Beyond wanting to help Fanny, Tess welcomed the challenge of matchmaking for personal reasons. From long experience, she knew that keeping busy was the most effective way to avoid dwelling on her troubles. Unfortunately, her strategy of occupying every waking moment did not seem to work very well with the problem of her marriage. To Tess’s frustration, shutting out her memories of Rotham proved impossible, particularly at night when she lay alone in her bed.
By day, however, her efforts at distraction were more successful. She took long walks with Fanny, strolling along the bluffs and breathing in the marvelous sea air or exploring the surrounding woods that were only now showing significant signs of autumn. They had yet to attempt the steep footpath that led down to the village, but on their other sojourns from the castle, Tess’s footmen always accompanied them while keeping a respectful distance behind.
Tess was also glad to serve as literary advisor to her friend. She had read Fanny’s first manuscript and offered her thoughts then, and was now reading completed pages of the current novel. Usually they spent the afternoons discussing plots and protagonists while taking tea.
The courtesan hoped to become as popular and prolific as Mrs. Ann Radcliffe, Frances Burney, or Regina Maria Roche, who were great favorites with patrons of booksellers and circulating libraries.
“I don’t aspire to be a star in the literary firmament,” Fanny contended, “but only to make a comfortable living.”
Her publisher was the Minerva Press, a printing establishment that had successfully capitalized on the lucrative market for Gothic romances. “Horrid” novels, as they were frequently termed, often featured wicked villains and hapless young damsels chasing each other about gloomy man
sions or drafty castles.
Fanny insisted on holding her characters to a certain standard, however. “It is all well and good to have lovelorn, romantic innocents for my heroines,” she explained, “but I won’t have them swooning at the slightest provocation. They must possess a modicum of wit—at least enough to be instrumental in their own salvation.”
It was a common fallacy that romance novelists could scribble cheap Gothics in their spare time, but having watched Fanny’s labors, Tess knew the process was much more difficult than she’d imagined. Besides, this was only Fanny’s second attempt at fiction, so it was not unreasonable that the manuscript was progressing in fits and starts.
The principal reason, however, was that Fanny had her own distractions to deal with. On the second afternoon at Falwell Castle, she admitted that she had grown too nervous to write much or well. “I cannot stop thinking about what I shall do if Basil comes,” Fanny confided.
“When Basil comes, you mean,” Tess said in a bracing tone. “I have faith that Rotham will get his way and send Basil here to us.”
“But what do I do once he is here? How should I behave? I don’t want to be too forward with him for fear of reminding him of my wicked past.”
Tess smiled teasingly in an effort to reassure her friend. “You conquered the entire London demimonde, Fanny. Surely you can charm one single, eager gentleman. I’ll wager that by this time next week, you will have Basil eating out of your hand. You may very well even be betrothed by then—and you will be, if I have anything to say to the matter.”
Fanny’s expression turned hopeful. “Do you truly think so, Tess?”
“Yes, indeed. You may have more experience in carnal matters than I do, but I know more about matrimony. I have had two proposals of marriage, remember?” Catching herself, Tess gave a soft laugh and wrinkled her nose. “Although the second offer was entirely unwanted … and I suppose I cannot call Rotham’s arrogant declaration that I would have to wed him a true proposal. Nevertheless, you need to quit fretting, dearest Fanny. Your romance with Basil will work out, I am certain of it.”
Fanny seemed grateful for the encouragement, but still she worried her lower lip. “I do not have your confidence, Tess. I am afraid even to kiss Basil, and I don’t dare try to make love to him. What if he doesn’t like it?”
Tess laughed outright at that absurdity. “There is absolutely no possibility of Basil not enjoying your lovemaking. Your problems with him are monetary, not amorous.”
“I suppose so,” the courtesan agreed. “But I mean to let him take the lead in our relationship so that I don’t frighten him off. And my conduct must be believable. My acting like a virgin will make him feel more manly, no doubt, but my innocence has to seem real, don’t you think?”
“I think you are worrying for no reason. Wait until Basil arrives and then see how things stand between you.”
It was amazing to see Fanny so uncertain of herself. She had sold her sexual favors for outrageous sums and reigned over the demimonde for years. Then again, she had never before been vulnerable to love, as she was now with Basil, Tess conceded.
For Fanny’s sake as well as her own, therefore, Tess was almost glad to have her first experience with the castle ghost that very night. Waking suddenly in the dark, she recognized the eerie disturbance that had put the servants so on edge.
Her heart pounding, Tess quickly lit a candle. The clanking noises did indeed resemble rattling chains and sounded as if they were coming through the walls, or perhaps from the chimney. It was warm enough that she hadn’t needed a fire, and the contrasting quiet of her bedchamber only seemed to amplify the metallic racket.
Summoning her courage, Tess climbed out of bed and checked every nook and cranny of her room but found nothing unusual to explain the cause. When the mysterious noises stopped abruptly, she threw on her dressing gown and hurried down the corridor to Fanny’s room.
Fanny was sitting up in bed, apparently having been startled awake also.
The rattling did not resume, however. And after a time they discussed the phenomenon to help calm their shaken nerves.
“There must be a rational explanation,” Tess ventured to say, to which Fanny agreed.
“Yes. Perhaps it was just the wind.”
“Perhaps. There probably is no point in searching the castle tonight in the dark. We will have to wait until daylight to investigate.”
Fanny nodded, but stopped Tess from leaving. “Will you stay with me here, Tess? I would rather not be alone until we know what we are dealing with.”
Tess was of a similar mind, so rather than return to her room, she claimed the other side of Fanny’s bed. When no more commotion threatened their peace, they eventually managed to fall asleep and didn’t wake again till dawn.