1816: the Grandest Tour

Switzerland: Chapter 7

George looked back at Shelley. The young man was transfixed by Mary's steady eyes. This was, George reflected, perhaps the only woman (and not yet nineteen) who had ever so challenged him in front of other men in his life. The Baronet's heir returned her look, but instead of a frown his face at last broke into a smile of almost relief.

"I see. I see..." he said, nodding. He took a furtive look at Claire, who only had eyes for Byron, and shook his head wearily.

In the low candle light Mary's eyes filled with tears, which she did her best to blink away.

"I should go back to William at the cottage," she said, and stood up to get her things.

"I'll call the carriage," said Byron, but Shelley got up and said there was no need. The sun was setting and they could walk home in the remaining light. Claire looked quite put out at the prospect of leaving, but before long all three of the Shelley tribe were wending down the path to their own lodgings.

Once the Shelleys were gone, Byron asked Hugh and the others if they fancied a game of billiards. Highly flattered to be addressed first, Hugh accepted with gentlemanly restraint, and they passed a few hours quite amiably.

At nightfall Tobias began to feel a bit stuffy, and he went outside for some air. The damp dark enveloping Diodati was none too enticing, but from a balcony he could at least admire the scenery in the moonlight. Savoring the fresh, cold air from the lake and the mountains, Tobias was impressed with the eerie quiet of the surrounding country. But for the hoot of a distant owl, all was hushed.

Tobias jumped. Down in a thicket somewhere he heard a rustling, like some being struggling to break free. A vision flashed through his mind of a forlorn creature, inhuman but of human shape, wandering forever on the edge of civilization – spurned by all, filled with sadness and anger. His blood chilled under the cold stars.

"Miss Clairmont!" he said, as the young lady's profile emerged in the moonlight. Claire waved her hands as if for silence but Tobias was already inside, rushing down the stairs.

"Is something the matter?" he called. "Are Mr. Shelley and Miss Godwin all right?"

"Is the baby unwell?" he said, emerging breathless from the front doorway.

"All well – all quite well," said Claire, breathless herself from the uphill path.

"Oh, thank goodness," said Tobias. "Do take my arm, Miss Clairmont," he went on, offering it.

"It's all right, sir, please," said Claire, who looked a little agitated. He could see her better now by the lamps hanging from outside sconces. But something seemed amiss.

"Are you sure? Are you quite well, Miss Clairmont?"

"Quite well sir, yes, very well," Claire insisted. "I've come back to do fair copying for his Lordship."

Tobias hadn't heard this term before, his face uncomprehending.

"When Lord Byron writes his verses, you see, he makes emendations – corrections. I write out the final version in a clear hand, which he can send to his publisher."

"Oh I see!" said Tobias. "I'm sure that's very helpful of you."

"Yes, well... I hope to be of any use I can," said Claire. She was clearly anxious to get inside. "Now if you don't mind, I think he is expecting me. Thank you for your –"

A strong wind blew just then, pushing the girl's gown back so it clung tightly to her figure. If he'd had any warning Tobias would have looked away, but as it was he couldn't avoid seeing it: Claire was plainly some months pregnant.