Faith Moore (0:00)

Hello and welcome to Storytime for Grown Ups. I'm Faith Moore, and this season we're reading the Woman in White by Wilkie Collins. Each episode I'll read a few chapters from the book, pausing from time to time to give brief explanations so it's easier to follow along. It's like an audiobook with built in notes. So brew a pot of tea, find a cozy chair, and settle in. It's story time. Hi. Welcome back. Okay, before we go any further, I have to give you this update. It's an update from a listener. Those of you who have been with us from the beginning or who have already gone back and listened to Jane Eyre might remember Laura. Laura listens to Storytime for Grown Ups in the car with her crew of kids in the carpool and they listened to all of Jane Eyre. And when they finished Jane Eyre, they had a party and they watched a Jane Eyre movie and they ate Jane Eyre related foods. And it was so much fun that I just had to share it with you and I shared it with you on the show. And I want to let you know that Laura is back and the carpool group has finished Pride and Prejudice. I just want to read you this letter. It says this. Thank you for another carpool hit. The kids loved Pride and Prejudice. Lots of cracking up and lots of great discussion. We had our second annual Storytime for Grown Ups party this weekend and watched the 2005 movie Cheese and Onion. Pasties, scones and of course, tea were on the snack menu. We're looking forward to starting the Woman in White next week. So I just wanted to give you that update because I was so excited. I remember last time when I learned about this whole carpool stuff Storytime for Grown Ups situation. And when I shared it, a lot of you wrote in to say how you also were excited to hear that. So I wanted to give you the update that the carpool group has now read Pride and Prejudice and will be joining us now for the Woman in White. So, hi to the carpool and we're excited to have you along with us for the Woman in White. And I just wanted to take this as an opportunity to say this is fantastic. Read these books, listen to this podcast in real life with real people, if you can. Of course, maybe you can't, and that's completely fine, but if you do, I just think it's lovely and I want to hear about it. I know a lot of you have brought this show to your book clubs and listen with your book clubs. I know you listen with family and friends who don't live nearby and people call each other and talk about it. And it just makes me so happy when that is happening. It also makes me happy to know that for those of you who don't do that or can't do that, this show becomes like a friend to you and that the show is the person that you are listening to and talking to. So thank you for listening in all the ways that you listen, however you listen, wherever you listen, whatever you're doing, thank you. Thank you for being here and thank you for sharing that experience with me. So I just wanted to give you that update before we go any further. Okay, so lots to discuss today. We have a new narrator. Last time we read Mr. Gilmore's narrative chapters one and two. And today we're reading Mr. Gilmore's narrative, chapters three and four. He's got more to tell us, and so we're gonna get into that. I've got a question to share with you and lots to talk about. So just some usual reminders. This time, very quickly, if you're enjoying the show and you have a minute, tap those five stars, or if you have a couple extra minutes, leave it a positive review. Those are all really great ways to help grow the show. In addition to that, if you have a friend or a family member or a colleague or somebody that you just met who you think might like the show, copy a link to the show and text them or email it to them or something like that. Let's keep growing this show. Let's get more carpools, more book clubs, more people listening when they're doing whatever they're doing. Let's get more of us together. So please do that if you haven't already. And please do just check out the links in the show notes. If you're able to support the show financially, there's a few different ways to do that. You can just make a donation or you can become a member and join our online community. There's also the Merch Merch store there where there's all kinds of cool designs and more will be coming soon. And there are a few other links to other things in there as well, so I hope you'll check that out. Okay, let's do a recap of what we read last time, which, as I said, was Gilmore's narrative chapters one and two. And then we'll get to today's comment. Here's the recap. All right, so where we left off, Mr. Gilmore is now our narrator. He's the Fairlies family lawyer, and he has come to draw up the marriage settlement for Laura and Sir Percival. So Sir Percival also arrives, and he seems to Mr. Gilmore to be a very kind and attentive, gentlemanly sort of person. He immediately explains his connection with Anne Catherick. He tells him that Anne's mother was some sort of servant of his family and he wanted to help her. Anne's mental infirmities had gotten worse as she got older, and it became necessary to lock her away. Her mother didn't want her to have to go to a public asylum, which we were talking about before. Right. Would have been kind of like a prison, a sort of horrible place. So Sir Percival agreed to pay for her to be sent to a private asylum. Anne found out that this had happened, and she developed a hatred of Sir Percival because she blamed him for the fact that she had been locked away. Gilmore accepts this explanation, and Marian says she does too, but she seems a little doubtful. So Sir Percival notices that and has Marian write to Anne's mother, who writes back to say that Sir Percival's story is true. True. Laura, this whole time is very sad and very nervous, and she's hardly speaking to Sir Percival. She keeps to her room most of the time. And Sir Percival tells Marian to tell Laura that if she doesn't want to marry him, she should just tell him and he'll just go away. But Marian knows that Laura feels that it's her duty to marry Sir Percival because she promised her father before he died that she would. Eventually, Laura asks for more time before the settlement is drawn up. Gilmore goes to speak with her, and he's very upset to find her so kind of diminished from what she used to be. He tries to tell her to tell him who she would like her property and money to go to in the event of her death. And she tells him that she wants it all to go to Marian. And she starts to say that there's another person that she would like to put in her will, but she doesn't end up telling him who it is. We, of course, guess that it would be Walter. So then Gilmore leaves, feeling that actually she probably shouldn't marry Sir Percival, given that it seems to upset her so much. So now Mr. Gilmore is going back to London, and he won't be able to return to Limmeridge House for a very long time. All right, today's question comes to us from Diane. Diane writes, of course, you will be getting hundreds of emails screaming, the dog knows. Yes, the dog knows that something is wrong. We so hope Laura will not go through with this marriage. Okay, so clearly this time we need to discuss Sir Percival Glyde. Right? We've had all this lead up to his arrival. We've been asking ourselves for several episodes now whether he's going to be a good guy or a bad guy guy. We've even been wondering if he's the actual, like, villain of the story. Is he the one that's gonna commit whatever crime is gonna be committed? Or is he a nice, upstanding guy who just happens to be marrying the woman we wish that Walter could be with? And now, finally, Sir Percival has entered the story. So obviously, we need to talk about our first impressions of him. And yes, I did get many emails. Not hundreds, but a lot. About the dog. How Laura's pet dog seems not to trust Sir Per. And he does trust Mr. Gilmore. And that does seem to speak sort of poorly of Percival, because it is a kind of trope in books and movies and things that animals have a kind of a sense of whether someone is good or bad, and so their reactions should be listened to. So I'll get to that in a moment, because I don't know that it's as cut and dry as that, but it's worth paying attention to. Before that, though, I want to just back up for just a second and talk about Mr. Gilmore as our narrator, because I think that really matters if what we're going to be doing here is assessing Sir Percival Glyde as a character. Because we need to know if we trust Mr. Gilmore before we can start to piece together what sort of man Sir Percival might be. Because Mr. Gilmore is the one who's telling us about him. So before we ask ourselves if we can trust Sir Percival, let's ask ourselves if we can trust Mr. Gilmore. So the first thing that Mr. Gilmore tells us is that he is writing this narrative at the request of his friend, Walter Hartright. So unless he's lying and Walter isn't his friend, which is unlikely, because otherwise, why would Hartright ask him to write his version of events, right? So unless he's not actually Hartright's friend, this basically means that Mr. Gilmore is our friend as well. Okay? Because we have decided that we trust Walter Hartright, which means that now, given this information, we should also trust Mr. Gilmore. And we also learn that Walter is going to be back, right? Hooray. We talked a little bit about this last time, about how we know that Walter comes back into the story at some point because he's the one compiling all these narratives. But we learn a little bit more from Mr. Gilmore. Not a lot, but it's significant. Here's what it says. This is a quote. There is no need for me to say whether my own opinion does or does not sanction the disclosure of the remarkable family story of which my narrative forms an important component part. Mr. Hartright has taken that responsibility on himself. And circumstances yet to be related will show that he has amply earned the right to do so if he chooses to exercise it. So not only is Walter going to compile all these narratives for some reason after the whole thing is over, but he's going to do something before he does that which will earn him the right to take charge of this whole situation. So Walter still has a part to play in the story in some way. And Mr. Gilmore feels that whatever that part is is admirable somehow, which speaks well of Mr. Gilmore. Also, because we trust Walter. And if Mr. Gilmore thinks Walter is admirable, then that speaks well of Mr. Gilmore. So I think it's fair to say that we feel that we can trust Mr. Gilmore. As in, Mr. Gilmore is our friend. He's clearly Laura's friend and also Marian's friend. So he's a good guy, essentially. And that should give his opinion of Sir Percival and the situation more generally. That should give it a lot of weight. Also, he doesn't know that Laura is in love with Walter, So he doesn't have any of those biases that Walter has. He's not inclined to dislike Sir Percival just because he's going to marry Laura. So actually, his should be pretty good eyes through which to view Sir Percival for the first time. And Mr. Gilmore actually seems to really like Sir Percival. Right? He tells us that he seems like a very polite, friendly, attentive sort of man. Sir Percival immediately gives us an explanation for his connection with Anne Catherick. And that explanation seems to make sense to Mr. Gilmore. Remember, the explanation is that Sir Percival did it because Anne really needed mental care. And so he generously paid for a private asylum because his family was connected in some way with Mrs. Catherick. If that's true, and if Anne really is mentally unstable, then his explanation that Anne hates him simply because she thinks he is solely responsible for her being locked up, that explanation makes sense. Anne's mother confirms all of that. So there's no reason to think that Sir Percival isn't telling the truth. Sir Percival is also very kind and respectful to Laura. He sees that she's not herself at the moment, and he's very gentle with her. And he tells her through Marian that if her problem is that she doesn't want to marry him anymore, then she can just call the engagement off and he won't protest. So all of that speaks well of him and gives us no real reason to think he's a bad guy. So all signs point toward Percival being the upstanding gentleman that we've been told that he is. Except we still don't trust him, do we? Right. It's so, so brilliant on Wilkie Collins's part. It's amazing. We literally don't know if we can trust him or not. All the evidence says trust him, but Collins has made it so that our gut says don't trust him. It's fantastic. And clearly Marian is suffering under the same dilemma that we are. Right? She doesn't want to say anything outwardly hostile about Sir Percival. I think it's clear that she doesn't even really want to think anything hostile about him. But her gut is telling her that she doesn't trust him. She, like us, is operating under the biases that have been placed on us through Walter and through her own love of Laura and her sense that she doesn't want Laura to marry a man she doesn't love. We like and trust Marian. So the fact that she doesn't feel quite convinced that Sir Percival is a good guy bolsters our sense that something is off. But again, she also has no reason to feel the way that she feels. But interestingly, Marian's hesitation about Sir Percival causes Mr. Gilmore to suddenly hesitate about him, too. Right. Here's a quote. It says, my long experience made me attach an importance to her hesitation remaining Marians under the circumstances here detailed, which I should certainly not have felt in the case of another woman. And then, of course, Laura's obvious distress about the wedding causes Mr. Gilmore to feel that she shouldn't go through with it. But that's different than feeling that Sir Percival himself is a bad guy. In fact, he doesn't actually seem to think he is. Mr. Gilmore just thinks that Laura shouldn't marry him because she seems so unhappy about it. Which brings us to the dog. So I happen to think that if anyone wants to be a good writer, or more specifically, if anyone wants to learn how to write an excellent plot, there is no better teacher than the Woman in White. You know, I haven't talked much about this, and I won't talk much about it going forward either, because this is not a podcast about writing. It's a podcast about reading. But if you happen to be an aspiring writer, I do encourage you to pay attention to what Collins is doing in terms of the plot and the way that he is manipulating us in the best way possible. And as I say, I won't go into that too much here, but I bring it up now because the dog is a really great example of this. But we can look at it now from a reader's perspective for just a second. So the dog dislikes Sir Percival and he likes Mr. Gilmore. That seems like a pretty clear statement that we should watch out for Sir Percival, right? On the other hand, though, it is so heavy handed, it's like Wilkie Collins suddenly stepped out in front of us waving a giant flag that says like beware of Sir Percival or something. So on the one hand the dog dislikes him. On the other hand, that seems a little too obvious. And what's brilliant about it is that it could legitimately be either one. We are so mixed up at this point. We are so confused in all the best ways, right? We don't know who to trust or even if we should trust our own instincts. And we're so unsure that we're looking to the dog, for goodness sake. We're looking to the dog to tell us what to do, right? So Collins has us right where he wants us, basically. Which is fantastic. Which means that the situation as it stands is that by all appearances, Sir Percival is really great. He's a gentlemanly, fair, thoughtful man. But also we don't like him, right? So are we justified or are we just biased? Should we trust the evidence that's right in front of us or should we trust our gut? Right. And we're gonna have to keep reading to see if we can figure that out. So let's do that. And then don't forget to write to me. Please write to me. I am dying to know what you think of all of this. Faithkmoore.com and click on Contact or scroll down to those links we were talking about before and you can find a link to that contact page there. So please do write in. I'm dying to know what you think. All right, let's get started with Gilmore's narrative, chapter six three through four of the Woman in White by Wilkie Collins. It's story time three. A week passed after my return to London without the receipt of any communication from Ms. Halcombe. On the eighth day, a letter in her handwriting was placed among the other letters on my table. It announced that Sir Percival Glyde had been definitely accepted and that the marriage was to take place as he had originally desired before the End of the year. In all probability, the ceremony would be performed during the last fortnight in December. Ms. Fairlie's 21st birthday was late in March. She would therefore, by this arrangement, become Sir Percival's wife about three months before she was of age. I ought not to have been surprised. I ought not to have been sorry. But I was surprised and sorry nevertheless. Some little disappointment caused by the unsatisfactory shortness of Miss Halcombe's letter mingled itself with these feelings and contributed its share towards upsetting my serenity for the day. In six lines, my correspondent announced the proposed marriage. In three more, she told me that Sir Percival had left Cumberland to return to his house in Hampshire. And in two concluding sentences she informed me first, that Laura was sadly in want of change and cheerful society. Secondly, that she had resolved to try the effect of some such change forthwith by taking her sister away with her on a visit to certain old friends in Yorkshire. There the letter ended without a word to explain what the circumstances were which had decided Miss Fairlie to accept Sir Percival Glyde in one short week from the time when I had last seen her. So Laura had asked for much more time to decide. But now Marian is telling Gilmore via this letter that actually Laura has agreed to the marriage and to the plan that the wedding will take place at the end of this year at a later period. The cause of this sudden determination was fully explained to me. It is not my business to relate it imperfectly on hearsay evidence. The circumstances came within the personal experience of Miss Halcombe. And when her narrative succeeds mine, she will describe them in every particular exactly as they happened. In the meantime, the plain duty for me to perform before I, in my turn, lay down my pen and withdraw from the story, is to relate the one remaining event connected with Miss Fairlie's proposed marriage in which I was concerned, namely, the drawing of the settlement. So Mr. Gilmore didn't know why Laura changed her mind at this point in the story. So even though he knows why now, he's not going to tell it to us, because Marian will tell us later, since she was actually there when it happened. All Gilmore is going to do now is tell us about this marriage settlement. It is impossible to refer intelligibly to this document without first entering into certain particulars in relation to the bride's pecuniary affairs. I will try to make my explanation briefly and plainly and to keep it free from professional obscurities and technicalities. The matter is of the utmost importance. I warn all readers of these lines that Miss Fairley's inheritance is a very serious part of Ms. Fairley's story, and that Mr. Gilmore's experience in this particular must be their experience also if they wish to understand the narratives which are yet to come. So he's saying that something about Laura Fairley's inheritance is of the utmost importance to the story that we are being told. So we should pay attention, is what he's saying, to what he's telling us now. Ms. Fairlie's expectations then, were of a twofold kind, comprising her possible inheritance of real property or land when her uncle died and her absolute inheritance of personal property or money when she came of age. So she's going to inherit land when her uncle dies and money when she comes of age, which will be in a few months after her wedding. Let us take the land first. In the time of Miss Fairley's paternal grandfather, whom we will call Mr. Fairley the Elder, the entail succession to the Limmeridge estate stood thus. Mr. Fairley the elder died and left three sons, Philip, Frederick and Arthur. As eldest son, Philip succeeded to the estate. If he died without leaving a son, the property went to the second brother, Frederick, and if Frederick died also without leaving a son, the property went to the third brother, Arthur. As events turned out, Mr. Philip Fairlie died, leaving an only daughter, the Laura of this story, and the estate in consequence went in course of law to the second brother, Frederick, a single man. The third brother, Arthur, had died many years before the decease of Philip, leaving a son and a daughter. The son, at the age of 18, was drowned at Oxford. His death left Laura, the daughter of Mr. Philip Fairlie, presumptive heiress to the estate, with every chance of succeeding to it in the ordinary course of nature on her uncle Frederick's death, if the said Frederick died without leaving male issue. So the Fairlie estate was meant to pass first to the male heirs, but could pass to a woman if there wasn't a male in the direct line of succession. Since there isn't a male man in Laura's generation, she will inherit the estate on her uncle's death, except in the event then, of Mr. Frederick Fairley's marrying and leaving an heir, the two very last things in the world that he was likely to do. His niece Laura would have the property on his death, possessing, it must be remembered, nothing more than a life interest in it. If she died single or died childless, the estate would revert to her cousin Magdalene, the daughter of Mr. Arthur Fairlie. If she married with a proper settlement, or in Other words, with the settlement I meant to make for her the income from the estate, a good 3,000 a year would during her lifetime be at her own disposal. If she died before her husband, he would naturally expect to be left in the enjoyment of the income for his lifetime. If she had a son, that son would be the heir to the exclusion of her cousin Magdalene. Thus Sir Percival's prospects in marrying Miss Fairlie, so far as his wife's expectations from real property were concerned, promised him these two advantages on Mr. Frederick Fairlie's. First, the use of 3,000 a year by his wife's permission while she lived and in his own right on her death if he survived her. And secondly, the inheritance of Limmeridge for his son, if he had one. Okay, so Laura will get the estate and the yearly income it produces. And if Mr. Gilmore states this in the settlement which he intends to do, the estate and its income will then pass to her son, if she has one. If her husband outlives her, he can keep using the estate and the income until his own death and then it will pass to the son. So much for the landed property and for the disposal of the income from it on the occasion of Miss Fairlie's marriage. Thus far, no difficulty or difference of opinion on the ladies settlement was at all likely to arise between Sir Percival's lawyer and myself. The personal estate, or in other words, the money to which Miss Fairlie would become entitled on reaching the age of 21 years, is the next point to consider. This part of her inheritance was in itself a comfortable little fortune. It was derived under her father's will and it amounted to the sum of 20,000 pounds. Besides this, she had a life interest in 10,000 pounds more, which latter amount was to go on her decease to her aunt Eleanor, her father's only sister. It will greatly assist in setting the family affairs before the reader in the clearest possible light if I stop here for a moment to explain why the aunt had been kept waiting for her legacy until the death of the niece. Mr. Philip Fairley had lived on excellent terms with his sister Eleanor as long as she remained a single woman. But when her marriage took place somewhat late in life and when that marriage united her to an Italian gentleman named Fosco, or rather to an Italian nobleman, seeing that he rejoiced in the title of count, Mr. Fairlie disapproved of her conduct so strongly that he ceased to hold any communication with her and even went the length of striking her name out of his will. The other members of the family all thought this serious manifestation of resentment at his sister's marriage more or less unreasonable. Count Fosco, though not a rich man, was not a penniless adventurer either. He had a small but sufficient income of his own. He had lived many years in England and he held an excellent position in society. Society. These recommendations, however, availed nothing with Mr. Fairley in many of his opinions. He was an Englishman of the old school and he hated a foreigner simply and solely because he was a foreigner. The utmost that he could be prevailed on to do in after years, mainly at Miss Fairley's intercession, was to restore his sister's name to its former place in his will, but to keep her waiting for her legacy by giving the income of the money to his daughter for life and the money itself, if her aunt died before her, to her cousin Magdalene. Considering the relative ages of the two ladies, the aunt's chance, in the ordinary course of nature of receiving the £10,000 was thus rendered doubtful in the extreme. And Madame Fosco resented her brother's treatment of her as unjustly as usual in such cases by refusing to see her niece and declining to believe that Miss Fairley's intercession had ever been exerted to restore her name to Mr. Fairley's will. So Laura has an aunt named Eleanor who married an Italian count named Fosco. Laura's father didn't approve of Count Fosco for some reason and cut Eleanor out of his will. So Laura is entitled to £20,000 when she comes of age, as well as £10,000 which she will have for her lifetime and on her death only they would go to Eleanor Fosco. But of course, Eleanor Fosco is older than Laura, so probably she'll be dead by the time Laura dies. Such was the history of the £10,000. Here again, no difficulty could arise with Sir Percival's legal adviser. The income would be at the wife's disposal and the principal would go to her aunt or her cousin on her death. All preliminary explanations being now cleared out of the way, I come at last to the real knot of the case, to the £20,000. This sum was absolutely Miss Fairlie's own on her completing her 21st year year. And the whole future disposition of it depended in the first instance on the conditions I could obtain for her in her marriage settlement. The other clauses contained in that document were of a formal kind and need not be recited here. But the clause relating to the money is too important to be passed over. A few lines will be sufficient to give the necessary abstract of it. My stipulation in regard to the £20,000 was simply this. This. The whole amount was to be settled so as to give the income to the lady for her life, afterwards to Sir Percival for his life, and the principal to the children of the marriage. In default of issue, the principal was to be disposed of as the lady might by her will direct, for which purpose I reserved to her the right of making a will. The effect of these conditions may be thus summed up. If Lady Glyde died without leaving children, her half sister, Miss Halcombe, and any other relatives or friends whom she might be anxious to benefit, would, on her husband's death, divide among them such shares of her money as she desired them to have. If, on the other hand, she died leaving children, then their interest naturally and necessarily superseded all other interests whatsoever. This was the clause, and no one who reads it can fail, I think, to agree with me, that it meted out equal justice to all parties. So Gilmore is saying that the £20,000 belong by right to Laura, and so she should be able to decide what to do with it after her death. So Gilmore will make her a will which states that if she dies, the money will go to her husband for his lifetime, then to her children. But if they have no children, it will go to Marian and anyone else that Laura wants it to go to. We shall see how my proposals were met on the husband's side at the time when Miss Halcombe's letter reached me, I was even more busily occupied than usual. But I contrived to make leisure for the settlement. I had drawn it and had sent it for approval to Sir Percival's solicitor in less than a week from the time when Miss Halcombe had informed me of the proposed marriage. After a lapse of two days, the document was returned to me with notes and remarks of the baronet's lawyer. His objections in general proved to be of the most trifling and technical kind, until he came to the clause relating to the £20,000. Against this there were double lines drawn in red ink, and the following note was appended to not admissible the principal to go to Sir Percival Glyde in the event of his surviving Lady Glyde, and there being no issue, that is to say not one farthing of the £20,000 was to go to Miss Halcombe, or to any other relative or friend of Lady Glyde's. The whole sum, if she left no children, was to slip into the pockets of her husband. The answer, I wrote to this audacious proposal Was as short and sharp as I could make it. My dear sir, Miss Fairley's settlement I maintain the clause to which you object exactly as it stands yours truly. The rejoinder came back in a quarter of an hour. My dear sir, Miss Fairlie's settlement, I maintain the red ink to which you object exactly as it stands yours truly. In the detestable slang of the day. We were now both at a deadlock, and nothing was left for it but to refer to our clients on either side as matters stood. My client, Ms. Fairlie, not having yet completed her 21st year, Mr. Frederick Fairlie was her guardian. I wrote by that day's post and put the case before him exactly as it stood, not only urging every argument I could think of to induce him to maintain the clause as I had drawn it, but stating to him plainly the mercenary motive which was at the bottom of the opposition of my settlement of the £20,000. The knowledge of Sir Percival's affairs, which I had necessarily gained when the provisions of the deed on his side were submitted in due course to my examination, had but too plainly informed me that the debts of his estate were enormous. And that his income, though nominally a large one, was virtually, for a man in his position, next to nothing. The want of ready money was the practical necessity of Sir Percival's existence. And his lawyer's note on the clause in the settlement was nothing but the frankly selfish expression of it. So Sir Percival is in debt. And Gilmore clearly feels that his refusal to allow Marian to get any of Laura's money has to do with him wanting to assure himself that he'll have enough money to pay off his debts even if Laura dies and they have no children. So Gilmore doesn't want to give in to Sir Percival's request, but he needs Mr. Fairlie to approve because he is Laura's guardian. Mr. Fairlie's answer reached me by return of post and proved to be wandering and irrelevant in the extreme name turned into plain English, it practically expressed itself to this effect. Would dear Gilmore be so very obliging as not to worry his friend and client about such a trifle as a remote contingency? Was it likely that a young woman of 21 would die before a man of 45 and die without children? On the other hand, in such a miserable world as this, was it possible to overestimate the value of peace and quietness? If those two heavenly blessings were offered in exchange for such an earthly trifle as a remote chance of 20,000 pounds, was it not a fair bargain, surely? Yes. Then why not make it so? Mr. Fairley is basically saying, don't bother me with this. Just agree to the terms because it's easier. And because it's very unlikely that Laurel will die before Sir Percival, since she's much younger than him. And it's even more unlikely that she'll die before him and before she's had any children. I threw the letter away in disgust. Just as it had fluttered to the ground, there was a knock at my door and Sir Percival's solicitor, Mr. Merriman, was shown in. There are many varieties of sharp practitioners in this world, but I think the hardest of all to deal with are the men who overreach you. Under the disguise of inveterate good humor. A fat, well fed, smiling, friendly man of business is of all parties to a bargain, the most hopeless to deal with. Mr. Merriman was one of this class. And how is good Mr. Gilmour? He began, all in a glow with the warmth of his own amiability. Glad to see you, sir, in such excellent health. I was passing your door and I thought I would look in in case you might have something to say to me. Do now pray do let us settle this little difference of ours by word of mouth, if we can. Have you heard from your client yet? Yes. Have you heard from yours? My dear good sir, I wish I had heard from him to any purpose. I wish with all my heart the responsibility was off my shoulders. But he is obstinate, or let me rather say, resolute, and he won't take it off. Merriman, I leave the details to you. Do what you think right for my interests and consider me as having personally withdrawn from the business until it is all over. Those were Sir Percival's words a fortnight ago and all I can get him to do now is to repeat them. I am not a hard man, Mr. Gilmour, as you know personally and privately. I do assure you I should like to sponge out that note of mine at this very moment. But if Sir Percival won't go into the matter, if Sir Percival will blindly leave all his interests in my sole care, what course can I possibly take except the course of asserting them? My hands are bound. Don't you see, my dear sir? My hands are bound. So Sir Percival's lawyer is saying that Sir Percival has left this whole marriage settlement business up to the lawyer. So the lawyer feels he has to do everything to get a good deal for Sir Percival. You maintain your note on the clause, then? To the letter I said yes. Deuce Take it. I have no other alternative. He walked to the fireplace and warmed himself, humming the fag end of a tune in a rich, convivial bass voice. What does your side say? He went on. Now pray tell me, what does your side say? I was ashamed to tell him. I attempted to gain time. Nay, I did worse. My legal instincts got the better of me and I even tried to bargain. £20,000 is rather a large sum to be given up by the lady's friends at two days notice, I said. Very true, replied Mr. Merriman, looking down thoughtfully at his boots. Properly put, sir, most properly put. A compromise regarding the interests of the lady's family as well as the interests of the husband might not perhaps have frightened my client quite so much, I went on. Come, come. This contingency resolves itself into a matter of bargaining. After all, what is the least you will take? The least we will take, said Mr. Merriman, is £19,999, 19 shillings and 11 pence. Three farthings. Excuse me, Mr. Gilmore. I must have my little joke. So he's saying he won't allow even a little bit of the £20,000 to go to someone other than Sir Percival? Little enough, I remarked. The joke is just worth the odd farthing it was made for. Mr. Merriman was delighted. He laughed over my retort till the room rang again. I was not half so good humoured on my side. I came back to the business and closed the interview. This is Friday, I said. Give us till Tuesday next for our final answer. By all means, replied Mr. Merriman. Longer, my dear sir, if you like it. He took up his hat to go and then addressed me again. By the way, he said, your clients in Cumberland have not heard anything more of the woman who wrote the anonymous letter, have they? Nothing more, I answered. Have you found no trace of her? Not yet, said my legal friend. But we don't despair. Sir Percival has his suspicions that somebody is keeping her in hiding, and we are having that somebody watched. You mean the old woman who was with her in Cumberland? I said. Quite another party, sir, answered Mr. Merriman. We don't happen to have laid hands on the old woman yet. Our somebody is a man. We have got him close under our eye here in London, and we strongly suspect he had something to do with helping her in the first instance to escape from the asylum. Sir Percival wanted to question him at once, but I said no. Questioning him will only put him on his guard. Watch him and wait. We shall see what happens. A dangerous woman to be at large, Mr. Gilmore. Nobody knows what she may do next. I wish you good morning, sir. On Tuesday next. I shall hope for the pleasure of hearing from you. He smiled amiably and went out. My mind had been rather absent during the latter part of the conversation with my legal friend. I was so anxious about the matter of the settlement that I had little attention to give to any other subject. And the moment I was left alone again, I began to think over what my next proceeding ought to be. In the case of any other client. I should have acted on my instructions, however personally distasteful to me, and have given up the point about the £20,000 on the spot. But I could not act with this business like indifference towards Miss Fairlie. I had an honest feeling of affection and admiration for her. I remembered gratefully that her father had been the kindest patron and friend to me that ever man had I had felt towards her while I was drawing the settlement. As I might have felt if I had not been an old bachelor towards a daughter of my own. And I was determined to spare no personal sacrifice in her service and where her interests were concerned. Writing a second time to Mr. Fairlie was not to be thought of. It would only be giving him a second opportunity of slipping through my fingers seeing him and personally remonstrating with him might possibly be of more use. The next day was Saturday. I determined to take a return ticket and jolt my old bones down to Cumberland on the chance of persuading him to adopt the just, the independent and the honourable course. It was a poor chance enough, no doubt, but when I had tried it, my conscience would be at ease. I should then have done all that a man in my position could do to serve the interests of my old friend's only child. So because Mr. Gilmore looks on Laura sort of as a daughter, he can't just follow Mr. Fairley's instructions because he knows Mr. Fairley doesn't have Laura's best interests at heart. So he's going to go and see Mr. Fairley to try to persuade him to agree to fight to keep the money where Laura wants it. But if Mr. Fairlie says no, then Gilmore will have to give in. The weather on Saturday was beautiful. A west wind and a bright sun. Having felt latterly a return of that fulness and oppression of the head against which my doctor warned me so seriously more than two years since, I resolved to take the opportunity of getting a little extra exercise by sending my bag on before me and walking to the terminus in Euston Square as I came out into Holborn. A gentleman walking by rapidly stopped and spoke to me. Me. It was Mr. Walter Hartright. If he had not been the first to greet me, I should certainly have passed him. He was so changed that I hardly knew him. His face looked pale and haggard, his manner was hurried and uncertain, and his dress, which I remembered as neat and gentlemanlike when I saw him at Limmeridge, was so slovenly now that I should really have been ashamed of the appearance of it on one of my own clerks. Have you been long back from Cumberland? He asked. I heard from Mrs. Halcombe lately. I am aware that Sir Percival Glyde's explanation has been considered satisfactory. Will the marriage take place soon? Do you Happen to know, Mr. Gilmore? He spoke so fast and crowded his questions together so strangely and confusedly that I could hardly follow him. However accidentally intimate he might have been with the family at Limmeridge, I could not see that he had any right to expect information on their private affairs, and I determined to drop him as easily as might be on the subject of Miss Fairlie's marriage. Time will show, Mr. Hartright, I said. Time will show. I dare say if we look out for the marriage in the papers, we shall not be far wrong. Excuse my noticing it, but I am sorry to see you not looking so well as you were when we last met. A momentary nervous contraction quivered about his lips and eyes and made me half reproach myself for having answered him in such a significantly guarded manner. I had no right to ask about the marriage, he said bitterly. I must wait to see it in the newspapers like other people. Yes, he went on before I could make any apologies, I have not been well lately. I am going to another country to try a change of scene and occupation. Miss Halcombe has kindly assisted me with her influence and my testimonials have been found satisfactory. It is a long distance off, but I don't care where I go, what the climate is, or how long I am away. He looked about him while he said this, at the throng of strangers passing us by on either side in a strange suspicious manner, as if he thought that some of them might be watching us. I wish you well through it and safe back again, I said, and then added, so as not to keep him altogether at arm's length on the subject of the Fairlies, I am going down to Limmeridge to day on business. Miss Halcombe and Miss Fairlie are away just now on a visit to some friends in Yorkshire. His eyes brightened and he seemed about to say something in answer, but the same momentary nervous spasm crossed his face again. He took my hand, pressed it hard, and disappeared among the crowd without saying another word. Though he was little more than a stranger to me. I waited for a moment, looking after him almost with a feeling of regret. I had gained in my profession sufficient experience of young men to know what the outward signs and tokens were of their beginning to go wrong. And when I resumed my walk to the railway, I am sorry to say I felt more than doubtful about Mr. Hartright's future. 4. Leaving by an early train, I got to Limmeridge in time for dinner. The house was oppressively empty and dull. I had expected that good Mrs. Vesey would have been company for me in the absence of the young ladies, but she was confined to her room by a cold. The servants were so surprised at seeing me that they hurried and bustled absurdly and made all sorts of annoying mistakes. Even the butler, who was old enough to have known better, brought me a bottle of port that was chilled. The reports of Mr. Fairlie's health were just as usual, and when I sent up a message to announce my arrival, I was told that he would be delighted to see me the next morning, but that the sudd of my appearance had prostrated him with palpitations for the rest of the evening. The wind howled dismally all night, and strange cracking and groaning noises sounded here and there and everywhere in the empty house. I slept as wretchedly as possible, and got up in a mighty bad humour to breakfast by myself. The next morning at 10 o'clock I was conducted to Mr. Fairlie's apartments. He was in his usual room room, his usual chair, and his usual aggravating state of mind and body. When I went in his valet was standing before him, holding up for inspection a heavy volume of etchings as long and as broad as my office writing desk. The miserable foreigner grinned in the most abject manner and looked ready to drop with fatigue, while his master composedly turned over the etchings and brought their hidden beauties to light with the help of a magnifying glass. Class, you very best of good old friends, said Mr. Fairley, leaning back lazily before he could look at me. Are you quite well? How nice of you to come here and see me in my solitude, dear Gilmour. I had expected that the valet would be dismissed when I appeared, but nothing of the sort happened. There he stood in front of his master's chair, trembling under the weight of the etchings, and there Mr. Fairlie sat serenely, twirling the magnifying glass between his white fingers and thumbs. I have come to speak to you on a very important matter, I said, and you will therefore excuse me if I suggest that we had better be alone. The unfortunate valet looked at me gratefully. Mr. Fairlie faintly repeated my last three. Better be alone. With every appearance of the utmost possible astonishment. I was in no humour of trifling and I resolved to make him understand what I meant. Oblige me by giving that man permission to withdraw, I said, pointing to the valet. Mr. Fairlie arched his eyebrows and pursed up his lips in sarcastic surprise. Man, he repeated, you provoking old Gilmour. What can you possibly mean by calling him a man? He's nothing of the sort. He might have been a man half an hour ago, before I wanted my etchings. And he may be a man half an hour hence when I don't want them any longer. At present he is simply a portfolio stand. Why object Gilmour to a portfolio stand? I do object. For the third time, Mr. Fairlie, I beg that we may be alone. My tone and manner left him no alternative but to comply with my request. He looked at the servant and pointed peevishly to the chair at his side. Put down the etchings and go away, he said. Don't upset me by losing my place. Have you or have you not lost my place? Are you sure you have not? And have you put my hand bell quite within my reach? Yes. Then why the devil don't you go? The valet went out. Mr. Fairlie twisted himself round in his chair, polished the magnifying glass with his delicate cambric handkerchief and indulged himself with a sidelong inspection of the open volume of etchings. It was not easy to keep my temper under these circumstances, but I did keep it. I have come here at great personal inconvenience, I said, to serve the interests of your niece and your family, and I think I have established some slight claim to be favoured with your attention in return. Don't bully me. Exclaimed Mr. Fairlie, falling back helplessly in the chair and closing his eyes. Please don't bully me. I'm not strong enough. I was determined not to let him provoke me for Laura Fairlie's sake. My object, I went on, is to entreat you to reconsider your letter and not to force me to abandon the just rights of your niece and of all who belong to her. Let me state the case to you once more and for the last time. Mr. Fairlie shook his head and Sighed piteously. This is very heartless of you, Gilmore. Very heartless. He said. Never mind. Go on. I put all the points to him carefully. I set the matter before him in every conceivable light. He lay back in the chair the whole time I was speaking with his eyes closed. When I had done, he opened them indolently, took his silver smelling bottle from the table and sniffed at it with an air of gentle relish. Good Gilmore, he said between the sniffs. How very nice this is of you. How you reconcile one to human nature. Give me a plain answer to a plain question, Mr. Fairlie. I tell you again, Sir Percival Glyde has no shadow of a claim to expect more than the income of the money. The money itself, if your niece has no children, ought to be under her control and to return to her family. If you stand firm, Sir Percival must give way. He must give way, I tell you, or he exposes himself to the base imputation of marrying Miss Fairlie entirely from mercenary motives. So Gilmore is saying that if Mr. Fairlie stands firm and demands that Laura be allowed to do what she wants with the money after her death, then Sir Percival will eventually have to stand down because otherwise it would look very bad for him. It would look like he was only marrying Laura for the money. Mr. Fairlie shook the silver smelling bottle at me playfully. You dear old Gilmore. How you do hate rank and family, don't you? How you detest Glyde because he happens to be a baronet. What a radical you are. Oh dear me, what a radical you are. A radical. I could put up with a good deal of provocation. But after holding the soundest conservative principles all my life, I could not put up with being called a radical. My blood boiled at it. I started out of my chair. I was speechless with indignation. Don't shake the room. Cried Mr. Fairley. For heaven's sake, don't shake the room. Worthiest of all possible Gilmores. I meant no offence. My own views are so extremely liberal that I think I am a radical myself. Yes, we are a pair of radicals. Please don't be angry. I can't quarrel. I haven't stamina enough. Shall we drop the subject? Yes. Come and look at these sweet etchings. Do let me teach you to understand the heavenly pearliness of these lines. Do now there's a good Gilmour. While he was maundering on in this way, I was, fortunately for my own self respect, returning to my senses. When I spoke again, I was composed enough to treat his impertinence with the silent contempt that it deserved. You are entirely wrong, sir, I said, in supposing that I speak from any prejudice against Sir Percival Glyde. I may regret that he has so unreservedly resigned himself in this matter to his lawyer's direction as to make any appeal to himself impossible. Possible. But I am not prejudiced against him. What I have said would equally apply to any other man in his situation, high or low. The principle, I maintain, is a recognized principle. If you were to apply at the nearest town here to the first respectable solicitor you could find, he would tell you as a stranger what I tell you as a friend. He would inform you that it is against all rules to abandon the lady's money entirely to the man she marries. He would decline, on grounds of common legal caution to give the husband, under any circumstances whatever an interest of £20,000 in his wife's death. Would he really, Gilmore? Said Mr. Fairlie. If he said anything half so horrid, I do assure you I should tinkle my bell for Lewis and have him sent out of the house immediately. You shall not irritate me, Mr. Fairlie. For your niece's sake and for her father's sake, you shall not irritate me. You shall take the whole responsibility of this discreditable settlement on your own shoulders before I leave the room. Don't. Now, please don't, said Mr. Fairlie. Think how precious your time is, Gilmore, and don't throw it away. I would dispute with you if I could, but I can't. I haven't stamina enough. You want to upset me, to upset yourself, to upset Glyde and to upset Laura and, oh, dear me. All for the sake of the very last thing in the world that is likely to happen? No, dear friend. In the interests of peace and quietness. Positively no. I am to understand then, that you hold by the determination expressed in your letter? Yes, please. So glad we understand each other at last. Sit down again. Do. I walked at once to the door and Mr. Fairlie resignedly tinkled his hand bell before I left the room. I turned round and addressed him for the last time. Whatever happens in the future, sir, I said, remember that my plain duty of warning you has been performed as the faithful friend and servant of your family. I tell you at parting that no daughter of mine should be married to any man alive under such a settlement as you are forcing me to make for Ms. Fairlie. The door opened behind me and the valet stood waiting on the threshold. Lewis, said Mr. Fairlie, show Mr. Gilmore out and then come back and hold up my etchings for me again. Make them give you a good lunch downstairs. Do, Gilmour make my idle beasts of servants give you a good lunch? I was too much disgusted to reply. I turned on my heel and left him in silence. There was an up train at 2 o'clock in the afternoon and by that train I returned to London on the Tuesday I sent in the altered settlement which practically disinherited the very persons whom Miss Fairlie's own lips had informed me she was most, most anxious to benefit. I had no choice. Another lawyer would have drawn up the deed if I had refused to undertake it. So the final marriage settlement goes against Laura's wishes and settles everything she has on Sir Percival in the event of her death. Mr. Fairlie has the right to speak for Laura until Laura comes of age. So this is legal and Laura can't do anything about it. My task is done. My personal share in the events of the family story extends no farther than the point which I have just reached. Other pens than mine will describe the strange circumstances which are now shortly to follow. Seriously and sorrowfully, I close this brief record. Seriously and sorrowfully, I repeat here the parting words that I spoke at Limmeridge House. No daughter of mine should have been married to any man alive under such a settlement as I was compelled to make for Laura Fairley. The end of Mr. Gilmour's narrative. Thank you so much for listening. I'd love to know what you thought of the chapters. Is there anything you'd like me to clarify? Did something particularly interest you? Please go to my website, faithkmoore.com, click on Contact and send me your questions and thoughts. Or you can click on the link in the Show Notes to contact me. I'll feature one or two of your entries at the start of the next episode. Speaking of links, don't forget to take a look at the other links in the Show Notes. You can learn more about me, check out our merch store or pick up one of my books. Before I go, I'd like to ask a quick favor. This is an independent podcast. It's produced, recorded and marketed by me, so I need your help. Spread the word about the show by posting about it on social media or texting a link to your friends. Subscribe, tap those five stars and leave a positive review wherever you're listening. If you are able to support the show financially, there's a link in the Show Notes to make a donation. I would really, really appreciate it. Alright everyone, story time is over. To be continued. It.