Interior Monologue

The fever lingered for months, but the true gravity of her condition was not apparent until the last ten days. At first, she was tired, and then faint; she progressed to a lack of appetite, followed by persistent nausea and chronic fever and pain. The doctors were understandably confused, at a loss to characterize, much less treat, her mysterious affliction. They considered all manners of remedies and employed most. Treatments ranged from archaic to modern, from scientific to homeopathic. None had any impact.

Initial prognoses had been cautiously optimistic. When the Lady regressed, and there was no detectable cause, doctors struggled to produce further effective treatments. As the cause was not scientifically observable, the suspected culprit was deemed psychosomatic, and a licensed psychotherapist was employed. On and on, the doctors ran themselves in circles around the good Lady Pierce, but to no avail. She suffered, withering from lack of sustenance, and crippled by pain, and eventually, she died.

Lord Pierce had loved both of his wives terribly. After the death of his first wife (and mother of his first child), the Lord Pierce had been near inconsolable. That wife had died young, bearing him a daughter at the tender age of 17, and dying a short year later. It was impolite to discuss these things openly, but the neighbors commonly believed that the former Lady Pierce had met death on her own terms. Lord Pierce believed that his beloved wife and mother of his child was a victim of mental illness – nor was he incorrect in his thinking. But he treated this affliction like an anthropomorphized villain, with a twisted mustache and menacing grin, and feared mental or emotional instability more deeply than any physical ailment. He would sooner lose a limb than his sanity, and likewise would rather take a limb than suffer insanity in a loved one.

After the death of Lady Pierce, the Lord employed the services of a nurse, who happened to be of the Family Winstead. Young Mary was only 16 when the Lord Pierce came into the acquaintance of her family, and she married the Lord Pierce shortly after.

Lady Mary Pierce was immediately responsible for the care of a child, in addition to the regular responsibilities and concerns implicit in the running of a large estate. But she thrived. The staff loved her, her stepdaughter cherished her, and her new husband adored her. She was a happy and well-adjusted young woman. She herself would be loath to admit any unhappiness or discomfort. She was well cared for. But the Lady was young and passionate, and learned to temper her behavior lest she draw the rebuke of the Lord.

Lord Pierce loved his new wife and ensured that her every need was addressed. He was distant and cold, and he attended to his husbandly duties out of obligation. But what he lacked in passion he made up for with dogged loyalty and unwavering dedication.

When, a few years later, the Lady’s health began to deteriorate, Lord Pierce was initially dismayed. Women have such delicate constitutions, he mused. He wondered if he would spend the rest of his days caring for his wife as for a bird in a cage. But as her condition worsened, he began to worry. When the doctors finally admitted that they had no hope for her recovery, and suggested that he attend to her final arrangements, Lord Pierce was crestfallen. Another wife, another disappointment.

She pleaded with him to keep the faith, that she would recover, given enough time and patience. But the Lord was a scientific man and trusted the word of his doctors above that of his emotional, albeit beloved wife. And so, keeping a positive face toward the Lady, he privately planned for the inevitable.

But the Lady insisted that she was well, and that she would recover. On the day that she was buried, she adamantly declared her improvement. She begged to see the doctors, and for another round of treatment. The Lord was unmoved, though devastated. He was sure he saw death’s cold hand on his wife’s shoulder. Sensing the end, he gave her hand his most loving kiss and took his leave.

Although arrangements had been made – quite generous and lavish arrangements, in fact – Lord Pierce made an uncharacteristic last-minute change. To the simple coffin in which his wife was buried, he added a hammer and chisel, and, after some thought, a pistol loaded with a single bullet.

Lord Pierce considered the possibility that his wife was not truly gone, and so he reasoned that, should she awaken in her tomb, she should be offered a means of escape. He hoped that she would find success with the chisel, but, failing that, she would have the dignity to end her suffering without dying slowly of suffocation underground.

And so Lady Pierce was buried in her finest gown, with a hammer, chisel, and pistol placed lovingly beside her by the Lord Pierce himself.

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