The next day, Emily was greatly surprised to discover that Annette already knew about Madame Montoni’s imprisonment in the chamber above the castle gate, as well as about the visit that was supposed to take place there that night.
Emily found it difficult to believe that Barnardine, who had so seriously warned her to keep the matter secret, had himself revealed it to someone as careless with secrets as Annette. Yet he had apparently sent a message through her.
Barnardine wished Emily to meet him alone on the terrace shortly after midnight. He promised that he would personally lead her to the place he had mentioned before.
The idea immediately frightened Emily.
A thousand fearful thoughts rushed through her mind, the same dreadful suspicions that had tormented her the previous night. She could neither fully believe them nor force them away.
She wondered whether Barnardine had lied about Madame Montoni.
Perhaps he was the one who had murdered her.
Perhaps he had acted under Montoni’s orders and was trying to lure Emily into another terrible scheme.
The horrible thought that Madame Montoni might already be dead brought another terrifying fear with it.
If Montoni had harmed his wife, it was unlikely that he had done so without some selfish reason. Emily knew that if Madame Montoni died without giving her estates to her husband, those estates would eventually pass to Emily.
She remembered the information she had once received—that the disputed properties in France would belong to her if Madame Montoni died without transferring them to her husband.
Her aunt had always stubbornly refused to surrender those rights. It seemed very possible that she had continued resisting until the very end.
At that moment, Emily remembered Barnardine’s expression the previous night. What had seemed then like a strange look now appeared to her like cruel satisfaction.
She shuddered at the memory and decided she would not meet him on the terrace.
But soon afterward, she began to doubt herself.
Perhaps these suspicions were only the wild imagination of a frightened and exhausted mind.
She could hardly believe that Montoni was capable of such extreme cruelty as murdering both his wife and his niece for the sake of gaining property.
She blamed herself for allowing her imagination to run beyond all reason and determined that she must control her fearful thoughts before they carried her into madness.
Yet even after calming herself, she still could not bear the thought of meeting Barnardine alone at midnight.
At the same time, her desire to know the truth about her aunt—to see her and help ease her suffering—continued to trouble her.
“Annette,” Emily said, suddenly remembering the danger, “how could I possibly reach the terrace at that hour? The guards will stop me, and Signor Montoni will surely hear about it.”
“Oh, ma’amselle, that is exactly what Barnardine thought of,” Annette replied. “He gave me this key and told me to say that it opens the door at the end of the old vaulted passage. That door leads close to the eastern wall, so you won’t have to pass any of the guards.”
“He also said that he asked you to come to the terrace because he could take you where you wanted to go without opening the great hall doors. Those doors make such a terrible noise when they move.”
Emily felt somewhat calmer after hearing this explanation. Annette seemed to have repeated Barnardine’s words honestly.
“But why did he insist that I come alone?” Emily asked.
“Why, that is exactly what I asked him myself,” Annette replied.
“I said, ‘Why must my young lady come alone? Surely I can go with her. What harm could I possibly do?’”
“But he only answered, ‘No, no, I cannot tell you.’ He said it in that rough voice of his.”
“I told him I had been trusted with important secrets before, and surely I could keep one more. Still, he refused.”
“Then I offered him a beautiful new coin that Ludovico gave me as a gift. I would not have given it away for anything in the world. But even that failed.”
“Now, what could be the reason? I think you know who you are going to meet, ma’amselle.”
“Did Barnardine tell you?”
“Him? No, ma’amselle, he did not.”
Emily asked who had revealed the secret, but Annette proved that she could keep her word and refused to answer.
For the rest of the day, Emily’s mind remained filled with doubts and fears.
She struggled between two choices: whether to trust Barnardine and go with him into the unknown, or whether to remain safely in her room.
Her pity for her aunt fought against her fear for herself.
Night arrived before she had made a final decision.
She heard the castle clock strike eleven.
Then twelve.
Still she hesitated.
But the moment had finally come when she could delay no longer.
Her concern for Madame Montoni became stronger than her fears.
She told Annette to follow her to the outer door of the vaulted passage and wait there until she returned.
Then Emily quietly left her room.
The castle was completely silent.
The great hall, where Emily had recently witnessed a terrible struggle, was now empty. Only the soft footsteps of two frightened women echoed between the stone pillars.
A weak lamp cast trembling light around them.
Emily was often deceived by the long shadows of the pillars. Several times she stopped, believing she saw someone moving in the darkness ahead.
Whenever she passed near a pillar, she feared to look behind it, almost expecting a figure to suddenly appear.
At last, she reached the vaulted passage without interruption.
With trembling hands, she opened the outer door.
She ordered Annette not to leave the spot and asked her to keep the door slightly open, so she could hear Emily if she called for help.
Emily handed her the lamp because she dared not carry it near the guards.
Then she stepped alone onto the dark terrace.
The silence was so complete that Emily feared even her own footsteps might be heard by the distant sentries.
She walked carefully toward the place where she had met Barnardine before, listening for any sound and searching through the darkness.
Suddenly, a deep voice spoke near her.
Emily froze.
She did not know whether it was Barnardine until the voice spoke again.
Then she recognized his rough, hollow tones.
He was already waiting.
He complained that she was late and said he had been standing there for nearly half an hour.
Emily said nothing.
Barnardine told her to follow him to the door through which he had entered the terrace.
While he unlocked it, Emily looked back.
Through a small opening, she saw the faint light of Annette’s lamp and knew that her servant was still waiting.
But once Emily left the terrace, Annette would be too far away to help her.
When Barnardine opened the gate, a dark and miserable passage appeared beyond it. A torch burning on the ground revealed the gloomy way ahead.
Emily immediately felt afraid.
She refused to continue unless Annette could accompany her.
Barnardine strongly rejected the request.
At the same time, he used clever words to increase Emily’s pity and curiosity about her aunt.
Finally, Emily agreed to follow him alone.
Barnardine picked up the torch and led her down the passage.
At the end, he unlocked another door, and they descended several steps into a chapel.
Emily looked around in horror.
The chapel was ruined.
She remembered Annette’s earlier descriptions of the place and felt a deep sense of unease.
The walls were covered with damp green stains.
The pointed Gothic windows had no glass. Ivy and climbing plants filled the empty spaces.
Broken columns stood where the roof had once rested.
Barnardine stumbled over the damaged floor.
When he cursed suddenly, his voice echoed through the ruined chapel, making the sound even more frightening.
Emily’s heart sank, but she continued following him.
They turned away from the main aisle.
“Down these steps, lady,” Barnardine said.
The stairs seemed to lead into underground rooms.
Emily stopped.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To the portal,” Barnardine answered.
“Can we not go through the chapel to reach it?” Emily asked.
“No, Signora. That way leads to the inner court, and I do not wish to unlock that door. This way will bring us to the outer court.”
Emily still hesitated.
She feared moving forward, but she also feared angering Barnardine by refusing after coming so far.
“Come, lady,” Barnardine called impatiently. “I cannot wait here all night.”
“Where do these steps lead?” Emily asked again.
“To the portal,” he repeated angrily. “I will wait no longer.”
He moved ahead with the torch.
Afraid of provoking him, Emily reluctantly followed.
They entered a passage beside the underground vaults.
The walls dripped with cold moisture.
Mist crawled along the ground.
The torch burned weakly, and Emily feared it would go out at any moment.
Barnardine could barely see the way.
As they continued, the mist became thicker.
Believing the torch was nearly extinguished, Barnardine stopped to fix it.
He leaned against an iron gate.
Through the uncertain light, Emily saw the vaults beyond.
Near her were piles of earth surrounding what appeared to be an open grave.
The sight filled her with sudden terror.
She felt certain that this was the grave of her unfortunate aunt.
And Barnardine was leading her toward death.
The dark underground passage seemed like the perfect place for murder.
A place where a terrible crime could happen and leave no evidence behind.
Emily was overwhelmed by fear.
For a moment, she could not decide what to do.
She knew escaping by running would be useless. She did not know the twisting passages, while Barnardine could easily catch her.
She also feared that revealing her suspicions would anger him.
Since she was already completely under his control, she finally decided to hide her fear and quietly follow wherever he intended to take her.
Pale and trembling, she waited while Barnardine repaired the torch.
When she looked again at the grave, she could not stop herself from asking:
“Who is this grave prepared for?”
Barnardine looked away from the torch and stared directly at her.
He said nothing.
Emily repeated the question weakly.
But Barnardine only shook the torch and continued walking.
Emily followed him in terror.
They climbed another set of steps, and a door opened into the first courtyard of the castle.
As they crossed the courtyard, the torchlight revealed the enormous black walls covered with weeds.
Old stone towers rose above them.
The heavy gates and dark arches of the castle surrounded the scene.
Barnardine, carrying the torch, looked like a figure from a nightmare.
He wore a long dark cloak that nearly covered his boots.
Only the tip of his broad sword could be seen hanging from his shoulder.
On his head was a heavy velvet cap with a small feather.
His face showed strong features, but it was marked by suspicion, cruelty, and constant bitterness.
Yet seeing the courtyard gave Emily a little hope.
Perhaps her fears had deceived her.
Perhaps Barnardine was not betraying her.
As they approached the portal, she looked upward at a window above the great entrance.
It was dark.
“Does that window belong to the room where Madame Montoni is kept?” she whispered.
Barnardine gave no answer.
Soon they entered a small door in the gateway and reached a narrow staircase winding upward inside one of the towers.
“Up this staircase the Signora lies,” Barnardine said.
“Lies?” Emily repeated faintly.
“She lies in the upper chamber.”
As they climbed, wind rushed through cracks in the stone walls.
The torch flame flickered.
The light revealed Barnardine’s harsh face and the terrible emptiness of the place.
The ancient spiral stairs were black with age.
A suit of old armor hung on the wall like a reminder of some forgotten battle.
When they reached a landing, Barnardine unlocked a chamber door.
“You may wait here, lady, while I go above and tell the Signora you are coming.”
“That is unnecessary,” Emily replied. “My aunt will be happy to see me.”
“I am not certain of that,” Barnardine said.
He pointed toward the room.
“Come inside while I go upstairs.”
Emily was surprised and disturbed, but she did not dare argue.
As Barnardine turned away, she asked him not to leave her in darkness.
He noticed a small lamp on a stand nearby, lit it, and handed it to her.
Emily stepped into the chamber.
Barnardine closed the door behind her.
As she listened to his footsteps disappear, Emily thought he was walking downward rather than upward.
But the wind around the castle entrance was too loud for her to be sure.
She waited.
No footsteps came from the room above.
Her fear grew.
Then, during a brief silence in the wind, she clearly heard Barnardine’s steps descending toward the courtyard.
She thought she heard his voice below.
Emily quietly approached the door and tried to open it.
It was locked.
All her previous fears returned with overwhelming force.
Now they no longer seemed like the imagination of a frightened woman.
They seemed like warnings.
She believed Madame Montoni had been murdered in this very room.
She believed she herself had been brought there for the same purpose.
Barnardine’s expression, his behavior, and his strange words about her aunt all confirmed her terror.
For several moments, she could not think of any way to escape.
Then she heard voices below.
She moved to a barred window overlooking the courtyard.
There, she clearly heard Barnardine’s rough voice mixed with the wind.
A torch suddenly flashed below.
A large shadow appeared beneath the castle arch.
Emily first believed it belonged to Barnardine.
But then she heard another deep voice.
He was not alone.
And his companion did not seem like someone who could be expected to show mercy.
Emily forced herself to examine the room.
It was large, but almost empty.
The walls were covered with rough wooden panels.
There was only one barred window and one door—the door that was now locked.
In the center of the chamber stood an iron chair fixed to the floor.
Above it hung an iron ring attached by a chain from the ceiling.
Emily stared at it with horror.
Then she noticed iron bars near the bottom of the chair, designed to hold someone’s feet.
Metal rings were attached to the arms.
She realized with terror that the chair had once been used as an instrument of torture.
Perhaps someone had been chained there until death.
A terrible thought struck her.
Perhaps that person had been her aunt.
Perhaps she would be the next victim.
A sharp pain seized her head.
She almost dropped the lamp.
Looking for support, she unknowingly moved toward the iron chair.
When she realized where she was about to sit, she jumped away in horror.
At the far side of the room, she saw a dark curtain hanging from the ceiling to the floor.
It seemed to hide another part of the chamber.
She wanted to look behind it.
Yet she feared what she might discover.
Twice she stopped herself, remembering another terrible discovery she had once made inside the castle.
But suddenly she imagined that the curtain might hide her murdered aunt’s body.
Driven by desperation, she seized the curtain and pulled it aside.
Behind it lay a corpse.
The body rested on a low couch covered in blood.
Blood stained the floor beneath it.
The dead face was horrible and distorted.
Several wounds marked the body.
Emily leaned closer, staring wildly.
Then the lamp fell from her hand.
She collapsed unconscious beside the couch.
When she finally recovered, she found herself surrounded by men.
Barnardine was among them.
They lifted her from the floor and carried her away.
She knew what was happening but was too weak to speak or resist.
They carried her down the staircase.
At the entrance archway, they stopped.
One man took the torch from Barnardine, opened a small door in the great gate, and stepped outside.
The torchlight revealed several men waiting on horseback.
The fresh air revived Emily.
Or perhaps the sight of danger awakened her.
Suddenly she cried out and struggled against the men holding her.
Barnardine shouted for the torch.
Distant voices answered.
More people approached.
A light suddenly spread across the courtyard.
Again Barnardine demanded the torch.
The men hurried Emily through the gate.
Outside, beneath the castle walls, she saw the man holding the torch beside another person who was adjusting a horse’s saddle.
Several riders stood nearby.
Their harsh faces were illuminated by the firelight.
The broken ground, the dark walls, the watchtower above, and the castle towers behind them all appeared like a scene from a nightmare.
“What are you wasting time for?” Barnardine shouted angrily.
“Finish it!”
“The saddle will be ready in a moment,” the man replied.
Barnardine cursed him again.
Emily weakly called for help.
The men dragged her toward the horses.
At that moment, several lights appeared from the castle entrance.
Emily heard Annette’s voice above the others.
Then she saw Montoni and Cavigni approaching with several armed men.
For the first time, Emily did not fear them.
She felt hope.
The danger outside the castle seemed far worse than anything she had feared inside.
A short struggle followed.
Montoni’s men quickly gained control.
The horsemen, seeing they were outnumbered, fled.
Barnardine disappeared into the darkness.
Emily was taken back into the castle.
As she passed through the courtyard, the memory of the corpse in the portal chamber returned with terrible force.
When the castle gate closed behind her, she shuddered.
She almost forgot the danger she had escaped.
The outside world no longer seemed safer than the castle.
Montoni ordered Emily to wait in the cedar room.
Soon afterward, he joined her and demanded an explanation of what had happened.
Although Emily now looked upon him with horror, believing him responsible for her aunt’s death, she was too confused to answer clearly.
Her words and behavior convinced Montoni that she had not willingly taken part in Barnardine’s plan.
He dismissed her while he questioned his servants and searched for those involved.
After Emily returned to her room, her mind remained overwhelmed.
The image of the corpse behind the curtain returned again and again.
She cried out in horror.
Annette became even more frightened because Emily refused to explain what she had seen.
Emily feared that if Annette revealed the secret carelessly, Montoni might punish them both.
She was forced to carry the terrible knowledge alone.
The weight of it nearly destroyed her reason.
She stared at Annette with empty eyes.
Sometimes she did not hear what Annette said.
Sometimes she answered without understanding.
Long periods of silence followed.
Annette spoke again and again, but Emily seemed unable to hear.
She only sat still, occasionally letting out a deep sigh, but never crying.
Terrified by Emily’s condition, Annette finally left the room to inform Montoni.
He had just finished questioning his servants without discovering the truth.
Annette’s frightened description of Emily made him immediately come to her room.
When Emily heard his voice, she looked up.
A faint memory seemed to return to her.
She stood and slowly moved away from him.
Montoni spoke more gently than usual.
But Emily looked at him with a strange mixture of fear and confusion.
She answered only:
“Yes.”
Whatever he said, she replied only with that single word.
Her mind seemed to hold only one emotion—fear.
Annette could offer no explanation.
After trying for some time to make Emily speak, Montoni finally left.
He ordered Annette to stay with her through the night and report her condition in the morning.
After he left, Emily slowly returned and asked:
“Who was here disturbing me?”
“It was Signor Montoni,” Annette answered.
“Signor Montoni,” Emily repeated several times, as though trying to remember the name.
Then she suddenly groaned and fell back into silence.
With difficulty, Annette guided her to the bed.
Emily examined it with frightened, restless eyes before lying down.
Then she pointed at it and turned to Annette with trembling emotion.
Annette, more frightened than ever, moved toward the door to find another servant to stay with them.
But Emily noticed her leaving.
“Annette,” she called.
Then, in her usual gentle and sorrowful voice, she said:
“Please do not leave me too.”
“Since my father died,” she whispered, “everyone leaves me.”
“Your father, ma’amselle?” Annette said. “He was already dead before you knew me.”
“He was indeed,” Emily replied.
Then tears began to fall.
She cried quietly for a long time.
When she finally became calm, she fell asleep.
Annette was wise enough not to interrupt her grief.
The simple, affectionate girl completely forgot her former fear of the chamber.
She remained beside Emily throughout the night, watching over her.