Summary: a few drabbles from Mrs. Stapleton's point of view.
Disclaimer: everything is Doyle's. Especially the quotes in # 8.
1.
She teaches English, French and German, and would like to add Latin to the list. He agrees to help her with studying it. He himself is a natural science genius, a captivating conversationalist, and overall a soul mate in this bog of a town. Would she be so kind as to proofread some of his notes? Publishing a butterfly species new to the fauna is always a challenge - some think everything is found and documented. Meanwhile, he spent years trying to identify several specimens he collected as a boy...
She listens to his hand-waving enthusiasm, and can't help admiring him.
2.
Rumours are ruin to a woman's life. She doesn't know who started it, but it doesn't matter - either she becomes Mrs. Vandeleur now, or she loses her job tomorrow. For the first time, she decides to act as a female and ask him (he doesn't deserve it). He stares at her, mouth agape, but when she turns to leave and probably drown herself, he recovers and says he would be honoured. The date is appointed; she stumbles upon the customary answer before the altar (the vicar is unsettled), and loses her job anyway - they move to Devonshire...
3.
He is preoccupied every time she risks disturbing him. Money. It is always money. From what she gathered, he obtained a sum large enough to buy a cottage (granted, the land is cheaper here). She refuses to think how he earned it. She doesn't have to work, and a vacation is nice, but when he informs her that they are no longer husband and wife, she is both offended an enraged. She calls him names in three languages, not being that fluent in Latin (yet), - and when he finally explains his felonious plans it is something of a relief.
4.
He got a dog. No, a Dog. A beast no sane man could ever hope to tame. He spends more time with it then he does with her, feeds it, grooms it, poisons it regularly with some luminescent solution; it's a new centre of his universe. She stays at home, entertains his guests (a certain Mrs. Lyons gets on her nerves every Thursday), reads some classics Dr. Mortimer brings now and then (Newton especially), receives flowers from Sir Baskerville, who by the look of his estate is more of a grower than an engineer. And they lived happily ever after.
5.
Sir Baskerville is a great gentleman; she can't quite believe Jack intends to kill him. Alas, Jack does. She contemplates warning the baron, but Jack can be persuasive - she is ashamed of the bruises under her sleeves. She is terrified; should she do away with the dog now? He laughs in her face and leads her to a little island in the mire, incriminating her every time he points at another spot to plant a guiding wand.
He'd tell her later he almost got eaten alive when recapturing the beast.
He drinks, she sobs, and neither sleeps that night.
6.
There is an heir.
Well, it would be more surprising if there weren't any. Still, Jack took that as a personal offence. He left for London (or wherever he left for, she can't be bothered to remember, it would make everything real) and entrusted her with caring for his pet.
She would poison it. Strangle it. Shoot it. Starve it. She would ditch the corpse into the mire - no, drag it to the police station to turn them all in. Well, maybe she'd spare Mrs. Lyons. It's family business.
She stares at the wailing, abandoned creature and sees herself.
7.
There is a convict on the moor.
She is terrified; Jack waves her concerns off. He is a man possessed. He isn't troubled by this new threat. He'd bring his revolver at all times, is all.
She swallows her fear. Tomorrow she'll go for a walk - she rarely leaves the house since the rumours of a wandering Hound must mean Jack doesn't control it as well as she'd be comfortable with - to avert the tragedy.
He told her he tried to scare Mr. Baskerville off, but she can't in whole honesty believe him.
Though that would be nice.
8.
Has he escaped, she asks.
He cannot escape us, madam, says the fellow who turns out to be an Inspector.
She is fleetingly aggravated. Must criminals always come first? It doesn't matter, though; she is free. It's intoxicating.
And likely a widow already, so she doesn't smile. All things Stapleton are behind her, except, maybe, a testimony. Jack restrained her tonight, so maybe they will not seriously regard her as an apprentice to his schemes. If only he didn't... There's still some part of her that is ashamed of his conduct.
She will burn the whip once she is alone.
9.
There's something glorious in the cold air, like an old story with no happy end. A golden-haired woman on the grave's brink clasps her shawl distractedly. In the background, Mrs. Stapleton hears the solemn disquiet of other attendants, the unnecessary ones, and wonders why there isn't a second pit.
She picks up a handful of earth (it's slightly damp), straightens up, and the vicar fidgets uneasily - there is something devilish in her face.
Just what is it with you and clergy, I never understood, he'd said.
I do, she whispers, and hurls the mud at his empty coffin.