His Last Duchess
Barkis lifted his chin as he led his guests down his favorite hallway. Lady Everglot muttered something to her husband. If she was unimpressed with his fine art collection, that did not matter. He was certain they would enjoy his next piece. It was a point of pride for himself, if he dare say.
"Come here now, please. Yes to the curtain." Barkis unveiled said curtain and watched his small audience gasp. He allowed himself a smile. Yes, this one always did it. Even the most critical couldn't assuage from the portrait's beauty.
He stepped away to view the painting. The forever smile pressed upon his former wife's lips. Her smile was ravishing and it was reserved for him. If only his last duchess learned before.
"It is beautiful, is it not?" Barkis said, "Do sit down. This piece has a rather intriguing story behind it." He watched them sit and turned back to the painting. He traced a finger along her cheekbone, as he had before. "My Last Duchess, I call it. For she was mine."
Little Emily Merrimack was not so little anymore. An eighteen-year-old blushing maiden. New to the powers of love. Barkis hardly paid attention to her before. Before Pastor Galswells, Emily would preform a song for the congregation at church. That was the only time Barkis paid her any mind. He had a taste for the arts. Young Emily could carry a tune. He drowned her out in favor of his own thoughts. Back then, they were of his current wife, Bertha. What a dreadful name. So dreadful, in fact, he told her it was better for her to stay in the comforts of their own home rather than attend church. He told everyone who asked she had a chill. A certain chill.
Bertha was gone and Emily Merrimack was promising. Brown eyes and light hair. Bright face and beating heart. Her father was wealthy. Her dowry couldn't be scarce. Eighteen and without a husband. Shame.
Emily Merrimack read romance novels under trees. Barkis watched her wonder into the forest. She liked the forest; she told her friend; it was peaceful. Well, if she liked the forest so much, Barkis would have to pay her a visit.
The courtship was quick. Even as Emily tried to hide it, everyone saw her excitement to marry. Barkis was, in fact, pleased with the size of her dowry. Emily wasn't completely stupid as Bertha had been. She had some wit to her and could dance and sing. But best of all was her smile.
Pink lips like petals spread across her face at Barkis. When he quipped or whispered something in her ear at church. That smile was meant for him. And he devoured it.
At church one day, Barkis noticed her mind wondering. Lost with the butterflies. He titled his head to see what she was staring at.
Victor Van Dort. Fish merchant's son. Barkis scoffed. But his chuckle stopped in his throat as he gazed at Emily.
She was smiling at him. Smiling. At another man. Not at Barkis.
He put both hands on her cheeks and adjusted her head so she was looking back at himself. His scowl. Emily's grin disappeared. She jolted back. The sound of the pastor slamming the book shut went unnoticed.
"Darling?" Emily asked in her sweet, sing-song voice, "What was that?"
"You are not to smile again," he snapped back, "You can only smile at me."
"Well, why ever not?"
"We will have this discussion later."
They didn't. Emily was furious. Barkis even more so. His wife should not smile at any other man. She might as well had an affair. And a younger man at that! Victor Van Dort was barely nineteen. Emily was now in her twenties. Was Barkis not a suitable enough husband for her? He was beginning to believe she married him for his wealth. It didn't matter anymore. He had her smile. And it was meant for him only.
Emily was distant, still fuming with anger as she passed him in the halls. She began sleeping in her own room again, instead of in Barkis's bed. No matter. She would need him for something or another one day.
At church, one Sunday, Barkis was doing his usual skimming of the crowd. There were the McKenzies, looking fine as ever. Old love was romantic. Barkis didn't care for passion, however. He had his young wife to enjoy. He looked at Emily again. Stone-faced, she looked forward. Refusing to meet his gaze. Barkis sighed. She couldn't hold a grudge for that long.
Once the meeting was over, he led her down the stairs. Everyone gathered around to make friendly conversation then. Barkis never bothered. He turned towards the manor, but stopped as he realized Emily wasn't following him. She was looking at that Van Dort boy again. Barkis's brow furrowed. Before he said anything, he paused.
Victor Van Dort was talking to a young lady he recognized as Victoria Everglot. He swiped a loose curl from her face. She looked away with a smile and faint blush. Young love. How romantic it was. At the rate they were going, they might be engaged by the end of the season. That would stop Emily from looking at him again. She couldn't be caught smiling at a married man. Especially at a happily married man. It was perfect. Barkis would have Emily back to himself. The engagement would move quickly.
He looked back at Emily with a smirk to himself. Her expression was nowhere near as victorious. Her head was lowered and her lips were in a fine line, but one of happiness. She appeared disappointed. Devastated even. Well, she had to know her place. She wasn't a part of Victor Van Dort's life and wouldn't be. She was Barkis's wife.
"Come, my dear. We need to get home."
Emily came. With sagging shoulders and down-turned eyes. Barkis led her home.
It came a fortnight later. Aside from dancing and singing, Emily adored making calls. Barkis often came home to a room full of women. All entranced by Emily's talents. It was times like Barkis remembered how good of a wife she was. But the male voice he learned from down the hall sent a jolt through him.
"I-I'm flattered, Lady Bittern, but I-I-I really must be on my way."
Van Dort.
"Oh, don't be silly! We still have at least half an hour before my husband gets home. Sit on the sofa with me."
"No-No, thank you, Lady Bittern."
"Why ever not?"
Emily sounded disappointed.
"I'm meeting Miss Everglot tonight and she'll worry if I'm late."
"Oh, Miss Everglot, Miss Everglot!" she shouted, "She doesn't matter, Victor. Come here. Sit by me."
There was a pause.
"Lady Bittern, I'm, uh, uh, you're, um. Perhaps, this is embarrassing for a man- he cleared his throat-"For a man to point out. But, well, your petticoat is, uh . . . showing."
"Is it? Oh, silly me!"
Another beat. Barkis leaned against the door. There was no ruffle of skirts. Emily hadn't adjusted them, so her petticoats weren't showing. His jaw clenched.
She was trying to seduce him.
His wife. His lovely little wife with her wide, pink smile. After all the good Barkis had done for her, this was how she intended to repay him?
Barkis threw open the door. His suspicions were confirmed. Emily was sitting much too close to the Van Dort boy. He was muttering a string of excuses to push her away. Her hand was over his hand, which she forced on her knee. Victor Van Dort looked horrified at Barkis. He found the strength to break away from her. Toppling Emily over on the sofa. Victor Van Dort brushed himself off and ran to the door.
"I'm so sorry, sir! I didn't mean for . . . this."
Oh, don't lie to me! Barkis suppressed the urge to snap. He looked at Emily. Laying in her most revealing dress. The dress she wore before their nights of passion. Her seductress gown. She wasn't even hiding it.
Victor Van Dort nearly bumped into him as he dashed from the room. Barkis slid to the side. Emily was looking down. Using a finger, he lifted her chin. He expected her to meet tear-filled eyes. But a trapped fire raged inside. She pushed him away. Barkis grabbed her wrists, holding them together. She couldn't escape now.
"You want me to expose you?"
Emily stopped. Barkis could have smirked. He flung her around to see her. She looked down.
"All you have to do is smile for me and I won't tell another soul."
She glared back at him. Tears replaced with bitterness. Barkis smiled. He won. Either way, he won. Emily closed her eyes and breathed in. When she opened her eyes again, they were filled with tears. She lifted the corners of her mouth.
Twisting her lips into the saddest smile he had ever seen.
But it was a smile, nonetheless. And it was beautiful.
"Very well, my dear." Barkis turned and paused in the doorway. "Let's just hope Mr. Van Dort won't say anything now."
As she slept that night, Barkis went through her things. He was her husband. He had a right. After the act she pulled earlier, he couldn't take any more chances. Who else did Emily attempt to make love to? Or was it all Victor Van Dort? Barkis tore open her diary, skimming through the pages until he landed on her most recent entry.
I just wanted to be loved.
Barkis sneered. He loved her. Her body, her voice. He loved her. Ungrateful child.
Victor was perfect. He was sweet and clumsy. I love him. I know I do. He's everything to me. Miss Everglot doesn't deserve him. It's that simple. I do. I've waited for years for someone like him. Barkis was good to me, but he scares me now. Victor would never harm me. He would never stop me from smiling. My smiles are reserved only for him.
I read about secret love affairs in the past. They were so romantic. Is it that harmful I wanted one of my own? I thought Victor wouldn't mind. He and Miss Everglot don't seem that close. I don't want his pity. I want his love.
Disgusting. Barkis couldn't read anymore. He turned away and put the diary in its poor hiding place. Emily was bound for hell.
Church was the next day. Barkis caught her glancing at Victor Van Dort again. He met her gaze and turned away. Victoria Everglot sent a small wave his way.
And Emily smiled at him.
Her portrait was almost finished. She was smiling in the painting. A charming smile. Another week. Another week.
Barkis surveyed the room. His eye caught Victoria Everglot, beaming over at Victor Van Dort. She was pretty in her own way. A little nose. Long fingers and rosy cheeks. He envisioned her in a wedding gown with a veil around her updo. The idea was satisfactory. She would make a good wife.
Her smile was sadder at the painter. Though the artist finished with that part. A bit of shadowing there. More light there. With that, the painting was finished. Barkis paid him well. He studied the portrait. He requested it go directly on the wall. Canvas couldn't capture Emily's beauty.
That night, Barkis found his dagger. He swept into her room, nearly tripping over her discarded corset. The lady's maid was gone for the evening. The fewer servants in the manor, the better.
Her sleep was peaceful and he almost hated to disrupt it.
Barkis climbed over her. One hand hid the knife behind his back. His fingers traced along her cheekbone. He lifted Emily's chin. Placing a kiss on her smiling lips. He would miss that. Their passionate nights and first few kisses. She was tender. New to romance back then. Seven whole years ago. Seven years with wonder-fueled nights. Dances and making music together. Emily wanted babies. Barkis supposed it was all right. He needed an heir to the nine hundred-year-old name. But babies never came. Emily was devastated. She was a failure in more ways than one. His next bride would be younger. Perhaps it would help.
"Barkis?" Emily said.
He froze. Only for a second. Barkis never froze.
"My dear," he whispered, "Smile for me."
Emily obliged. This smile was tired. The one of an empty little girl who had nothing left. Barkis slid the knife to her side.
He tore it through.
Emily didn't realize at first. She made a surprised sound. Barkis pushed the blade in further. She gasped. Emily pushed his hand away. Barkis wouldn't move. His grip tightened. Blood seeped through, making the handle slippery. Emily continued to fight. Weak brief movements, but they made a difference. He pushed her head against the baseboard, bashing it on. She screamed.
Barkis removed the knife. He pushed it back in around the same place. A red pool surrounded them, staining his clothes. Emily's movements became weaker. Until she moved no more.
Her eyelids flickered. She was fading.
Until they closed. Forever.
"What a story, it is," Barkis finished, "I do wish she hadn't been so disagreeable. But I know Miss Victoria is anything but."
Lady Everglot nodded. "Quite."
"Good. I need an obedient wife." He glanced at the painting. "Her engagement to the Van Dort boy has been broken off?"
"It has been. Victoria knows the put her family and name first."
His lips curled into a cruel smile. "Excellent."
"We are both very pleased with this new arrangement. Victoria gets to marry a duke this way."
"It is perfect, isn't it?"
He still didn't trust Victor Van Dort, but his death would be swift and easy. He wouldn't impede two of his wives.
"I await our wedding day."
I read "The Last Duchess" for the first time a few weeks ago and it reminded me so much of Corpse Bride. Thus this one-shot was born. Ii hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading!