Poor Joseph and Albert deplored their fate, in being too old to accompany the ladies, and were the only domestics left in the house, who knew to what place they were going.
Every thing being settled in a few hours, it was given out in the family, they were going into the country for a short time; even Marianne and Pierre knew no more for the present; and the ladies, attended by Louison and Antoine, set off, with all expedition: fortunately, Antoine had been in England once before, with a former master; he was therefore acquainted with the roads and accommodations, and consequently extremely useful.
The Marquis found the following day he had been right in his conjectures. Two men came to his hotel, armed with authority, to demand a lady commonly known by the name of Matilda Weimar, with a description of her person, then under the protection of the Marquis De Melfort. The Marquis was not at home; the men were informed the young lady was gone, with their mistress, into the country. They searched the house, and being disappointed, waited till the Marquis returned; he gave them the same information, and drew up a paper, signifying, that having taken the young lady under his protection, by the consent of Mr Weimar, who called himself her guardian, she had accompanied the Marchioness on a visit to some friends; that he pledged his honor for her safety, also to answer any charges that could be brought against her. With this declaration the men departed and returned no more; but a person was observed to watch the house for some days after.
The Marquis made no secret to the Bouville family of the past transactions, and though they felt great regret for the loss of their friends, they acknowledged the event had justified their prudence in the steps they had taken.
The Count felt more than he dared express, yet tried to subdue his feelings, from a consciousness of their impropriety to be indulged. His sister was to be married the following week to Monsieur De Clermont, and her establishment engrossed much of his time and attention.
The Marquis very soon arranged all his affairs, and within five days after the ladies left Paris, he followed them.
The Marchioness and her friend pursued their route, arrived at Calais, and crossed over to Dover, without meeting a single accident; here they determined to rest, and wait for the Marquis. They were exceedingly fatigued with the expedition they had used, and were glad to sit down comfortably.
The Marchioness understood the English language perfectly well, and spoke enough to make herself comprehended in common matters; Antoine did the same, but as to Matilda and Louison, they knew not a single word "till the Marchioness taught them to name a few necessary articles, and write down common words.
Much sooner than they expected, they had the pleasure of embracing the Marquis, and then learned the danger Matilda had escaped, and the duplicity of Mr Weimar. She shuddered to think how near she had been to misery, and her affection and gratitude to the worthy pair, who protected her, was proportionably increased.
The following morning they left Dover, and by easy journies arrived at the Royal Hotel in Jermyn-street. A card was instantly sent off to Harley-street, The messenger returned, with a line only, from the Countess, that they should follow the bearer with all speed and within ten minutes after the coach drew up. The Marquis hastened down to receive and conduct the ladies. The Countess was almost breathless with joy; she flew up stairs, and in a moment was in her sister's arms. Their mutual joy, their tears of affection and transport excited sympathy in every one. The Countess, recovering, led her sister to Mrs Courtney, "The two dearest friends I have on earth," said she, "love each other for my sake now, you have congenial hearts." She then warmly embraced Matilda. "This is the first day of my life," cried she, putting her hand to her heart; "I have all that I love in the world about me, at least, all that I know," added she, with a suppressed sigh.
Matilda, whose grateful heart expanded with delight, to see all her friends happy, expressed her feelings with such a warmth of satisfaction as engaged all their affections. She was introduced also to Mrs Courtney: and when the first tumults of joy were over, the Countess, taking that lady's hand, said, "Behold, my dear sister and brother, the preserver of Victoria's life; to her goodness I am indebted for all the happiness I now enjoy, a vast debt of gratitude, never to be repaid." "You neither do me nor yourself justice," answered Mrs Courtney; "if you do not think I am a thousand times overpaid for any little services, I have been so happy to render you, by the pleasure of your company, and the honor you have procured me, of knowing your respectable friends." They all gratefully bowed to this compliment, and then began to talk of their future residence. The Marquis wished to have a ready furnished house, in the neighbourhood of Mrs Courtney. She contended for the pleasure of accommodating them in hers; but this, for several reasons, they declined; and after a long and friendly contest it was decided, a house should be procured for them in her neighbourhood, but that they should spend every other week at Mrs Courtney's villa, and until a habitation was fixed on they would remain at the hotel, where they all supped together that evening.
"I know," said the Countess, "you must all be very anxious to understand by what means I obtained my present happy situation, and I am equally curious to know how my dear Miss Weimar conducted herself from the time we last met; but we will suspend curiosity for the present, nor cloud our happy meeting with a recital of painful events." "You are right, my dear Countess," said Mrs Courtney; "we are now all happily met, and 'tis of little consequence by what means it came about at present."
They passed a most delightful evening, and parted with reluctance, after engaging to spend the following day in Harley-street, and Mrs Courtney promising to search the neighbourhood for a house to accommodate them.
"What a charming woman is Mrs Courtney," said the Marchioness. "Ah!" cried Matilda. "I wish I understood English. I should like to speak to that lady in her own language." "You shall learn it, my love, when we are settled; but as the lady speaks French remarkably well, you have no cause for regret."
They retired to rest, and the following morning had some trades people with them, who are always on the watch to attend foreigners at the hotels. They purchased a few trifles, but chose to have Mrs Courtney's judgment before they bought any thing of consequence.
The Marquis, who had letters of credit on the house of Sir Thomas Herries, attended by the master of the hotel, went out to get cash, whilst the ladies attended to the business of the toilet, as they had engaged to be with their friends at a very early hour.
Soon after his return they drove to Harley-street, and were received with that affectionate cordiality, a thousand times more desirable than distant civility and respect: they met like old friends, with congenial minds, to enjoy the pleasures of society. Mrs Courtney told them, she hoped she had already succeeded in her endeavours to procure a residence for them; "and, fortunately," said she, "only three doors from hence; if you are inclined, we can now look at it." The proposal was accepted. The house and furniture, which had been all new within the twelvemonth, and belonged to Lord G - , who found it convenient to go abroad for his health ; was now to be let for a year certain, at 4001. per annum. They were extremely well pleased with the house, and readily agreed to the terms. Within two or three days it would be ready for their reception.
This being settled, they returned in high spirits, and spent a most delightful day in a quiet family party.
The next day was appropriated to shopping and excursions round the town; and indeed, except sleeping hours, they passed their time solely together; Mrs Courtney having shut her doors to all company "till they were settled in their new abode for the same reason the Marquis deferred sending all his letters of recommendation or waiting on the French Ambassador.
The fourth day after their arrival in England they took possession of their house; and having been fortunate enough to obtain a respectable woman, who was perfectly conversant in the French language, as housekeeper, they agreed to spend the following week in the country, previous to their being publicly announced in town.
Nothin
g particular occured until their arrival at Bellvue, Mrs Courtney's little paradise: they were quite delighted with its situation, and charmed with its polite and friendly owner. The second morning after their residence here, the Countess entered the Marchioness's dressing-room, Matilda was with her; "Mrs Courtney has just got two or three neighbours with her; my presence not being necessary, I have seized the opportunity, to make our respective communications: I am sensible you must be very curious, but I wish to hear my dear Miss Weimar's story taken up from the visit she promised me, and I suppose intended paying me." Matilda very readily gave an account of every event at the castle. The Countess shuddered, and heaved a sigh to the fate of poor Margarite, but did not interrupt "till she came to the letter received from Joseph, of the fire in the castle, Bertha's miserable fate and his escape. "Good heavens!" cried she, "of what atrocious wickedness is that man capable! Poor wretch, what a long account has he one day to make - God grant him repentance!" Matilda proceeded, and related every circumstance until their safe arrival in London. The Countess embraced the lovely girl, who had betrayed a sense of mortification in recounting the particulars of her birth. "I thank, my beloved sister," said she, "for the attention she paid to my request, and I am persuaded your charming society has amply recompensed her for the favor she did me." "You judge right, my dear Victoria; I am indeed the obliged person: but come, pray begin your narration, and take it up from the time you married that brute whose name you bear - " "But which I do not assume here," answered the Countess; "I pass for a Madame Le Roche, and as we neither go to court nor attend any public galas, I have never been particularly introduced, and am known among my dear Mrs Courtney's friends, as a widow of some fashion, but small fortune, on a visit to her, and not very desirous of much company; therefore you must get your lesson by heart against we return to town. Now, as to your request, you may possibly think I am too observant of my word towards an inhuman monster, when I declare that the sacred vows he drew from me still bind me to secrecy, as to what occasioned my being shut up in the castle, and permitting the general belief of my death." "Good God! sister," cried the Marchioness, "vows forced upon you, under such circumstances, have no power to bind; and you have sufficiently proved your truth and honour, by preserving them so many years from your dearest friends; - I am sure our confessor will absolve you." "May be so," replied Madame Le Roche, "and on our return to town I will consult him, till when I shall take up my story from the day Matilda left me. Charmed that I was likely to procure an asylum for her, as I doubted not of your acceding to my request, I retired to bed at an early hour, but could not sleep; about midnight I thought I heard an uncommon noise at the outward doors; I listened, and, convinced it was not fancy, I called on Margarite; the noise had alarmed her, she ran to me in the same instant that we heard the door in the kitchen burst open, and the Count appeared with an ill-looking fellow. I was out of bed, and had thrown on a wrapping gown about me; I trembled from head to foot; he came up to me furiously; "Wretch," cried he, "you have broken your oath with me, and therefore mine is no longer binding - prepare to die." Despair had given me courage - I was no longer the poor weak creature he had entangled some years before; my spirits returned, "Strike, barbarian, and complete your crimes, I fear not death, it will free me from all the miseries you have heaped upon me; but I will not suffer under imputed guilt - I have broke no vows, I have kept the fatal oath you extorted from me in the hour of terror." "How dare you persist in falsehoods," cried he; "you have had a woman here - you see and converse with Joseph daily; dare you deny those charges?" "I do not," answered I, "but still I have preserved my faith; the woman came here by accident, unawed by the terrors Joseph and I endeavoured to inspire, but she knew not who I was, nor any thing relative to my situation, and goes from hence in a few days: as to Joseph, the poor fellow, when he brings my provisions, enters into a little chat with Margarite, and sometimes I speak to him, and where is the mighty crime? You must know your diabolical secret is too well kept, or I need not be here in your power." He paused a few minutes, then withdrew to the window, and spoke to the man in a low tone; they came again towards me, and I expected instant death, but they locked the doors, and stopping the mouth of poor Margarite, dragged her out of the room, still locking the door after them. The apprehensions I was under for that poor creature, overcame the courage I assumed, and I swooned; how long I was deprived of my senses, I know not, but I recovered by cold water they threw in my face. "O, what have you done with my poor nurse?" "She is safe from betraying secrets," replied he: "come, madam, put on your clothes, and I shall bestow you safely too." "If you design my death," said I, "let me die here." "Do as I command," cried he, furiously, "or I shall carry you off as you are." I threw on my clothes, as well as my terror would permit; meantime he broke the locks of my cabinet, although he could have had the keys, took out what valuables belonged to me; and then taking me between them, they led me through a long subterraneous passage, till we came out through a thicket to the skirts of the wood; it was but faint star light; I saw two horses fastened; I was immediately put upon one, though I made some resistance expecting they intended carrying me into the thick part of the wood, and murder me there, - and I still think it was so designed. The man held me fast; we passed a small cottage, but all was quiet, and soon after entered another part of the wood, when suddenly the Count's horse fell and threw him over his head; he lay motionless; the man who held me rode up to him; he did not move. "I must see what hurt he has," cried he; and jumping off, left me on the horse; at the same instant I gave him a kick, and the animal set off full speed through the wood. I must inevitably have been killed, had it pursued its way through the thickets, but providentially he made towards the road, and being tired, slackened his pace. Unable any longer to support the fatigue; my head giddy, and dreadfully galled with the saddle, I slipped off on a small hillock, on one side, and lay quite exhausted, expecting every moment to be overtaken and murdered. I had been there but a few minutes before a carriage appeared, with two or three horsemen; I uttered a cry; the carriage stopped - a servant came up, "Who are you - what is the matter?" said he. I replied, feebly, "An unfortunate woman, escaped from being murdered, for God sake save me." The man went to the carriage, it drew up, the door was opened, and I was put in. The sudden joy added to the terror and fatigue I had gone through overpowered my senses, and I fainted; I was soon restored by the help of the lady's salts; I was able to look up, by my side sat the charming Mrs Courtney, supporting me; opposite was a middle aged gentleman, and a young one about seventeen or eighteen; I tried to speak, and kissed her hand. "Be composed, dear lady," said she, "your spirits are already too much exhausted"; (seeing me look with terror then on one side and then another) "you fear being pursued," she continued; "we shall stop very soon, but as the day appears the blinds shall be drawn up." This was accordingly done: 'tis needless to tell you our conversation. My heart expanded with gratitude to heaven for my deliverance. I was unable to give a satisfactory account of myself, only so far as related to my escape from the wood; I mentioned you, my sister, and your intended journey to England, and the uncertainty how soon you might depart, and therefore my wishes to join you. Mrs Courtney told me she was immediately going there, and as I was apprehensive of being known, it would be much better to accompany her, and write my sister from England. Before I could reply to this obliging proposal, we stopped at the posthouse, changed horses, and pursued our journey with rapidity "till about noon, when we drew up to a very fine old castle, which I found belonged to a friend of theirs, and where they proposed passing the night. I was shocked at my appearance; my clothes thrown on in a hurry, discomposed by the flight of the horse, and not one article about me calculated for travelling. My amiable preserver requested I would make myself easy; "Fortunately," said she, "we are nearly of a size; I have another habit in my trunk, with which I can accommodate you, and my woman will soon make your appearance decent, and reconcile your feelings, which I see are much oppressed ." The moment we alighted,
"My friend has been ill," said she, "and is in dishabille, will you show her an apartment, that she may alter her dress?" The lady's woman instantly attended me to an elegant room, whilst Mrs Courtney's got the trunk opened and procured me necessaries. I was soon equipped; my charming friend came to conduct me to the company; I was received with kindness and attention by an elderly gentleman and lady, the owners of the castle, and passed a comfortable night. The next day we pursued our journey, though much pressed to stay, and arrived at Lausanne. I found the gentleman with us was uncle to Mrs Courtney, and was come over to place his son at Lausanne, to finish his education; but having formerly resided some years in Switzerland, he had been paying a few visits to his friends, and was returning from one of them, when I was so fortunate to obtain their protection. We stayed a week at Lausanne. I kept very close in my apartment, in a constant dread of being discovered; I was heartily rejoiced when we pursued our journey, much more so when we arrived in England. Mrs Courtney's kindness cannot be described; she treats me like her dearest sister, and her uncle, who lives not far from us in Cavendish-square, appears to make no difference between us; he is a nobleman, a widower, about forty; has an only son, and is one of the most amiable men I ever knew. Judge how much happiness is now my lot with such friends, and blessed with the company of my dearest relations. Sometimes," continued she, "I thought it possible the Count might have been killed by his fall; at other times, that he might be only senseless; in short, I had a hundred conjectures about him, but 'tis plain he was not much hurt, since he could return to the castle and contrive more mischief. Now, in this land of liberty should he ever appear to persecute me again, I shall make no scruple to open the whole scenes of wickedness he has been guilty of; - there is one corroding care that hangs about my heart, but of that hereafter." She arose in visible emotion, "Come let us take a ramble in the garden after my tedious narrative." They accompanied her.
The Complete Northanger Horrid Novel Collection (9 Books of Gothic Romance and Horror) Page 12