The Bluebeard

Author's Note: This story is an adaptation of the very, very old French Folktale of the same name. Liberties were taken.

The news first reached Williamena over breakfast.

"Have you heard? George Halfstead is seeking a wife," Mother said as the servants laid their plates before them.

"The Bluebeard?" Williamena asked. She winced when Mother looked in her direction. Best not to draw attention.

Anne, not looking up from doctoring her tea, said, "Already? Goodness, that's even faster than the last time he was widowed."

"Though it is tragic that he seems to only pursue sickly women, it would not due to have such an eligible, and rich, young man be single for too long. Anne, I think we will put in an offer to have Captain Halfstead meet with you."

Williamena's sister went stiff. Her jaw rigid, she addressed her mother cooly. "I will not. Charles has admitted his affections for me, and I will not abandon him. What would people say? Williamena is not being pursued by anyone. Have him meet her. Besides, his beard is just so—so—blue! How could I be seen in public with anyone so peculiar looking?"

Mother appeared to consider the idea. She tapped her chin, her other hand hovering just above her meal. "I suppose that isn't such a half-bad idea."

"Isn't—" Williamena swallowed the lump in her throat. "Isn't he a pirate?"

"Williamena!" Mother said. "That is no way to talk of a man you may marry. Besides, what prospects do you have?"

"Well I—that is." In truth, there was no one.

Mother nodded as if Williamena had agreed. "It's settled then."

***

The first time the Bluebeard beheld Williamena, he seemed to spy some magic in her. Entranced, he slipped his hat from his head and seemed to whisper, "Oh, Williamena..."

The courtship was whirlwind. At first, Williamena was unenthused. She accepted his advances out of duty, and under the stern gaze of her mother. Captain Halfstead explained on their first day out that he was a merchant captain, shipping goods between Boston and the colonies in the Caribbean. He took her to lavish parties, wooed her with candies and sweets brought from afar, and presented her with silk gowns. He was awful pleasant to look upon.

And perhaps his beard wasn't so blue. Prematurely grey, perhaps.

One evening, he held a lush ball at his home in Louisburg Square. The best of the best of Boston were present. There was dancing and drinks, and every eye in the room turned upon her when she appeared on Captain Halfstead's arm. No, perhaps his beard wasn't so blue after all. That evening, she accepted the captain's proposal.

***

Those first weeks as Missus Halfstead were as a fairytale. A new dress every day, jewels and riches beyond what she could imagine.

"My, this seems excessive even for the owner of a merchant ship," she said.

"It is a quite successful merchant ship," he said with a wink and a kiss.

They strolled the town, met with his company, and played games together. And of course, there were those long mornings spent in bed. Life with her good husband was so pleasant, she could forgive the looks people gave his beard when they went out in public. They did not know him as Williamena did.

Alas, their happiness had to come to an end. Late in the third week of their time together, George Halfstead told her over breakfast, "Tomorrow morning I shall be leaving."