Posted on Tuesday, 31 October 2006
Catherine was waiting to go out for a walk with her new friends, Eleanor and Henry Tilney. They were supposed to pick her up at 12:00, but it had been raining lightly. Now it was almost 12:30, but the sun was shining through the scattered clouds and she was quite sure they would soon arrive. The knock at the door, however, was not them.
"Catherine darling, sweetest of friends! We have come to take you for a drive to Blaize Castle!"
Her best friend in the whole world, Isabella Thorpe, her own brother James, and Isabella's brother John were ushered into the room. Normally Catherine would have been glad to see them, but today she had hoped to spend time with the Tilneys. She came forward to greet her visitors and said, "I do so love the idea of visiting a castle, but I cannot go today."
"Of course you can," said John Thorpe. "You promised to let me drive you."
Catherine stared at the man. Not only did she not remember such a promise, he appeared to be rather more unkempt than usual. His clothes, which usually looked like those of a groom, were in tatters, his complexion was startlingly pale, and his hair hung lank and greasy about his face. "I made no such promise. I am engaged to walk out with the Tilneys."
"The chap you danced with last night?" Thorpe rubbed at his nose and a piece of flesh fell away. "I saw him just now with his sister in a Tilbury, heading out of Bath on the Bristol road. Must be going to the castle themselves."
"Indeed they are!" cried Isabella. "So you see, my best, wonderfulest, loveliest of friends, you must come with us!"
Catherine looked at her friend in astonishment. Isabella was usually dressed to the nines, but her gown was stained and torn almost to shreds. Her hair fell in a tangle about her shoulders, half obscuring her face. Her skin was alabaster, with a bluish tinge.
"Are you ill?" she asked.
"What a silly thing to say, my love. Of course I am not. Let us go at once! Just think of it – a castle with dungeons and great halls and towers and a moat and drawbridge and all!"
"The oldest in the country!" added John Thorpe.
"Will it truly be horrid?" asked Catherine, getting excited at the idea.
"The horridest place ever!" cried Isabella, clapping her hands together. One of her fingers fell off. Catherine politely picked it up and handed it back to her.
"And you are certain the Tilneys are on their way there?"
"Beyond a doubt!" cried Thorpe.
Catherine looked to her brother James to see if he approved the scheme. His cravat was askew and his skin was sallow, but he nodded and smiled as if all was fine.
"Well, if it is to be so very horrid I believe I must join you," she said and grabbed her reticule.
Isabella jumped up and down and gave her a hug. Catherine almost gagged as the smell of rotting flesh combined with lavender water wafted up her nose.
Outside in the street she realised that she was to ride with John Thorpe in his curricle, while Isabella rode ahead with James in his equipage. She had never seen a more decrepit looking carriage. The paint was peeling, the boards cracked, and the wheels warped. The horse looked like it should be on its way to the knacker's.
"I do not think it is quite safe," she said, backing away.
"Nonsense!" cried John Thorpe, and he tossed her up into the box. He jumped up beside her, putting a foot through the floorboards, and lashed his whip at the horse. They set off at high speed, rattling and wobbling as they went, shedding springs and bolts in their wake. Catherine was certain that when John Thorpe pulled his leg from the hole his foot was no longer attached. She shuddered as he leant over, pulled his shod foot from below the floorboards, and stuck it back on his leg. She was so overcome with disgust that she almost missed seeing Eleanor and Henry Tilney as John drove wildly past them.
"My goodness! There are my friends I was to walk with. Stop at once!"
"I couldn't stop this beast if I tried," said John Thorpe, lashing his horse all the harder. "You know my horse travels ten miles an hour on a slow day. Right now he is galloping as if all the demons from hell were behind him."
Catherine looked over her shoulder. Eleanor and Henry Tilney could barely be discerned in the distance, but there was a strange horde of misbegotten creatures following them at top speed. A scream froze in her throat. "I believe they are," she gasped. Then she fell into a deep swoon, which was a good thing because the ride was destined to be extremely uncomfortable, especially after one of the wheels parted company with their vehicle. The valiant horse pulled on however, as John lashed his whip and bragged about his horsemanship to his insensate companion.
Catherine came to her senses as the horse dragged the curricle up the twisting drive that led to the castle, higher and higher, round and round.
"Blast those fools!" cried Thorpe. "If I had made the road it would have cut straight up the hill, trees or no trees!"
Catherine grappled at the seat and pulled herself up from the floor of the listing vehicle. She could see towers through the trees. She was all anticipation. A castle of the finest sort awaited her. She imagined the crumbling ruins, vast halls, and deep dungeons with who knows what horror inside. She believed she could even put up with the demons from hell just for the delight of touring such a blood-curdling place. If only she had Mr. Tilney to grab hold of in her fear. She was afraid that if she dared grab Mr. Thorpe's arm the thing would fall off in her hands. As they burst through the trees into the clearing, the castle loomed against the dark skies of the gathering night. Catherine let out a gasp.
"Is it not magnificent?" cried John Thorpe.
"Magnificent? Why - why, I've been duped! How could you tell me it was the oldest castle in England! This is nothing more than a folly!"
"Folly indeed! Just look at those towers!"
"What else can I look at? There's nothing but three stupid towers, barely twenty feet tall. And I'll lay a monkey it's less than a hundred years old, too. You lied to me just like you lied about the Tilneys. Take me home at once!"
"I couldn't even if I wanted to," said John Thorpe, as his lathered horse fell in a heap and the carriage trundled over it and came to a shuddering stop. In fact, it stopped so suddenly that all the demons from hell just raced on past and over the cliff.
"That's them taken care of," said John Thorpe, and he threw Catherine over his shoulder and hopped from his curricle.
If she thought Isabella had smelled bad, well . . . the reek of rotting flesh could not mask the sour smell of sweat that emanated from all of John Thorpe's pores. Proving that she was what true gothic heroines should be made of, Catherine passed out again.
"Oh you have finally arrived!" cried Isabella, when John tossed Catherine down onto the stone floor of Blaize castle. "Whatever kept you?"
"A cursed wheel falling off and a dead horse don't make for much speed."
"All the horses are dead, silly," said Isabella. "Now what shall we do with these two?"
James Moreland was lying passed out on the floor beside his sister.
"Marry them first and kill them afterwards, I'd say."
"Ooh! Sounds like a plan. Where's the preacher?"
"Passed that clergyman friend of hers in Bath – I'll wager he grabbed the first carriage he could find and followed us. Demons of hell always work, don't you know."
"Yes! Aren't they the dearest little things? I shall invite them to the wedding."
Just then Catherine and James awoke.
"Who is getting married?" asked Catherine, rubbing her eyes.
"Why the four of us!" cried Isabella. "Isn't that too delightful? We shall be sisters twice over! I am so happy!" She brushed her hands through her hair, knocking an ear off in the process and losing three more of her fingers in the tangled mess.
"But . . . but . . . I do not want to marry your brother!"
"How can you be so selfish and unfeeling! I am marrying your brother. As a caring friend, I think the very least you can do is marry mine."
"But . . . I have no wedding gown and neither do you."
"Oh fiddle, what does it matter?" said Isabella. "There is no one to see us anyway."
Catherine was more shocked than she had been heretofore. Isabella not care about her appearance? But indeed, the proof was right before her. Not only was her friend wearing a gown that unravelled as she walked, she was losing her smaller appendages in no short order. The tip of her nose was now crumbling and one of her eyes was falling from its socket. Her brother was in much worse shape. He had given up pretending that his foot was still connected to his leg and had thrown it into one corner of the tower, if, indeed, a circular tower can be said to have a corner. His cheeks were sunken in and his cheekbones were protruding from the withered flesh.
"James!" Catherine whispered fiercely. "Please tell me you do not want to marry Isabella."
He gave her a vacant stare. "Marry Isabella," he mumbled.
Isabella laughed. "Your brother has had so much laudanum you shall not get a sensible word out of him for a fortnight!"
"And by that time he will be as dead as the rest of us!" chortled John Thorpe.
"Dead!" cried Catherine. "No! Please, you must set us free and let us go back to Bath."
"I thought you liked horrid things. Horrible nasty skeletons, insane counts, ravaging wild beasts, headless monks, cobwebs and coffins and giant spiders."
"In books! Only in books! I like life to be tame and boring and, well, nice."
Isabella laughed. "Nice! You want nice! Oh my dear you are soon to discover that it is real life that is horrid and nice that only exists in fiction!"
Just then the door of Blaize castle burst open and Henry Tilney strode in. "I'll give you nice!" he cried.
Catherine could have swooned at the sight of him, but she had given up being a heroine, so she thought better of it.
"Ah, Reverend, just in time to marry us!" cried John Thorpe.
"You marry Catherine? Over my dead body!"
"I'm so glad you see it our way," said Isabella, and she swung a double-headed axe in his direction.
Catherine gasped in horror. "Henry! Look out!"
Henry dodged nimbly out of the way and the axe sunk into John Thorpe's ample midsection.
"Mind what you are about, Isabella," he said. "You have spoiled the cut of my suit. Help pull this thing out, will you?"
While the Thorpes were distracted, Henry and Catherine grabbed James Moreland's legs and dragged him towards the door.
"They are getting away, you fool!" cried Isabella.
With a final yank, John Thorpe pulled the axe from his stomach and ran forward, twirling it over his head while his rotten innards spewed all over the room. "Nooo – you can never escape! We want to be rich!"
"R-rich?" Catherine stammered. "I'll be lucky if I get a dowry of three thousand pounds. And my brother's living, when he eventually gets it, won't be worth any more than four hundred a year!"
Isabella and John stopped dead in their tracks, which was quite easy for them to do, as they were dead. "Not rich! Why on earth have we been wasting our time with you two?" they cried in unison. "We'll kill you for that!" They lurched forward again, stumbling over their shredded clothing and crumbling body parts.
"Quick, out the door," yelled Henry Tilney, as he pushed both Catherine and James through the doorway. He then grabbed a flamethrower and blasted the inside of Blaize castle and closed the door on the inferno with a slam. He looked at Catherine's shocked face and said apologetically, "The only way to kill the living dead is with fire."
Catherine only nodded at this, after all it was no surprise to her that Henry Tilney knew what to do – he knew everything. "Wherever did you get that thing?"
"This?" he asked, holding up the flamethrower. "At that cute little curio shop – the one that sells all those artefacts from the future that haven't been invented yet. Thought it might come in handy."
As Blaize Castle crackled and burned, sending out a glow that could be seen even from the Upper Rooms in Bath, Henry heaved James into his Tilbury and then assisted Catherine up on the seat beside him. It was quite a squeeze but Catherine didn't mind. She held onto his arm, pleased that it did not fall off, and gazed into his eyes.
"It was so nice of you to rescue me," she said.
"Indeed," he whispered as he lowered his face to hers. "I am thought to be very nice." His lips feathered over hers, traced across her cheek, and settled on her slim neck, parting with the utmost softness. As Catherine sighed, his teeth sunk swiftly into her silken skin.