The Lady

Words by Susan Moisan

Art by Yaleeza Patchett

Diary - Tuesday 10th November 1801

Today I rode out as far as I dared. Gusts of ice pierced me as I cantered past the lake and onwards into the woods, to the farthest edge of my husband’s land, almost kissing the boundary with yours. For a while I could not see the house, and the dark canopy of ancient oaks soothed me while I paused to watch the wintry sun warm the earth of your fields beyond the treeline.

Slowly, finally, I turned the pony. I had already been out for too long and there would be talk. There is always talk.

The stables were so quiet on my return that I almost dreamed it had gone unnoticed. Stroking the pony’s soft muzzle, I was composing my expression into one of calm indifference when a gruff voice made me start.

My husband was waiting. Yes, I had been noticed. Noticed, watched—what is the difference?

I thought of you as I returned to change my dress and tidy my hair. I must be presentable for my husband; I must be strong for you.

For me? What must I be for me? I suppose it hardly matters.

* * *

Wednesday 11th

My Dear Harriet

What joy it was to receive your letter of Wednesday last and to hear that you are enjoying your time in Bath. Your absence in the neighborhood is keenly felt, but to know that you are so happy and admired is a great consolation. You will, I am certain, be the toast of the Season!

Oh, how well I remember the dancing and the candlelight, the flirtations and the fears. The dread that I might emerge unwanted at the end of it—silly fears now! Would that I could do it all again and—Well now, you must ignore my flights of fancy, dear Harriet. One cannot live in the past, can one?

I simply urge you to enjoy your time—this part of your youth will never come again. And please, for my sake, do not let anyone upbraid you for not accepting a suitor for whom you do not care, or whose heart you do not trust. Better be an old maid—horror of horrors!—than live unhappily. Your brother Charles will always stand by you, I am sure.

Thursday Evening

You must forgive the sudden pause in my letter to you. I was required by my husband to right a small wrong I am understood to have committed in the arrangement of his luncheon. I cannot allow you to have to decipher such pitiful handwriting so I shall write again when I can regain my pen more comfortably. As he says, I should not be such a slattern should I, and then I would not require correcting!

I wonder, my dear Harriet, if you might ask Charles to pay a call now that he is returned to Alford? Perhaps he could visit my husband under some neighborly pretext? I feel very much in need of a friend.

Now promise me you will not give me another thought, you will simply dance and be young, then tell me all about it!

* * *

Thursday 12th

Papa,

I write to you again this evening with a heavy heart and a pain so deep I can barely use my pen.

My husband has twice again this week found fault with me—for what sin I cannot comprehend—and for this I have paid a greater price in the loss of a treasure I did not yet know I possessed.

I beg of you once more, please let me come home. How can you let your child suffer this way? Do not again tell me that I am his wife and therefore I am lost forever!

* * *

Diary - Saturday 14th

God in Heaven help me, your daughter, in her anguish.

You visited me today and your kindness was almost my undoing. Oh how I wish that we had known each other before, when I was young and without knowledge of what men are. Had my father known you he could not have insisted, even in his haste to be rid of his disappointment, that I wed my husband. To be a chattel to such a man, no better than a piece of land he can plough, with my fortune, my children if any had lived, and my life his to dispose of—I cannot …

Sometimes I think I am already in the ground.

I can never tell you the truth, never place that burden at your door and even if I did, what could you do? If I left, I would be a criminal and he would bring me back. If you took me away, he would hunt you down and kill you.

And I cannot kill him.

My father refuses and so I truly have nowhere left to turn. The only thing I can do is record this so that when I am dead perhaps someone will pity me.

* * *

Diary - Monday 23rd

I tried to hide from the milliner in the village today. Such dignity from the great lord's wife!

I had dreaded the trip, knowing I could not explain to the milliner how one of her creations had become so torn, and I had bruising under my eye and on my cheekbone that no amount of lemon juice scrubs or veils could have fully concealed. Arriving in my husband’s carriage with my maid in tow is ostentatious enough, but as I am permitted to go so rarely, it turns a shopping trip into a public spectacle.

The milliner is a kind woman but with a tongue so active one might as well tell the bees. A spark of hope glimmered as I saw her leave her shop with a basket on her arm. Perhaps I could deal with her assistant, a local girl who would not raise her eyes to me. But as I thanked the girl and turned to leave, the bright loud greeting of the returning milliner filled the little establishment.

“Why Madam! What a lovely surprise! I had thought to have lost your custom it has been so long since we last saw you … but never mind, I said to Alice the other day it had been such a long time but here you are … I did think I saw you earlier next to the tea shop, but you moved so quickly I couldn't be sure … but well it is a pleasure to serve you as always. Just a refurbishment, is it? Can we not tempt you with the new open style we have in the chartreuse, such a lovely shade against your ski—.”

And that was the moment she drew breath just long enough to look directly through my veil and into my face and I knew I would be undone.

* * *

Wednesday 25th November

Papa,

Your daughter has become the source of local gossip and by extension her husband. Visible signs of my husband’s cruelty were seen despite my efforts to conceal and now the whole village is talking.

If I were a man I could meet him on his own terms, but I have no advocate if you desert me.

* * *

Friday 27th November

Charles

I send this care of a stable lad who will be well paid for his discretion. I cannot remain silent after your note.

For my sake, do not do anything rash—nothing that will endanger your life! I am so ashamed that my private pain has reached your ears. Before long, it will reach dear Harriet and my humiliation will be complete.

I know, of course I do, that your wish to help me is more than the kindness of a friend—you care more than I deserve. But I must respect my vows. It is fruitless to dream of a better life.

My life is bound to my husband’s—until I die, or he does. He cannot be stopped. I cannot be rescued. Please, for your own sake, do not try. To lose you as well—I could not bear it!

Barnetshire Weekly Dispatch

Sunday 6th December

It has been this periodical’s unhappy duty on occasion to report on the intimate affairs of the esteemed citizens of our otherwise happy locality.

In this instance it has been reported that the Lady of a most respectable local landowner Lord S— was found in a distressed condition in the vicinity of Alford parish, on the land of Mr C. W— Esq.

A Doctor attended the Lady who showed signs of bruising and a concussion. It was assumed the injuries followed a tumble from her horse, however the Lady herself is reported to have muttered inflammatory remarks about the conduct of her husband. To conclude that Lady S— was intending to abscond from her husband owing to his alleged "cruelties" is not beyond the realms of possibility.

Lady Returned

Dear Readers, you will, we are sure, join us in abjuring any possible accusations against Lord S, a respectable benefactor and landlord. The errant Lady has been reunited with her husband in the hope that she can be correctly disciplined.

C.W. Involved?

The connection, however, to His Lordship’s neighbour Mr C. W— has drawn much suspicion of an “affaire de coeur” between the two parties. Mr W— has recently come down from Cambridge and his sister Miss H—, currently wintering at Bath for the Season, is known to be Her Ladyship's intimate friend.

This connection would undoubtedly place the claims of the Lady into even further doubt. However, the Dispatch is certain that a gentleman of Lord S—’s position and connections can deal with such as a recalcitrant wife and her paramour.

Diary - Monday 7th December

My chamber is heated but I feel nothing but ice. Or perhaps I am simply dead. I cannot seem to care.

Memories flit around me, cold earth, damp air, voices, demands. A woman loosened my clothing, rough hands on my skin.

I awoke in a firelit parlor, the rough hands lifted a cup of brandy to my lips which I sipped gratefully, and I recognized the face of the landlady of The Fox, one of my husband’s tenants, and the worried face of the doctor.

“Rest now, madam, you’ve had a nasty fall,” he said. “Your husband has been summoned. He will be here directly.”

“No! Please, I am well, I will go myself.”

The bright firelight made it difficult for me to see past it, through the wintry gloom, to find an escape route. Sickening pounding in my head pulled me back. If he saw my fear, he chose to ignore it.

“You’ve taken a nasty bump, I’m afraid. I can’t let you get up.”

“May I at least be allowed to use the necessary—there must be one here somewhere?”

“Of course, Mrs. Hodge will assist you,” he replied, gesturing to the chamber pot placed discreetly next to me. A second after he left the room, I heard the turn of the key in the lock.

I gazed up at the woman who looked equally uncertainly back at me.

“Mrs. Hodge,” I ventured quietly, “you know who I am. But you are also a woman, as I am. Please help me, please don’t make me go back to him!”

Poor woman. She glanced around, looking anywhere but at me, wringing a cloth in her hands so tightly I thought she aimed to strangle it.

“Perhaps … I—I can get word to your friends, ma’am?” she stammered finally. “Is there someone you can write to? Your father perhaps?”

I could have laughed.

My meals are brought to me now. I receive no letters, nor can I send any. I hear his footstep outside my room. He pauses, as if on the edge of a decision, then retreats. I hold my breath until then, waiting for the turn of the key. The maid at least keeps up the charade of knocking first.

Perhaps if I shut my eyes tightly like a child, he won’t find me.

* * *

Diary – Wednesday 9th

Oh, the fool—the stupid, reckless, damned fool!

His note slid quietly under my door long after the household was in bed. I heard no footsteps but I waited an hour before I rose and read it:

I have watched your house each day in the hope of seeing you. I was informed of what happened and dare not visit.

I should have stepped in before, what a fool I was! I must have word of you. I have entrusted this to the stable lad. He tells me you are confined to your rooms but if I do not hear back within three days, I will know you have been rendered incapable of replying, or worse.

Then I shall know what to do. C.

Oh, Charles, what have I done to you! I am the source of slanderous gossip and the county has linked your name to mine. No one will believe we are both innocents, just as no one will believe that I live in my own private purgatory.

I don’t know how I can get word to him. Oh God, what is to be done!

Barnetshire Weekly Dispatch

Sunday 13th December

Gentleman Arrested

It would appear that the scandal of Lady S— and her alleged lover grows ever more perilous for the parties involved.

Mr C. W— of Alford, on whose land the Lady was recently found in a dishevelled condition, was arrested and detained for trespassing on the land of Lord S—.

Deemed to be the worse for drink, his Lordship had him brought to the courthouse to sleep off the effects before formal charges were presented of Trespass and Defamation.

Mr W— repeated allegations made by her Ladyship of improper and violent conduct towards her by her husband, which his Lordship has repeatedly and passionately denied.

What occurs between a Husband and Wife should not for public report, but Mr W—'s conduct has brought this case into the open.

Whatsoever its nature, it would appear that a connection has been established between the pair, and therefore Lord S— has chosen to exercise his right to satisfaction.

As the County Magistrate, Lord S— will then execute the custodial sentence and fines associated with the formal charges, assuming, that is, that both parties walk away from the encounter.

Wednesday 16th

My Dear Harriet,

I hardly know what to write, how to perform this terrible duty. I hope that you will come home as soon as you can. For that reason, I will be brief.

Your brother is hurt—I fear mortally.

His gallant nature forced him into a rash deed in an attempt to protect my honor and safety from the anger of my husband. Perhaps rumors reached you of a friendship between us; I can assure you that these were unfounded. The love I bear him is no more than that which I bear you, my dearest friend. And now I have the unhappy duty to call you home to his side.

I was summoned to attend the event yesterday morning, to “reap the consequences of my actions”. Watching my husband’s broad form stride away from Charles and then turn to face him, pistol raised in the early light, caused me to cry out.

In that second, his attention was distracted and his shot went off course. Charles was badly wounded near his shoulder. The physicians have attended him but I fear much blood was lost. He is at home now but I must urge you to make haste.

I bear, most heavily, the weight of responsibility, but I hope you will allow me to support and console you in this dark hour.

Barnetshire Weekly Dispatch

Sunday 20th

Lord S— Killed

It has been reported that Lord S—Magistrate of this County was killed on the morning of Tuesday last in the practice of a duel with pistols.

Our Readers will be aware of the circumstances relating to an alleged affaire between his Lordship’s wife and Mr. C. W— of Alford. Mr. W— was badly wounded and if he recovers will continue to face the charges previously levied against him, now including that of Manslaughter.

In the absence of issue or near male relations, his Lordship’s estate passes, with the exception of a few smaller bequests, entirely to her Ladyship.

Lady S— Speaks Out

The newly widowed Lady has been noted publicly defending the actions of Mr. W— as solely that of a gallant Gentleman. She vehemently denies any unnatural friendship between them and again asserts allegations of cruelty by her husband. Her Ladyship even offers to produce private correspondence to her father and other parties along with diaries recording these incidents.

Perhaps, in light of the injuries witnessed on her person by more than one impartial observer, there was some truth to the matter. However, the repercussions of these events are such that her Ladyship may prefer to leave the neighbourhood, and certainly is unlikely to re-marry within her sphere of society.

Diary – Wednesday 16th

From where I stood, the only person who perceived my swoon was my husband.

A second after Charles’ pistol fired in a cloud of smoke, his bullet, flying true, buried itself in the centre of my husband’s chest.

He died within seconds, watching me.

Watching me smile.

* * *

Diary – Tuesday 22nd December

Charles died early this morning.

Dear Charles, what a good man he was! It is a mercy that he lived to see his beloved sister again.

Harriet arrived on Sunday morning, in time to receive his blessing. She is in no doubt as to the uprightness of his character and in her grief, she is proud of him. She weeps in my arms, and I weep for her in return.

What could I do to repay his loyalty? Perhaps what I did helped in some way.

Watching his fevered body gasp for shallow breaths, I prayed for God to relieve his suffering. Placing the pillow over his face I felt was indeed His will and I have no doubt the Lord will receive him as a saint.

* * *

Diary – Friday 25th – Christmas

A poor Christmas for Harriet this morning. I understand that her estate is entailed and therefore she cannot inherit Alford from her brother but will instead receive a quite generous annuity.

I, of course, suggested she live here with me. I do not intend ever to marry again and our combined fortunes will ensure comfort and status for the rest of our lives. Naturally, it is possible that, owing to the scandal, her association with me may taint her. What gentleman of rank would allow it? But in my opinion, such a gentleman is not worth her time.

What need she of marriage when she has a home and her liberty?

I believe we will do very well together.

Barnetshire Weekly Dispatch

Sunday 2nd May 1802

Announcements

Sir Henry and Lady Ann Danby of Somersetshire announce the betrothal of their son and heir the Honourable Mr. James Danby to Miss Harriet Winter, formerly of Alford.

Mr. Danby and Miss Winter became acquainted during her Season in Bath and a contract was arranged. The wedding will take place as soon as Miss Winter is out of mourning.

Miss Winter’s late brother, Readers will remember, perished as a result of injuries sustained during a duel with the late Lord S—.

Miss Winter has been residing with the widowed Lady S— since her brother’s death. Her Ladyship’s accusations of violence perpetrated by her husband have earned her much sympathy in the County, however an association of this nature will need to remain in the distant past for the future Lady Danby. The new responsibilities of a wife and mother that await Miss Winter will, we are sure, drive any regrets of the unfortunate Lady S— from her mind.

Diary – Wednesday 5th May

No!

No, this cannot be—I forbid it!

Harriet, my precious Harriet, told me of her betrothal on the morning it appeared in the newspaper.

“I wanted to tell you, of course I wanted to tell you everything about him, how happy he makes me … but so soon after Charles, I—I couldn’t think about the future.” Her grief, still raw, caught in her slender throat. “And I knew you were grieving sorely for him too. How could I flaunt my happiness when you had lost your chance?”

Joy and pity mingled in her face. It was more than I could bear.

“My chance? I never had a chance!” How could she not see? “My father married me off against my will. I never had a chance to find what I truly wanted. Not until I chose to seize it. You think this was all about Charles? No, my love,” I half laughed in my exasperation. “Everything, everything I did—it was all for you!”

Harriet’s face changed from pity to confusion. I had gone too far now to retreat.

“I meant nothing to my father; my husband was harmless enough, but he never cared for me any more than I for him. I was so stifled, so trapped until you came to Alford, and then I knew, I knew in my soul, that my life had to be yours and yours mine.” I took her hand in both of mine. “I was so proud of you in Bath, capturing all those hearts just to come back to me. I knew that by the time you returned everything would be arranged so we could be together, so that you could have a life of independence and my love to support you … and this, this is how you repay me?”

She wrestled her hand from my grasp as if I had burnt her. She backed away from me, the color gone from her face. I threw myself to my knees, seizing her hand again, bathing it in kisses.

“Forgive me, my love, I did not mean to frighten you. I would never want that. I simply ask that you reconsider this marriage, remember what devils men can be!”

Her eyes were cold, suddenly unfamiliar; when she spoke, her voice was a stranger’s.

“There may well be devils among them, but your husband was not one of them, was he? The injuries, the letters … I so wondered that your father never responded, but then you never sent them, did you?”

She looked me straight in the eye, unblinking. “And then … then you lured my brother to his death. Just so you could have your precious freedom, be the powerful lady of the manor and have me as your … your what? Your lover? Your slave? Your prisoner?”

The look of scorn as she turned from me pierced my heart as cleanly as the bullet had pierced my husband’s.

I had heard from a proud Harriet that Charles was famous at Cambridge for his marksmanship. I was glad for I had not wanted my husband to die a slow death, he had not deserved that, and so a duel seemed the best course for everyone concerned. And naturally, I could not do it myself.

Harriet did not deserve to die painfully either, she was just a misguided girl, as we have all been in our lives. But as I reached for the heavy fire irons, she turned and screamed.

Barnetshire Weekly Dispatch

Sunday 26th June 1802

Announcements

It is always with regret that this periodical announces the death of a Lady.

Our Readers will, we are sure, feel a particular pang at the loss of a life troubled by much sorrow.

The deaths of both her husband and alleged lover in such a short space of time was understood to have been the cause of Lady S—‘s confinement to the Barnetshire County Asylum, consumed by grief. The allegations made against her husband are thought to have been the product of a Mental Instability and Hysteria.

The Lady had been seized in the act of attacking her companion Miss H. W—, by her household servants. The reason for the attack is unknown, as is the cause of her sudden demise, for notwithstanding her emotional state her Ladyship was deemed to be in robust health.

The generous Miss H appeared most forgiving. In fact, she was the last person to see her Ladyship alive, having spent some time at her bedside at the hour she expired.

About the author

Susan Moisan is a new writer at 45 years old, and lives in London with her partner. Having always found words to be the respite for a whirling brain, she has recently tried to turn some of those words into stories, and this is her second published piece. She is about to complete a BA in History and historical fiction would be the path she would take if she could afford to quit her job.

About the artist

Yaleeza Patchett has been creating illustrations since the moment she was able to pick up a pencil. Through her artistic journey she became well versed in the mediums of graphite, ink and acrylic. Recently she has begun to further exercise her artistic skill in the realm of dark macabre, pagan, and blackwork illustrations. Through this she has found meaning and new love for her artwork. Yaleeza currently resides in the Southside of Indianapolis, Indiana with her husband Jon, her bloodhound Jojo, and her two cats, Boogers and Finn.

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