Dearest Diary, Dated : Insignificant.
I am feeling furious today. I wish to weep and sob, but I can not do either. Firstly, because it shall reflect badly on my dignity and family name. And secondly, because I can not physically weep. Another folly of the Great Lord. He should have put some thought into my punishment. I do not approve of this situation that I am stuck in. I can not abandon this vessel, and neither can I do anything to ameliorate my condition. This is definitely one of the times that I wish I was dead. And buried. The latter being the more pivotal thought.
I woke up as early as the dratted sun blazed in the sky and have been antsy since. I have a peculiar prickling in the base of my spine. I know that it must sound unreasonable to some that a ghostess is capable of experiencing such sensations, but the Lord is my witness that I do not lie. I have learned my lesson and do not plan on making the same error in judgement that I had made more than two centuries ago.
Yes, I am feeling nostalgic today. Ever since I got a whiff of the soup that some mortal was gulping down, I have been transported back into the times when I could actually feel anything flowing down my throat. I do not understand why I am feeling this weird emotion, but all I know is that I can not help but glance back into my time as a mortal.
I still vividly recall the day when His Royal Highness, King George the Glorious,may the Lord not bless his soul, declared in a packed court that I was to be executed. My husband, Duke Johnathon Henry Charles Saxe-Coburg the IIIrd, was standing before His Royal Highness, with his head hung in shame and his perfect auburn locks falling over his forehead, while I was standing ten paces behind him, in fetters and surrounded by three guards of the Royal Army. My beautiful violet damask gown was tattered at the hem and my gloves had yellowed slightly from the fortnight that I had been forced to spend in the gallows. The pearls stitched on to the bodice of my gown had come undone during my less than comfortable imprisonment. Even my ordinary request to provide me with a mirror and a brush had been denied by the guards, so I did not know the condition that my hair and face were in. I could only pray that I looked presentable.
I was in a slight daze as I listened to His Royal Highness' verdict, his monotone falling on deaf ears. My eyes were transfixed to a spot on the marble floor of the court. I wondered who could have caused the blemish, and how careless it was that none of the staff had managed to clean it. Suddenly, a booming voice pervaded my senses and I jerked my head towards the Royal chairs. His Royal Highness was addressing me directly.
"Do you have anything to say in your defence Duchess?"
I bowed deeply before answering in a clear, unaffected voice, "No, Your Majesty. I concur with your opinion and I shall burn in the fires of Hell for the sin that I have committed. But I do have something else to say to you. If I may."
"Yes, you may."
"There is some wine spilled on the floor where I am standing, and I would like it very much if somebody could wipe it off."
My words were greeted with a collective gasp and followed by a stunned silence. I could even hear my own heart beating in my rib cage, and my breath escaping my nostrils.
"Oh! the sheer audacity of this...." His Royal Highness was not pleased with my response, and to this day I wonder why that is.
But I do not know why I am recalling this particular incident today. I have no wish to remember the damned day when I was sentenced to this never ceasing ordeal. But I can not help myself. Some memories are very difficult to subdue once they flare up in one's mind.
I wish I could cry and maybe sniffle a little, even though it is below my station to do either in public, but since I am invisible to the mortals aboard this vessel, I do find the thought appealing. I wonder if the lack of attention is meddling with my brain. I think that I may have to do something to make my presence felt to the crew members and to that dratted, dastardly Captain. His pompousness is getting out of bounds and before long I may have to teach him a lesson or two in humility, even though I myself was never good at being humble.
I think I will stop scribbling now and find myself a peaceful spot to rest my aching heart and my throbbing head. Maybe I should head down into the Captain's cabin for a while. After all, it is the best cabin aboard the vessel. I should know since I have spent many a sleepless nights in his bed.
Sad and slightly morose,