CHAPTER 236: THE BARONESS’S DESPERATION: I

While Eugénie Danglars and her companion Louise d’Armilly quietly escaped into the night, no one in the household noticed. Everyone was too wrapped up in their own problems to care.

The banker, Monsieur Danglars, sat alone staring at his mounting debts, bankruptcy looming like a death sentence. Meanwhile, his wife, the baroness, had been crushed by the evening’s catastrophic events. After the scandal of her daughter’s failed wedding, she did what she always did in a crisis. She went running to her lover, Lucien Debray.

The baroness had been counting on Eugénie’s marriage for more than just her daughter’s happiness. Truth be told, being a mother to someone like Eugénie was exhausting. The girl was sharp, perceptive, and judgmental, especially about her mother’s affair with Debray.

Madame Danglars had seen it in Eugénie’s eyes countless times. That look of pure contempt whenever Debray visited. Her daughter understood everything, the secret financial dealings, the intimate relationship, all of it. Worse, Eugénie absolutely despised Debray. Not just because he caused drama in their home, but because she saw him as less than human, a pathetic social climber without substance or honor.

The problem was, everyone sees the world through their own lens. What seemed obvious to Eugénie was justified in her mother’s mind. Madame Danglars genuinely regretted the marriage falling through. Yes, it would have been good for Eugénie, but more importantly, it would have set her mother free from the constant scrutiny and judgment.

So she rushed to Debray’s apartment, dressed in black with a heavy veil concealing her face. The doorman insisted Debray wasn’t home, but she pushed past him anyway and went upstairs.

Meanwhile, Debray was actually in his apartment, entertaining friends from his gentlemen’s club. They were all gossiping about the wedding disaster, it was the talk of Paris. One friend was trying to convince him that he should marry Eugénie himself and claim her two-million-franc dowry.

"After that disaster tonight, someone needs to save the family’s reputation. Why not you?" his friend argued.

Debray brushed off the suggestion, though the idea had crossed his mind before. But every time he thought about Eugénie’s fierce independence and pride, he knew it was impossible. Still, the thought kept creeping back into his mind like an unwanted guest.

The evening dragged on. Tea, card games, and endless conversation about the scandal. It wasn’t until one in the morning that Debray’s friends finally left.

Back at Debray’s apartment, Madame Danglars had been waiting for hours in his small sitting room, surrounded by flower arrangements she’d sent him that morning. He’d arranged them so carefully that she almost forgave him for making her wait. Almost.

By eleven-forty, she gave up and went home, moving through the dark streets as carefully as her daughter had when escaping. She climbed the stairs with a pounding heart and entered her bedroom, which was right next to Eugénie’s.

She didn’t want to wake anyone or raise suspicion. She still believed Eugénie was safely in her room, exhausted from the traumatic evening. When she pressed her ear to Eugénie’s door, she heard nothing. She tried the handle, but it was bolted from inside.

"She must be sleeping," the baroness told herself.

She called for the maid and questioned her.

"Mademoiselle Eugénie and Mademoiselle d’Armilly had tea together in her room," the maid explained. "Then they dismissed me for the night. I assumed they were still there."

Satisfied, Madame Danglars went to bed. But as she lay there in the darkness, the events of the evening replayed in her mind with brutal clarity. What she’d dismissed as confusion was actually chaos. What she’d seen as unfortunate was actually disgraceful.

She remembered feeling no sympathy for Mercédès, another woman who’d suffered public humiliation through her husband and son. Now karma had come for her.

"Eugénie is ruined. We’re all ruined," she whispered to herself. "Society will tear us apart with gossip and mockery."

Then a strange thought struck her. Maybe Eugénie’s odd, rebellious personality, the one that had always worried her, might actually save them now. Perhaps fate had a plan in all this mess.

Her thoughts drifted to Andrea Cavalcanti, the groom who’d been exposed as a fraud. He was a thief, possibly a murderer, and yet he’d fooled everyone with his polished manners and claims of wealth. How could she untangle herself from this nightmare?

Debray couldn’t help her, not really. She needed someone with real power.

Then it hit her. Monsieur de Villefort, the prosecutor.

At first, anger flared in her chest. Villefort was the one who’d publicly destroyed Andrea during the wedding, humiliating her entire family. But as she thought more carefully, she realized he’d actually done them a favor. He’d cut away the rot before it could spread further.

If people knew that Villefort, a friend of the Danglars family, had been the one to expose Andrea, then no one could accuse them of being in on the scheme. Villefort had protected their reputation, in his own harsh way.

But his job was done. Now she needed him to show mercy.

She would visit him tomorrow and appeal to their shared past, to the guilty, passionate memories they’d once shared together. She’d beg him to let Andrea escape, to look the other way just this once. After all, what was one more criminal on the run compared to her family’s honor?

With this plan in mind, she finally fell asleep.

The next morning at nine, Madame Danglars dressed simply and slipped out of the house unnoticed. She walked to a nearby street, hailed a cab, and headed straight to Villefort’s mansion.

For the past month, the prosecutor’s house had looked like a place touched by plague. Most windows were shuttered. Occasionally one would crack open briefly, just long enough for a frightened servant to let in some air, before slamming shut again like a tomb being sealed.

Neighbors whispered to each other, "Another death in the prosecutor’s house soon?"

The baroness shivered as her cab pulled up to the gloomy mansion. Her knees trembled as she approached the door and rang the bell.

The bell echoed three times with a dull, heavy sound that seemed to absorb all the house’s sadness. Finally, the doorman appeared, opening the door just a crack and peering through suspiciously.

He saw a wealthy, elegantly dressed woman, but still didn’t open the door fully.

"Are you going to let me in?" the baroness demanded.

"First, who are you?"

"You know perfectly well who I am!"

"We don’t know anyone anymore, madame."

"Have you lost your mind?" she snapped.

"Where are you coming from?"

"This is ridiculous!"

"These are my orders, madame. I need your name."

"I am Baroness Danglars. You’ve seen me twenty times before!"

"Perhaps. And what do you want?"

"I need to speak with Monsieur de Villefort immediately."

"Is it urgent?"

"Obviously! I didn’t even bring my carriage, I came so quickly. Here, take my card to your master."

"Please wait here, madame."

The door closed in her face, leaving her standing in the street like a common beggar.

It didn’t take long. The door opened just wide enough to admit her, then shut immediately behind her. The doorman never took his eyes off her. As soon as they entered the courtyard, he pulled out a whistle and blew it sharply.

Another servant appeared on the steps. "You’ll have to forgive these precautions, madame," he said as he led her inside. "But Monsieur de Villefort’s orders are strict. He wanted me to tell you he has no choice."

In the courtyard, she noticed a merchant who’d apparently gone through the same humiliating security process.

As the baroness climbed the stairs, the oppressive sadness of the house seemed to seep into her bones, magnifying her own misery. The servant never left her side as he guided her to the prosecutor’s study.

She’d been so focused on her mission that the servants’ treatment had barely registered. But now, standing in the study, indignation burst out of her.

"The way your staff treated me was absolutely insulting-"

She stopped mid-sentence.

Villefort looked up from his desk, and the expression on his face killed her complaint instantly. He looked utterly destroyed, his face drawn, his eyes hollow with grief. When he smiled at her, it was the saddest smile she’d ever seen.