Because that's kind of lame. Should have had her lock Robert Audley up in the madhouse, Braddon, because THAT would have been SOMETHING. Also, George should have stayed dead. Dickens would have stayed him dead. But 'all the good people [are] happy and at peace,' and WHY DO WE THINK THIS IS? Why does Braddon have to have a perfect jolly ending when other Victorian authors felt like they could kill off a character or two (and NOT EVEN JUST THE FALLEN WOMEN ONES) in the name of verisimilitude and pathos? Are you allergic to pathos, Mary Elizabeth?
I'm also disappointed that Alicia became kind of a non-character at the end, and ended up marrying Harry Whatzit, and that Lady Audley was discovered and quietly shuffled off somewhere. I heard echoes of Sir Leicester in Sir Michael's 'remember in all you do, that I have loved her very dearly and truly,' but then he's all like, Never speak to me of her again. I guess he's justified.
This is becoming my defining theme for this book.
Lady Audley boarding a hackney drawn by 'a pair of horses -- which were so small as to suggest the idea that they had been made out of one ordinary-sized animal' is jarringly adorable.
That there're TWO of them, Ben Wyatt.
Oh the 1800s, when a 'detective police officer' was 'stained with vile association and unfit company for gentlemen,' and where it's an event of note that a gentleman would take 'off his his hat in the presence of [a] common peasant man' WHO IS ALSO DYING, PS, SO TAKE OFF YOUR DAMN HAT, and when you only lock up your pharmacy if there's money in the till because surely 'the most daring housebreaker' wouldn't bother trying to steal all y'all's drugs, .
Just...everything was weird about you, Victorians.
So. This book held a lot of promise and sometimes the writing was great but OFTEN IT WAS NOT and Robert got RULL boring, rull quick. I preferred him as a lazy beast, not a man of singular fortitude and purpose. Purposeful Roger was NAVEL-GAZEY and repetitive.