The Complete Northanger Horrid Novel Collection (9 Books of Gothic Romance and Horror)

by Eliza Parsons

  The Signora, who observed this almost immediate change in the deportment of the Marchese, attributed it to the right cause. She perceived, on his first interview with Laurette, the commencement of his passion and saw, with extreme concern, the visible coldness of her manners, and the air of unusual dejection which was delineated on her countenance, when his assiduous attentions were more particularly directed to her.

  It was easy to discover, even on a superficial acquaintance, that the passions of the Marchese were strong and invincible; and though the Signora was totally unacquainted with his excesses, and was equally a stranger to the insatiable cruelty of disposition he had formerly displayed when any one dared to oppose him in his interests or his pleasures, she had sufficiently penetrated into his character to be aware of the danger of irritating his pride, and ventured gently to remonstrate with her friend upon the subject.

  She suspected the attachment which had so long tenderly subsisted between our heroine and the handsome young Chevalier, even before she was personally known to him, though the native delicacy of Laurette's sentiments and feelings prevented her from openly avowing any extraordinary prepossession in his favour. Yet as she no longer retained, in any eminent degree, that enchanting frankness of expression which once gave new charms to her conversation and demeanour when in the presence of the Marchese, whose attentions could not be misunderstood, what before was only conjecture, now ripened into conviction.

  The solicitude that the Signora discovered for the welfare and happiness of her lovely favourite, was received with the most attractive gentleness, and repayed with almost filial affection. But when she reverted to the Marchese, dwelling upon the ardour of his passion, and the unhappy consequence of such a rejection; which, considering his rank, fortune, and accomplishments, could only be occasioned by a premature attachment, a throbbing emotion agitated the bosom of Laurette, and her tears flowed silently and fast. Since she was now wholly in his power, the danger of exasperating his vengeance was too evident to escape her notice, yet she could not, however necessary, submit to the meanness of disguising her sentiments for the sake of future advantage, or to the policy of apparently encouraging hopes, which could not finally be realized.

  The Marchese was now less frequently in the society of the ladies than on his first arrival, and even in their presence, the deep musings of his mind so entirely abstracted him from conversation, and threw at times such a deep gloom over his features, that Laurette could not observe him without a sensation of awe, mingled with terror. He was frequently closeted with his steward for many hours in the day; and when he returned into the saloon, his dark piercing eyes assumed a ferocious and dreadful appearance, so different from their former expression, that no one presumed to address him, except Paoli, who possessed over his Lord an unlimited power; and, by constant and unremitting perseverance, was enabled to prosecute his purposes with all imaginable ease and success.

  The aspect of the Marchese now indicated the most restless inquietude; he often started wildly from his seat, without any apparent cause, answered widely from the subject if a question was directed to him, which was never unnecessarily the case, and threw his eyes strangely around the room, like a man newly awakened from a dream, as if his whole soul was absorbed in some desperate and important enterprise, which he was alarmed lest any one should penetrate.

  It was after one of these secret interviews with the steward, that the Marchese informed the Signora of his intention of visiting the old castle on the Rhine; having some thoughts of rendering it habitable, that he might occasionally retire to it as a summer residence: at the same time requesting, that she would prepare to accompany him thither on the succeeding day, as he wished to have her opinion and assistance respecting the alterations.

  He slightly asked Laurette if she would consent to be of the party; and, on her modestly declining it, left the room to give some farther orders to Paoli, without repeating the invitation.

  Having betrayed no symptoms of anger or resentment, the expected consequence of her refusal, a ray of comfort was conveyed to the bosom of Laurette; since she had been for some days in hourly expectation of Enrico, and had now an opportunity of seeing him alone without the knowledge of the Marchese.

  To remain at the castle during his absence was a privilege so unhoped for, that she could with difficulty conceal her satisfaction. But how must she inform Enrico of her new cause of apprehension, without augmenting his distress? though to avoid entering upon a subject, in which he was so nearly interested, would be utterly impossible, since he would assuredly introduce it, and reluctance on her part would naturally kindle curiosity and lead to conjecture.

  When the morning arrived, the family assembled early in the breakfast room, and, as soon as they had partaken of the usual repast, the carriage being in readiness, the Marchese informed Laurette that they meant to return at the expiration of a week, and seating himself by the side of the Signora, drove from the gate.

  As soon as the chariot was out of sight, though she had reason to lament the absence of her friend, the beautiful orphan felt as if released from a long and mournful captivity; joy once more played about her heart, and forgetting for the moment the presaging aspect of the future, she yielded to the new and sweet emotion.

  The only unpleasant circumstance with which this indulgence was attended, arose from the presence of Paoli, who, contrary to her expectation, received no orders to attend his Lord; but as he did not often obtrude himself into her company, she reflected upon it with less uneasiness, and, being alone, began to form some plan as to her future conduct.

  It was now the beginning of November, and the winds blowing chill and bleak from the mountains, prevented her from frequenting her favourite solitary walks; she sometimes, indeed, strolled along the lawn, or through the thick shades of the shrubberies; but the cold and drizzly rains, and the thick mists that pervaded the atmosphere, made her fearful of continuing her rambles. When the weather did not permit her to extend them, she observed, not without some astonishment, that she was followed at an inconsiderable distance by Paoli, who seemed to watch her movements whenever she advanced along the grounds with the most uniform scrutiny, as if anxious to avail himself of every opportunity of observing them, when she was the least apprehensive of his intention. He never, however, attempted entering into any conversation with her, even when aware of her notice; but this restraint upon her actions, which was evidently the result of design, confined her almost constantly to her apartment.

  With somewhat of impatience she now awaited the arrival of Enrico, and when several days had elapsed, began to reflect upon his absence with grief and disappointment. Something might have happened since he had last written, to have prevented the execution of his design; but his not acquainting her with the occasion of his absence, when he had so expressly declared his resolution of visiting her, was an omission for which she could by no means account.

  The week now drew rapidly to a close, yet still he did not appear; and, as she was hourly apprehensive of the return of the Marchese, she began rather to dread, than to desire the performance of his promise.

  One evening when it was nearly dark, as she was standing at the window of her apartment, she perceived, at some distance, a tall figure in a white garment, stealing slowly through a copse beyond the boundaries of the castle, as if desirous of concealment.—This she was convinced could be no other than the Monk who had formerly forewarned her of the danger of her situation, and whom she had of late studiously avoided.

  As she continued to observe him, he advanced nearer, and entering a small gate, at the extremity of the walls, swept hastily along the grounds till he had reached a thick grove of evergreens which led to the southern side of the building, when he suddenly stopped, and remained stationary.

  It now occurred to her mind, that the reason why she was so narrowly watched by Paoli was, that by this means he might be enabled to prevent a future interview with the Monk, which, from some cause, she was incapable of investi
gating, and which was known only to the Marchese and himself, was thus carefully to be hindered from taking effect.

  Curiosity, from a second review of the subject, triumphed for the moment over every other consideration, and she felt an irresistible inclination to descend, and hear him unfold the important secret, which he was before prevented from disclosing.

  As she still ruminated upon this singular event, new fortitude was communicated to her mind; and leaving the room with an assumed appearance of calmness, she resolved, if by any means the vigilance of her tormentor could be eluded, who, as it was night, would probably not suspect her of rambling from the castle, to go immediately to the place.

  Scarcely had she descended the stairs before her resolution forsook her, and fear and terror took possession of her faculties. The little advantage that might possibly attend such a discovery, and the dangers which might arise from this mode of procedure, in the calmer moments of reflection, compelled her to abandon the design; and she was returning pensively to the apartment she had quitted, without attempting to gratify her curiosity, when the rolling of a carriage announced the arrival of the Marchese.

  Paoli ran instantly to the gate to welcome his Lord, whilst Laurette, who experienced a slight degree of surprise and disappointment, remained fixed to the spot.

  In a few moments he entered the great hall, attended by his steward, whom he hastily called aside, without apparently observing any other, whilst Laurette waited to receive the Signora at the door of the saloon.

  Surprised that she did not appear, she proceeded towards the portal, and made an enquiry of one of the servants, who informed her, to her unspeakable grief and astonishment, that she was left at the Castle of Elfinbach, and was to remain there till the ensuing week, for the purpose of overlooking the repairs.

  The glaring impropriety of her situation now filled the unfortunate Laurette with new terrors; she trembled, lest the Marchese had adopted this plan that he might continue his persecutions successfully, and more than ever distracted with tormenting apprehensions, she entered the saloon, and throwing herself upon a sofa, which was fixed in a recess under a window, burst into an agony of tears.

  Having remained there some time, she heard steps in the hall which advanced nearer, and believing it to be the person whom she most dreaded to see, arose hastily, and endeavoured to open the window which descended to the ground that she might effectuate an escape; but the attempt was in vain, and the presence of the Marchese prevented her from retreating by any other means.

  He entered with an air of easy confidence, and as Laurette tremblingly advanced forwards to welcome him, he led her courteously to a seat, and then placed himself by her side. A deep blush now took possession of her features; she cast her beautiful eyes upon the ground, and a sigh, that refused to be suppressed, agitated her bosom.

  The Marchese, after gazing upon her for some time with a look of earnest tenderness, took her hand, and would have pressed it to his lips, but she withdrew it hastily from his grasp, and a look of displeasure awed him into forbearance.

  "By heaven this is too much!" cried the Marchese; "Laurette, you are cruel—you are unjust;—you know I love you; my passion I have never attempted to conceal, though it has been chilled with the most provoking indifference. But, in spite of all your reserve, I cannot believe you mean seriously to reject me; and to convince you that the proposals I mean to make are as honourable as advantageous, I now offer you my hand. Consent then, beautiful Laurette," resumed he, softening his voice, and regarding her with a look of ineffable tenderness, "to become the Marchesa de Montferrat, and to accept of a situation which every other woman would embrace with transport."

  Keener agony now suppressed her utterance; her silence encouraged the hopes of the Marchese, who watched every turn of her countenance with the utmost impatience, and taking again the resisting hand she had withdrawn, besought her to determine immediately.

  Her answer was at once gentle and decisive: she acknowledged the honour he was solicitous to confer, but conjured him not to distress her by a repetition of his request, which would inevitably be productive of uneasiness, and could never be attended with success.

  The firmness of her tone and manner surprised and offended him; the attachment, which he suspected had early subsisted between her and Enrico, could only account for this conduct. Anger was again kindled in his breast; the submissive tenderness of deportment which he had assumed, vanished, whilst resentment and ungovernable pride struggled for concealment.

  He did not, however, yield without reflection to their influence, but with all the eloquence he could command, pleaded forcibly his cause, assiduously endeavouring to remove every obstacle which her imagination could suggest. But to each new argument she replied with the same decisive coldness, without assigning the reasons that actuated her, though he frequently demanded them in a tone of authority and displeasure.

  Finding that she was not to be wrought upon by any means that had been hitherto employed, resentment, no longer to be restrained, burst forth with unbridled energy; his breast heaved with contending emotions, which he found it impossible to resist, and a deep indignant glow animated his expressive features.

  "You are then determined to reject my suit," resumed the Marchese, rising hastily from his seat, and fixing his eyes upon her's with a keen and penetrating glance.

  "You have already received an answer, my Lord," replied Laurette, "and why should I irritate you by repeating it? You have hitherto protected me, and have, from that circumstance, a claim upon my gratitude. I was taught, from the earliest period of my existence, to consider you as my only surviving friend; and, when personally unknown to you, to honour and revere you as a parent;—forgive me when I say no other sentiment can be excited; and permit me also to add, that if you wish for my esteem, you must instantly desist from farther persecution."

  Rage and exasperated pride now deprived him of utterance; and as he still continued to pace the room with a perturbed and agitated step, Laurette, willing to take advantage of this silence, arose and would have retired. But this he resolutely opposed, and fastening the door to prevent a similar attempt, compelled her to return to her seat.

  New terror now took possession of her mind; but knowing that resistance would be vain, and remonstrance equally ineffectual, she ventured not to dispute his authority. As he still continued to traverse the room, apparently musing upon some new project, an universal trembling seized her, and scarcely dared she to raise her eyes from the ground, lest they should meet his dreadful and indignant glances.

  A Venetian mirror that was placed on the opposite side of the saloon, over which was suspended an Etruscan lamp, dimly reflected his figure, which was altogether more stern and terrible than her fancy could have formed:—His cloak hung loosely from his shoulder, his plume waved haughtily over his brow, whilst his darkened countenance, that expressed all the energies of a soul refusing to be subdued, was strongly marked with rage, jealousy, and revenge. In a few minutes he started from his reverie, and placing himself upon the sofa, again demanded her reasons for rejecting him.

  "You have already heard them, my Lord," replied Laurette, mildly. "My answer, I think, was sufficiently decisive; and, as I have no more to add upon the subject, I must request your permission to retire."

  "Presumptuous girl!" interrupted the Marchese, in a voice half stifled with resentment, "will you still persist in this daring obstinacy? Do you dispute my power, or is it that you have a young Chevalier at hand to protect you?"

  As he uttered these words, which were accompanied with a disdainful and sarcastic smile, a faint glow tinged the cheek of Laurette; the tremulous sensation that was stealing upon her spirits prevented her from framing an immediate answer; but the integrity of her mind invested her with new fortitude, and as he paused with his eyes fixed upon her innocent and blushing face, as if awaiting her reply, she endeavoured so far to command her feelings as to give it with dignity. When she had regained some portion of her native compos
ure, she attempted to convince him of the impossibility of gaining her affections by this arbitrary conduct, or indeed by any other mode that could be adopted; at the same time requesting him not to compel her to lose all esteem for his character, as she should unwillingly relinquish the favourable impression, and this could only be prevented by a promise on his part never to resume the subject.

  "Do you forget," returned the Marchese, emphatically, "your orphan and dependant state? Do you forget that you are without friends, fortune, or connexions? that there is not a being existing on whom you have any claim for protection—none who, from any other motive than that of common humanity, would preserve you from the miseries of neglect and poverty? Have I not hitherto defended you from these; and have I not a right to be obeyed?"

  "I am not insensible to these obligations," replied Laurette, weeping, "and I would not willingly have any thing happen to cancel them; I would feign consider you as a tender and disinterested friend, still honour you as the guardian of my helpless infancy—but as a lover, my Lord, I must not, indeed I cannot return the affection with which you have honoured me.

  "You must not, and you cannot!" repeated the Marchese, with deeper emphasis, whilst jealousy and rage lent all their fury to his countenance "But your reason for persisting in this refusal is evident; some wretch has pilfered those affections which ought to have been mine; and by heaven he shall not escape my revenge. Laurette, you either accede to my wishes, or you are thrown from my protection, not into the arms of your lover (for I will pursue him with unabating vengeance), but into a situation sufficiently remote to elude his most arduous researches; where, after lingering in obscurity, you will live and die unknown and unlamented. Recollect that I will no longer be trifled with; I have dedicated too much of my time already to the indulgence of your caprice; and from henceforth, if you still continue to practise it, I will assume the tyrant. Hitherto I have meanly descended to supplicate, in hopes of inspiring you with a mutual attachment, but my mind has regained its energy; consider me then no longer as your slave, but remember I expect, nay command your obedience, and that a contrary conduct will be attended with the punishment it merits."