Money and possessions are at the centre of Lady Audley's
life. Even to Robert Audley's comment
"Dawson is a good fellow, isn't he?" Lady Audley replies by telling
him how little Dawson used to pay her (Vol. I, Chapter 15). Lady Audley's possessions
become part of her beauty and charm. Her boudoir is a
treasure cave which she occupies like she is the most precious of all the
jewels. She is "Beautiful in herself, but made bewilderingly beautiful by
the gorgeous surroundings which adorn the shrine of her loveliness." (Vol
II., Chapter 13). Her possessions reflect her moods: "The dreary
wretchedness of her thoughts had communicated itself to every object around
her, and all outer things took their colour from that weary inner life which
held its slow course of secret anguish in her breast." (Ibid.)
Lady Audley's beauty, enhanced by the luxury surrounding
her, is her most important asset: "she looked upon that beauty as a weapon,
and she felt that she had now double need to be well armed. She dressed herself
in her most gorgeous silk." (Vol. III, Chapter 2). In the novel, there are
several references to Madame Rachel Levison scattered across the narrative (Vol
I, chapter 7; Vol II, chapter 7; Vol III, chapter 2; Vol III, chapter 7). Madame
Rachel was at the height of her beautifying powers at the time of Lady Audley.
She was known as an imposing and impressive businesswoman with the magical arts of making ladies "beautiful for ever." Madame Rachel
built her empire of exotic lotions and potions and the mysterious technique of
"enamelling" ladies' faces from scratch. She started as a rag-lady
dealing in used clothes and ended up with a smart shop on Bond Street and
aristocratic customers (even if she was later revealed to be a fraud, a
blackmailer and a procuress of male (!) prostitutes for her lady customers)
There are several parallels connecting Madame Rachel and Lady Audley,
not only the conscious use of beauty as a means to get what they want.
Is Lady Audley a victim or a villain? Or both? She grew up
in poverty, with her mother in the madhouse and her father a profligate
push-over. At an early age she understood that the way for her to advancement
in the world lay through the right man that would take her up the social
ladder. Well, Lady Audley is no Becky Sharp and ends up being abandoned by her
rather useless husband with a baby in her arms. Is it any wonder that she
cannot resist Sir Michael's offer of marriage? Her bigamy is but a second step
on a slippery slope - she has already abandoned her child and changed her name
to Lucy Graham. Then she pushes George Talboys down a well in a fit of
unpremeditated desperation. Her next crime is planned: the torching of Castle
Inn with the intention of killing Robert Audley and Luke Marks. Along the way
we have a whole series of lies and dissimulations in faked telegraphs and faked
deaths. Lucy Audley is not a very nice woman and there is a limit to how much
bad behaviour we can condone based on past hardship and a tough life.
The power of Lady Audley's character in the novel is built
out of a series of contradictions. Contrasting features tend to make a
fictional character more interesting and Braddon has used this method well. Critics
generally draw attention to the obvious contrast between Lady Audley's selfish,
immoral nature and her babyfied looks; the stark contradiction between the
child-like blue eyes and golden tresses signifying innocence and the molten
lava in her black heart.
This is outrageous and sensational: the Victorian ideal
woman, and an English noblewoman to boot, turns out to be rotten to the core. It
also rings true to life; children are both selfish and devious. The apparent
contradiction here is really between the conventions of child-like innocence
and sweetness traditionally seen as positive feminine qualities and the almost atavistic egotism of naked, unrefined humanity in us all. Importantly,
Lady Audley is not dissembling: "There was nothing studied or affected in
this girlish action. It was so natural to Lucy Audley to be childish that no
one would have wished to see her otherwise." (Vol., Chapter 12).
Child/adult, good/evil, victim/villain, natural
feminine/unnatural de-feminized are the more obvious dichotomies that the
characterization of Lady Audley plays with. There is also the question whether
she is smart or lacks intelligence and whether her character is mostly result
of nature or nurture. And of course, there is the little matter of madness (more about that later).
The meeting of Robert Audley and Lady Audley at the dismal
Castle Inn at the end of Volume I is the starting bell for the battle between
the sexes (the male detective and the female villain/victim). In Volume II of Lady Audley's Secret a "duel to the
death" (Vol. II, Chapter 11) develops between Robert Audley who continues
his detective work, while Lady Audley fights back and tries to outfox him. The excitement
in the narrative comes from the machinations of these two characters in their
cat-and-mouse game. Chapter 11 in Volume II is absolutely crackling with
tension.
Volume III, Chapter 2 shows us Lady Audley restless and
frustrated waiting for the news of the fire at Castle Inn. Time passes and no
one comes to inform them of Robert Audley's death. Lady Audley grows
increasingly anxious. We grow fidgety too, longing for the release of the
confirmation whether Lady Audley's crime has been successful. Finally, at dusk
a figure appears, and we are almost as shocked as Lady Audley to find out who
it is. This is another excellent chapter.
Volume III gives us more insight into Lady Audley's
character and shows the plot developments increasingly from her point of view
rather than Robert Audley's. It presents a reasonably well crafted development
of Lady Audley's despair as the noose appears to be tightening
around her delicate neck. Lady Audley
resorts to the weapons she is so good at applying: her beauty and sweet
words: "those false and plausible words, her only armour against her
enemies." (Vol II, Chapter 12) In Volume III we see Lady Audley desperately
plotting against Robert in her attempt to save her skin. It all boils down to
who can win the heart and mind of Sir Michael.
Lady Audley is the tough cookie in the novel, but Clara
Talboys, George's sister enters the narrative half way through as a force to be
reckoned with. Clara is established as a new threat to Lady Audley. As long as
Lady Audley had only Robert Audley, a gentleman and a gentle soul to deal with,
her secret was safe. Robert and Lady Audley have been locked in their private
battle, the outside world knowing nothing about it. Now Clara swears to avenge
her brother's death and discover his murderer. Robert is put in the curious
position of Lady Audley's protector. In order to keep the scandal from Audley
Court Robert has to keep a lid on Lady Audley's secret.
Exasperated Robert caught between Clara and Lucy declares:
"To call them the weaker sex is to utter a hideous mockery. They are the
stronger sex, the noisier, the more persevering, the most self-assertive sex.
They want freedom of opinion, variety of occupation, do they? Let them have it.
Let them be lawyers, doctors, preachers, teachers, soldiers, legislators -
anything they like - but let them be quiet - if they can." It is the hero
of the novel that makes the feminist declaration for women in a long tirade
about the power and energy of women (Vol II, Chapter 6). Even if it is done in
a slightly sarcastic tone, it sounds genuine, for he goes one: "I hate
women. ... They're bold, brazen abominable creatures, invented for the
annoyance and destruction of their superiors." By 'superiors' Robert does
not necessary mean men in general, but those he thinks good men like George
Talboys and Sir Michael. If M. E. Braddon was a man, would we read this (and the whole of Lady Audley's Secret) differently, more as sarcasm instead of with a hint of a suffragette's passion?
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