Mr Oliver Piebald was a big man. In stature, and otherwise.
He was the Earl of Stratton and lived on an estate he had inherited, which was the size of half a dozen football fields put together. When Esther married him she thought she was the luckiest girl in the world. Her husband was tall, well built , handsome and his finances and stature were as solid, if not more.
It was a happy marriage, with friends, entertainment and food. Esther was a wonderful cook, and people looked forward to their parties to enjoy her food. Oliver was very proud of his wife’s culinary skills and loved inviting people over.
The love for good food slowly turned to gluttony and Oliver started eating more, and some more.
Very soon Oliver Piebald outgrew his clothes. Soon after that , the bed had to be fitted with an iron frame, so it could support his weight.
He couldn’t ride hid horse anymore or walk, at all. He didn’t mind.He just ate and ate, and slept and woke up and ate some more.
Years passed by, and happiness evaporated in this manner.
As Oliver Piebald grew Esther Piebald whittled away. Anger and resentment were eating away at her, even as her husband ate and slept..
Then one day Oliver Piebald didn’t wake up at all.
The entire county turned up at his funeral to grieve with the young widow, Esther who stood stone faced in a corner. Poor thing is in shock, people whispered amongst themselves, even as they expressed their shock at his sudden demise.
Oliver Piebald was buried with full honours, the guests relished Esther’s feast and departed.
Later that evening as Esther sat alone in the study, a glass of Scotch warming her up slowly, a gleam shone in her eyes. Thank God arsenic in food wasn’t traceable in food she thought, as a tiny smile began to bloom on that stone face.