown that caught my attention. At the bottom of the picture, there was a caption.
Entitled "My First Duchess 1782-1791," the initial artwork showcased a young girl. Transitioning to the subsequent painting, I observed another redhead girl who appeared to be approximately the
same age as the previous piece. The intriguing aspect was her noticeably distinctive outfit - a fitted black evening gown, in stark contrast to the attire worn by the girl depicted in the first painting.
The inscription below the painting read "Number 2 1791-1801." The next painting depicted a black-haired girl, who was of the same age as the previous ones. She was dressed in more ordinary attire, wearing a ball gown similar to those I own. The inscription beneath it indicated "Number 3 1801-1806." Finally, I proceeded to the last painting.
Fear inside me had already warned me about what I would witness: a picture of myself with the inscription "My Last Duchess 1806", without any subsequent dates.
My husband approached me from behind and I noticed the bright reflection of what appeared to be a knife. I felt a sharp sensation in my back, followed by something entering deeply within me.
As I rapidly descended, my concern heightened regarding the eventual landing. Abruptly, the fall abruptly halted. Despite not reaching the bottom yet, there was a lack of sensation below my shoulders. Upon regaining consciousness, I found myself observing the surroundings in the room.
Looking ahead, I noticed faces peering back at me from a box, causing me to feel completely paralyzed and unable to breathe. Directing my gaze downwards, I spotted a gold plate on the ground bearing an inscription.
It said, "My Last Duchess 1806-1812"
