Thoughts of the Last Duchess

As I now wander in these lonely halls of this mighty mansion, I cannot help but feel amazed by the sense of history embedded in every stone and every painting. I wonder how many duchesses have governed the beautiful drawing room and the comfortable chairs of the library before me. The history of these former duchesses is unclear to me, but as I walk through the corridor and past the beautiful sculptures at the end of the entrance hall, I can only feel assured that happiness must have resided here once. However gloomy the atmosphere is becoming now, as the party of guests left the day before and heavy, grey clouds is now drawing gravely over the mansion, I still feel optimistic for the coming future. How wonderful the sound of children’s voices and laughs would sound in these lonely halls and once again fill this place with joy and happiness. I realise that I am smiling and stop to reflect on this last thought – a thought which at times feels so out of reach.

If only the honourable duke would step out of his sinister attire and open his heart and dreams to me. I know that he has a good heart and shows courtesy and respect to every visitor entering this way. His glance towards me, however, is forever searching – but I do not know for what. I feel most intimidated in his presence – a mere object to be analysed and observed before being accepted fully into his home. How much I long for his recognition and love.

Whenever a chance occurs, I do my best to be an excellent hostess and wife by proving my skill at socializing and making every guest feel welcome. I flatter myself on my social skills and enjoyed the party last night in particular as I am sure it was such a success that the duke felt satisfied at the end of the evening. He surely did observe my every move and I hope my efforts will at last have found some gratitude within him and made his heart warmer towards me.

I now pass my own portrait hanging in the gallery. My painted eyes meet my own and I am pleased to see that they carry the same twinkling as I normally see reflected in the mirror by my nightstand. The portrait was painted not too long ago and I still remember how comfortable the painter, Frà Pandolf, made me feel. It had been a stressful day, I had been terribly frustrated by the emotional distant the duke had placed between us and Frà Pandolf’s easy manner had made me see the brightness of the future once again. I kept that feeling of optimism – with the hope that I would soon gain the love of the duke – in my eyes and as I see the painting now I am satisfied to see that Frà Pandolf has captured these emotions as well as I could have hoped.

As I now continue through the west corridor, I find my way into the library. Here I sit down in my favourite corner and feel at peace and in good spirit when I see the sun break through the dark clouds in the horizon. I trust that everything will fall into place when time has warmed the duke’s confidence towards me.