XII. A Petition

von Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu

“‘So, we’re going to lose Madame la Comtesse, but hopefully just for a few hours,’ I said, bowing slightly.

“‘It might be just that, or it could stretch into a few weeks. It was unfortunate that he spoke to me just now. Do you know who I am yet?’

“I told her I didn’t.

“‘You will know me,’ she replied, ‘but not just yet. We are older and better friends than you might think. I can’t reveal myself right now. In three weeks, I’ll be passing by your beautiful castle, which I’ve been asking about. I’ll stop by for an hour or two to rekindle a friendship that brings me countless pleasant memories. But at this moment, I’ve received news that’s hit me like a bolt from the blue. I need to leave immediately and take a roundabout route, nearly a hundred miles, as quickly as I can. My troubles are piling up. I would make a rather unusual request of you, but I’m held back by the need to keep my name a secret. My poor daughter hasn’t fully regained her strength. She fell off her horse while watching a hunt, and her nerves are still shaken. Our doctor insists she mustn’t exert herself for a while. We traveled here slowly—barely six leagues a day. Now, I must travel day and night on a mission that’s a matter of life and death. I’ll explain the critical nature of it when we meet, as I hope we will in a few weeks, without any need for concealment.’

“She continued with her request, speaking as if asking for a favor was more like granting one.

It was a curious way to put it, and it seemed almost unconscious. Yet, the way she expressed it was incredibly humble. All she asked was that I take care of her daughter while she was away.

This was, under the circumstances, a rather strange and bold request. She disarmed me by acknowledging all the objections that could be raised against it, placing herself entirely in my hands. At that moment, as if fate had orchestrated everything, my daughter came to my side and quietly urged me to invite her new friend, Millarca, to visit us. She had just been talking to her and thought that if her mother allowed it, Millarca would love to come.

Normally, I would have told her to wait until we knew more about them. But I didn’t have a moment to think. The two ladies were pressing me together, and I must admit, the refined and beautiful face of the young lady, with an engaging charm and the elegance of high birth, swayed me. Overwhelmed, I agreed to take care of the young lady, whom her mother called Millarca.

The Countess signaled to her daughter, who listened intently as her mother explained, in general terms, how urgently she had been called away and the arrangement she had made for her under my care, adding that I was one of her oldest and most valued friends.

I made the appropriate remarks, but as I reflected on it, I found myself in a situation I didn’t quite like.

The gentleman in black returned and ceremoniously escorted the lady from the room.

His demeanor convinced me that the Countess was far more important than her modest title suggested.

Before she left, she instructed me not to try to learn anything more about her than I might have already guessed until her return. Our distinguished host, who was her guest, understood her reasons.

‘But here,’ she said, ‘neither my daughter nor I can safely stay for more than a day. I foolishly removed my mask for a moment about an hour ago, and I feared you might have seen me. I intended to find a moment to speak with you. If I had thought you had seen me, I would have relied on your honor to keep my secret for a few weeks. As it stands, I’m confident you didn’t see me. But if you suspect, or later come to suspect, who I am, I trust you completely to keep that to yourself. My daughter will do the same, and I know you’ll remind her from time to time not to let it slip.’

She whispered a few words to her daughter, kissed her hurriedly twice, and left, accompanied by the pale gentleman in black, disappearing into the crowd.

‘In the next room,’ Millarca said, ‘there’s a window that looks out at the hall door. I’d like to see my mom one last time and wave goodbye to her.’”

We nodded in agreement and followed her to the window. Peering outside, we spotted a beautiful, old-fashioned carriage surrounded by a group of couriers and footmen. There, we saw the slender figure of a pale gentleman dressed in black, as he wrapped a thick velvet cloak around her shoulders and pulled the hood over her head. She gave him a slight nod and brushed her fingers against his hand. He bowed deeply as the door closed, and the carriage began to roll away.

“She’s gone,” Millarca said with a sigh.

“She’s gone,” I echoed to myself, the weight of my decision settling in. I couldn’t shake the feeling of regret that crept in after I had agreed to let her leave.

“She didn’t even look up,” the young lady said, her voice tinged with sadness.

“Perhaps the Countess removed her mask and didn’t want to show her face,” I suggested. “She couldn’t have known you were watching from the window.”

Millarca sighed and gazed at me. She was so beautiful that I felt my resolve soften. I regretted for a moment having doubted my hospitality, and I was determined to make it up to her for my unintentional rudeness.

The young lady, adjusting her mask, joined Millarca in persuading me to return to the grounds, where the concert was about to resume. We strolled along the terrace beneath the castle windows.

Millarca quickly became familiar with us, entertaining us with lively stories about the notable figures we saw on the terrace. With each passing moment, I found myself liking her more. Her gossip was light-hearted and amusing, a welcome distraction for someone who had been away from the social scene for so long. I imagined how much life she would bring to our sometimes lonely evenings at home.

The ball continued until the morning sun was nearly rising. The Grand Duke was determined to dance until dawn, and loyal guests couldn’t think of leaving or heading to bed.

We had just navigated through a crowded salon when my ward asked where Millarca had gone. I thought she was still by her side, and she assumed Millarca was with me. The truth was, we had lost her.

I searched for her in vain. I worried that, in the chaos of our brief separation, she might have mistaken others for her friends and wandered off, possibly losing her way in the vast grounds that were open to us.

As the realization hit me, I recognized the foolishness of having taken on the responsibility of a young lady without even knowing her name. Bound by promises I didn’t fully understand, I couldn’t even clarify my inquiries by mentioning that the missing young lady was the daughter of the Countess who had left just hours earlier.

Morning arrived, and it was broad daylight before I finally gave up my search. It wasn’t until nearly two o’clock the next day that we received any news about my missing charge.

At that time, a servant knocked on my niece’s door, saying he had been urgently requested by a young lady who seemed to be in distress. She wanted to know where she could find General Baron Spielsdorf and his daughter, in whose care she had been left by her mother.

Despite the slight inaccuracy in her message, it was clear our young friend had turned up—and indeed she had. Oh, how I wished we had lost her!

She told my poor child a story to explain why she hadn’t been able to find us for so long. She said that late into the night, she had made her way to the housekeeper’s room, desperate to locate us, and had then fallen into a deep sleep that, while long, hadn’t been enough to restore her energy after the ball.

That day, Millarca came home with us. I was more than happy to have secured such a charming companion for my dear girl.