Free Frankenstein's Bride by Hilary Bailey

no more! The
     visits are tiring, says the woman, and each defeat plunges Maria deeper into despondency. Maria cannot mean it! She is under
     the influence of her foul companion. It may be she does not even know what that woman is doing in her name. We must go to
     her, Jonathan.”
    This vehemence bewildered me. I did not find it so strange that Maria had become discouraged by our lack of progress. And
     Victor's impatience at the end of the last meeting had caused her distress. It seemed all too probable she had decided to
     discontinue the efforts to help her regain or discover her powers of speech. I attempted to reason with Victor, saying, “Victor—Victor—my
     dear fellow—let us think calmly what to do.”
    “We must go to her immediately,” was all he said.
    “Victor,” I said, “we cannot assume that this letter does not convey Miss Clementi's own decision.”
    “That is nonsense—nonsense,” he said passionately. “She has been influenced. We must go to her.”
    As I have said, I saw ample reason why Miss Clement! might herself want to end her lessons, not least of which was the very
     ferocity of passion about them that Victor now demonstrated. Nor was she a lady of leisure who might spend the afternoon with
     Victor and consider herself as well entertained as if she had spent the time visiting on other ladies for tea and conversation.
     Each night Maria Clementi faced an audience to whom she was a goddess—and knew no doubt that if she began to disappoint her
     worshippers they would soon enough become her revilers. Such is the nature of fame. But Victor's agitation was so dreadful
     that, to calm him, I unwisely agreed to go with him to call at Maria's house.
    To my alarm he proposed to start immediately. It was barely nine o'clock. I pointed out that it was too early to call, and
     that a stage performer may sleep later into the morning than other folk, but he would have none of this. He ordered his carriage
     to be brought to the door and only half an hour later we were at the tall house in Russell Square that Maria had taken, I
     assume, because of its proximity to the theatre. This was an imposing dwelling, and very well furnished. As I had anticipated
     Maria had not yet risen and we were shown into a handsome dining-room decorated in the Chinese style, with an oriental carpet
     on the floor and many charming vases in niches round the room.
    Mrs. Jacoby, who was arranging a handsome lacquer table for breakfast, greeted us with some surprise. She was beginning, politely,
     to offer us some hospitality when Victor, still standing in the doorway, (the manservant behind him vainly asking if he might
     take his coat,) immediately burst out, “Mrs. Jacoby—what is the meaning of this letter? Do you know what you are doing? I
     will not accept the termination of my efforts to help Miss Clementi!”
    Mrs. Jacoby, plainly trying to contain anger at his tone, replied coolly, “Mr. Frankenstein. I wrote to you because Miss Clementi
     indicated to me that she no longer wishes to continue to visit you. She does not feel your efforts are helping her and she
     finds your manner unsympathetic.”
    “How can you tell?” he demanded. “You put words into her mouth because she cannot speak. Let me see her.”
    “She is in her room,” Mrs. Jacoby told him.
    “Then I shall wait until she descends,” he said and sat down at the table. I began to regret very much I had not prevented
     Victor from making this assault on the house in Russell Square. I had believed that once we had arrived he would moderate
     his behavior, but this was certainly not the case. I could not comprehend this rude and bullying behavior; he seemed a different
     man. I suggested we might leave and find a better time to talk to Maria.
    Mrs. Jacoby regarded me with some scorn, as Victor responded instantly, “No. This matter must be settled now.”
    Then she allowed her anger to show. “There is no ‘must' about it, Mr. Frankenstein.