Janice quickly opened the note, eager to know more about her counterpart. This was what was written:
"My Dear Annette, if you are reading this it means I'm dead. I'll explain the reasons for my decision but first, let me deeply apologize for making you find my corpse. I cannot even imagine how upset and scared you might feel now; I thought about other solutions, deaths that would have reached you only by ear and not by sight. but ultimately I've decided to be selfish and hold on to one of the few comforts of my life. I hope you'll be able to forgive me.
You, my most loyal companion, my only and dearest friend, know better than anyone else about the weights that burdened my soul; I was cursed, too soft to live a good life in this world, the only prey in a jungle of predators. But I've made peace with my condition, I did, or at least I thought so: a few days ago I was visited by Dr. Hencheron, and by the end of that visit, with a grim expression, he told me I was infertile. How many times had we dreamed about a baby? About a sweet child who would have been mine and mine alone? This is just one more disgrace, but it's not one I can bear.
Please, find in your heart the strength to forgive me, Annette. I hope we can meet again, in a better world."
Janice's fingers trembled as she finished reading the last words Juliana had ever written: she felt almost dirty for having snooped into her most intimate thoughts, for having deconsecrated something meant for the only person who seemed to care about the late duchess. When she and Haley had created her character they were just looking for a way to convey how deeply morally corrupted the aristocracy was, selling an eighteen-year-old to a man thrice her age with no qualms. How could have they known they doomed a young girl to a life of misery? It made her sick to her stomach.
She took a deep breath in, knowing that it was useless to dwell on the past when nothing could be done to change it. She wasn't dead. She was stranded in a completely different world, stuck into a miserable life but alive. And unlike Juliana, Janice was a predator, a vicious animal who had once ruled her jungle. She would be just fine.
---
She spent the next hours systematically examining every object in the duchess' former bedroom. (It still felt strange to think of it as hers) From the trinkets on her nightstand to the letters scattered on her writing desk; nothing noteworthy, just some cold and formal letters her parents had written her, halfhearted wishes for a good marriage and suggestions on how to get the duke's approval. By the second hour, she knew what books Juliana liked to read, what oils she used for her hair, and her tastes in clothing (she had to admit that her counterpart had style, her wardrobe full of garments that perfectly complimented her color and her figure, and therefore also Janice's.)
She was sitting on a plush armchair, satisfied with her work when she heard a soft knock on the door, promptly followed by Annette's head, peeking inside the room. She felt a smile grow on her face, endeared by the young maid's behavior.
"What is it, Annette?"
"The Duke is expecting you for lunch, Your Grace." The duke, right. Her old husband, a disgusting man who had a passion for too young girls. She followed the other woman into a spacious dining room and there, sitting at one of the extremities of the table, was her husband. She had never been more grateful for her ability to control her features because well... saying that the duke was the ugliest man she had ever seen would have been a far too kind description.
He was curved on himself, his skin sickly pale and full of wrinkles. Two little, pork-like, black eyes sat above a humongous nose and looked at her with a greedy glint that made her skin crawl. He was wearing what was supposed to be an elegant attire, but whatever charm it could have had was ruined by the way it folded and stretched, trying to adapt to the asymmetrical figure of the man. Thankfully, Janice kept her neutral expression, only her raised eyebrows betraying her surprise at seeing such a specimen. She gracefully curtsied, sending a mental thanks to her strict and traditional education.
"There you are, wife. I thought you got lost in the gardens. I am starving." The smile on her lips almost fell but she valiantly ignored his comments, taking a seat at the exact opposite of the table, wanting to put as much distance as possible between her and that... man. The servants brought the food and for a while, all it could be heard was the faint glint of the cutlery on the delicate plates. It was Janice who broke the silence.
"My Lord, are we perhaps going to have some guests at the mansion? Maybe his majesty, the Emperor?" The duke's bushy eyebrows raised and his mouth twisted into a patronizing sneer.
"Has my Lady Wife become even more stupid while I was away? Don't you remember the grand ball we hosted for our Emperor not even two months ago?"
"I'm sorry, Your Grace. It seems I had forgotten." Janice jabbed the meat in her plate a tad too forcefully, wishing it was her dear husband's head. However, the answer served its purpose; if the imperial visit had already occurred it meant that the main character, a woman who was discovered to be the only daughter of the late emperor, had already reached the Imperial Palace. Assuming that the events followed the timeline of the novel, Janice was free from the main plot; it would have unfolded in the capitol where the main character and the current monarch could peacefully fall in love after a convoluted series of events.
The rest of the meal was as unpleasant as the man she was sharing it with. He had little to no manners and shoveled food in his mouth with abandon, overeating and overdrinking. A charming sight, truly. When it finally ended and Janice's nerves had been thoroughly frayed, a terrible headache was pounding behind her eyes.
---
The Duke had to go and had to go fast. If she had to spend even another week in his general vicinity she would have followed the wise example of her counterpart and killed herself, possibly bringing him down with her, saving another innocent lady from his claw-like fingers and prying eyes.
She inhaled the fresh air of a world that didn't know pollution and let the wind ruffle her hair, losing herself in the rhythmic bounce of horse riding. The love for horses seemed to be just another thing that she and Juliana shared, and Janice couldn't refuse a good ride far away from anyone else in the pure and unaltered nature that surrounded the mansion.
The question was how; it needed to be discreet, and she had to be far away went it happened, possibly with someone who could confirm her innocence. She doubted that the duke's death would have raised too many questions, given that he looked like he could still move only thanks to the mercy, and pity, of an unknown god.
In a fit of rage, she had fantasized about throwing him down the main staircase of the house and watching his wretched body roll over lifeless but she could devise a better plan. Something clean and easy. Something like poison.
---
For every second that passed the idea of pushing him down the staircase seemed more appealing; they wouldn't even arrest her, applauding her instead for freeing the world from such an undignified creature.
"How can a headache keep you from fulfilling your duties as my wife?! You are young, where's your energy?"
Whether Juliana had kept her infertility a secret or the Duke just didn't care about producing an heir, Janice did not know. What she did know was that this man still wanted her to, as he delicately put it, fulfill her duties and that she was simply not going to do that. (Honestly, could he even still get it up? The theory of a deal with the devil was gaining more and more credibility.)
It was also clear that her husband was such a diligent man that he didn't care about her discomfort, putting their truly unavoidable duties first. Seeing that the situation was hopeless, Janice did the only thing one could do in this situation; she started wailing. Loudly. Putting her heart into it. The Duke winced and the shrill sound and looked at her in pure stupor; clearly, Juliana had never employed such tactics.
She kept on sobbing. "I'm... You must forgive me, Your Grace. My headache is so strong I cannot seem to stop crying. But" She continued, her expression earnest even through the tears. if my Lord Husband want to continue I will do my best to please him." She gave voice to a particularly obnoxious sob, putting her hands in her hair and start cradling her head. And what can a man do in front of such a devoted wife, the embodiment of rigor and duty, ready to answer her calling even in such unpleasant conditions?
The Duke looked at her as if she was a particularly disgusting type of insect and quickly turned around, trying to escape those grating sounds that continuously left the pretty mouth of his, usually quiet, consort.
When he disappeared from her line of sight, Janica stopped wailing and recomposed herself, coughing a little and drying her tears. She smiled, satisfied with winning this battle, and merrily went on her way, ignoring the looks of the servants who had witnessed her performance. Annette was waiting in her bedroom, anxiously wringing her hands.
"Don't worry, dear. This is the bed I will sleep into this night." Janice reassured her.
"I'm glad, M'Lady but... you cannot avoid him forever." The new duchess smiled at her, a wicked, vicious thing who promised hell.
"I wouldn't be so sure about that."