Monday, May 10, 2010

Elaine Trevelyan was sitting by her bedroom window, smoothing an invisible pleat in her muslin and lace dress. Her hands were walking nervously along her lap, while she looked, in panic, to the path that led to the front door, waiting to see the arrival of her brother at any moment. In the lower level, police officers were speaking with the servants and Elaine knew that, sooner or later, she too would be called to testify.
Kate Reed, her maid, knocked at the door and, showing a lack of professionalism that was not her habit, entered without waiting for a response. The swollen eyes and the pale face were good demonstrators of her state. With an apparently calm voice, but that showed her nervousness, the girl informed Elaine that she had already been questioned, and was therefore free to serve her miss without any more interruptions. The young girl also informed Miss Elaine that there had already been taken measures for dinner to be replaced by a light meal. Elaine thanked her, with a sincerity that was felt in spite of the tremor of the voice. All this was happening because of Helen. Helen, a thirty-year-old lovely, rich, elegant, polite, exuberant woman… who was, now, dead. That was the tragedy that had taken place that afternoon in the mansion of the Trevelyan family. When Elaine returned from the visit she had done to Emma, her best friends’ house, nothing had prepared her for what she was going to find.
Helen was in the room where sometimes she would receive her visits, if she wanted to have more privacy for her conversations. The room, located on the ground floor occupied part of the main façade of the house, with windows facing into the courtyard and the garden. Its location endowed it with a magnificent natural light, allowing people to see, in its entire splendor, the details of the allegorical frescoes that decorated ceiling and walls, with depictions of cupids and other pagan gods. The room had, at the entrance, on the right side, a small table with porcelain miniatures, representing mythological scenes, and a silver candlestick. In the wall in front, a fire where some hot coals were burning, still. Over the fireplace was an oil portrait of Helen. In the painting Helen was appearing supported on an Arab-Hispanic cabinet, from the 16th century, belonging to her family, and her position seemed to convey the idea that all those little drawers were hiding secrets that only she knew. Her dress, tasteful, and much less simple than it seemed at first sight, was made by a bodice and over-skirt in the color purple and embroidered in red in a material that looked rich and smooth, almost as soft as skin that appeared in the neckline and sleeves. The skirt, red blood, was made of silk and the brilliance was identical to that of the face of the model. Two red-haired long curls appeared in the shoulders and cascaded in of the dress, almost to the girls' waist. Those who looked at the painting were unable to not feel the strength and life that the model passed. Her face, a perfect shade of rose, seemed a model of perfection, with large green eyes, bright and alive, shaded by large dark eyelashes. The nose, turned up, let the viewers guess a particular, joking personality, perhaps, too temperamental for a woman of her social condition. The mouth, red and well designed, was opened with a smile that left in sight two rows of extremely white and perfectly aligned teeth, and one could almost hear the fresh and frank laugh coming from Helen's mouth. Everything in her pose showed her irreverence and her personality, perhaps results of the portrayed model's youth. The painter had still managed to convey all the brightness and beauty of the jewels that, according to the tradition, was decorating Helen's clothes and skin. In her hair a pin jewel was shining in the form of a branch of flowers, with a strip to fasten them, done in gold and equipped with yellow topazes and emeralds. Helen's neck was embellished by a silver necklace where one could find covered topazes of which central element, a flower, were suspended three pendants in the shape of a teardrop. The bodice gained its own shine with a garrison gathered the sparkle of quartzes, amethysts, topazes and chrysoberyls in which centre a resplendent flower in everything an identical one to those that were in Helen's hairs. Finally, in the ring finger of right hand, shining with all its power was a ring of gold and silver covered by three rows of stones, topaz, rubies and quartzes. The jewels were all part of Helen’s family estate, and they had been given to the young girl in her anniversary, like grandmother had left decided in her will. Still, none of them could match the brightness of Helen's eyes.
Around the room, sofas and armchairs in greenish shades of moss provided good places to rest or, what was more frequent, for having social conversations. At the center, a table covered with a green velvet tablecloth, was situated underneath a large lamp where several candles were burning. On the wall where the windows were situated, an English secretary contrasted with a chaise-longue where we could find Helen. Her silk dress had the skirt spread in the chaise-longue. The eyes opened in an expression of horror, left no doubt that she knew what was happening to her and her inability to prevent it. In the mouth, a gag improvised with a napkin holder, no doubt taken from the tea table, was the explanation for which nobody had heard anything. In the throat, a strip of dark green silk, clearly removed from the victim's dress, tight, was the cause of death, causing Helen’s beautiful face to gain an abnormal a purple color.

No comments:

Post a Comment