Lady Blanche was deeply interested in Emily’s situation. When she heard that Emily intended to stay at the nearby convent, she immediately asked her father, the Count, to invite Emily to remain longer at the château.
“Dear father,” Blanche said, “you know how happy I would be to have her here. At present, I have no one to walk or read with. Mademoiselle Bearn is only my mother’s companion, not mine.”
The Count smiled at his daughter’s innocent enthusiasm. Blanche was quick to trust people and easily formed attachments after only a short acquaintance. Though he gently warned her to be careful, he secretly admired the kindness of a heart that could so freely welcome a stranger.
He himself had paid close attention to Emily the previous evening and had been greatly pleased by her character. Monsieur Du Pont’s words about her had also given him a favourable impression. However, the Count was extremely cautious about allowing anyone close to his daughter.
When he learned that Emily was already known and respected at the convent of St. Claire, he decided to visit the abbess. If her opinion matched his own, he would invite Emily to stay at the château for a while.
His main concern was not simply to please Blanche or to assist the unfortunate orphan, though he certainly felt sympathy for Emily. His greatest wish was to protect his daughter’s happiness.
The next morning, Emily was too exhausted from her journey to appear at breakfast. Monsieur Du Pont, however, was present when the Count entered the room.
Because Du Pont was an old acquaintance and the son of a longtime friend, the Count warmly invited him to extend his visit at the château.
Du Pont gladly accepted.
The invitation allowed him to remain near Emily, and although he knew he should not encourage the hope that she might ever return his feelings, he did not yet possess the strength to leave her completely.
After some rest, Emily recovered enough to walk through the château gardens with Blanche. She was delighted by the beautiful scenery surrounding the estate, just as Blanche had hoped she would be.
Beyond the woods, Emily noticed the towers of a monastery.
“That is the convent where I intend to go,” Emily said.
Blanche looked surprised.
“Ah! I have only just escaped from convent life, and you wish to enter one?”
Emily smiled at her friend’s strong reaction.
“If you knew how happy I feel walking here freely,” Blanche continued, “seeing the sky above me, the fields, and the woods all around me, you would not wish to exchange this freedom for a convent.”
“I do not intend to remain there forever,” Emily replied.
“You may not intend it now,” Blanche said, “but you do not know what the nuns may persuade you to accept. I know how gentle and convincing they can appear. I have seen their methods.”
When they returned to the château, Blanche took Emily to her favourite tower room. From there, they explored the ancient apartments she had visited before.
Emily found great pleasure in examining the unusual structure of the rooms and the old but magnificent furniture. She compared them with the chambers of Udolpho, which were even older and stranger in appearance.
She was also interested in Dorothée, the housekeeper who accompanied them. The old woman seemed almost as ancient as the objects surrounding her. She often stared at Emily with such deep attention that she appeared hardly to hear what others were saying.
While Emily looked from one of the windows, she suddenly noticed something familiar.
She saw the fields, the woods, and the shining stream she had once passed with La Voisin on the evening after her father’s death, when she had travelled from the monastery to his cottage.
She now realized that this was the very château her father had avoided on that journey.
She remembered his strange behaviour at the time and the unusual hints he had dropped about the place.
The discovery disturbed her, though she could not fully understand why.
She stood silently for a while, thinking about her father’s reaction when he had found himself near this mansion. Many details of his conduct now seemed more meaningful.
Then another memory returned to her—the mysterious music she had heard before, and the strange explanation La Voisin had given.
Wanting to know more, she turned to Dorothée.
“Does the music still return at midnight?” Emily asked. “And has the musician ever been discovered?”
“Yes, mademoiselle,” Dorothée answered. “The music is still heard, but no one has ever discovered who plays it. Nor do I believe anyone ever will, though some people may have their guesses.”
“Really?” Emily asked. “Then why has no one continued the investigation?”
“Ah, young lady,” Dorothée replied, “people have searched enough. But who can chase after a spirit?”
Emily smiled. She remembered how easily she had once been influenced by superstition and decided she would not allow herself to be frightened again.
Yet, despite her efforts, curiosity and uneasiness still mixed within her.
Blanche, who had listened quietly until then, asked:
“What kind of music is this? And how long has it been heard?”
“Since the death of my lady,” Dorothée replied.
“The place is not haunted, surely?” Blanche said, half joking and half serious.
“I have heard that music ever since my dear lady died,” Dorothée continued. “Never before that time. But that is nothing compared with some other things I could tell you.”
“Then please tell us,” Blanche said, now genuinely interested. “I have heard Sister Henriette and Sister Sophie at the convent speak of strange events they themselves witnessed.”
“You never heard, my lady, what caused us to leave the château and live in a cottage?” Dorothée asked.
“Never!” Blanche answered eagerly.
“Nor the reason why my lord, the Marquis—”
Dorothée suddenly stopped.
She hesitated and tried to change the subject, but Blanche’s curiosity had already been awakened.
“Please continue,” Blanche urged.
However, no amount of persuasion could make the old woman go on. It was clear that she regretted revealing even as much as she had.
Emily smiled.
“I suppose all old houses are haunted. I have recently come from a place full of mysteries. Fortunately, since leaving it, I have discovered that many of those mysteries had explanations.”
Blanche became quiet.
Dorothée looked troubled and sighed.
Emily herself still felt a secret attraction toward the unknown. She remembered the terrible sight she had witnessed in Udolpho, and the frightening words she had accidentally seen in the manuscript papers she later destroyed because of her father’s command.
The memory of those words made her shiver almost as much as the terrible object hidden behind the black veil.
Meanwhile, Blanche, unable to persuade Dorothée to explain her mysterious hints, reached the door at the end of the gallery.
The door had been locked the previous day, and Blanche now wished to see the rooms beyond it.
“Dear young lady,” Dorothée said, “I have already explained why I cannot open them. I have not entered those rooms since my dear lady died, and it would be very painful for me to see them again. Please do not ask me.”
“Of course I will not,” Blanche replied, “if that is truly your reason.”
“Sadly, it is,” Dorothée said. “We all loved her dearly, and I shall always mourn her. Many years have passed since her death, yet I remember everything that happened then as clearly as yesterday. Strange as it may seem, I have forgotten many recent events, but those old memories remain perfectly clear.”
She paused, then added as they continued through the gallery:
“This young lady sometimes reminds me of the late Marchioness. I remember when she was just as beautiful and cheerful. She even resembles her when she smiles.”
“Poor lady,” Dorothée continued. “How happy she was when she first came to the château.”
“And was she not happy afterward?” Blanche asked.
Dorothée slowly shook her head.
Emily noticed the sadness in the old woman’s expression and felt deeply interested.
“Let us sit here by the window,” Blanche said when they reached the other end of the gallery. “Dorothée, if it is not too painful, please tell us something more about the Marchioness. I would like to see the memories you spoke of, the ones that seem to appear before your eyes.”
“No, my lady,” Dorothée replied. “If you knew what I know, you would not wish to see them. Those memories contain nothing but sorrow. I often wish I could shut them away, but they always return.”
“I see my dear lady lying on her deathbed,” she continued. “I remember her face, her words, everything. It was a terrible scene.”
“Why was it so terrible?” Emily asked with emotion.
“Ah, dear young lady,” Dorothée answered, “is not death always terrible?”
When Blanche asked more questions, Dorothée became silent.
Emily noticed tears in the old woman’s eyes and decided not to press her further. Instead, she directed Blanche’s attention toward the gardens, where the Count, the Countess, and Monsieur Du Pont had appeared.
Together, they went down to meet them.
When the Count saw Emily, he came forward warmly and introduced her to the Countess.
His kindness reminded Emily strongly of her late father, and she felt more gratitude toward him than embarrassment before the Countess.
The Countess welcomed her with one of her charming smiles—the kind she sometimes offered when her mood allowed it. Emily suspected that the Count had spoken favorably of her before this meeting.
Whatever had passed between the Count and his wife, or between the Count and the abbess he had recently visited, Emily clearly felt the respect and kindness in his manner.
She experienced the gentle happiness that comes from knowing she has earned the approval of a good person.
From the moment she first met the Count, she had felt almost ready to trust him.
Before Emily could finish thanking them for their hospitality and explain that she intended to leave immediately for the convent, the Count and Countess interrupted her with a request.
They invited her to remain at the château longer.
Their invitation was expressed with such genuine warmth that Emily finally agreed to stay for a few days, although she still longed to return to her old friends at the monastery and visit her father’s grave once more.
She immediately wrote to the abbess, explaining that she had arrived in France and wished to stay at the convent as a guest.
She also sent letters to Monsieur Quesnel and Valancourt, only informing them of her arrival in France.
Since she did not know where Valancourt was staying, she sent his letter to his brother’s home in Gascony.
That evening, Blanche and Monsieur Du Pont accompanied Emily to La Voisin’s cottage.
Emily approached the place with a mixture of sadness and comfort.
Time had softened the pain of losing her father, Monsieur St. Aubert, though it could never erase it. The familiar surroundings brought back memories that were both painful and soothing.
La Voisin was still alive and seemed to enjoy the peaceful life of an honest man.
He sat outside his cottage watching his grandchildren play on the grass. From time to time, he laughed with them or praised their games.
When he saw Emily, he immediately remembered her and was delighted by her visit.
Emily was equally happy to hear that none of his family had been lost since she had left.
“Yes, mademoiselle,” the old man said, “we are all still together, thanks to God. I believe there is no happier family in all of Languedoc than ours.”
Emily did not dare enter the room where St. Aubert had died.
After spending half an hour speaking with La Voisin and his family, she left the cottage.
During her first days at Château-le-Blanc, Emily often noticed the deep but silent sadness that sometimes overcame Du Pont.
She felt sorry for the false hope that kept him near her and decided that she would leave as soon as her respect for the Count and Countess allowed.
The Count soon noticed his friend’s unhappiness.
At last, Du Pont confessed the secret of his hopeless love.
The Count could only sympathize with him, though he secretly resolved to help him if an opportunity ever appeared.
Understanding the danger of Du Pont’s situation, he did not strongly oppose his decision to leave Château-le-Blanc the next day.
However, he persuaded him to promise that he would return for a longer visit when his heart had become calmer.
Emily herself could not encourage Du Pont’s affection, but she respected him for his many virtues and for all the kindness he had shown her.
She watched him leave for his family home in Gascony with feelings of gratitude and pity.
His farewell expression showed such deep love and sadness that the Count became even more determined to assist him.
A few days later, Emily also left the château.
Before she departed, the Count and Countess received her promise that she would soon visit again.
At the convent, the abbess welcomed her with the same motherly kindness she had shown before, and the nuns greeted her warmly.
The familiar scenes of the monastery brought many sad memories.
Yet those memories were mixed with gratitude—for she had escaped the many dangers that had followed her since leaving that place, and she still possessed much good fortune.
When she once again visited her father’s grave, she wept with tender affection, but her grief was gentler than before.
Some time after returning to the monastery, Emily received a letter from her uncle, Monsieur Quesnel.
He replied to her message announcing her arrival in France and answering her questions about the affairs he had managed during her absence, especially regarding La Vallée.
Emily wished to know whether her income would allow her to return there.
Her uncle’s letter was cold and formal, exactly as she expected.
He expressed neither concern for the suffering she had endured nor happiness that she had escaped it.
Instead, he used the opportunity to criticize her again for refusing Count Morano, whom he still insisted was a respectable and wealthy man.
He also strongly condemned Montoni, though until recently he had always considered himself beneath him.
Regarding Emily’s finances, Quesnel gave little information.
He explained that the lease on La Vallée would soon expire but added that her circumstances would not allow her to live there.
He strongly advised her to remain at St. Claire’s convent for the present.
When Emily asked about poor Theresa, her father’s old servant, he gave no answer.
In a postscript, Monsieur Quesnel mentioned M. Motteville, the man St. Aubert had trusted with most of his personal property.
Quesnel believed M. Motteville would settle the affairs with the creditors and that Emily would recover far more of her fortune than she had expected.
The letter also contained an order allowing Emily to receive a small amount of money from a merchant in Narbonne.
The peaceful life of the monastery and the freedom she enjoyed walking through the beautiful woods and along the shores of the province gradually restored Emily’s spirits.
Only one anxiety continued to trouble her—the thought of Valancourt, and the possibility that soon she might receive a reply to her letter.