Then we get
one of Mary’s famous devices—a story within a story. She employed this most
famously in Frankenstein—which
features stories within stories within stories—and here Mary stops the progress
of her narrative to allow Lady Cecil to relate the background of her family—and its mysteries.
Well, it’s a
long story, Lady Cecil’s, consuming
several chapters, but basically it tells how Gerard’s mother mysteriously disappeared one night, how his father believed his wife unfaithful and left
him, how Gerard refused to believe this and would thereafter devote himself to
find out what happened to his mother.
(Oddly, one
of the key things Gerard learns is that a man named Osborne was possibly
involved in her disappearance. My middle name is Osborn—simply a variant
spelling. Ah! Another connection with
Mary Shelley!)
Meanwhile,
Falkner, hearing from Gerard’s family that he (Gerard) and Elizabeth ought to
marry, is doing some research on poor Elizabeth’s family—the Rabys, a family,
he discovers, that still has considerable means, but the Raby patriarch is old,
bitter, still angry about his disgraced son who sired her, and he tells Falkner
there is no chance he will alter his
attitude. (Hmmm, does this sound like Sir Timothy Shelley? Bysshe’s father? Who
never forgave Mary for what he believed until his death was the corruption his
son?)
And now,
returning from this fruitless mission, Falkner realizes that he must tell
Elizabeth the truth—a truth that he fears (knows?) will damage—or perhaps
permanently sever—their relationship.
And so
begins his narrative, his confession …
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