"on Monday next you become his wife--see that you obey"

At last we learn something of the put upon Victoria's story!!! We've been through all this stuff--and speaking of, the Marchioness and Matilda talked about it right when Matilda got there but then they put it off AGAIN! So its only after the ball and all of this, under duress, that the Marchioness finally gives up the goods.

Aaaaaaand it turns out she doesn't really know much.

More on that in a bit.

So after the assembly, where everyone loves everyone (except one old "coquet" who is too into flirting with men, and her niece, an 18th century mean girl, who has also taken up the habit. She's determined to gain the affection of Adelaide's brother, the Count De Bouville--foreshadowing, bet he falls for Matilda and she gets shit from that woman--oh wait. I've already read the book once... Anyway Parsons calls the old aunt of the mean girl a "ridiculous old woman.")

Right. I digressed again. All the women loved each other. Matilda in a moment alone sighs for her terrible life of ending up loved and with a rich family that just wants to make her happy, saying, "Is it possible any one can be more unfortunately circumstanced than myself?"

Seriously, Matilda? I can name a couple. Like your kidnapped friend, Victoria. She's probably not having nearly as much fun.

Not to mention, Matilda, you really haven't seen much of the world and none of it real poverty.

Seriously, STAHP!!!

Parsons then stops the narrative completely to create a defense of French female propriety to her English audience.

Apparently the English enjoyed stereotyping all French women as profligate and too free with their bodies and emotions. Parsons insists this is more of a "national gaiety of heart and freedom of manners" that develops because they are far more restrictive of young women than the English are, and that "most are truly respectable in every situation in life."

I'm failing to really give you an idea of how hilarious this this little, sudden defense of French womanhood is. (It's a lot easier to make fun of serious bits.) So I'm just going to give you a little taste of the passage.

Therefore 'tis no uncommon thing for girls gladly to marry the man pointed out by the parents if he is ever so old, ugly, or little known; the restraint laid upon them is so strict, and their conduct so narrowly observed, that to enjoy liberty they have to marry

For those who have studied the characters and manners of the French ladies declare, there is more semblance than reality of vice in them. 

But the bright reverie of ignoring Victoria is kidnapped by horrible people and instead attending assemblies, enjoying the company of women and snubbing men, is suddenly broken in upon by Matilda getting a letter from Joseph telling her about the visit from her terrible uncle and that he now knew she was in Paris. Matilda goes into hysterics (but sadly does not faint).  "She was terrified and shocked beyond measure, she sunk into a chair, and burst into a flood of tears."

The Marchioness and Marquis notice Matilda is upset, ask why, and she tells them of her evil uncle on his way to Paris. The Marquis prmises to protect her and the Marchioness decides they should stay in this morning, telling Matilda, "to amuse you from thinking of your own troubles, I will enter upon the story of my unfortunate sister." Because nothing is more amusing than tales of other people's tragedies, right?

It starts the way all these stories should. Once upon a time (okay, Parsons doesn't go quite that far, but may as well have) there were two beautiful daughters of a Baron-- Baron Stielberg.  The Baron loved nothing so much as money and the pride of his family name. But the bad financial decisions of his ancestors had left him his proud family name, but not the money expected as his right as a noble. And as he had no son who could turn the family fortunes around, but only two useless daughters, he decided the only thing to do was to marry the girls off to the best advantage possible. Upon being old enough to enter into society, the elder sister, only 16, meets the Marquis. They are taken with each other and the Marquis makes an offer for the elder sister's hand in marriage. Though the old Baron would have preferred a German noble to a French one, he cannot ignore the Marquis' consequence and money and so he agrees. The Marchioness marries the Marquis and "became the happy wife of one of the best of men." But this left the younger sister, the unfortunate Victoria, with the old Baron and he is determined to marry her off as soon as he can.

A bit later, Victoria, who is only about 14 or 15, meets a nice young man "of a noble family, but small fortune" and falls in love. The Marchioness feels this is an ill omen. "I was sorry for it, I knew he would never be countenanced by my father." At the same time, the Count of Wolfenbach, who has a title and an immense fortune, has become obsessed with Victoria and is pretty much stalking her. And, of course this wouldn't be a gothic tale if the Count wasn't evil. And it wouldn't be a story if Victoria at all liked him. And, as sure as you can guess the plot of this summer's blockbuster before you even walk in the theater, you know the father will force Victoria to marry the evil Count.

Which is what happens. Victoria writes her sister, "I was commanded to receive Count Wolfenbach as my destined husband! I hate, I detest him-- he is morose, savage, sneering, revengeful--Alas! what am I saying? this man may be my husband O, my dear sister, death is far preferable." (No, I didn't screw up the typing. That is the punctuation. It took all my power not to correct it.)

Victoria tries to get herself out of it, the Marquis offers the Baron a third of his fortune to try to get her out of it, the nice noble Victoria is in love with makes an offer of marriage. Nope. The Baron is determined, saying, "the Count has a noble fortune, high birth, a title, and is a German--not another word. Not a single objection; on Monday next you become his wife--see that you obey without the least reluctance."

Victoria faints. (#2! Evil counts notwithstanding, I was beginning to wonder if this book was really a Gothic.)

Victoria, after waking up again, argues with the Count saying she doesn't love him, she loves another, and that, "no man of spirit could bear a divided heart... your Lordship will do well, both for your own sake and mine, to renounce all thoughts of me." This pisses off the evil Count who say, "You shall be mine, let the consequence be what it may," and then "flung out of the room with a look of vengeance."

The nice noble leaves the country and Victoria is "sacrificed to his rival." (I love the wording there.)

Less than a year later, the Baron dies, suddenly. The Marquis and Marchioness travel to Germany to help settle affairs and the Marchioness meets Count Wolfenbach. "Never surely was there a man with a more ferocious countenance, he inspired me with horror the moment I examined him." She finds Victoria much altered. Silent, reserved, and having lost her bloom. She is also pregnant and tells the Marchioness that she will probably die in childbirth. The Marchioness later also learns from a friend that Count Wolfenbach had been married before.

The friend tells her of it with all the horror one would suspect of such a thing.

"Why, it is a black story, as it is reported: 'tis said about three years ago he married a young lady, an orphan, of good family, but small fortune, at Bern, in Switzerland; that he treated her so ill as to cause her death, and left two children, who were put to nurse, afterwards taken from thence, without any one's knowing what became of them; however your father told me the Count informed his they were both dead.  Almost every person believes his wife and children came to an untimely end; but he is a man of such rank and large possessions, nobody chooses to say much."

"I hinted the affair to your father, but fortune and love was too powerful to be given up, he affected not to believe it; but after his own his disappointment, he thought more of his daughter, and had he not been so suddenly cut of, I believe would have interfered; at least, I am sure, would have made some separate provision for her, independent of that bad man her husband."

Three weeks after the Marquis and Marchioness return to Paris, they get a letter. Victoria is dead.

Fainting Fit Count: 2