Hideous Love: The Story of the Girl Who Wrote Frankenstein (16 page)

reminds me of Geneva

as we approach Italy

traveling through France.

Once again Shelley and I

pen a joint journal of our travels.

We arrive at lovely Milan,

everything here superior

to that in France, even the oxen

that pull the peasants’ carts

are as beautiful

as wild stallions.

We attend the opera

and ballet at La Scala,

the boxes so elegant

a queen would feel at home.

We spend three weeks

in Milan expecting Lord Byron

will soon accompany us

and collect little Allegra,

who is now fifteen months old

and showing the personality

of a blooming rose.

Shelley and I take a trip

to Lake Como by ourselves,

and search out a house

that might tempt Byron

to stay on with us for a while.

Unfortunately no houses

are available. I love the escape

with my Shelley, and the sweet-scented

myrtle and tall cypresses

enchant me as though we are

part of a fairy story.

House or no house,

Shelley nevertheless writes

and invites Byron to come

and spend the summer

on the lake with us.

Byron responds rather coldly

that he has no intention of leaving Venice

and that a messenger will be sent

to collect Allegra, as if Allegra

were some package. Further,

Claire is told that all contact

with Allegra will cease

from this point forward.

Claire cannot be consoled at first,

and Shelley and I perplex over

how to handle her.

When the messenger arrives on April 22,

we tell Mr. Merriweather

that Allegra is sick and cannot be moved.

Rumors abound

that Byron leads a scandalous

life in Venice, and Shelley

troubles over what to do

with Allegra. He offers to keep

the child as part of our family.

I do not find this to be a good solution.

I instead propose that Elise,

our wonderful nursemaid,

be sent to stay with Allegra

as she herself is a mother

and can report to us

about Allegra’s welfare.

Claire agrees to this.

On April 28 Allegra,

Elise, and Mr. Merriweather

set out for Venice.

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MEETING MARIA GISBORNE

May–June 1818

Because no house can be

found for us on Lake Como,

we travel to Pisa. I climb

the 224 steps

to the top of the leaning tower

only to witness just how

fully the city declines.

The cobblestone streets

sprout with weeds and grass

like a patchy beard.

Chain gangs of prisoners

street-clean, watched over

by armed guards. It reminds

one of slave labor.

Elise writes that she and Allegra

safely arrive in Venice,

and that all the Byronic rumors exaggerate.

Claire exhales a bit.

We decide to move

on to the port town of Livorno,

where my father wrote us

an introduction to Maria Gisborne.

We have acquired no new friends

on our journey thus far,

and I hunger for conversation

like one in solitary confinement.

I am especially eager to make

the acquaintance of Mrs. Gisborne

as she cared for me and Fanny

after my mother’s death

when I was a baby.

Henry Reveley, Maria’s grown-up son,

develops a fondness for Claire,

and we are invited to stay

on with them for a month.

Claire has yet to return

the gracious kindness

that men show her

as though any man but Byron

is but a lowly cow

and Byron a godly bull.

A pattern of communal daily

activities emerges, and I feel

at home here. In the morning

Claire and I practice our Italian.

In the evenings we walk with

the Gisbornes and Shelley,

discussing the day’s reading.

I believe I have found

a true friend and motherly mentor

in Maria Gisborne.

I feel fortunate

as though I have come

into an inheritance of my own.

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BAGNI DI LUCCA

Summer 1818

Shelley finds us a house

in a spa town sixty miles

north of Livorno, Bagni di Lucca.

Casa Bertini is a small colorful building,

freshly painted, newly furnished

and encircled by woods, mountains, and walks.

A small garden

and an arbor of laurel trees

landscape the lawn

so thick the sun cannot penetrate them.

We enjoy watching the fireflies

pattern the night sky

like little explosions

of electricity.

I receive a copy of Sir Walter Scott’s

kind review of
Frankenstein
.

He praises the book

but believes Shelley to be the author.

This somewhat disturbs me,

a tiny splinter under my skin.

So I send him a letter of appreciation

and I inform him

that it was not my husband’s,

but my juvenile effort.

I immerse myself

in reading and studying

English and Italian

poetry and history here.

Shelley struggles a bit,

restless as one confined

to bed. He wanders

the woods and pools looking for escape.

He cannot find inspiration

to compose anything original here,

but instead beautifully translates Plato’s
Symposium
.

We receive word from Peacock

that Shelley’s name has been

linked to Leigh Hunt’s in an unflattering

review of Hunt’s book
Foliage
.

Shelley becomes desolate

as driftwood

and misses his friends.

He and Claire grow ever close,

and there is little I can do

to halt it.

Now that Allegra is away

all of Claire’s attention

focuses entirely upon my Shelley.

It is as though

her telescopic eyes

see nothing but him.

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THIEF

Summer 1818

If Claire falls into

the ocean and calls

for my rescue,

I dive into the cold

and pull her to shore.

And yet my stepsister

sees nothing wrong

with stealing from me

the lifeboat

that keeps me adrift,

my Shelley’s time

and affection.

She acts as if

I cry no tears,

feel no loss.

When she sees

my wet handkerchief

for whom does

she believe I mourn?

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ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE

Summer 1818

Shelley strokes my head

as we lie in the grass of the arbor.

“If as in the myth of Orpheus

and Eurydice you were

bit by vipers and called

to your death, I would

use all my powers of music

and poetry to get you back.”

“You would no doubt

charm the gods

with your voice.”

I clutch my love’s hand

with authority.

“The way the story

would change is that

when I retrieved you

from the underworld

I would not look behind me

to check if you were there.

I would know for certain

that you would follow me.

And thereby I should

never lose you, my dear.”

I look closely into

the soft blue of his eyes,

“You are right,

you shall not lose me.

I should likely follow

you anywhere.”

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NEWS FROM BYRON

August 1818

We receive two letters

from our former nursemaid Elise

about Allegra. The most

alarming information

is that Allegra has been

moved out of Byron’s home and Elise’s care

and sent to live with the British consul,

Mr. Richard Hoppner.

Elise rumors also that Byron

intends to debauch his own

daughter when she becomes

old enough and make her

his mistress, but this cannot,

of course, be substantiated.

Claire breaks dishes

and screams vengeance

like a madwoman. She vows

to leave immediately for Venice

to reclaim her daughter.

Shelley makes her calm

and will intercede on her behalf

and visit Byron instead.

Claire of course listens

to my Shelley

as he is once again