Wilhelmina A Novella (3 page)

2. Mustang

‘Do not speak out of turn, do not slouch, and for god’s sake, Wilhelmina, do
not
let her catch you crying.’ I followed the governess’ assistant closely, making sure to avoid the woman’s eyes. Her name was Evonne York, Elizabeth Bathory’s personal assistant. She was young and beautiful, with blonde hair tied up into a bun, and tanned skin that made her bright blue eyes shine. I simply stared at the ground and tried to endure the throbbing pain above my hips in this tight gown.

‘I know that you must think my advice is asinine, but believe me when I say that I’ve seen many young girls punished for simply flashing Governess Bathory a defiant eye.’

The Bathory estate was vast and gloomy, even darker than home. I was only about twenty miles from my step-mother’s home, and I so missed Dinah, and Abby, and even my small, secure room.

‘The governess usually has a dozen girls under her wing, at least, during the summer, but with news of the North moving further into our countryside, most of the families are keeping their children at home, in case something drastic happens.’ Evonne said. ‘This war has made everyone anxious, so it will just be you and two other girls.’

Evonne stopped, gripped my shoulder and stood before me, bending a bit as she took my face into her warm fingers.

‘Just stick beside me, and try not to stare.’ Evonne said.

‘Is my sister here?’ I asked apprehensively.

‘Yes, you’ll see her on your own time, which is not frequent, so for now, just be quiet and look poised.’ Evonne told me. She grimaced as she took in my wild curls of serpentine fire. ‘She will not be happy about your hair… perhaps we can draw attention away from it if we tie it back?’

‘No!’ I swatted her hands away from my head, and she narrowed her gaze in annoyance. She turned without a word and I brushed my fingers through my hair to free it again. I would never wear another hairpin or ribbon if I could help it, not until I saw Mr. Abberdean again. I knew that I was bound to see him again someday, and when I did I wanted him to see me the way he wanted to see me.

Evonne threw the governess’ door open and stepped aside as I walked into the den. I was dark inside, too dark for my eyes to see anything beyond basic shapes. Evonne closed the doors and stood behind me with her hands on my shoulders.

‘Governess Bathory,’ Evonne began in a near-monotonous tone. ‘This is the Fremont girl; Mary Shepherd’s sister.’

‘I’m well aware,’ The governess’ low croon crept into my ears and down my spine. She sat in a chair in the corner beside the window, but her face was veiled. Her body was silhouetted in a black dress that accented her curves. ‘Another spoiled and ungrateful child sent to learn the societal customs of womanhood.’

‘You
did
strike a deal with the mother, ma’am,’ Evonne tossed out lightly.

‘I know that!’ The governess snapped. Evonne jumped, and I felt her hands tighten around my shoulders. The governess held out a hand and beckoned me forward, but I was a little too frightened to move from my spot. Evonne quickly nudged me forward, and I stumbled a few steps until I was only inches from the governess’ ringed hand. ‘What is your name?’

‘Wilhelmina Shepherd.’ I said. She gripped me with her fire warm hand. Her skin was just as pale as Mr. Abberdean’s flesh, and for a moment I was lost in the feeling of emptiness inside of me. But when I caught sight of half of the governess’ face through the dark veil, reality clutched my attention.

Her face was smooth and stunning. The contours of her cheekbones blended flawlessly into her full lips and pointed chin. She was much, much younger than I’d expected her to be, and her skin glowed in the few glimmers of sunlight flowing through the window as though she were an angel. But something peculiar distracted me from all of her angelic splendor.

Her eye was red and clearly visible through the veil as though it glowed. The ruby glinting in the shadows had me mesmerized and I couldn’t look away.

‘Mmm… Too much fire,’ The governess gripped my face harshly, and it felt like being trapped in a vice of marble. ‘She’s wild, untamed. She stinks like wood and soil.’

‘You’ve taken wild girls into your care before, and look at how they turned out.’ Evonne said.

‘This one is different.’ The governess said sharply, and let go of my face. I quickly scuttled back to Evonne’s side and hid behind her.

‘But you promised her mother –’

‘Evonne, your presumptions are wearing my nerves thin.’ The governess hissed.

‘My apologies, governess Bathory.’ Evonne quickly bowed sheepishly.

‘We will break her, there’s no question about that,’ she told her assistant. ‘The difficulty of this moment lies in deciding where her future lies; will she become a beautiful swan, like her sister? Or will she be serving dessert at next month’s dinner party?’

‘Governess, the child is only thirteen, surely you can see her potential.’ Evonne said.

‘Take her to the east ward. I will consider what’s to become of her, but until then, little Wilhelmina, mind Evonne while you can.’

Evonne quickly ushered me out of the den, but I kept my eyes on her dark profile in the corner, young and beautiful but sitting there like an old woman who detested the world outside of her window. In that, at least, we were alike.

The other two girls under Elizabeth Bathory’s government were fairly quiet. The youngest, Rhoda, was nine, and the middle child, Yvette, was twelve, only months away from being thirteen. The ward that we shared was a long hall filled with beds, a dozen on either side.

As none of us knew each other well, we initially chose to sleep quite separately from each other. Yvette and Rhoda had chosen beds that were practically on opposite sides of the ward, while I slept in the middle. However, as the first few nights grew darker, and the strange noises grew louder, they ended up sleeping next to me.

The first few weeks of my life in the governess’ home were fairly uneventful. I barely saw the governess expect when I would catch a glimpse of her, sparkling like a star in broad daylight as she watched the three of us play through a window. The yard and field slaves were treated quite well, and a few of them were even allowed to smoke pipes. Even though I had yet to see Mary, the chores were light, and the lessons with Evonne were fun.

Evonne had a wonderful sense of humor when it came to discussing her philosophies and outlook on the necessity of a woman to a man, and vice versa. We discussed books, which was a wonderful luxury in my day as the other two girls had never picked up a book in their lives. I couldn’t discuss Jane Austen with them if the only form of lyricism they were accustomed to were ‘Bile ‘em Cabbage Down’.

Life was easy.

Then one day, as I walked into Evonne’s study, I saw a grim shade in her eyes. She told me that the governess wanted to speak to me alone, that she had something for me. She looked sad, as though someone had died, or was going to at least, but she was silent about whatever was troubling her during the entire walk to the governess’ den.

‘Come here, Wilhelmina,’ the governess beckoned. I did so without a word, stepping quietly into her dim room. I stood directly in the center of the patterned rug on the hardwood floor, and kept my hands behind my back.

‘Shall I wait to take Wilhelmina back to my study so that we may continue our lessons for the day?’ Evonne asked hopefully. I didn’t understand why she was acting so frightened, so bleak at that moment, but now I can look back and laugh with irony’s bitter sense of humor.

‘That will be all, Evonne, you may go. Your presence is neither required, nor welcome.’ The governess flitted her away with a simple flick of her wrist. Evonne solemnly closed the doors behind her with a frown in my direction. Once she was gone, and I was left alone in the darkness, I gathered up what courage I had left in my bones and turned to face governess Bathory as she sat still behind her desk.

‘Have you been enjoying your stay?’ She asked me, to which I nodded.

‘Yes, governess; the other girls are wonderful, and Ms. York –’

‘Do not speak unless directed to, that should have been the first lesson Ms. York taught you under my roof,’ she sneered. I could see her distasteful grimace through her black veil, and I shut my mouth quickly. ‘Have you been enjoying your studies?’

I nodded, and she seemed satisfied. At least, she didn’t shriek or shout, so I assumed that my silent answer had pleased her.

‘Did Ms. York tell you why I wanted to see you?’ The governess asked. ‘You may speak now, Wilhelmina.’

‘She told me that you had something for me.’ I said meekly. I peeked up again from under my wild curls and saw her hard stone-like face staring directly back at me, her one visible ruby red eye sharp and observant.

‘That’s correct; a letter came for you this morning,’ she said, holding up a cream envelop with a black wax seal on the back.

‘From my mother, miss?’ I asked, though I knew that my step-mother would never write to me unless she
really
wanted to say something miserable. At best, it would have been my younger sister, Dinah, or Abby.

‘It’s marked from a Charles Abberdean.’ She said lightly. My heart swelled and floated inside of me like a bubble in a jar. My lungs were spastic and my hands were white as I clutched my dress with pure excitement.

He hadn’t forgotten about me. For that brief moment in time I felt just like I did when Mr. Abberdean would read to me as we sat in my window while the party dragged on downstairs. I was experiencing nostalgia like a drug, and the pieces of my life were almost put back together.

‘I happen to know Charles Abberdean myself, did you know that?’ governess Bathory asked. I shook my head; of this I was
not
aware of, and it was a slight shock to think that the warm man in my heart knew Elizabeth Bathory. ‘I also know that, while quite social, Charles does not take a particular liking to anyone. In all the years that I have known him, he has never written a letter to anyone, especially a
child
.’

‘May I read it, miss?’ I asked.

‘Speak out of turn again, and I’ll have you working with the slaves in the field for the next week,’ she warned. Again, I sealed my lips and waited patiently. My joints ached to take that letter from her hand, but I knew better. So, I willed my body to stand there and do nothing as she continued.

‘What is your relationship to Charles Abberdean? You may speak.’

‘I have known Mr. Abberdean for three years, miss. Before I came to live here, he would spend one night a week with me in my room. We would talk for hours, miss, sometimes until just before the sun came up,’ I answered plainly.

‘Talk?’ the governess barked a laugh. ‘What would a man like Charles Abberdean have to discuss with a child?’

‘Books, miss,’ I said, but quickly regretted speaking out of turn when her red eye narrowed. I waited for repercussion and consequence, but none came.

‘Books; is that so?’ She asked bemusedly, to which I quickly nodded. ‘And what books would he read to you, Wilhelmina? You may speak.’

‘Many wonderful tales, but mostly his own personal works of fiction, or poetry.’ I said, and I could feel a warm sensation rising within me. It was almost as good as the feeling of him actually being there, but nothing could ever compare to that feeling. It was such a strange and alien feeling, when he was near, but it was the happiest feeling I had ever known. I missed his presence, and I was afraid that the governess could see that now.

‘I do not allow the children under my watch any form of correspondence, though there have been exceptions for my most promising progenies, your sister Mary being one of them.’ The governess told me sharply. ‘I will allow you to send and receive letters to your dear Charles under one condition.’

‘Miss?’ I was confused. What could she want from me?

‘You are here to leave your old life, and indeed who you are, behind you and start anew so that you may blossom into a proper young lady,’ the governess said. She laid the letter on her desk and leaned forward, studying me with her red eye for a moment before continuing. ‘You are a wild child, backwoods and stubborn, that much is clear. Like fire, you cannot be easily controlled without the right tools and leverage.

‘I want you to submit yourself to me, body and mind. Swear it here and now, and you will have this letter, and any other letters that might come from Charles.’

I opened my mouth to swear to it willingly, but she held up a solid hand and I fell silent.

‘And to solidify your vow, I want your hair cut off immediately.’ She said. I mentally fumbled, and my confidence in this promise faltered. I wanted to ask why she wanted me to cut my hair, why it was such a bother to her, but I was afraid to speak out of turn and risk losing Mr. Abberdean’s words forever. ‘You may ask whatever is on your mind.’

‘Why is my hair so bothersome to you, miss?’ I asked. ‘On my first day here, Ms. York warned me that my hair would be troublesome; why?’

‘Every bit of your hair looks and acts like you; a sore to the eye, unkempt, uncontrollable, wild, and unnecessarily gaudy,’ the governess told me. ‘I want that gangly mess snipped off right away, and I want you to start over. You will brush and comb your hair every night before bed, and every morning when you awaken to ensure that it never looks this untamed again. The moment that I see it looking so bawdy again, I will have it cut off again, and again, until it is as obedient as you.’

With an absent mind, I had been clutching my long hair in my hands, imagining my life without my elongated locks, of which I was quite proud.

‘Those are the conditions, either accept or decline, but do not waste any more of my afternoon,’ she said sharply. ‘You may answer now.’

My initial answer was yes, yes, oh God in Heaven, yes. I wanted to read Mr. Abberdean’s words more than I wanted air or water. I wanted to feel close to him again, to know that I still existed in his world, his universe. But as I opened my mouth to tell her that I would do anything she wanted, I saw him before my eyes.

His black eyes were warm as he smiled, kneeling before me in my step-mother’s kitchen. He took my hair out of my red ribbon and told me that he loved my hair just the way it was; loved me just the way
I
was. I wanted him to see me just as I was the next time we met, when I would finally tell him how much he meant to me as well.