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Tuesday, September 20, 2011

My dear, my last duchess

I had everything. All I ever wanted in this world was in my possession. Nothing was out of reach for me. It never had been, and it never would be. I was almost as powerful as my name. If I wanted something I took it. I had long wanted a wife – my duchess. Finally I had her. She was mine. At last she belonged to me, and I to her. No one had told me so directly, but I knew what people were thinking: that young woman was far too young and adventurous for the duke. I was determined to prove them all wrong, as I hoped she did. The duchess was merely young and needed time to settle into her new life as my duchess. Soon she would see things differently. Soon she would see me differently. She would see things my way, and some day – before long she would realize her undying love for me. It was undoubtedly for my name, my money and my status that she married me, and because I had been a good loyal friend to her, but I knew she would quickly come to love me. Why should she not?

Her skin was fair. She was as pure as the virgin snow. All the men had circled around her like starving vultures – never giving her a moment’s peace. Men were drawn to her like mosquitos for that sugary blood. Other women hated her with a passion as mighty as a thousand suns. It was true that she was a kittenish spirit, but all that was over now. It had to be. I trusted my duchess to be no more than kind to the company at the various parties and celebrations. An innocent flower such as her should be allowed to bloom, but now she had to find a way to bloom in my shadow. True I was a lavish man – especially with my charm towards my duchess. I knew she was mine, because she did have my name now, but I did not hold the key to her heart yet. I had given her countless gifts. She had more dresses than anyone we knew, and she almost had as much jewelry, but nothing seemed to open her heart fully to me.

Many husbands had done it before me, and why should I withhold? It served a purpose, perhaps a selfish purpose, but still it was not an action without good reason. A duke, like I, never did anything without consideration. At the last party she did smile and laugh more than I would have appreciated. Her laughter, and her exquisiteness would reign in any room, in any house, in any castle, and in any universe. I needed to find something that would overcloud all that. I had courted her for a long time – too long. I had tried to get every dance with her at every festivity. I had given her flowers, dresses, hats, jewelry, and lastly my name. I had thought my name was the greatest gift of all. I had to do something extravagant. Something no other man had ever done for her before. Something she did not expect from me. I wanted to spoil her. There was nothing I would not do to make her love me, as I loved her.

I had just the right idea. This was the suitable thing for a husband to do. It would occupy her, when it was finished it would light up the room, and I could certainly afford it. Having my young and beautiful duchess painted was not just a critical part of my status – showing the world that I could afford such a luxury. I also had her painted hoping to prove my love for her. There was no way she could refuse my gift for her. It was a token of my love and affection, and besides what woman did not want her husband to flatter her? She would be painted at home, at our house in our garden. She would not have to leave my side. I would not have to worry about her whereabouts. My duchess would have to find my presence more than fitting. She would have to be impatient for my mere company.

I had hired Frá Pandolf to do her painting. I was told he was the best, and I had seen some of his work. I had instructed him to do his absolute best work. He was warned. I had not said the words, but there was no doubt in my mind he knew what was at stake here. I had to ensure her love for and her faithfulness to me.

I had told Pandolf to wait in the garden while I fetched the duchess, my duchess. With a sniggering smile I had convinced her to close her blue eyes. I was relying on her trust, and for the first time she showed that she dared to believe in me, and all the good I wanted to do for her. She giggled the whole way. Her giggles could be heard throughout the entire neighborhood. “This is almost like a treasure hunt!” she said ecstatically. She was like a child – eager for her new adventure. “Yes and what a treasure hunt this will turn out to be. Do not worry. You will not have to wait much longer,” I whispered into her ear. She smiled and shrugged her shoulders. Somewhere inside it occurred to me that for the first time in our short marriage she was the one, who could not wait any longer. She had always been anxious to open, to see the presents that I had given her, but this was different. We were almost there. I could sense it. I had always known that this day would come. The day when she would realize her love for me.

The treasure hunt had come to an end, and I unveiled the surprise. “This is Pandolf. He is going to honor us by painting you,” I pulled her close as if to kiss her momentarily, “that way I will always have you.” I leaned in to kiss her, but she broke away from my embrace. Instead of thanking me with her red luscious lips, she greeted Pandolf with a smile and a laughter that I still had yet to achieve. I scowled at her for a second, but I reminded myself that she was just being friendly to him. Why was she not as kind to me? Why could she not show me that kindness, that thankfulness? I shook my head. She was my wife. What more could I ask?

As the days past my duchess spent more and more time with Pandolf than she did with me – her husband, the duke. I had been degraded. I was no longer the duke. I was a spy. Every chance I got I would walk pass them. I would sit in the garden and from a distance I could hear her lovesick giggles, see her long gazes. She was no longer being kind to Pandolf. She was coquettish. Sometimes at night she would sneak out, take a horse and ride away into the night. One night I had had her followed. I knew. She had figured me for an imbecile person. I would not be made a fool. I had not agreed to share her. I had married her, because I wanted her, because I loved her. No other woman could compare to her. Her beauty, her laughter, her voice and smell it was a step closer to Paradise. Now her beauty, her laughter, her voice and her smell reminded me of what I could not have. It all reminded me of what I could not have – no matter how many gifts I gave her.

She was mine. I had given her my name. My name! She had forgotten that I was her husband. She had forgotten what she owed me. I would have to refresh her memory. I had no trouble assuring her that the pleasure would be mine, and mine alone. The duchess belonged to me. She was my wife. She was an item I had collected, and I intended to make use of her very soon. Up until now I had treated her as a wife, as a duchess, but perhaps it was time to treat her with the same respect that she had bestowed on me. Treat her like a toy. I was already looking forward to playing with her. I was going to show her, remind her. She was mine. Mine! Perhaps my duchess needed a reminder?

That same night I knocked on her bedroom door. Had I waited a second longer, she would have been on her merry way. I heard her move around. I opened the door. She was out of the bed. She was standing by the window. My presence made her uncomfortable. She turned pale as I approached her. I did not care. I grabbed her, and I kissed her. I breathed her in. The smell of her hair could drive any man to insanity. I kept kissing her. She was mine. I was not about to let ago, even though she was punching and kicking me. She yelled and begged me to stop. “Love me! Love me!” I yelled as I shook her, “You are mine, you have to love me!” she broke free. She ran away. She had left me in her bedroom. “I will not be made a fool in my own house!” I yelled after her. I buried my head in my hands and screamed with rage, as I hit myself countless times on my head.

I had to do something. I could not let this pass. She had deceived me, betrayed me. She had embarrassed me in my own house. She was never going to love me like I loved her. She had never really loved me. She had been in it for the money, for the status and for my name. I could not live with that. I refused to live with that. I took care of it. Just as I had hired Pandolf, I hired someone new, someone nobody would ever find again. He would vanish. “Soon her smiles are no more,” I mumbled to myself. I began to chuckle. The chuckle grew into a loud laughter. My duchess would get what she deserved. Her smiles, her long glances and her gentle touches – those were never for me. Not once were any of them for me, and yet I gave her the greatest gift of all: my name. My name! Yes I made sure of her obliteration. My hand was not the final touch on her body. My hand was not responsible for the devastation of her, but my mind was. Still, her ruin of me was far more painful. I would never be the same again. Her smiles were no longer, but sometimes at night I could smell her. In her eternal silence she haunted me still. My dear, my last duchess.

1 comment:

  1. Very true to the portrait of the Duke Browning only hints at, but which you unfold in great detail. A very believable character you have created here!

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