Garnet or Garnets Curse

coffin. That was her way of answering my questions.
    Auntie and I talked about many things, but we never discussed death or finances. At first, I was saddened by Auntie’s death, but my emotions soon turned to rage. Auntie should have prepared me for this! I knew nothing of funeral rituals or the duties of being mistress of the household. No wonder the servants looked upon me in fear. For all they knew, they might be kicked out on the streets. And for all I knew, I might find myself there beside them.
    My thoughts were interrupted when I heard voices in the hall. Seconds later, there was a sharp knock at the door and three persons entered: Harriet, Charles and Dr. Lowers.
    Harriet set a tray down upon the table. She poured coffee in the first two cups, but Dr. Lowers put his hand over the third cup, “Scotch if you please,” he said, even though it was only eight o’clock in the morning.
    Harriet drew back the silver coffee pot and rested it softly on the table. As if in a trance, she walked across the room, opened the liquor cabinet and poured a glass of Scotch. She handed the doctor the glass and sat down next to me. She said not a word, but I detected her hands trembling. When he had consumed it, he turned to look at me.
    “It was a good death,” he said, trying to smile. “She suffered not. She died in her sleep. It was most likely a stroke that claimed her life and as far as death goes, we should all hope for as much.”
    “Yes indeed,” Charles said, crossing his legs and leaning back against the arm of the chair.
    The doctor offered me medication to help me rest, but I refused. I would have liked nothing more than to take his medicine and let sleep offer me an escape. That was not an option, with so many uncertainties. I felt like a baby bird that had just fallen from the nest. I had to learn quickly and beware of my predators.
    “Very well,” said Dr. Lowers. “I have prepared the body and Harriet has dressed her hair. She is ready for you to view, Miss Dragos.”
    “We have left the selection of her burial attire to you, Garnet,” Harriet added. I realized it was expected of me and I nodded my head in thanksgiving.
    Dr. Lowers walked to the door, placed his hand on the doorknob and hesitated. “Charles, I trust you will be stepping up as Miss Dragos’ financial advisor.”
    Charles turned and faced me. “It is my desire, if that be to Miss Dragos’ liking.” Again, I nodded.
    “Charles, I assume Father Andrew will be appropriator of the funeral arrangements,” Dr. Lowers said.
    Charles looked at me and replied, “Yes, I think your aunt would approve.
    “Shall I stop by the monastery on my way into town to notify him?” he asked.
    “That would be most kind of you,” Charles returned.
    “Then I must be on my way. I will address my bill to your attention, Charles. Miss Dragos, my sympathies to you. Harriet, before I leave, may I see you in the hall?”
    Harriet quickly leaped from her seat and closed the large glass doors behind her. I strained to hear what they were saying, but Dr. Lowers’ words were still ringing in my ears. The doctor gave Harriet a small bottle. She slipped it in her apron pocket and proceeded down the hall.
    An hour or so later the priest arrived, followed by a visit from the undertaker. Father Andrew discussed the formality of the funeral. His kind manner was comforting.
    However, the undertaker’s visit was unnerving. It seemed he was more concerned with the “presentation,” as he called it, rather than the necessity of disposing of my dear Auntie’s body. He highly recommended that a host of professional mourners be hired. A wooden coffin would not do; it must be iron, adorned with brass and silver.
    With his departure, all the layers of the dead had been arranged. A hearse would be ordered, floral arrangements, a photographer and an artist to create a death mask. Lastly, it was determined the body would be laid out in the library for friends to pay their final respects.
    By that eve, I was sick with exhaustion. I refused dinner and went to my room to retire. Harriet came into my room quietly, prepared a toilet for me and combed my hair.
    Even without my permission, she had assumed the role of my maid. She left a tray with a glass of warm milk and a sweet roll. I was not hungry, but I was empty. It was filling and I slept.
    The next morning when I awoke the sun was high in the sky. My mind was in a fog and I could hardly arise without falling back