-I am happy that you have come this far, to meet me ...- the young woman admitted as her hands, her narrow and small fingers inserted the needle into the white cloth, and then pulled it out.
She was leaving thousands of long coloured threads on the canvas, which intertwined with each other in a magnificent chromatic mixture.
Abigail loved to sew, it was something that relaxed her, freed her for a moment from the nightmare she was forced to live in.
Although she seemed relaxed it was clear to William Dustin that was with her at the time, that she was not well at all.
The Duchess' hands were shaking so much that she had to be careful not to hurt herself with the needle, her face was pale, marble.
Abigail's long red hair was sweaty, limp and smooth, less soft than usual and dark circles were under her eyes.
She was only sixteen, but how long could she hold on to that situation before she died?
She knew she would have died anyway, everyone would have died right?
Then the Duchess waited patiently for her own end without dramatising it, without any remorse.
-It's a pleasure for me to be here with you...- William reassured his cousin, offering her a sincere smile.
He knew his help was essential in that desperate moment, at least to bring her some joy in all the despair.
Abigail hadn't seen her husband and son for weeks now and that made her immensely sad and melancholy.
She kept writing to the man, yes, to make sure that he and the baby were well and in good health.
She had been informed that at that time little Rudolph had just begun to say his first words and to cheer her up she had been warned that at the sight of her portrait her child would call her "mother" as it must have been.
The Duchess was no longer under the illusion of being able to see them again now but she was fine just to know that their life was no longer in danger.
-Where is Dickon? I thought he too would come to visit me today... - Abigail asked as she, attentive and cautious tried not to pierce herself with the small and pointed iron needle.
She had far too many holes in her skin by now that another certainly wouldn't do anything.
William shrugged, to tell the truth even he didn't know where his brother had gone or what he was doing.
The Earl suspected he was doing something without telling him and had noticed that all of a sudden he had drastically befriended Brooklyn and Francis.
By now he also believed his twin had found his own company and could only hope that they were good friends to him.
-I don't know where Dickon is, or what he's doing...- the young man admitted to his cousin now lost in his thoughts -only I know that he will be around with his friends, somewhere...-.
William soon had to return to reality when a sudden hint of pain caught his cousin.
Abigail brought one of her small, graceful, quivering fingers to her lips.
She sucked the blood that had come out of her needle wound, she knew it, on the other hand with her hands trembling from drugs she would never have been able to sew decently.
She dropped the round wooden frame to the floor, it thundered on the marble floor.
Something about her was wrong, her blood did not have the metallic and damp taste that characterized it, it was colder, mushy and above all it did not come from her finger or from a wound.
What was happening? Why was her heart suddenly beating so fast? Why couldn't she breathe?
-Abigail!- William gasped as he stood up from the comfortable chair and fixed his gaze on his cousin's face, his voice trembled, stammered -blood...blood comes out of your nose...-.
The Duchess knew that moment would come, she knew she had swallowed, along with her blood, traces of the drug that had been given to her in large quantities that morning.
Her body had reached a saturation point.
She began to breathe heavily, with difficulty, the air she inhaled was not enough to provide her body with normal vital functions.
The drug had killed her, Isabelle had killed her.
The young woman pushed her open arms to her cousin, hugged him, with her fingers, her nails.
-I don't want to die...- Abigail whispered between tears and sobs -I don't want to die, William...-.
The Earl grabbed her long red hair, dipped his fingers there, caressed them, massaged them, tried to calm her down.
-Everything will be alright Abigail- he tried to calm his cousin down- everything will be alright until...-.
The last breath ...
Her hands, the young woman's frightened grip had left her cousin's body.
Abigail fell to the ground, her corpse, cold, lifeless, fell to the ground.
William could see the last moments of terror in the young woman's face.
Why had they injected her with so much drug? Why had they let that young life go like this?
Now Abigail was no longer there, she was dead, without even being able for the last time to give a last goodbye to the people she loved.
William's wet eyes rested on his cousin's loom.
A magnificent red rose was embroidered, red like the hair and the blood that had ceased to circulate in that young woman.
It was cold all of a sudden, William had started crying.