Lady Audley’s Secret: Similes 12 key examples

The simile in this passage likens Lucy's joy in receiving admiration to getting a compliment from a marquis (one of the highest echelons of British aristocracy). This simile underscores Lucy's genuine delight in being admired, regardless of the source. It highlights her ability to captivate and win over people through her charm and beauty, even when she may not deserve their affection.

The passage also contrasts Lucy's superficial interactions with “some old woman” with the vicar's wife's practical support of the poor in her community. Even if Lucy doesn’t do anything tangible to help, her attention and the sight of her glorious golden curls are more appreciated than any actual charitable work done by others.

The simile in this passage likens Lucy’s face to a “sunbeam.” She is so happy to be visiting the homes of others—as she is in this passage—that it shines from her “fair face” as if she is herself a source of light. This comparison does two things. It points to the universal appeal of her physical beauty, as it seems to radiate from her and affect everyone she meets. On a symbolic level, it also suggests that her less fortunate companions might like her for more than the simple fact of her company. Her beauty and positivity are so intense, Braddon suggests, that they are also gifts that she gives to the less fortunate. This passage portrays Lucy’s presence as a source of light in the dreariness of their lives.

The metaphor of "taking joy and brightness with her" solidifies this idea. The narrator speaks about "joy and brightness" as if they're tangible things that Lucy can carry in her hands. This also suggests that when Lucy departs, these positive emotions might leave with her. The relationship Lucy seems to have with the happiness of those around her is clearly outlined in this passage. Whether she’s present or absent, Lady Audley is a central figure who influences people’s feelings and desires.

The simile in this passage really drives home the heartbreak and disappointment Sir Michael is feeling. He leaves Lucy feeling "as if he had carried a corpse in his bosom." His obsessive love for her has died, and his heart has something “heavy and dull” lying on it. This comparison does not merely hint at his sadness. It amplifies the sheer weight of his disillusionment, suggesting that his hopes and dreams concerning Lucy's love are as dead and lifeless as a "corpse."

The narrator also imbues the passage with pathos. Braddon ensures, in this passage, that readers not only understand but deeply feel the emotional burden Sir Michael is bearing. Terms like "foolish old man" and the repeated references to the "corpse of that hope" serve to heighten the reader's sympathy for this sad predicament. Her choice of words portrays Sir Michael as a tragic figure, a man whose love and hopes have been cruelly dashed. This deeply mournful portrayal is further compounded by the revelation that, despite these internal revelations, Lucy and Michael will still maintain the façade of a "happy couple." 

In the passage just before this, the countryside around Audley Court is silent and expectant. This passage continues that work, but moves into a distinctly creepy and uneasy mode of describing the pastoral scene. The narrator describes the "very repose" of the twilight countryside as not just quiet, but eerily silent. It's so quiet in this place, so intensely still, that it feels as if "a corpse must be lying somewhere." By comparing the tranquility of the setting to the stillness associated with death, the passage suggests that there’s more to the scene than the reader is aware of. There’s an unsettling, creeping undercurrent at play here.

Terms such as "painful repose" further compound this sense of unease, and contribute to the foreshadowing this passage sets up. The word “repose” would typically suggest a peaceful state of rest, but in this context, it's reframed as "painful." This choice by the author suggests that the "rest" itself is confining, unpleasant, and akin to the sleep of death. The scene is full of breathless expectation, as the reader is led to believe that the silence is building toward a break. On the whole, the reader feels that the surrounding environment is just waiting for a disturbance to shatter its silence.

The simile that likens Harcourt Talboys to "his own square-built, northern-fronted, shelterless house" gives readers a clear idea of what his personality is like. Just as his house is rigid, uncompromising stone, Talboys is unyielding and without pretense. The narrator lists descriptions of the “square-built, northern-fronted, shelterless” dwelling one after the other, drawing a parallel between this diction and Talboys’s way of operating with others. He’s as relentless and “square-built” as this list of compound words.

The metaphor that aligns intelligence with “daylight” further solidifies this characterization. Braddon refers to him as being "all daylight" and as being only able to see things in the “broad glare” of "intellectual sunlight." This metaphor suggests that Talboys is transparent in his beliefs and thoughts. He never shies away from the truth, and he’s uninterested in the nuances or gray areas. By describing him in this manner, Braddon highlights Talboys's unwillingness to see the "softening shadows" that might otherwise change the way he views other people and their behavior.

The simile "as helpless as a baby" used to describe the "big dragoon" George—a strong and theoretically brave soldier—drives home the point of his new vulnerability. It's surprising to imagine someone as sturdy as George as baby-like and unable to move forward. This makes George's helplessness in the face of the news he’s received even more pronounced. It heightens the urgency of the situation significantly. Robert, who is usually more of a follower than a leader, is left wondering how to proceed.

However, Braddon then subverts readers’ expectations with a twist of situational irony. Robert, who has previously been depicted as indecisive and “unenergetic” (or "vacillating"), is suddenly the one who has to make the best of the situation. The phrase "rose superior to himself" points to this unexpected shift. Readers might think Robert wouldn't be capable of getting George back on his feet, given what they've seen of him before. In defiance of expectations, he demonstrates that he’s up to the challenge. He even seems to surprise himself in this situation, rising “superior to himself” and undergoing an important shift in his own self-perception.

Lucy’s appearance is brought to life with the appealing and luscious auditory imagery of her "stiff, rustling silks." The sound of her movement in these expensive fabrics paints a picture of opulence and indulgence. She’s so draped in finery that the soft “heavy” fabrics all rub against each other. The sensory languages of touch and hearing are combined here so that the reader can almost feel the thickness and luxuriousness of her “stiff” dress.

The simile that compares Lucy to "a child tricked out for masquerade" further highlights an important aspect of her character. Lucy chooses clothes the way a child might dress a doll up to play the part of a lady. She does this because that is what she’s doing: she is pretending to be something she is not. The simile suggests that there's an element of self-awareness and artificiality to her "frail" appearance. The narrator implies that Lucy's transformation into Lady Audley is a performance—a show she puts on for those around her—rather than an authentic expression of her true self. The word "masquerade" further underscores the element of disguise in her dress. By hiding her “frail figure” in these heavy fabrics, she’s actually making it seem even frailer and more “childish” than it might otherwise, “as if she had just left the nursery.”

The visual language of this passage clearly points to aspects of Lucy’s character that her physical appearance might usually mask. With this in mind, it's interesting to consider that the portrait is hung in her own (usually locked) private rooms. While she looks deceptively innocent in person, in this painting the artist has captured some of her malevolence. She still looks beautiful, but the mask she usually wears has slipped a little. It’s not obvious at first glance, but it’s subtly there. While the word "fiend" would usually refer to demons or other evil beings, its pairing with "beautiful" captures Lucy’s duality. On one hand, she is charming and attractive, while on the other, there is something sinister in her.

It's important to remember that she hasn’t been literally painted as a devil in this portrait. Rather, she has “some aspect” of one. The simile "as if out of a raging furnace" furthers this association with the demonic, connecting Lucy to motifs of hell and heat. The "crimson dress" and "yellow hair" of the painting point to her vibrancy and intensity, traits that would have been considered unfeminine in the Victorian period. Adding to this, the description of her dress as appearing like "flames" and the overall scene of the picture as reminiscent of a "raging furnace" implies that Lucy has something burning below her surface. This portrayal sharply contrasts with earlier characterizations of her, suggesting that it is possible for other characters—like this artist—to see that she’s not totally angelic.

The visual imagery of "black curls," "pouting lips," and "dark complexion" as they’re described here paint a sharp picture of Alicia's intense, contrasting features. The reader is supposed to understand Alicia to be an attractive person. This isn’t subtle, as the imagery of the "heavy clustering locks" around the “slender throat” is suggestive and almost erotic. Alicia’s "red and pouting lips" and "nose inclined to be retroussé" (tilted upward) are also very much in line with the beauty standards of the Victorian period. However, the qualifier that her curls are "nothing like Lady Audley's feathery ringlets" underscores the insurmountable difference between the two women being described. Alicia is in love with Robert Audley, but he’s in love with Lucy. It doesn’t matter how attractive Alicia’s hair and eyes are: Robert Audley's clear preference is for Lucy’s “feathery ringlets.”

The simile at the end of the passage likens Alicia’s bright complexion to "a signal light in a dusky sky." This reference to her “crimson” cheeks and dark hair also suggests that Alicia’s face “signals” her feelings easily. However, Robert is completely oblivious to her “signals,” no matter how she tries to attract him. The rueful tone the narrator takes in this quotation underlines the reality that, despite her appearance, Alicia goes unnoticed because Lucy overshadows her.

Here, the narrator uses a simile describing the size of Mrs. Plowson’s features to convey the idea that Mrs. Plowson’s face has not aged well. What beauty she had as a young girl has diminished, leaving her features poorly distributed. There's a sense that she wasn't provided with enough features to fill out her face correctly. It's also implied that this is partially not her fault, as the narrator tells the reader she was "made" that way. The “pinched look” this gives Mrs. Plowson reflects her character, which is similarly narrow-minded and ungenerous.

This comparison is one important instance of the multifaceted relationship that Braddon conveys between outward appearances and inner character in Lady Audley’s Secret. While some characters (like Mrs. Plowson) appear in a way that implies things about their personality, that is not the case for others. She looks mean because she is mean, but that doesn't mean readers can infer this to be true of everyone.

In this passage, Braddon metaphorically represents Maldon's slow realization of what's happening to feeble sunshine attempting to pierce through a heavy London fog. Maldon’s wits are the “sunlight” that is struggling to pierce the “vapors” of his intoxication. This metaphor conveys the confusion and lack of clarity in his thinking, emphasizing his slow struggle to regain sobriety and coherence.

London fogs in the Victorian period were notoriously thick and soupy, in part because of all the dust from coal fires that filled the air in the city. The simile in this passage illustrates the impenetrability and density of Maldon’s stupor. He doesn’t just come suddenly to consciousness. He has to “screw his poor wits to the sticking point” to dissipate the dense mist that surrounds his clarity.

The simile comparing Wilson's quiet and respectful demeanor to "a ghost in a German story" accentuates the degree of deference he feels obligated to display in George Talboys's presence. This comparison conveys an almost surreal level of caution. Here, the author is suggesting that even a minor disturbance, such as the sound of a door, might be perceived as an affront to Mr. Talboys’s need for order and control. This phrase illustrates Wilson's trepidation and the looming presence of Harcourt Talboys in the household. This domineering man was previously described by the narrator as being exactly like his hard, square house in personality. In this scene, it becomes clear that Harcourt Talboys rules both himself and his household quite seriously.

Moreover, the passage shines a light on the rigid power structures of the Victorian household. Just as Wilson must navigate his master’s household with excessive caution, so too must other characters tread lightly around the domineering figures who populate this book. The omnipresence and influence of men like Harcourt Talboys is reinforced in moments like this one. The fact that Wilson knows he must disappear like a "ghost" demonstrates his position in a household and society where authority and dominance by the wealthy elite are inescapable facts of life.