"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

"a swarm of beaus surrounded them"

PARSONS, YOU ARE DOING IT ALL WRONG!!!!!
       YOU COULD HAVE BEEN HERALDED AS THE MOTHER OF CHICK LIT!!

                Instead it goes to Jane Austen.

But I'll get to that in a bit.

Matilda gets to Paris and is warmly welcomed by the Marchioness and her husband. She learns that the mysterious kidnapped lady's name is Victoria--writer of bad poetry on walls-- and she "starts suddenly on hearing the name" because that was a big shocker.

Matilda breaks the news that said Victoria has been kidnapped. But Matilda, "Perceiving the agitation and distress of her auditors," says, "I have little doubt of the poor Lady's safety, from a persuasion that if any ill was intended towards her, they would have destroyed her as well as the servant." And this oddly does give the Marquis and Marchioness comfort, with the Marquis actually thinking of doing something for the poor victim. "By heavens! neither oaths nor promises shall prevent me from publicly calling on the Count to produce her!"

But otherwise things are going very well for Matilda. The Marchioness is immediately convinced that Matilda is wonderful because Matilda is pretty. Really. "That countenance needs no recommendation." The Marquis also loves her immediately for being pretty saying she "claims a double share of my esteem from her own merit, legible in her countenance." In fact everyone in the novel is just immediately convinced Matilda is wonderful just by looking at her. Among the many gifts Matilda is always thanking Providence for she should add thanks that she doesn't have a bad case of adolescent acne.

And then they all go off and take a nap. For the next few days they take her around Paris and show her the sites and introduce her to society. This is where Helen Fielding would have had a field day. A whole novel just on these three days.  Matilda has been sheltered from society her whole life. She's never done any of this before. And she's uncomfortable with suddenly being a part of it.

This is rife with possibilities. Instead Parsons passes this opportunity by with one line. "Matilda was in a new world: the polite and sensible conversation she now enjoyed was so different from every thing of thi kind to which she had been accustomed, that she was mortified at her own deficiencies, and most assiduously endeavoured to profit by the good sense and elegant manners of her protectoress." If she'd just spun that line into a few chapters, or maybe its own book, more people might know her name alongside Jane Austen. But Parsons is busy with other things. She has a message.

BOYS DROOL, GIRLS RULE!

Wait what?

Men aren't really in the picture. Except for the Marquis, no other man is mentioned and he barely gets to speak. This is no good. Doesn't Parsons understand what is supposed to be important to a woman?

She doesn't.

Matilda and the Marchioness go to an assembly where Matilda does not meet or dance with any men. Mrs. Bennet would be beside herself with disappointment.

But then the Marchioness isn't even trying!! She only introduces Matilda to other women! How is she ever going to marry the girl off like that? But no. Instead she focuses on especially calling Matilda to the attention of the Countess De Bouville and her daughter Adelaide, and Madame de Nancy and her sister Mademoiselle De Bancre.

I mean, Parsons! Get it together! You are a woman so it's already difficult for you to make it into the literary canon. You will never get there if you don't include some men! And by that I mean some men who aren't evil. Ones the heroine can fall in love with! You know, This:

Or this:

If you don't want love stories then just make the man the main character. Like this:

You need men, Parsons!!

But then it gets worse. The Countess De Bouville is a widow. Her daughter Adelaide is engaged, but he's not there. Neither is her brother, the current Count De Bouville. Then comes Madame De Nancy, who is in her 20s and also a widow.  She was "sacrificed very early in life to an elderly man, every way unworthy of her," where she "suffered under his tyranny five or six years," died, and "left her the mistress of a large independence." And her sister, Mademoiselle De Bancre, "who had witnessed [Madame De Nancy's] bad treatment from an unworthy husband, determined never to marry."

The sisters live together and seem completely happy on their own. In fact all the women seem completely happy together without men. To the point where they ignore the men at the party completely. "A swarm of beaus surrounded them, but [Matilda] thought their conversation, their fopperies, and fulsome compliments truly disgusting, on comparison with the sensible and elegant manners of her newly-acquired female friends."

No, No, No, Parsons. You aren't getting it. Women NEED men in order to be decent human beings. See?

Without them we are just sad beings who sing about how we are all alone in our ugly red pajamas.

Do you understand?!?

Good. We are getting somewhere. You might make literary canon yet.

Okay. I give up. I'm loving this part of the book. It's refreshing.

"exhausted by grief and lassitude the wretched old man lay almost motionless"

Parsons takes a detour at this point that I love. Rather than staying with her protagonist on her journey to Parish, instead she follows Joseph and his wife Bertha for a bit. When Matilda and Albert leave, Joseph is inexplicably staying at his post and waiting to get murdered for no reason I can think of.

What's more, he can't tell Bertha anything because she is an old woman and therefore can keep no secrets.... Hey, it's Parsons' logic, not mine.

So a few days later Joseph goes into town on the horse Matilda road in on and left because she had the carriage now.  In town a man starts following him and then asks about the horse. Joseph hedges and leave. He goes back to the castle, but "He was however followed at a distance..."

Men come in and make threats. It's another one of those bits where you really see the cultural attitudes on class. An unknown rich man comes into their home, starts asking questions and making threats, saying, "answer truly, no harm shall happen to you, else you must look to the consequence," And Joseph and Bertha aren't angry or affronted or say he can't do this. By their whole attitude, it's clear they know he can do this. He's a gentleman and their better and can do anything he likes, even kill them and there are no repercussions. They are at his mercy. The ultimate in privilege.

Well, not a king, but he is still royalty.

The attitude goes as far as Parsons explaining why Joseph is so resourceful and intelligent by giving him a backstory of, "a tolerable education, and had better expectations, but the wars had carried off his friends and little possessions." My favorite line displaying this is, "...his sentiments were above his condition." Because lower class people lack intelligence or abilities. Just ask the 1%.

Back to the story.

It is Matilda's evil, lecherous uncle, Count Weimar!!

He's trying to find Matilda and Albert.  "...The lady you have had here is my niece, who has eloped from my care, and seduced my servant to steal the horse you rode to day, and go off with her." (I knew Albert's intentions were dishonorable. But Matilda seduced him! Wow. Go Matilda.-- not what Parsons means though. I just have a dirty mind.)

Bertha tells everything she knows, which isn't much. Joseph hedges, saying, "Sir, money would not tempt me to do a wrong thing, but as you say it will be for the young lady's advantage, to do her service I will obey you." And then tells the evil count nothing anyway. Tricky, tricky Joseph.

Bertha has no such scruples and was born lower class, a woman, and is now old, so not very bright by Parsons' view. She has no compunction in taking the count's money. He gives her 2 crowns and asks her to try to get more information out of Joseph promising more money if she succeeds. She is no match for Joseph's intellect and laments looking at a crown, "what a pity now I can't tell where [Matilda] is; a hundred of these would make one happy for life."  (I really think Parsons hated old women.) But she had told the uncle that Matilda was headed for Paris, so he leaves.

But there are more evil counts to fear! Count Wolfenbach shows up.  He says that he will be selling the castle and is going to move Joseph and Bertha, along with the neighboring couple so they will have some friends (and you know, poor people can just be up and moved at will. Still true) to a better castle that he says he has. How soon can he go. He's rather put out when Joseph says they'll need a few days to settle up their business and get ready. The poor. So unreasonable!

There is a lack of Prince Humperdinck gifs. I had to settle for an image.

Bertha wants to run and tell the neighbors right away, but Joseph says no. He doesn't trust the count, and while he's not absolutely sure it was the count who kidnapped Victoria, he's being careful. At this the count and his men ride off to stay in the town rather than sleep in his own castle.... because story reasons. Such as when Joseph hears voices when he goes to check the abandoned apartments we know the Count has snuck back and is going to cause trouble. (Joseph, you should have run when you had the chance.)

The next morning Joseph gets a letter from Matilda saying she is safe in Paris and Victoria's sister extends the invitation to Joseph and Bertha as well, figuring Victoria won't be going back there if she is alive and to reward them for faithful service. Bertha is even happier and they (Finally!!!) start making plans to gtfo.

Too little, too late.

Joseph wakes up in the middle of the night and smells smoke. He opens the door and "flames burst in upon him." He escapes, but the building collapses on Bertha and "she was smothered in the ruins." Joseph grabs the horse and rides away from the wreckage in grief and fear. Finally he stops, "and threw himself on the ground. 'Bertha! my dear Bertha, I have lost thee for ever;... why did I fly, - why did I not perish in the fire with my wife?'"

But "providence" intervenes and "conducted a carriage that way, with a lady and a gentleman in it, and two attendants on horseback." They see him and take pity on him and help. And then Parsons returns to Matilda. If I remember right, there is only a passing comment on Joseph later. He never shows up again. But after spending so much time with him helping and taking care of Matilda, I'd gotten a little fond of him. I'm glad Parsons showed us what happened to him and Bertha. Of course, it also shows just how evil and murderous Count Wolfenbach is. To kill a servant he lit the whole castle on fire! (Hope that was insured.) That is some crazy ass evil.

"their fate is enveloped in mystery and horror..."

I really need to read and post faster or I'll never get past this one novel. I've been doing quite a bit of reading, so this is going to be a long one. (In the meantime I finished finals and one term, have started another term-- my last! I'm almost done with my degree!! And had a shelf break and drop plates on top of my computer and then on the floor. So I'm on a new computer and now have only 4 plates to my name.)

Okay. Where was I?

So after their day of doing nothing but worry, Matilda decides she wants to see the other rooms. Not because there might be anything to find that might help her friend, mind you. Nope. Matilda had been promised blood and prison chambers and scriptions to make a body's hair stand on end and she wants to see them. (Not that I fault her this sentiment at all. You know I'd have been hunting those up the first day. I just think at this point her priorities are a bit.... er..... backwards?) Anyway, she tells Joseph that she wants to see the room with the terrible inscriptions and he says she better not go because they are dismal. (I'm not sure Joseph understands that anyone who wants to see blood and scary inscriptions is not expecting cheeriness and rainbows.) But Matilda insists and since she is the quality and he is the servant he can't refuse her. (He couldn't anyway. After all she is the sweetest lady, right? In spite of a penchant for wanting to see dismal rooms.)

He gets the keys, but one of the keys is missing.  He goes up without it and they go into the room they can--but find it locked from the inside, which is apparently weird. THIS is when they decide they should perhaps explore the other rooms because there might be something about what happened.

Joseph heads back downstairs to see if he can find the other key while Matilda explores the room they could get into. It is the prison room!! There are iron bars on the windows!! And mildly disappointing. It's kind of like the rooms for royalty in the Tower of London, all done up and pretty. You stand in the rooms thinking, wow, this is nice. And then realize that the person staying in the room in such opulence was waiting to be beheaded.... Nevermind.

So this prison room is "handsome, but the grated windows made it appear gloomy."
Joseph returns in a panic. He couldn't find the key, but he did find a knife covered in blood. Now they decide it is vitally important that they get inside. (Finally!!!) They break down the door and both gasp in horror!

There is the lady's servant woman, throat slit, covered in blood (and probably smelling terribly too, since it's been rotting for a day and it's summer. Or worse thought, not smelling terribly because she didn't die immediately and was waiting for Joseph or Matilda to notice the mess and go searching, but they didn't and she could hear them in the rooms the day before, but she couldn't scream and... ---yeah, Parsons never tells and probably means it as the woman died immediately, not that she could have been saved had Matilda and Joseph had any sense between them.)

Honestly I'm not sure how much more I can make fun of this. I feel like I'm giving a blow by blow of absurdity at this point. There is more blood and such, but it's old and here are a few quotes of shocking, bloody goodness as you only find in these old novels.

"a woman on the bed weltering in blood!"
"casting her eyes on the floor, she saw it was all over stained with blood, driend into the floor--"
"On the floor was plainly mark'd the shape of a hand and fingers traced in blood, which seemed to have flowed in great quantities"
"the wretched victim to some merciless man was sacrificed in that closet where the hand was deeply imprinted in blood on the floor"
And this line is my favorite ever:
"...what scenes of murder and atrocious crimes must have been perpetrated in this castle; how great is my curiosity to know more...."


Fast forwarding: They have explored and then decide to do nothing. Then they realize, 'the wretches who have carried off the lady, murdered the servant to prevent discovery," [said Matilda.] "I fear,' cried Joseph, 'my turn will be next.'"

But then, in spite of the danger of staying... they do nothing.

Matilda spends some time in her room thinking of herself and "shedding a torrent of tears." She goes on about "no friend to advise me, no certainty of place o receive me, if I go from hence, and a probability, that, if I stay, I may be murdered;--what a dreadful alternative is mine!" Joseph, apparently, never even thinks of hightailing it, because, no reason I can think of. Guess he'd rather stay at his post and wait to get murdered.

Matilda decides it's disrespectful to leave the woman to decay there, but since Joseph is too old to dig a grave, they finally decide to put her in a big trunk-- because rotting there is so much better than rotting on a bed? Matilda goes about raiding the kidnapped lady's money and closet (the lady did say Matilda could have some of her stuff) and since Matilda is good and sweet and honest, she feels guilty about it and writes down an account of everything she took so the lady will know in case she ever comes back.

While Matilda and Joseph (but mostly Joseph) are moving the body-- and hey, you gotta give Matilda some credit for being willing to do that. Not many gothic heroines do that kind of thing. Joseph is horrified at the suggestion that a lady would help in such a task. But when a body's gotta be moved, Matilda does not shirk. This is the kind of friend we all need. She might not think enough to save the day in time, but she will help move the body.

No. Matilda never says that. Gothic heroines never just need a drink to deal with this shit. But I seriously would.

In the midst of body moving Matilda finally finds and reads the scriptions to make a body's hair stand on end! They are poetry, and my hair didn't stand on end, but I did wince a bit. Even Matilda is not overcome with horror and thinks the lines are, "expressive of misery though not of poetical talents." The only difference between this and Radcliffe's poetry is there is a lot less of it. The poetriy is all about some woman named Victoria lamenting being imprisoned there and her baby taken from her. Who could this Victoria be?!? Yeah. We've figured it out by now, but Matilda has no clue... Because pretty and good are more important than smart and it will be centuries before nerds are considered cool. I'm not even sure bowties have even been invented yet.

With the closets now raided, the dead woman rotting in the same room, but in a trunk now, and the possibility of someone coming back to murder them, Matilda settles down to doing nothing but hanging around. The letter from the sister comes saying Matilda is welcome if she can get there fast enough as they are about to sail for England. Matilda decides to start out in a few days, because nothing should be done quickly or immediately or anything. I mean, eh,... the murderer might need a few extra days to get back here, and Matilda wouldn't want to miss it.

Matilda and Albert (bet you forgot his name by now. I nearly did by the time he's mentioned again. He's the servant she originally came with. I wonder if Albert has been jealous all this time of the attention Matilda has been paying to Joseph. Do servants get like that over their sweet heroines? Or has Albert been using this time alone to woo Joseph's wife, Bertha. I mean we already know he was planning to live off of Matilda's money making talents....). Matilda and Albert leave, giving Joseph the horse they had been riding since, with Victoria's not-stolen money and the prospects of mooching off of Victoria's sister, Matilda can now afford to get a chaise. Which probably did take a few days to set up from the middle of nowhere spooky castle. Now I can see why Matilda would risk a few more days to stay there. Albert is not Jaimie Fraser and wouldn't be as much fun to share a saddle with. I'd probably risk a couple more days for a chaise too.