I was drawn to this book for two reasons: first, it’s about Countess Erzsébet Báthory – I read about her in Sonia Velton’s The Nightingale’s Castle a few years ago and have been meaning to explore further – and also, I enjoyed Clare Whitfield’s previous novel, Poor Girls, and hoped this one would be just as good.

The Last Handmaid is set in the early 17th century and is narrated by Catalina, a young woman who finds herself alone in the world after losing first her mother and then Varga, the monk who raises her and whom she considers as close as an uncle. Rejecting Varga’s dying wish that she should become a nun and enter a convent, Catalina instead takes a job in the laundry of a castle belonging to Countess Erzsébet Báthory. No sooner has she begun to settle into her new position and make friends, her life is disrupted again when she plays a part in foiling an assassination attempt against the countess. This is the start of a close but uneasy relationship with the countess, who takes Catalina with her when she flees to Csejte Castle (now Čachtice Castle in Slovakia).

As you may know, Erzsébet Báthory – sometimes anglicised to Elizabeth Báthory – was allegedly a prolific Hungarian serial killer accused along with several of her servants of torturing and murdering hundreds of girls. She is also often said to have been an inspiration for the character of Bram Stoker’s Dracula, although there’s no direct evidence of this. In The Last Handmaid, we see Erzsébet through Catalina’s eyes, which can be frustrating at times as Catalina sees only what she wants to see and is determined that her beloved ‘Lady Erzie’ can do no wrong. It’s a good illustration of how easily people can be mistaken and how a vulnerable person who just wants to feel liked and valued can be manipulated and controlled, but still, it’s so obvious to the reader that the countess is a cruel, terrible woman that Catalina’s blindness becomes difficult to believe.

I found this book slightly different from The Nightingale’s Castle which portrayed Erzsébet more sympathetically and included some magical realism elements. This is a darker, more brutal novel and Whitfield doesn’t shy away from describing how the countess’s servants, Anna and Helena, beat and torture young women. The countess herself suffers from epilepsy, known as ‘the falling sickness’, and believes that drinking human blood is the cure. You can see where the comparisons with Dracula come from! It’s not a book for the squeamish or the faint-hearted, then. Even when Catalina begins a romantic relationship, it’s with the town executioner.

I enjoyed the book overall, apart from when I found myself losing patience with Catalina for continually making excuses for the countess and rejecting opportunities to escape and keep herself safe. I was interested to read in the author’s notes at the end of the book that she specifically chooses to write from the weakest, most vulnerable person’s perspective as they are the stories that most intrigue her. Now I need to find time to go back and read her first book, People of Abandoned Character.

Thanks to Head of Zeus for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.