My Last Duchess – rewrite

Point of view: the Duchess

I had married the Duke at an early age. Though I had heard he was a stern man he was from a great family and possessed great wealth. The first time we met he barely smiled. I made it my goal to make him smile and be happy about the smallest things as I was.

Where I grew up we did not have much and I quickly learned to appreciate the smallest things and be content with the cards life would deal me. Although he was not the most handsome man he was a dear man who loved me greatly, well as much as his little heart would allow him, and I returned his feelings. In the morning I would walk through the garden and smell the flowers. We always had flowers in our home and our house was the biggest and most beautiful one in the entire village. Though the Duke never cared for the villagers, I did. Since he did not care, I would care and I accepted their apples, cherries, pears and vegetables with great delight and thanked them eagerly.

My husband was not satisfied with this. He would yell and make a fuss over how the flowers made my face light up and the fruit made my eyes twinkle. How dared I not care for the things he had given me, he asked. And I would hold the lump in my throat back and answer, without a quiver in my voice, that I had bought the flowers into our home for his sake. He did not want to hear of this and asked me to not talk to anyone outside our home and not grin like an imbecile at every gesture strangers gave me.

I tried to live by the restrictions he had given me but I found it hard. I talked with the villagers as I normally did and was ready to explain to the Duke how much it mattered to me. One evening I returned home, much later than anticipated, due to the carriage’s wheel falling off. The poor driver had worked furiously to fix it but it was no use – the wheel was broken. So we walked home. My shoes, that my husband so kindly had given me, were ruined and my dress was stained in mud. When I entered the house he yelled at me once again. This time I could see fire in his eyes; a fury that I had never seen before. He threw books into the walls, smashed vases on the floor – spreading the beautiful roses among the chaos and glass.

I begged him to see reason; that I had not been untrue to him. He did not believe me and followed me around the house. We reached his den and I begged him to understand. He asked if he had not treated me with dignity? Had he not done everything he could to make me happy? Had he let my face grace the canvas behind me? I said to him that all these things I did appreciate and I did care. He was furious and threw more books, papers and even a clock around. Did I not see how much he loathed my lingering eyes on other men? I stood frozen for a moment. I had never looked at any other man with more affection than I looked at him. Now the fire in his eyes grew brighter. What a liar I was, he said! He grabbed his bronze statue of Neptune and before I could move again he threw it at me. Then my face went numb, then a burning sensation hit me and everything blurred. Finally it became black and the pain in my head disappeared.