My last Duchess

Bumped off, I wrote. The Duke had bumped off the Duchess. Cheap floozies often got bumped off, and so did hot tomatoes and dumb bunnies, and so did sleazy broads.

Bumped suggested a blow to the head with a blunt instrument, such as a blackjack, but this was not likely the method the Duke had used on the duchess. Nor had he buried her in the cellar and covered up the grave with wet cement, or cut her up into pieces and heaved the pieces into the lake or dropped them down a well or left them in the park, like the husbands in some of the more grisly narratives I’d encountered.

I’d thought he’d more likely poisoned her: it was a well known fact among the writers of historical romances that Dukes of that time were expert poisoners.

They had rings with hollow stones on the fronts and they slid the stones open when nobody was looking and slipped the poison into people’s flagons of wine, in powder form.

Arsenic..

Quote from Margaret Atwood- Moral Disorder

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