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. Hello. Welcome back. Oh my gosh, we have so much to talk about today. Wasn't that a crazy chapter yesterday? I thought so, and there's way more crazy to come. But there's a lot there that we're going to talk about. But before we do, I just have to tell you about something that is happening. If you were with us for Jane Eyre, if you've gone back and you've listened, you may remember that there came a point where I started to notice that the weather, where I was the real weather, was mimicking the weather in Jane Eyre. We started Jane Eyre when we were doing it in real time. We started it just like we started this book in January, and the book begins in wintertime. And as the book goes along, spring blooms and summer comes. And it just coincidentally happened that as we were reading the book, the seasons that were changing in real life were the same as the seasons that were changing in the book. And it was so interesting and amazing, really, because we were living along with the book in that way. Well, at the end of the chapter that we read last time of the Woman in White, you may remember that a wind kicked up, a kind of moaning wind that was sort of strange and eerie and sinister. And it prompted Count Fosco to say that, yes, a change is coming tomorrow. Well, I kid you not. The night that that episode came out, that it all that you guys got, that episode in your podcast flared here where I am, a wind kicked up like this is a wind like I've never seen before. It was loud and it was blowing crazy things all over the place. Things were flying by the window. The trees were like flailing back and forth all night long. The wind was howling and moaning outside. And I just thought, well, maybe a change is coming. So anyway, that's all I really had to say about that. I just wanted to tell you because it was so weird. It was so weird that the wind kicked up in the story and then the wind kicked up in my real life. So don't know what's going on with that, but I do know that I'm very excited to Be back with you. We have a lot to talk about. I actually have three questions today that we're going to talk about because a lot happened and we need to make sure that we are clear on where we stand with everything. So welcome. I'm really glad that you're here. Whether you're here with us in real time or whether you're listening later, whether you've been with us from the very, very beginning or joined us somewhere along the way, or whoever you are, wherever you are, whatever you're doing, I'm so glad to have you here. Thank you for being a part of Storytime for Grown Ups. Don't forget to subscribe so that you get all the episodes just automatically, magically in your podcast player. If you're enjoying the show and you haven't already, please tap those five stars. Please leave a positive review. Please text a link to the show or a certain episode to someone that you think might like it. Spread the word. The more this show can grow, the more time I can spend on it and the more books that we can do in the future. And if you are able and interested, there is a link in the show notes to support the show financially because that's also a really big help. It means that I can spend my time and my energy on this show instead of other things during my work time. So thank you to those of you who have done that. Thank you to those of you who have become members and are over on our online community, the drawing room, chatting with each other in all kinds of amazing ways. There's a link in the show notes if you'd like to become a part of that as well. All right, last time we read Halcomb's narrative, Chapter six, and today we're going to be reading Halcomb's narrative, Chapter seven. So as I say, lots of questions, lots to go over. So let's recap what we read last time and then we'll get into our questions and then we'll keep reading because we've got to find out what is happening next. So here is the recap. Okay, so where we left off, Marian and Laura don't end up discussing who might have been following them in the plantation, because in the morning Laura realizes that the brooch that Marian gave her as a wedding gift is missing and she goes off to look for it. Marian is waiting for the message from the lawyer and she goes out to the road to try to meet the messenger before anyone from the house sees her. The messenger arrives and gives her a letter from the lawyer, which Basically says that Laura shouldn't sign anything because Sir Percival is most likely trying to use money from Laura's fortune, which would diminish the fortune and the prospects of their future children. So he advises that if she's asked to sign again, she should request the document be sent to London for the lawyer's approval first. But just as Marian is about to go back to the house, Count Fosco appears. And Marian becomes convinced that Count Fosco followed her there and that he was the one who opened her letter before it was sent to London. So then they arrive back at the house, and they find that Sir Percival's back, and he still wants Laura to sign this document. But Laura is still out looking for the brooch, and Count Fosco takes Percival aside to speak with him. Later, Count Fosco tells Marian that Sir Percival has actually decided that the document doesn't need to be signed after all. And so Marian goes into the house and she lies down and she falls into a doze. And she has this very strange dream where she sees Walter Hartright facing many dangers, and he keeps telling her that he's going to survive because it's his destiny to come back to them. So she's woken up by Laura, who's very agitated, and tells her that she met Anne Catherick in the boathouse. And Anne has found her brooch and told her that she's not afraid of Sir Percival anymore because she is dying. And she wishes that she could have stopped Laura from marrying him. But now she wants to help her by telling her a secret about Sir Percival that she knows and that if she tells Laura, Laura can use it against him if she needs to. But at the last minute, Anne thinks that she hears someone coming and tells Laura to come back the next day so that she can tell her the secret. Marian feels that there must be some sort of secret, because Sir Percival acts so strangely about Anne Catherick. So then, in the evening, Sir Percival is much more polite to Laura, which Marian takes as a bad sign. And the Count is strangely sentimental and overcome with emotion. And as they're all going up to bed, the weather seems to change. And Count Fosco says that that means a change is coming. Okay, so as I say, I have three questions or comments today. The first one comes from Jennifer Schuttel. Jennifer writes, wow, what a cliffhanger. I honestly thought the podcast had cut off early because the closing line from Count Fosco was so abrupt. Percival and Count Fosco are definitely up to something. Fosco has been spying and has cooked up a plan of some kind. If I understand the Anne Catherick situation correctly, based on what she told Laura, she knows a secret about Ser Percival which got her committed to the asylum so he could keep her quiet. But she wants to tell the secret to Laura to give her power in her marriage. I'm worried Laura will not be saved, but rather put in more danger by knowing what Anne knows. The next one comes from Meg Longley. Meg writes, quick question about Sir Percival and money. Wouldn't he have access to Laura's money now that they are married? Did married women have control of their money at that time? And the last comes from John. John writes, what was up with Marian's dream? That seemed like a pretty strange digression. Is it a prophecy of some kind? Is Walter really communicating to Marian through her dreams? That seems odd, but what are we to make of it? Okay, so, yes, a lot has happened since last time, and we got a lot of information to mull over, but of course, no real answers and a lot more questions. So let's just take stock and make sure that we know where we stand at this point and try to kind of make sense of the situation that Laura and Marian are in before we move into the next chapter. Because as Jennifer points out in her letter, Count Fosco told Marian that there will be a change tomorrow. Right. So something is coming. What it is, we don't know, but let's go into it with as much information as we can. So the first thing I want to just quickly explain is the situation with Laura's money. This is an answer to Meg's question, but also in response to the letter that Marian got back from the lawyer, Mr. Curl. And it's important because whatever this money situation is seems to be part of what's making Sir Percival so upset. Right. The other thing is the Anne Catherick situation, which I'll get to in a second. But the thing that Percival seems to want from Laura and the thing which Marian seems to feel could be really dangerous for them somehow, is this thing about the money that he wants from Laura. So let's make sure that we understand this completely because now we have some more information about it. So according to the lawyer, Sir Percival most likely wants to borrow money from the principal of Laura's fortune. So Laura has a fortune of £20,000, and that fortune is what she can pass on to her heirs when she dies. The idea with a fortune like that was that you wouldn't actually touch the principal. The main Amount, in this case the £20,000, you would just live off of the interest that it accrued. And in fact, if you touched the £20,000, if you spent some of it, you would end up with a smaller interest, right, because the interest is a percentage of the whole. So with a fortune like Laura's, what you were supposed to do was to keep the fortune untouched and use the interest as your like spending money, essentially. So the interest of Laura's money is Sir Percival's to use as he wants because he's her husband, and so what's hers is his, but the fortune itself is Laura's to pass on as she sees fit. Although, of course, we know that the marriage settlement makes it so that it will pass to first her children, if she has any, or to Sir Percival, if she dies. And it's important to keep that £20,000 intact, because if Laura does have children, that would be the amount that they would inherit, right? If Laura and Percival use some of that money, then the fortune that the children would inherit and the interest that it would then earn would. Would be less. So taking money from the £20,000 is essentially lowering her future children in social status. Because part of your social status was the amount of your fortune, right? Here's how the lawyer, Mr. Curl, put it in his letter. He said, if the amount so lent should not be paid back, and if Lady Glyde should have children, their fortune will then be diminished by the sum, large or small. So advanced in plainer terms still, the transaction, for anything that Lady Glyde knows to the contrary, may be a fraud upon her unborn children. So if someone takes money from the £20,000, it's basically stealing from future generations of Laura's heirs. So what it seems like Sir Percival wants, or wanted, right, since the whole thing seems to have been put off for some reason. What he wanted was for Laura to authorize a loan essentially that Percival would borrow some of the £20,000 to pay off his debts and then probably later pay it back. But of course, if he never did pay it back, then the fortune is significantly diminished for the future generations forever. So that's what we're worried that he wants to do. And I know it seems sort of like, what's the big deal about that? To us in a modern context, but in the context of the book, it's an incredibly serious thing to do since everyone's social standing was influenced by things like this, and social standing was incredibly important, especially in a world where people of this social class didn't work and therefore they couldn't just earn money again if they lost some. Right? So, okay, there's that. Right. But now it seems like Sir Percival has backed down, most likely due to Fosco's influence somehow. So we know that Percival's other option, according to his lawyer, Mr. Merriman, is is that Percival can take out a loan from, like, a moneylender of some kind, which he would then have to pay back with interest within three months. And if he didn't pay it back in that time, he would then be subject to some kind of legal action or even imprisonment. Percival obviously doesn't want to do that since it seems like his debts are extensive. Right. And he doesn't really have the means to pay back these loans. So he could do it and buy himself three months. But then after the three months, he's kind of in really bad shape. If he borrows money from Laura's fortune, on the other hand, he essentially doesn't have to pay it back. Right. The only consequence is the fact that the fortune will be diminished, which is bad for Laura and her heirs, but not really that bad for Sir Percival right this second. So essentially, we don't want Laura to sign that document because it would diminish her and her future children socially. And it just sort of looks kind of sordid and bad generally. It puts a sort of taint on them that we really don't want to see fall over the pure and virtuous Laura. You know, going back to my analogy of thugs and mob bosses, all this kind of paints Laura as the wife of, like, a petty thug. And we don't want that for her. Okay, so don't sign the document, Laura. Right. But also, we now know more about the other thing that's bothering Sir Percival, which is the fact that Anne Catherick still hasn't been returned to the asylum. And as Jennifer lays out in her letter, the reason that Sir Percival wants Anne locked away is not, as he told everyone before, that he wants to help Mrs. Catherick and he's doing her a kindness by helping her poor insane daughter or whatever. No, in fact, it's that Anne seems to know a secret of Sir Percival's that is so bad that he had her locked away in a madhouse rather than allow her to ever tell anyone about it, ever. So the fact that Sir Percival is in debt and needs money and wants to steal it from his future children is icky, and it makes him kind of a thug. But this Anne thing speaks to something a bit more sinister, right? The secret isn't that he's in debt. We already know he's in debt. That's not a secret. Everyone knows it. So it's something else, something we haven't even come close to figuring out yet. And Anne knows it for some reason. How does she find it out? What does it have to do with her? How is her mother involved? What is the real connection between Sir Percival and the Cathericks? We still don't know any of that. Right. But as Jennifer says, Anne has come to Blackwater park specifically to tell Laura the secret so that Laura can use it against Sir Percival. Which actually seems like a really good idea, right? I mean, Laura is in trouble, right? Sir Percival wants her money. He wants to harm Walter if Walter ever shows up again. He potentially wants to tell everyone that Laura slept with Walter before their marriage. If Laura ever gets out of line or disobeys him in some way. So if Laura knew something about Sir Percival that was so bad that having it come out would ruin him in some way, then she might have some ammunition against him finally. And that could be good. But as Jennifer points out, it also could be really bad, right? I mean, Percival locked Anne up in an insane asylum for knowing whatever this was. So what could he do to Laura if he felt like she knew it, too? Okay, so now Laura is in danger in another way as well, because now she's getting involved in the Anne Catherick situation and therefore entering into both of the things that seem to be setting Sir Percival off right now. And Marian is really clear on this. She sees that they're moving kind of closer and closer to the heart of the danger, and she's really worried about it, right? Here's what she says. But a growing conviction that the complications which had long threatened to gather about her and to gather about me had suddenly closed fast round us both, was now beginning to penetrate my mind. But she also feels like more knowledge is better than less. And if Anne has something to tell Laura, Marian feels like she ought to hear it. And in fact, Marian kind of rallies to this new development, and she's almost like, clinging to it as their potential savior. And we again see her kind of masculine tendencies, right? As she sort of gathers all her faculties and, like, gets her game face on or whatever. Here's what she. Anne Catherick has escaped Walter Hartright and has escaped you. Whatever happens, she shall not escape me. Okay? So Marian is fierce and determined to get whatever ammunition against Sir Percival that she can. And I don't know about you, but I love her for that. And then of course, in the background is Fosco. Fosco kind of sneaking around, doing something or other and being really pretty incomprehensible. Is he Laura's friend, helping her not to have to sign the document? Or is he Laura's foe? Right. Reading Marian's mail and following her to her meeting with the lawyer's messenger and everything. And what does he mean that there will be a change tomorrow? What change? Right. How does he know this? So there's certainly something sinister and mysterious about Count Fosco, but it's also still possible, I think, that he's actually helping them somehow. So he's kind of scary in his ambiguity at this point, I think. But the last thing that I just want to briefly touch on is John's point about Marian's dream about Walter. Because to my mind, this feels less like a dream and more like a vision. It feels at least like Walter is somehow speaking to Marian, doesn't it? Like telling her that he will come back to them. That yes, he's far away in a dangerous place and everyone around him is dying, but he won't die. Or like he can't die because he's fated essentially to come back to them. Here's what he says in the dream. The night when I met the lost woman on the highway was the night which set my life apart. To be the instrument of a design that is yet unseen here, lost in the wilderness or there welcomed back in the land of my birth. I am still walking on the dark road which leads me and you and the sister of your love and mine, to the unknown retribution and the inevitable end. So there's something almost prophetic or even supernatural about all of this. This sense that Walter is somehow their savior, their guardian angel. And that his meeting with the woman in white on the road to London kind of transformed him from like a normal guy into the hero, capital T, capital H, right? That it gave him a kind of single minded focus on Laura's safety and an almost supernatural ability to kind of stay alive in order to protect her. And maybe that's just a dream or like a kind of wish fulfillment on Marian's part. But maybe it's true in some way that we haven't figured out yet. So what is going to happen? What is the change that Fosco seems to mysteriously know is coming? What's Anne Catherick's secret? Will she tell Laura the next day at the boathouse? And what will happen when she does? Okay, let's find out. And do not forget to write to me. Okay? FaithK Moore.com Click on Contact. Send me all your questions and thoughts you are never ever bothered me. I absolutely love to know. I want to know. I need to know what you are thinking as we go along. So please write to me. All right, let's get started with Halcomb's narrative, Chapter seven of the Woman in White by Wilkie COLLINS it's story time 7 June 19th the events of yesterday warned me to be ready sooner or later to meet the worst. Today is not yet at an end, and the worst has come. Judging by the closest calculation of time that Laura and I could make, we arrived at the conclusion that Anne Catherick must have appeared at the boathouse at half past 2 o'clock on the afternoon of yesterday. I accordingly arranged that Laura should just show herself at the luncheon table today and should then slip out at the first opportunity, leaving me behind to preserve appearances and to follow her as soon as I could safely do so. This mode of proceeding, if no obstacles occurred to thwart us, would enable her to be at the boathouse before half past two and when I left the table in my turn, would take me to a safe position in the plantation before three. The change in the weather which last night's wind warned us to expect, came with the morning. It was raining heavily when I got up, and it continued to rain until 12 o'clock, when the clouds dispersed, the blue sky appeared, and the sun shone again with the bright promise of a fine afternoon. My anxiety to know how Sir Percival and the Count would occupy the early part of the day was by no means set at rest, so far as Sir Percival was concerned by his leaving us immediately after breakfast and going out by himself in spite of the rain. He neither told us where he was going nor when we might expect him back. We saw him pass the breakfast room window hastily, with his high boots and his waterproof coat on, and that was all. The count passed the morning quietly indoors, some part of it in the library, some part in the drawing room, playing odds and ends of music on the piano and humming to himself. Judging by appearances, the sentimental side of his character was persistently inclined to betray itself. Still, he was silent and sensitive and ready to sigh and languish ponderously, as only fat men can sigh and languish on the smallest provocation. Luncheon time came, and Sir Percival did not return. The Count took his friend's place at the table, plaintively devoured the greater part of a fruit tart submerged under a whole jugful of cream, and explained the full merit of the achievement to us as soon as he had done. A taste for sweets, he said, in his softest tones and his tenderest manner, is the innocent taste of women and children. I love to share it with them. It is another bond, dear ladies, between you and me. Laura left the table in 10 minutes time. I was sorely tempted to accompany her, but if we had both gone out together, we must have excited suspicion. And worse still, if we allowed Anne Catherick to see Laura accompanied by a second person who was a stranger to her, we should in all probability forfeit her confidence from that moment, never to regain it again. I waited, therefore, as patiently as I could until the servant came in to clear the table. When I quitted the room, there were no signs in the house or out of it of Sir Percival's return. I left the count with a piece of sugar between his lips and the vicious cockatoo scrambling up his waistcoat to get at it, while Madame Fosco, sitting opposite to her husband, watched the proceedings of his bird and himself as attentively as if she had never seen anything of the sort before in her life. On my way to the plantation, I kept carefully beyond the range of view from the luncheon room window. Nobody saw me and nobody followed me. It was then a quarter to 3:00 by my watch. Once among the trees, I walked rapidly until I had advanced more than half way through the plantation. At that point I slackened my pace and proceeded cautiously. But I saw no one and heard no voices. By little and little I came within view of the back of the boat house, stopped and listened, then went on till I was close behind it and must have heard any persons who were talking inside. Still the silence was unbroken. Still far and near, no sign of a living creature appeared anywhere. After skirting round by the back of the building, first on one side and then on the other, and making no discoveries, I ventured in front of it and fairly looked in. The place was empty. I called Laura at first softly, then louder and louder. No one answered and no one appeared. For all that I could see and hear, the only human creature in the neighborhood of the lake and the plantation was myself. My heart began to beat violently, but I kept my resolution and searched first the boathouse and then the ground in front of it for any signs which might show me whether Laura had really reached the place or not. No mark of her presence appeared inside the building, but I found traces of her outside it. In footsteps on the sand, I detected the footsteps of two Persons large footsteps like a man's, and small footsteps, which by putting my own feet into them and testing their size in that manner I felt certain were Laura's. The ground was confusedly marked in this way. Just before the boathouse, close against one side of it, under the shelter of the projecting roof, I discovered a little hole in the sand. A hole artificially made beyond a doubt. I just noticed it and then turned away immediately to trace the footsteps as far as I could and to follow the direction in which they might lead me. They led me starting from the left hand side of the boathouse along the edge of the trees, a distance I should think of between 2 and 300 yards. And then the sandy ground showed no further trace of them. Feeling that the persons whose course I was tracking must necessarily have entered the plantation at this point, I entered it too. At first I could find no path, but I discovered one afterwards, just faintly traced among the trees and followed it. It took me for some distance in the direction of the village until I stopped at a point where another foot track crossed it. The brambles grew thickly on either side of this second path. I stood looking down it, uncertain which way to take next. And while I looked, I saw on one thorny branch some fragments of fringe from a woman's shawl. A closer examination of the fringe satisfied me that it had been torn from a shawl of Laura's. And I instantly followed the second path. It brought me out at last, to my great relief at the back of the house. I say to my great relief because I inferred that Laura must for some unknown reason have returned before me by this roundabout way. I went in by the courtyard and the offices. The first person whom I met in crossing the servants hall was Mrs. Mickelson, the housekeeper. Do you know, I asked, whether Lady Glyde has come in from her walk or not? My lady came in a little while ago with Sir Percival, answered the housekeeper. I am afraid, Ms. Halcombe, something very distressing has happened. My heart sank within me. You don't mean an accident? I said faintly. No, no, thank God, no accident. But my lady ran upstairs to her own room in tears and Sir Percival has ordered me to give Fanny warning to leave in an hour's time. Fanny was Laura's maid, a good, affectionate girl who had been with her for years, the only person in the house whose fidelity and devotion we could both depend upon. So Sir Percival has apparently just fired Laura's maid, who's the only person in the house other than Marian, who's loyal to Laura 100%. Where is Fanny? I inquired. In my room, Miss Halcombe. The young woman is quite overcome, and I told her to sit down and try to recover herself. I went to Mrs. Mickleson's room and found Fanny in a corner with her box by her side, crying bitterly. She could give me no explanation whatever of her sudden dismissal. Sir Percival had ordered that she should have a month's wages in place of a month's warning and go. No reason had been assigned. No objection had been made to her conduct. She had been forbidden to appeal to her mistress, forbidden even to see her for a moment to say good bye. She was to go without explanations or farewells, and to go at once. After soothing the poor girl by a few friendly words, I asked where she proposed to sleep that night. She replied that she thought of going to the little inn in the village, the landlady of which was a respectable woman known to the servants at Blackwater Park. The next morning, by leaving early, she might get back to her friends in Cumberland without stopping in London, where she was a total stranger. I felt directly that Fanny's departure offered us a safe means of communication with London and with Limmeridge House, of which it might be very important to avail ourselves. Accordingly, I told her that she might expect to hear from her mistress or from me in the course of the evening, and that she might depend on our both doing all that lay in our power to help her under the trial of leaving us for the present. Those words said. I shook hands with her and went upstairs. The door which led to Laura's room was the door of an antechamber opening onto the passage. When I tried it, it was bolted on the inside. I knocked, and the door was opened by the same heavy, overgrown housemaid whose lumpish insensibility had tried my patience so severely on the day when I found the wounded dog. I had, since that time discovered that her name was Margaret Porcher and that she was the most awkward, slatternly and obstinate servant in the house. Slatternly means dirty and untidy. On opening the door, she instantly stepped out to the threshold and stood grinning at me in stolid silence. Why do you stand there? I said. Don't you see? I want to come in? Ah, but you mustn't come in, was the answer, with another and a broader grin still. How dare you talk to me in that way. Stand back. Instantly she stretched out a great red hand and arm on each side of her so as to bar the doorway and slowly nodded her addled head at me. Master's orders, she said, and nodded again. I had need of all my self control to warn me against contesting the matter with her, and to remind me that the next words I had to say must be addressed to her master. I turned my back on her and instantly went downstairs to find him. My resolution to keep my temper under all the irritations that Sir Percival could offer was by this time as completely forgotten. I say so to my shame, as if I had never made it. It did me good. After all I had suffered and suppressed in that house. It actually did me good to feel how angry I was. The drawing room and the breakfast room were both empty. I went on to the library, and there I found Sir Percival, the Count, and Madame Fosco. They were all three standing up close together, and Sir Percival had a little slip of paper in his hand. As I opened the door, I heard the Count say to him, no. A thousand times over, no. I walked straight up to him and looked him full in the face. Am I to understand, Sir Percival, that your wife's room is a prison and that your housemaid is the jailer who keeps it? I asked. Yes, that is what you are to understand, he answered. Take care my jailer hasn't got double duty to do. Take care your room is not a prison too. Take you care how you treat your wife and how you threaten me. I broke out in the heat of my anger. There are laws in England to protect women from cruelty and outrage. If you hurt a hair of Laura's head, if you dare to interfere with my freedom, come what may to those laws, I will appeal. Instead of answering me, he turned round to the count. What did I tell you? He asked. What do you say now? What I said before, replied the count. No. Even in the vehemence of my anger I felt his calm, cold gray eyes on my face. They turned away from me as soon as he had spoken and looked significantly at his wife. Madame Fosco immediately moved close to my side and in that position addressed Sir Percival before either of us could speak again. Favour me with your attention for one moment, she said in her clear, icily suppressed tones. I have to thank you, Sir Percival, for your hospitality and to decline taking advantage of it any longer. I remain in no house in which ladies are treated as Your wife and Ms. Halcombe have been treated here to day. Sir Percival drew back a step and stared at her in dead silence. The declaration he had just hearda declaration which he well knew, as I well knew Madame Fosco would not have ventured to make without her husband's permission, seemed to petrify him with surprise. The count stood by and looked at his wife with the most enthusiastic admiration. She is sublime, he said to himself. He approached her while he spoke and drew her hand through his arm. I am at your service, Eleanor, he went on with a quiet dignity that I had never noticed in him before, and at Miss Halcombe's service, if she will honor me by accepting all the assistance I can offer her. Damn it, what do you mean? Cried Sir Percival as the count quietly moved away with his wife to the door. At other times I mean what I say, but at this time I mean what my wife says, replied the impenetrable Italian. We have changed places, Percival, for once, and Madame Fosco's opinion is mine. Sir Percival crumpled up the paper in his hand and, pushing past the count with another oath, stood between him and the door. Have your own way, he said with baffled rage in his low, half whispering tones. Have your own way and see what comes of it. With those words he left the room. Madame Fosco glanced inquiringly at her husband. He has gone away very suddenly, she said. What does it mean? It means that you and I together have brought the worst tempered man in all England to his senses, answered the count. It means, Ms. Halcombe, that lady Glyde is relieved from a gross indignity, and you from the repetition of an unpardonable insult, suffer me to express my admiration of your conduct and your courage at a very trying moment. Sincere admiration, suggested Madame Fosco. Sincere admiration, echoed the count. I had no longer the strength of my first angry resistance to outrage and injury to support me. My heartsick anxiety to see Laura, my sense of my own helpless ignorance of what had happened at the boathouse pressed on me with an intolerable weight. I tried to keep up appearances by speaking to the count and his wife in the tone which they had chosen to adopt in speaking to me, but the words failed on my lips. My breath came short and thick. My eyes looked longingly in silence at the door. The count, understanding my anxiety, opened it, went out, and pulled it to after him. At the same time Sir Percival's heavy step descended the stairs. I heard them whispering together outside while Madame Fosco was assuring me in her calmest and most conventional manner that she rejoiced for all our sakes that Sir Percival's conduct had not obliged her husband and herself to leave Blackwater Park. Before she had done speaking, the whispering ceased. The door opened and the count looked in. Miss Halcombe, he said, I am happy to inform you that Lady Glyde is mistress again in her own house. I thought it might be more agreeable to you to hear this change for the better from me than from Sir Percival, and I have therefore expressly returned to mention it. Admirable delicacy, said Madame Fosco, paying back her husband's tribute of admiration with the count's own coin, in the count's own manner. Meaning this is how the count compliments his wife, and now his wife is complimenting him that way. He smiled and bowed as if he had received a formal compliment from a polite stranger, and drew back to let me pass out first. Sir Percival was standing in the hall. As I hurried to the stairs, I heard him call impatiently to the count to come out of the library. What are you waiting there for? He said. I want to speak to you, and I want to think a little by myself, replied the other. Wait till later, Percival. Wait till later. Neither he nor his friend said any more. I gained the top of the stairs and ran along the passage. In my haste and my agitation, I left the door of the antechamber open, but I closed the door of the bedroom the moment I was inside it. Laura was sitting alone at the far end of the room, her arms resting wearily on a table and her face hidden in her hands. She started up with a cry of delight when she saw me. How did you get here? She asked. Who gave you leave? Not Sir Percival. In my overpowering anxiety to hear what she had to tell me, I could not answer her. I could only put questions on my side. Laura's eagerness to know what had passed downstairs proved, however, too strong to be resisted. She persistently repeated her inquiries. The count, of course, I replied impatiently, whose influence in the house. She stopped me with a gesture of disgust. Don't speak of him. She cried. The count is the vilest creature breathing. The Count is a miserable spy. Before we could either of us say another word, we were alarmed by a soft knocking at the door of the bedroom. I had not yet sat down, and I went first to see who it was. When I opened the door, Madame Fosco confronted me with my handkerchief in her hand. You dropped this downstairs, Ms. Halcombe, she said, and I thought I could bring it to you. As I was passing by to my own room, her face, naturally pale, had turned to such a ghastly whiteness that I started at the sight of it. Her hands, so sure and steady at all other times, trembled violently and her eyes looked wolfishly past me through the open door and fixed on Laura. She had been listening before she knocked. I saw it in her white face. I saw it in her trembling hands. I saw it in her look at Laura. After waiting an instant, she turned from me in silence and slowly walked away. I closed the door again. Oh, Laura, Laura. We shall both rue the day when you called the Count a spy. You would have called him so yourself, Marian, if you had known what I know. Anne Catherick was right. There was a third person watching us in the plantation yesterday. And that third person. Are you sure it was the Count? I am absolutely certain. He was Sir Percival's spy. He was Sir Percival's informer. He set Sir Percival watching and waiting all the morning through for Anne Catherick and for me. Is Ann found? Did you see her at the lake? No. She has saved herself by keeping away from the place. When I got to the boathouse, no one was there. Yes. Yes. I went in and sat waiting for a few minutes. But my restlessness made me get up again to walk about a little. As I passed out, I saw some marks on the sand close under the front of the boathouse. I stooped down to examine them and discovered a word written in large letters on the sand. The word was Look. And you scraped away the sand and dug a hollow place in it. How do you know that, Marian? I saw the hollow place myself when I found you at the boathouse. Go on, go on. Yes, I scraped away the sand on the surface and in a little while I came to a strip of paper hidden beneath which had writing on it. The writing was signed with Anne Catherick's initials. Where is it? Sir Percival has taken it from me. Can you remember what the writing was? Do you think you can repeat it to me in substance? I can, Marian. It was very short. You would have remembered it word for word. Try to tell me what the substance was before we go any further. She complied. I write the lines down here exactly as she repeated them to me. They ran. I was seen with you yesterday by a tall, stout old man and had to run to save myself. He was not quick enough on his feet to follow me and he lost me among the trees. I dare not risk coming back here today. At the same time I write this and hide it in the sand at six in the morning to tell you so. When we speak next of your wicked husband's secret, we must speak safely or not at all. Try to have patience. I promise you shall see me again and that soon. AC the reference to the tall, stout old man, the terms of which Laura was certain that she had repeated to me correctly, left no doubt as to who the intruder had been. I called to mind that I had told Sir Percival in the Count's presence the day before that Laura had gone to the boat house to look for her brooch. In all probability he had followed her there in his officious way to relieve her mind about the matter of the signature immediately after he had mentioned the change in Sir Percival's plans to me in the drawing room. In this case, he could only have got to the neighbourhood of the boathouse at the very moment when Anne Catherick discovered him. The suspiciously hurried manner in which she parted from Laura had no doubt prompted his useless attempt to follow her. Of the conversation which had previously taken place between them, he could have heard nothing. The distance between the house and the lake and the time at which he left me in the drawing room as compared with the time at which Laura and Anne Catherick had been speaking together, proved that fact to us, at any rate beyond a doubt. Having arrived at something like a conclusion so far, my next interest was to know what discoveries Sir Percival had made after Count Fosco had given him his information. How came you to lose possession of the letter? I asked. What did you do with it when you found it in the sand? After reading it once through, she replied, I took it into the boat house with me to sit down and look over it a second time. While I was reading, a shadow fell across the paper. I looked up and saw Sir Percival standing in the doorway, watching me. Did you try to hide the letter? I tried, but he stopped me. You needn't trouble to hide that, he said. I happen to have read it. I could only look at him helplessly. I could say nothing. You understand? He went on, I have read it, dug it up out of the sand two hours since and buried it again and wrote the word above it again and left it ready to your hands. You can't lie yourself out of the scrape now. You saw Anne Catherick in secret yesterday and you have got her letter in your hand at this moment. I have not caught her yet, but I have caught you. Give me the letter. He stepped close up to me. I was alone with him. Marian, what could I do? I gave him the letter. What did he say when you gave it to him? At first he said nothing. He took me by the arm and led me out of the boat house and looked about him on all sides as if he was afraid of Our being seen or heard. Then he clasped his hand fast round my arm and whispered to me. What did Anne Catherick say to you yesterday? I insist on hearing every word from first to last. Did you tell him I was alone with him, Marion? His cruel hand was bruising my arm. What could I do? Is the mark on your arm still? Let me see it. Why do you want to see it? I want to see it, Laura, because our endurance must end and our resistance must begin today. That mark is a weapon to strike him with. Let me see it now. I may have to swear to it at some future time. So she's saying that they now must begin to fight back. And if Sir Percival is harming Laura physically, they might have some legal recourse. Oh, Marian, don't look so. Don't talk so. It doesn't hurt me. Now let me see it. She showed me the marks. I was past grieving over them, past crying over them, past shuddering over them. They say we are either better than men or worse. If the temptation that has fallen in some women's way and made them worse had fallen in mine. At that moment, thank God, my face betrayed nothing that his wife could read. The gentle, innocent, affectionate creature thought I was frightened for her and sorry for her and thought no more. So she's saying she's so angry that she could kill Sir Percival, but she's not letting on to Laura that she feels that way. Don't think too seriously of it, Marian, she said simply as she pulled her sleeve down again. It doesn't hurt me now. I will try to think quietly of it, my love, for your sake. Well, well. And you told him all that Anne Catherick had said to you? All that you told me? Yes, all. He insisted on it. I was alone with him. I could conceal nothing. Did he say anything when you had done? He looked at me and laughed himself in a mocking, bitter way. I mean to have the rest out of you, he said. Do you hear the rest? I declared to him solemnly that I had told him everything I knew. Not you, he answered. You know more than you choose to tell. Won't you tell it? You shall. I'll wring it out of you at home if I can't wring it out of you here. He led me away by a strange path through the plantation. A path where there was no hope of our meeting. You and he spoke no more till we came within sight of the house. Then he stopped again and said, will you take a second chance if I give it to you? Will you think Better of it and tell me the rest. I could only repeat the same words I had spoken before. He cursed my obstinacy and went on and took me with him to the house. You can't deceive me, he said. You know more than you choose to tell. I'll have your secret out of you and I'll have it out of that sister of yours as well. There shall be no more plotting and whispering between you. Neither you nor she shall see each other again till you have confessed the truth. I'll have you watched morning, noon and night till you confess the truth. He was deaf to everything I could say. He took me straight upstairs into my own room. Fanny was sitting there doing some work for me and he instantly ordered her out. I'll take good care you're not mixed up in the conspiracy, he said. You shall leave this house today. If your mistress wants a maid, she shall have one of my choosing. He pushed me into the room and locked the door on me. He set that senseless woman to watch me outside. Marian. He looked and spoke like a madman. You may hardly understand it. He did indeed. I do understand it, Laura. He is mad. Mad with the terrors of a guilty conscience. Every word you have said makes me positively certain that when Anne Catherick left you yesterday you were on the eve of discovering a secret which might have been your vile husband's ruin. And he thinks you have discovered it. Nothing you can say or do will quiet that guilty distrust and convince his false nature of your truth. I don't say this, my love, to alarm you. I say it to open your eyes to your position and to convince you of the urgent necessity of letting me act as best I can for your protection while the chance is our own. Count Fosco's interference has secured me access to you today. But he may withdraw that interference to Morrow. Sir Percival has already dismissed Fanny because she is a quick witted girl and devotedly attached to you and has chosen a woman to take her place who cares nothing for your interests and whose dull intelligence lowers her to the level of the watchdog in the yard. It is impossible to say what violent measures he may take next unless we make the most of our opportunities while we have them. What can we do, Marian? Oh, if we could only leave this house never to see it again. Listen to me, my love, and try to think that you are not quite helpless so long as I am here with you. I will think so. I do think so. Don't altogether forget poor Fanny in thinking of me. She wants help and comfort, too. I will not forget her. I saw her before I came up here, and I have arranged to communicate with her tonight. Letters are not safe in the post bag at Blackwater park, and I shall have two to write to day in your interests, which must pass through no hands but Fanny's. What letters? I mean to write First, Laura, to Mr. Gilmore's partner, who has offered to help us in any fresh emergency. Little as I know of the law, I am certain that it can protect a woman from such treatment as that ruffian has inflicted on you today. I will go into no details about Anne Catherick because I have no certain information to give. But the lawyer shall know of those bruises on your arm and of the violence offered to you in this room. He shall, before I rest to night. But think of the exposure, Marian. I am calculating on the exposure. Sir Percival has more to dread from it than you have. The prospect of an exposure may bring him to terms when nothing else will. So she's saying that the more people who know that Sir Percival harmed Laura, the better, because it might cause him to stop and to think twice before he tries to lock her up again. I rose as I spoke, but Laura entreated me not to leave her. You will drive him to desperation, she said, and increase our dangers tenfold. I felt the truth, the disheartening truth of those words, but I could not bring myself plainly to acknowledge it to her. In our dreadful position, there was no help and no hope for us. But in risking the worst, I said so in guarded terms. She sighed bitterly, but did not contest the matter. She only asked about the second letter that I had proposed writing. To whom was it to be addressed? To Mr. Fairlie, I said. Your uncle is your nearest male relative and the head of the family. He must and shall interfere. Laura shook her head sorrowfully. Yes, yes, I went on. Your uncle is a weak, selfish, worldly man, I know. But he is not Sir Percival Glyde, and he has no such friend about him as Count Fosco. I expect nothing from his kindness or his tenderness of feeling towards you or towards me. But he will do anything to pamper his own indolence and to secure his own quiet. Let me only persuade him that his interference at this moment will save him inevitable trouble and wretchedness and responsibility hereafter. And he will bestir himself for his own sake. I know how to deal with him, Laura. I have had some practice. If you could only prevail on him to let me go back to Limmeridge for a little while and stay there quietly with you, Marian, I could be almost as happy again as I was before I was married. Those words set me thinking in a new direction. Would it be possible to place Sir Percival between the two alternatives of either exposing himself to the same scandal of legal interference on his wife's behalf, or of allowing her to be quietly separated from him for a time under pretext of a visit to her uncle's house? And could he, in that case, be reckoned on as likely to accept the last resource? It was doubtful, more than doubtful, and yet hopeless as the experiment seemed, surely it was worth trying. I resolved to try it in sheer despair of knowing what better to do. Your uncle shall know the wish you have just expressed, I said, and I will ask the lawyer's advice on the subject as well. Good may come of it, and will come of it, I hope. Saying that, I rose again and again. Laura tried to make me resume my seat. Don't leave me, she said uneasily. My desk is on that table. You can write here. It tried me to the quick to refuse her, even in her own interests, but we had been too long shut up, alone together. Already our chance of seeing each other again might entirely depend on our not exciting any fresh suspicions. It was full time to show myself, quietly and unconcernedly, among the wretches who were at that very moment perhaps thinking of us and talking of us downstairs. I explained the miserable necessity to Laura and prevailed on her to recognize it as I did. I will come back again, love, in an hour or less, I said. The worst is over for today. Keep yourself quiet and fear nothing. Is the key in the door, Marian? Can I lock it on the inside? Yes. Here is the key. Lock the door and open it to nobody until I come upstairs again. I kissed her and left her. It was a relief to me as I walked away, to hear the key turn in the lock and to know that the door was at her own command. 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. 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