Bluebeard's Wives

The seven wives of Lord Bluebeard hung in a closet in the cellar. Different variations of decay consumed each, but all were very obviously, for all intents and purposes, dead.

Stabbed, strangled, drowned, burned, poisoned, defenestrated- and, most recently, beheaded. It was a rather difficult task to re-attach the body so she could swing beside the others, but he wanted them all to look identical. His handiwork was rather exquisite.

Lord Bluebeard’s newest wife looked just like the rest: young, blonde and beautiful.

And dead. Her curiosity of his ways was, in his mind, more worrying than the ones that came before her. They were naive, yet devious little creatures, and thus all ended up the same way.

Trophies. Prizes. Call them what you will.

They all only had one name for him.

Monster.

In the first year, the first marriage, he was a different man. Not loving exactly, but wealthy and pleasant enough to earn himself a wife of good standing. They lived relatively peacefully for over a year, before… well, she died.

Though, no-one actually knows this. Disappeared is the lie he told them all. Her family, her friends. They tried to argue with him, but he held firm. Always a good liar, he was. Is.

In truth, she slipped onto a knife, while he was holding it. Her heart was pierced instantly, and she perished in his arms within seconds. She’d begun questioning his faithfulness to her, his love for her. He couldn’t handle it.

It was an accident, of course. But, alas, no-one would believe him. So, he lied.

He hadn’t meant to keep her hidden in the cellar, either. It was simply too much bother to find somewhere to… dispose of her without raising suspicion. And, of course, no-one was allowed into that room. No-one. Ever.

His wives all seemed to think they were the exception to this rule.

The second, bless her heart, was the youngest. Barely of age to be married.

Lord Bluebeard tried to forget his first wife, as did the rest of town. Remarrying so fast after she disappeared was seen as strange, and invited too many questions from the woman. Girl, he should say.

‘She’s young’, he’d say to himself. ‘She doesn’t know better’. Lord Bluebeard was patient and kind. He answered all the questions he could, and then when he couldn’t, he became angry.

His hands were around her dainty little neck before she could blink.

That girl, she was a fighter. Her nails were sharp as claws on his skin, and the scars remain to this day across his wrists. He tells people they’re from his cat.

He has no cat. They know this.

And so, he strung her up beside the first, but this time filled the room with straw to mask the scent of decay.

Wives three, four and five were more and more afraid of him. Each lasted less time than their predecessor, and the next marriages were more and more difficult to obtain. Lord Bluebeard was still a wealthy, handsome man (despite his strangely tinted beard), but the mysterious disappearance of several women he married made it rather difficult to find many good matches. He still had standards, of course, and wouldn’t simply take any wench from the street.

The drowning was entirely the woman’s fault. She spoke of a strange smell coming from the basement, and went off to have a bath. If only she’d kept her thoughts to herself.

The fire was a complete accident. Embers from the bedroom fireplace had escaped notice, and Lord Bluebeard liked to keep all the doors in the castle locked during the night, lest anyone be foolish enough to break in. His wife asked to use his keys. He didn’t like that.

The next was easy. A small portion of hemlock was accidentally added to only his wife’s drink after Lord Bluebeard found her hovering outside his special room. She was so startled when she noticed him, she dropped her goblet!

The sixth was a strange turn of events. Three weeks after the wedding, Lord Bluebeard’s wife fell through a window on the fourth floor of his castle. Only the day before, the Lord had been on a visit to another town, and left his keys to all the rooms in the castle safely hidden away.

They were in a different place when he returned.

And onto his most recent wife. Her name was Anne, the younger sister of wife six.

All she was interested in was where her sister disappeared to. Lord Bluebeard was responsible for her vanishing, she was certain.

He had another visit coming up, and gave her the keys to the household. Lord Bluebeard explained what each was for, except the last one.

Anne asked about it. “What about that one?”

Lord Bluebeard thought for a moment.

“That key, my dear Anne, is for the cupboard in the cellar. It is my private collection, and not to be disturbed under any circumstances. It is the only room in the entire building you may not enter. Is that understood?”

Anne nodded.

Bluebeard continued. “I will know if you have been in there. The consequences will be severe, and you’ll find yourself in the same position as my collection. Do not,” he said, speaking slowly and forcefully, “go into that room.”

Anne nodded again.

The moment his carriage left sight of the castle, Anne headed to the cellar.

She spoke to herself, in an attempt to calm down. "Curiosity killed the cat, right?" And she almost turned away from the door. After a deep breath, she muttered, "But satisfaction brought it back." And unlocked the door.

How wrong she was.

A scream, slice and thud later, she stood curious no more.

And so the seventh noose was tied, though it took several attempts to keep her hanging. They all had to be identical.

Don't fret. Wife number eight will soon walk through the front door. Lord Bluebeard's story is far from over.