The Casebook of Victor Frankenstein by Peter Ackroyd Page A

HIGH STREET to Magdalen Bridge. He was waiting for me on the parapet, looking down at the green ooze of the Cherwell. “Thank goodness you are here,” he said as soon as he saw me hastening towards him. “Good day to you, Mr. Frankenstein.”
    “Good morning, Daniel. I hardly expected to see you in Oxford.”
    “I travelled on the overnight coach. You are the only one I know—”
    “What has happened?”
    “Harriet has vanished.”
    “What?”
    “We believe that she has eloped with Mr. Shelley. There is no sign of either of them. Mr. Frankenstein, they are not married!”
    “Pause a moment. Go back. How do you know that she has gone?”
    “All her possessions have been taken away, including her precious books. Of course I went immediately to Mr. Shelley’s rooms.”
    “Where are these rooms?”
    “In Aldgate. He moved there to be closer to us. But he had gone. His landlady said that he had entered a carriage with a young woman, and that he had taken his portmanteau with him. Her description was that of Harriet. They have fled, Mr. Frankenstein. My father is in a weakened state. My sisters are dreadfully upset. What shall we do? My first thought was of you.”
    “We shall stay very calm. No progress will be made in a state of excitement.” I took his arm, and we walked back towards my college. “You will have some tea with me, and revive yourself. Look how cold you are.”
    “I was sitting outside during the journey. The wind was very fresh.”
    “Come back to my rooms then. We will make our plans.”

    WHEN WE WERE SETTLED , and the kettle warming by the hearth, Daniel explained the course of events since my departure for Switzerland four months before. Bysshe had continued to tutor Harriet, in his rooms at Poland Street, and within a few weeks there had grown up a friendship between them. That is when he had moved to Aldgate, so that she could have further lessons with him without the inconvenience of travelling across London. Harriet had no chaperone, of course, since her sisters were obliged to work; but there had been no sign of any intimacy. “Harriet would repeat to me what she had learned each day,” Daniel said. “Mr. Shelley had introduced her to the Greek poets and philosophers, but he had also acquainted her with what he called the new spirit. He read to her from the Lake poets and, in her words, guided her through wild and magicallandscapes. I really do believe, Mr. Frankenstein, that she was a changed person. I had never seen her so animated, so bold.”
    “And then?”
    “I had not the slightest suspicion, as I said, of any connection other than that of teacher and pupil. I would not have dreamed of anything else. The gulf between them was too wide. Mr. Shelley is the son of a baronet whereas Harriet—well—she is merely the daughter of Mr. Westbrook.”
    “There must have been an occasion—”
    “No. Never. Not until she had fled.”
    I rose, and went over to the window. “He is hardly likely to have come to Oxford. Of all places on earth, this is the one he most detests. He could not have returned to his father. That would be unthinkable. Did you enquire at the principal coach offices?”
    “I went to Snow Hill and Aldersgate. They had not been seen. I even walked out to Knightsbridge, in case they had tried to avoid pursuit, but there had been no sign of them.”
    “They may have gone to some other part of London.”
    “In which case, we are lost.”
    “This is what I will do. I will write to him, and address the letter to his father’s house. He will not have gone there, but he may have sent a message. It is the only possible means of reaching him. You must return to London, Daniel, in case your sister tries to communicate with you. Try the other coaches.”
    “There is an office in Bishopsgate. And in the Tottenham Court Road. What was he thinking? Harriet is still young—”
    “Be cheerful. I do not believe that Bysshe is guilty of any dishonourable action.”

    I HAD