The Mystery of Charles Dickens

by John Paulits

  Dickens described his next six weeks as “lying back on sofas and leaning out of windows and over balconies, in a sort of mild intoxication." He would visit the Brignole Rosso on occasion to treat Augusta de la Rue, but all in all, he had nothing to do and nothing to write other than letters, and he longed for home.

  Dickens made plans to leave Genoa on June 9 and travel back home via Zurich, Frankfurt, Cologne and Brussels. As the departure date neared, the Peschiere became a madhouse of boxes, organizing, packing, with a swirl of workmen and children underfoot.

  When Dickens mentioned the situation to Emile de la Rue, Emile offered him the hospitality of his home. Dickens accepted his offer with two things on his mind he wished to accomplish. First, he did not want to leave Catherine with the impression she could control his behavior. The visit to Emile de la Rue, which she had forced upon him, had humiliated him. Secondly, he wanted a final opportunity to probe into Augusta's story of the phantom and ring. If only he could be clear about what plagued her, it was still not too late, he believed, to eradicate her debilitating dreams forever. He told Catherine of his decision, honestly admitting he wanted both to avoid the chaos of the Peschiere and make one last attempt at curing Madame de la Rue. Catherine, unable to match wills with her husband a second time, simply turned away and went back about her business.

  Before Dickens left for two nights at the Brignole Rosso, he wrote a letter to his wife and left it on her pillow. He explained the embarrassment she had put him through and vowed an oath to the Almighty that his relationship with Augusta de la Rue was innocent. He went on, "...the intense pursuit of any idea that takes complete possession of me, is one of the qualities that makes me different - sometimes for good; sometimes I dare say for evil - from other men.

  "Whatever (is making you) unhappy...(has) no other root, beginning, middle, or end, than whatever has made you proud and honored in your married life and gives you station better than rank, surrounded you with many enviable things. This is the plain truth, and here I leave it.

  "You have it in your power to set it right at once by writing a note to say...you couldn't receive her remembrance (Madame de la Rue had sent Catherine a floral arrangement a few days earlier 'to make your final days in Genoa as pleasant as possible') without a desire to respond - and that if you should ever meet again you hope it will be for a friendly association without any sort of shadow upon it. I shall never ask whether you have done this or not and shall never approach the subject from this hour."

  With this attempt to provide closure to his wife's jealousy, Dickens left the Peschiere for the de la Rues.

  Chapter Eleven

  Dickens lunched with the de la Rues on Saturday, June 7 and then, as Dickens had privately suggested, de la Rue left the house to go to his office so Dickens could administer a treatment to his wife. Dickens remained intent on bringing a resolution to Madame de la Rue's malady as well as satisfaction to his own curiosity.

  "Now that we're alone, Augusta - you're aware Emile knows of your phantom and of your dreams?"

  Augusta looked down and then back at Dickens and nodded. "Yes. He's told me what I mumble in the midst of my seizures."

  "I believe we were...are very close to dispelling the phantom and those dreams, and I would like to use these two days to try."

  Augusta breathed a deep, uncertain sigh. "I am so afraid for you, Charles. I sense harm coming to you from this." She looked away, ashamed. "That is why I avoided our sessions when you traveled. I know you're in danger."

  Dickens waved her fears away. “I fear nothing of the sort. My only desire is to affect a cure for you. I know I can and with your help, I will. There is so little time left. No harm can come to me in so short a time."

  She could no more stand up to Dickens' will, face-to-face with him, than Catherine or anyone else could. She consented saying, "The house is quiet and empty." The servants, unless kept on for a party of some sort, were free after lunch on Saturday. "We can begin here and now." They sat together on a sofa in the sitting room. Dickens rose and pulled over a chair so he could face her.

  "Your phantom springs from your time in Rome when...the accident occurred."

  Augusta lifted her head higher, no longer casually agreeable to Dickens' desires.

  Dickens saw and lifted a calm hand to her. "It is true. I know it to be so."

  Augusta looked at him, waiting.

  "I hope to relieve you of the fears springing from that time."

  Dickens began to make passes with his hands and to invite the woman to the safe place where they could speak honestly. In less than four minutes Augusta de la Rue had reached trance.

  Dickens asked many of the same questions he had asked before. Augusta's answers remained constant. Most importantly, she insisted she had seen the ring in the phantom's room.

  "Was it your brother's room where you saw the ring?"

  Augusta refused to answer.

  "Where are you now?" Dickens asked.

  "With you. In the safe place."

  "What do you see?"

  She paused. "We are on a hill. There are people in the distance."

  "How many people?"

  "I see three people." Augusta's eyelids fluttered open briefly and dropped shut.

  "Do you recognize those people?"

  "Yes."

  "Who are they?'

  "My brother Charles. Rodney." She stopped.

  "Who is the third?"

  She would not answer.

  "What are the people doing?"

  "One is leading Rodney away."

  "Is it your brother who is leading Rodney away?"

  Dickens thought he saw the woman move her head to indicate "no," but the movement was so slight he could not be certain.

  "Who is left standing on the hill?"

  "You and I are there."

  "Where is the third figure left behind when the other two left?"

  "Gone. Where is my brother?" Augusta spoke in a painful voice and Dickens took a few moments to quiet her.

  "You've told me of Emile’s kindness to you at this time."

  "Yes, he was very kind."

  "How often did you see him?"

  "Every day."

  "You saw Emile every day?"

  "Yes."

  "What happened when your brother came back from the hike and reported Rodney missing?"

  It took three repetitions of the question to elicit a fearful, agitated response. Dickens, as usual, held the woman’s hand and felt her squeeze tightly upon his own.

  "I went to find Emile."

  "And what did he say?"

  "He was not in his room."

  "When did you finally speak to him?"

  "When he returned a short time later."

  "What did he do?"

  "He waited with us for Rodney to return."

  "And when Rodney did not return, what did he do?"

  "He summoned the authorities. My father was too upset. They searched. They searched. My brother couldn't explain...oh, where is my brother?"

  Augusta dropped Dickens' hand and stood up. He took her by the shoulders, fearful he had ignited something within her he would be unable to extinguish. Gradually he relaxed her, sat her down, and awakened her.

  "You've made me tired, Charles," she said, putting her hand to her right temple.

  “We are so close, Augusta. Let me help you rest. Come.” Dickens led her into the bedroom. Augusta lay down and in a few minutes, he had her sleeping peacefully.

  He watched over her for a while, then left.

  Dickens, confident the woman would be safe, went to de la Rue's office. Emile was there alone and greeted him with alarm.

  "Augusta, is she...?"

  Dickens smiled with a calmness he did not feel. "
She is well. I'd like to speak with you."

  "Certainly."

  Emile walked to a cabinet and took out a bottle of red wine along with two wineglasses. He opened the bottle and poured.

  Dickens took a glass and said, "Emile, your wife is haunted - there is no better word - by a phantom who violates her dreams. What happens to her physically is simply a manifestation of the torment she feels mentally. I believe the source of this phantom, which you've heard her mention, can be found in the occurrences of ten years ago when the accident happened to the young man named Rodney Dowd."

  De la Rue's glass stopped on its way to his mouth. He wet his lips with his tongue before sipping some of his wine.

  Dickens studied the man as he continued. "She doesn't consciously acknowledge this, understand it, or think about it, but I'm certain deep within her it is the source of her misery. I have a theory and I am hoping you will tell me what you remember about that time. Perhaps you can provide me with the information I need to relieve her of this torment."

  De la Rue sipped some more wine and set his glass down on his desk. “Of course."

  Dickens noted that for an instant de la Rue could not bring himself to meet his eyes.

  "Where should I begin?"

  "Begin with meeting your future wife."

  "Well, we were in Turin. I was on my way to Egypt where I stayed for a month or so on bank business. I met the family again in Rome, where they had traveled as soon as I departed. I remember delaying my departure for Egypt to coincide with their departure for Rome."

  "Had you fallen in love with your wife by then?"

  Dickens saw a small vertical line form above the bridge of de la Rue's nose.

  "I had. Yes."

  "And she?"

  "She? Perhaps not."

  "Go on, if you will. When did you meet this Rodney Dowd?"

  "In Rome. Augusta had known him briefly before, and he was a suitor of hers. Gave her gifts. Gloves, I remember." De la Rue smiled. "Endless pairs of gloves. He was having a portrait of her painted, but it was never completed. Augusta could not bring herself to sit for it after the accident."

  "Will you tell me about the argument you heard before the accident?"

  De la Rue smiled again. "Charles, you astonish me." Dickens could see the banker had relaxed and settled

  into his tale with an assurance absent at its start.

  Dickens, not to be outdone, assumed a nonchalance. "Angus mentioned it."

  “To be sure. I heard a disagreement. Augusta’s brother told the Dowd boy why he opposed his marrying his sister. They had quite an animated discussion."

  "Had there been such arguments before?"

  "From what I heard, it was not the first time the topic had come up between them."

  "And so the two young men went walking next day and only one returned?"

  “Yes.”

  "And Augusta turned to you for support?”

  “I was...nearby. Her father was frantic. Someone had to take charge of the situation."

  "Her father was worried about his son, no doubt."

  "No doubt."

  "And Augusta turned to you?" Dickens repeated.

  "We grew quite close. As you can see."

  "It is your wife's concern - perhaps belief - that her brother caused the other young man's disappearance and this is, I believe, the source of her sufferings."

  "Circumstances were black against him. But can you not remove this thorn from her mind?"

  "I will try again. Tomorrow. I know I will succeed, Emile."

  Emile refilled the two glasses and lifted his toward Dickens. "To your success."

  Dickens lifted his glass in return, and the conversation moved elsewhere.

  As they subsequently decided, Emile de la Rue left the Brignole Rosso the next morning so Dickens could be alone with his wife. The cook was due back to prepare lunch, but she would be a floor below the sitting room where Dickens and Augusta de la Rue worked.

  Augusta smiled as Dickens pulled up a chair. “Is it now or never, Charles?”

  "Unfortunately, it is," Dickens said, painting a smile on his face.

  "You have helped me so much already."

  "After today you will be cured."

  The woman grimaced, indicating she thought this a dubious assurance.

  Dickens began and soon the woman reached trance. His only goal was to remove or at least alleviate the guilt Augusta felt over her brother's exile.

  "Your brother did not want you to marry Rodney. Why?"

  "But he did."

  "I'm sorry. Who did?"

  "My brother did. He did want me to marry Rodney."

  Dickens was confused.

  "The night before the accident your brother had an argument with Rodney and told him he did not want you to marry him."

  Augusta sat stock still for a moment. Then her head went side to side twice.

  "Was there no argument?"

  "The night before the accident my brother took me to task for the attentions I paid to Emile."

  "Emile!"

  "Yes." The woman's respiration quickened.

  Dickens reminded the woman they were in the safe place where she could tell him anything, and gradually her breathing settled back into a regular rhythm.

  “What did your brother tell you?”

  "He told me Emile had had many other women. And opium. He knew Emile used opium."

  "Emile smoked opium?"

  "Yes. My brother knew. After we married, Emile admitted it to me and he stopped."

  "Go on."

  "My brother told me Emile was insincere and too old for me. He said Rodney loved me truly and planned to ask me to marry him the next day after he and my brother had spent the morning hiking together. Then my brother described the ring to me. But Emile loves me truly. He does. He does."

  Dickens calmed her. "Of course he does, Augusta. He helped you get through that difficult period."

  "Yes, he was there all the time."

  "He visited you every day, did he?"

  "No."

  "No?"

  "He stayed with us. In my brother's room. My brother moved to a smaller room in the house."

  Dickens felt a black chill creep over him.

  "Emile lived in the house all of this time?" Dickens searched his memory.

  "Yes. He stayed with us in Rome."

  "Where was he the day of the accident?"

  "I looked for him but he did not return until after Charles."

  "Tell me again about the ring you saw."

  The woman clamped her fingers tightly around Dickens' hand.

  "I saw the ring. In his room."

  "In whose room did you see the ring?"

  "The phantom's. The phantom who has been frightening me." The woman's voice rose and her eyes opened. "The phantom had the ring."

  Dickens patiently calmed Augusta. He would not stop until he knew. He tried the question another way.

  "Tell me about how you saw the ring."

  Augusta began to breathe rapidly.

  "We are in the safe place. You can tell me, Augusta."

  "Emile came home in the afternoon and learned Rodney was missing. He did not leave my side until evening when we knew something had gone terribly wrong. The authorities came to the house. Emile went into his room. I spoke to my father for a moment. Then I went into my brother's room to look for Emile. His room. He was not there. On the floor under his dresser I saw the ring. The ring! How it shone. Rubies and diamonds. It lay on the floor. The ring my brother had described. I ran from the room. I was frightened. I went back to my father. A moment later Emile joined us. I left and returned to Emile’s room, but the ring was no longer there. Emile. Emil
e had the ring. He took it from Rodney when he...when he..." Augusta shot to her feet and screamed, then slumped back onto the sofa.

  Dickens' heart beat a fearful staccato as he tried to compose both the woman and himself. Into his memory flashed the image of the wineglass pausing on its way to Emile's mouth that afternoon and the tiny furrow forming between his eyes. He recalled Emile wetting his lips with his tongue and averting his eyes for a moment. And what had he said? "I was nearby." He had said it hesitantly, hiding the fact he was living in the house. In the brother's room. Where Augusta saw the ring. Dickens recalled the growing assurance Emile displayed in telling his story when he realized Dickens was on a wrong track. Emile had done it. Emile had murdered young Rodney Dowd. Dickens was certain of it.

  It took fifteen minutes to return Augusta to quiet trance. It took another fifteen for him to formulate what would have to pass for a solution.

  "Augusta, you did not see the ring the night of the accident. You saw the ring the day before the accident. Rodney gave the ring to Charles for him to admire. Charles left it on his dresser for a moment. It fell on the floor, and you saw it roll under the dresser. Charles had the ring. It was the day before the accident when you saw the ring under the dresser." On and on Dickens went. He made the woman repeat the mantra after him. The day before - Charles had the ring.

  Finally, he let her sleep.

  Dickens mind whirled. He realized Augusta knew deep within that, because he had the ring, Emile had been involved in the disappearance of Rodney Dowd. She did not tell the authorities he had the ring. She protected him. She did not contradict Emile's story to the authorities about the argument the night before. Emile had overheard a conversation, a conversation between Charles and his sister in which Charles defamed Emile's character and revealed Rodney’s intent to propose marriage the next day. Emile then took steps to prevent Rodney from testing Augusta's affection for him. Emile had also learned of the ring in this conversation.

  Emile de la Rue was the phantom who haunted Augusta's dreams. In an intimate, hidden place where she never ventured with her conscious mind, she stored the knowledge that her husband gained her hand through murder. She had protected the man at the expense of her brother's reputation and exile. She had protected him so she could have him for a husband. Emile de la Rue’s despicable behavior had caused the terrible pain and guilt inside his wife.