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. Welcome back. All right, now we're getting somewhere. Right now we're getting some information. So we have lots to talk about today. I'm so glad that you're here. Thank you for coming along with me on this crazy, wild ride and sticking around. You know, I told you at the beginning was going to be wild ride and if you trusted me that we would have a good time. So thank you for trusting me. Thank you for coming on this journey with me and thank you for just being a part of this show. I'm so grateful and happy that you're here. So speaking of this show and supporting the show, don't forget to subscribe. 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We have a couple of different membership tiers and it's all very fun and there's a lot going on over in what we call the drawing room, the withdrawing room, where we withdraw after the show and chat together. So there's a link in the show notes for that as well. So I hope you'll check out those links. There's also the link to the merch store. You can see that too. We've got lots of cool designs that you can put on, all sorts of things that you can wear and have and take with you. So I hope you'll check out all the links that are in the show notes. All right, I'm not going to go on and on here because we have lots to talk about. And also this chapter, these chapters are a bit long, so let's get right into it. Last time we read Hartright's narrative, chapters one and two. Today we're reading Heart Wright's narrative, chapters three and four. So let's go over what we learned last time because there was a lot. Okay, so here is the recap. Okay, so where we left off. A week has passed since Walter saw Laura in the graveyard. He now lives in London in a poor neighborhood in a rundown furnished apartment. And he lives with Marian and the woman that everyone except Walter and Marian think is Anne Catherick, but who's actually Laura. They are living there under assumed names as three siblings. Walter does drawing and etchings for money and Marian takes in some sewing. Walter. Walter tells us that to the rest of the world, Marian and Walter have helped Anne Catherick escape from the asylum and Laura is still dead. But Walter and Marian know that this is Laura because they recognize her and because she knows things that only Laura could know. Walter explained that when Marian returned to Limmeridge after learning of Laura's death, she learned that Count Fosco had attended Laura's body to Limmeridge and helped make sure she got a proper funeral and was laid to rest in her mother's tomb. Mr. Fairlie was apparently told by Count Fosco that Anne Catherick had been caught and returned to the asylum, but that she was now under the delusion that she was Laura. So if she or Anyone else contacted Mr. Fairley saying that Laura was still alive and wrongfully imprisoned in an asylum, he was to ignore that because it was just Anne Catherick's delusion. According to Count Fosco, Marian is suspicious and she tries to learn more about Count Fosco, Mrs. Rubell and Sir Percival. But she doesn't find out anything that might help her prove that they killed Laura, because that's what she thinks at that point. And she learns that Sir Percival is now in Paris, having inherited all of Laura's money. Marian then goes to visit the asylum where Anne Catherick is being kept and she convinces the owner to let her see Anne. And the minute she sees her, she realizes it's Laura. So she goes and takes out all the money she has from the bank and she uses it to bribe a nurse to help Laura escape. The next day this works and Laura gets to leave with Marian. The nurse promises to make it safe seem like Anne has gone back to Hampshire. Laura is very weak and confused, but she tells Marian that when she got to London, she was taken to a house where Count Fosco was and where some gentlemen came and asked her some questions. Then she was given some water which tasted funny and she fainted. Laura then has a bunch of like disjointed memories, one of which being that she went to Mrs. Vasey's house and saw Mrs. Rubell there. But eventually she comes to herself and she's in the asylum and everyone is telling her that she is Anne. Marian takes Laura back to Limmeridge where she tells Mr. Fairlie that Laura is really alive. But Mr. Fairlie refuses to believe that Laura is Laura and maintains that she is Anne. The servants also aren't sure if she's Laura or Anne. And Marian decides that she's got to take Laura back to London and hide her because the people from the asylum will eventually trace her back to Limmeridge. As they are leaving, Laura asks to see her mother's grave one more time. And that is how they ended up finding Walter. Alright, I'm going to read two comments today. The first one comes from Joanna. Joanna writes, oh, my dear goodness, how devious. Fosco has officially won me over with every piece of the puzzle that fell into place. As I listened, I couldn't help but think how brilliant. He doesn't just make plans, he anticipates everyone else's next moves, takes into account anything that could possibly come across as suspicious and executes with precision. And the next one comes from Jennifer Schuttel. Jennifer writes, marian is so wonderful. She investigated, accidentally found Laura and rescued her. So capable, even in her weakened state. Okay, so yes, we finally have a lot more information about what actually happened and what this crime is that Walter has been trying to tell us about for the entire book. And as Joanna says, it's clear that Count Fosco is pulling a lot of strings here and has so far gotten off scott free, as has Sir Percival, who seems to be involved as well. Though is perhaps less of a mastermind than the Count. So let's just quickly take stock of what we know at this point because we know a lot more than we did an episode ago. So the crime that has been committed is clearly that somehow we don't have all the details yet, but somehow Count Fosco has made everyone believe that Laura is not Laura, but Anne Catherick. So he collected Laura from the station in London, took her to a house that was not his actual house in St. John's Wood. So not the house where everything went down with Hester Pinhorn and Jane Gould and the dying lady and everything? A different house. We know this because Laura described it and its surroundings to Walter, and he knows that St. John's Wood doesn't look like that. So Count Fosco takes Laura to some different house. She gets examined by some strange men who Fosco says are his friends. But I think it's fair to say that we can determine that these are men who are there to, like, assess her sanity and vouch for the fact that she's mad and needs to be taken to an asylum. She gets very upset because she's in a weird place and weird men are with her and she can't find Marian. So she asks for some water and some smelling salts and is given both by Count Fosco and both are clearly drugged. Right. She has a very confused, probably hallucination about Mrs. Vaycy and Mrs. Rubell, and she wakes up in the asylum with everyone telling her that she is Anne Catherick and she's wearing Anne Catherick's clothes, and forever afterwards, everyone believes she's Anne. So, as Joanna says in her letter, Fosco is so devious because then he goes to Mr. Fairley and tells him that if Anne Catherick tries to contact him, he should just ignore her because now she's got this delusion that she's Laura. So anyone who contacts him saying she's Laura is really Anne. So he's covering for the fact that Laura really is Laura and might try to assert that by appealing to her uncle. So now everyone not only believes that Laura is dead and that Anne has been recommitted to the asylum, they also believe that anyone who believes that Laura is really Laura is the victim of a crazy woman who is trying to claim, for her own potentially nefarious purposes, that she's Laura and not Anne. And of course, because of all of this, because Laura is legally dead and Anne is legally alive. The will that Mr. Gilmore made for Laura as part of her marriage settlement way back at the beginning of the book, that has now gone into effect. Right? We're told that Laura is. This is a quote. She's dead to the persons in authority who had transmitted her fortune to her husband and her aunt. Meaning that Sir Percival has received Laura's £20,000 and Madame Fosco has received the £10,000 and no matter what Laura or Marian or Walter does to try to assert that Laura is really Laura, it's all been set up so that no one will believe her. No matter what she does or says, everyone except Marian and Walter will continue to believe that she is Anne. It's dastardly. It's so, so evil. And like Joanna is saying, it's so, so brilliant. It's a great crime. Not that crimes are great, but it makes for great entertainment, doesn't it? I don't know about you, but when I first read what had actually been done, I gasped. It's brilliant. It's not just a crime. It's a plot. Okay? And of course, one of the questions still left to us is, who actually died in Count Fosco's real house in St. John's Wood? Who is buried in Laura's grave next to Laura's mother? I think we can guess, right? But we haven't actually been told yet, so I'm not going to say anything about that yet. But that's a question. But now we also understand what Walter is trying to do with all these narratives, right? We get why the case can't be heard in court. There's no real evidence to prove that Laura is Laura. And because she looks so much like Anne now, right? She's worn and haggard and basically shell shocked, which I'll get to in a minute. She looks and seems like Anne, and no one can prove that she isn't. So the law can't help them. But they need help. Why? What is their current problem? Well, the immediate problem is that they're on the run, right? According to everyone else, Laura is Anne and she's escaped from the asylum. So the asylum people potentially funded by Count Fosco and Sir Percival will be after her. And if they find her, they're gonna lock her up again. And they're probably gonna put Marian and Walter in jail or something for helping her to escape. So it's imperative that they keep her hidden. But the really important thing that they have to do now is somehow prove that Laura is Laura and not Anne. They have to get her. Her identity back. And since it's clear that they can't do this legally or through Laura being recognized by people other than Walter and Marian, they're gonna have to either find some evidence that proves that she's Laura or evidence that proves that Fosco and Percival organized this switch, or get Fosco and Percival to confess somehow or something. Essentially, Laura's whole life and her whole identity are in the Hands of Walter Hartright and his assistant, Marian Halcomb. So we're back to Walter and Marian, amateur sleuths extraordinaire, right? And as Jennifer says, Marian's here for it. She's already gotten Laura out of the asylum all by herself. She's caused Fosco and Mrs. Rubell to be watched by private investigators. She's always been Laura's protector and guardian, so she's going to do everything in her power to help Laura get her identity back. But for Walter, things have become almost sacred. Right, I said this last time that this is Walter 2.0, and thank goodness, right? We need somebody really capable here because it seems like an impossible problem to solve. But part of this new version of Walter is that he views getting Laura's identity back as like his mission. The entire purpose of his life has become Laura's safety and getting her acknowledged again as Laura instead of Anne. And the language he uses is this sort of high, almost biblical language. Here's what he says. He says, a life suddenly changed, Its whole purpose created afresh, Its hopes and fears, its struggles, its interests and its sacrifices all turned at once and forever into a new direction. This is the prospect which now opens before me like the burst of view from a mountaintop. Okay, and later, here's another one. He says, yes, the time had come from thousands on thousands of miles away through forest and wilderness, where companions stronger than I had fallen by my side through peril of death, thrice renewed and thrice escaped. The hand that leads men on the dark road to the future had led me to meet that time. Okay, and here's one more quote. It's all over the last episode, right? He says, I believe in my soul that the hand of God was pointing their way back to them. And that the most innocent and the most afflicted of his creatures was chosen in that dread moment to see it. They retraced their steps to the burial ground and by that act sealed the future of our three lives. Okay, so Walter is a man on a mission. He's an avenging angel, essentially. He's like Laura's knight in shining armor, whatever you want to call it. He's no longer just a man. He's our hero. And he believes that God is calling him forth to do whatever it takes to bring justice for Laura. And he frames the whole thing to us, the reader, as a kind of desperate struggle between good and evil and Laura as the guiding light of his life. Here's another quote. Here's what he mine to vindicate through all Risks and all sacrifices, through the hopeless struggle against rank and power, through the long fight with armed deceit and fortified success, through the waste of my reputation, through the loss of my friends, through the hazard of my life. I don't know. I mean, like, swoon, right? He's our guy. This is our guy. And we're with him to the end. At least I am. And Marian is. She's like his trusty companion, right? She's more down to earth, more practical, more human in certain respects. And she's got his back, essentially. So there they are, Marian and Walter, together again, trying to protect Laura and bring her justice. And of course, poor Laura is now even more Victorian damsel in distress than she ever was before, right? Her time in the asylum seems actually to have given her some form of what we now might call like PTSD or something. She's confused, she's childlike, she's forgetful, she's afraid. She's not who she was before. Remember, we'd been feeling like she had this inner core of strength. She had a little more personality and backbone than we were giving her credit for at first. And now it seems like she's kind of lost all of that, and she's almost like a child. I mean, we hope very much that it's temporary, and we get the sense that maybe it is that she's still in there. Remember, she tells Walter, here's a quote, she says, they have tried to make me forget everything, Walter, but I remember Marian and I remember you. So she's in there, but she's essentially now, kind of, for plot purposes, the one who needs to be saved. And it's up to Walter, with help from Marian, to do it. So now we know what's been done, essentially, although there are still several details of how it all went down that we still don't know. And we understand that our next mission, or Walter and Marian's next mission, with our help as the reader, right, is to go out in search of evidence or something else that they can use to prove that Laura is Laura and not Anne. And they've got to do it all while keeping Laura's whereabouts a secret. So we turn a new page, right? We enter a new phase of the narrative. Now we know what was done, but who done it exactly, and how. So let's keep reading. And of course, don't forget to write to me, faith k.moore.com and click on contact. Or just scroll down into the show notes and click that link. It'll take you right to the contact form and you can get in touch, send me all your questions and thoughts. That's my favorite part of doing this show, hearing all your reactions. So please write to me. All right, let's get started with Hartright's narrative. Chapters three and four of the Woman in White by Wilkie Collins. It's story time. 3. This was the story of the past. The story so far as we knew it. Then two obvious conclusions presented themselves to my mind. After hearing it in the first place. I saw darkly what the nature of the conspiracy had been, how chances had been watched, and how circumstances had been handled to ensure impunity to a daring and an intricate crime. So impunity means you can't be punished. So Walter sees how the crime was committed and committed in such a way that no one could be blamed. While all details were still a mystery to me, the vile manner in which the personal resemblance between the woman in white and Lady Glyde had been turned to account was clear beyond a doubt. It was plain that Anne Catherick had been introduced into Count Fosco's house as Lady Glyde. It was plain that Lady Glyde had taken the dead woman's place in the asylum, the substitution having been so managed as to make innocent people, the doctor and the two servants certainly, and the owner of the madhouse, in all probability accomplices in the crime. The second conclusion came as the necessary consequence of the first. We three had no mercy to expect from Count Fosco and Sir Percival Glyde. The success of the conspiracy had brought with it a clear gain to those two men of £30,000. 20,000 to 1,10,000 to the other through his wife. They had that interest as well as other interests in ensuring their impunity from exposure. And they would leave no stone unturned, no sacrifice unattempted, no treachery untried. To discover the place in which their victim was concealed and to part her from the only friend she had in the world, Marion Halcombe and myself. So once Count Fosco and Sir Percival discover that Laura has escaped from the asylum, they're going to be after her. Because if anyone discovers that Laura is alive, Sir Percival and Count Fosco won't be entitled to the money that they received on her supposed death. The sense of this serious peril, a peril which every day and every hour might bring nearer and nearer to us, was the one influence that guided me in fixing the place of our retreat. I chose it in the Far east of London, where there were fewest idle people to lounge and look about them in the streets. I chose it in a poor and populous neighborhood because the harder the struggle for existence among the men and women about us, the less the risk of their having the time or taking the pains to notice chance strangers who came among them. These were the great advantages I looked to. But our locality was a gain to us also in another, and a hardly less important, respect. We could live cheaply by the daily work of my hands and could save every farthing we possessed to forward the purpose, the righteous purpose, of redressing an infamous wrong which, from first to last, I now kept steadily in view. So Walter's main purpose now after keeping Laura safe, is to reinstate Laura as Laura, heir to the Fairly fortune. In a week's time, Marian Halcombe and I had settled how the course of our new lives should be directed. There were no other lodgers in the house, and we had the means of going in and out without passing through the shop. I arranged, for the present at least, that neither Marian nor Laura should stir outside the door without my being with them, and that in my absence from home they should let no one into their rooms on any pretense. Whatever this rule established. I went to a friend whom I had known in former days, a wood engraver in large practice, to seek for employment, telling him at the same time that I had reasons for wishing to remain unknown. He at once concluded that I was in debt, expressed his regret in the usual forms, and then promised to do what he could to assist me. I left his false impression undisturbed and accepted the work he had to give. He knew that he could trust my experience and my industry. I had what he wanted, steadiness and facility, and though my earnings were but small, they sufficed for our necessities. As soon as we could feel certain of this, Marian Halcombe and I put together what we possessed. She had between 2 and 300 pounds left of her own property, and I had nearly as much remaining from the purchase money obtained by the sale of my drawing master's practice before I left England. Together we made up between us more than £400. I deposited this little fortune in a bank to be kept for the expense of those secret inquiries and investigations which I was determined to set on foot and to carry on by myself if I could find no one to help me. So Walter is going to use this money to investigate what exactly happened to Laura so that he can right the wrong that's been done to her. We calculated our weekly expenditure to the last farthing, and we never touched our little fund, except in Laura's interests and for Laura's sake. The housework, which if we had dared trust a stranger near us would have been done by a servant, was taken on the first day, taken as her own right by Marian Halcombe. What a woman's hands are fit for, she said. Early and late, these hands of mine shall do. They trembled as she held them out. The wasted arms told their sad story of the past as she turned up the sleeves of the poor plain dress that she wore for safety's sake. But the unquenchable spirit of the woman burnt bright in her even yet I saw the big tears rise thick in her eyes and fall slowly over her cheeks as she looked at me. She dashed them away with a touch of her old energy and smiled with a faint reflection of her old good spirits. Don't tout my courage, Walter, she pleaded. It's my weakness that cries, not me. The housework shall conquer it if I can't. And she kept her word. The victory was won. When we met in the evening and she sat down to rest, her large, steady black eyes looked at me with a flash of their bright firmness of bygone days. I am not quite broken down yet, she said. I am worth trusting with my share of the work. Before I could answer, she added in a whisper, and worth trusting with my share in the risk and the danger, too. Remember that if the time comes. I did remember it when the time came. As early as the end of October, the daily course of our lives had assumed its settled direction, and we three were as completely isolated in our place of concealment as if the house we lived in had been a desert island and the great network of streets and the thousands of our fellow creatures all around us, the waters of an illimitable sea. I could now reckon on some leisure time for considering what my future plan of action should be and how I might arm myself most securely at the outset for the coming struggle with Sir Percival and the Count. I gave up all hope of appealing to my recognition of Laura or to Marian's recognition of her in proof of her identity. So Walter sees that the fact that he and Marian recognize Laura as Laura rather than Anne is not going to help them any destiny. If we had loved her less dearly, if the instinct implanted in us by that love had not been far more certain than any exercise of reasoning, far keener than any process of observation, even we might have hesitated on first seeing her. The outward changes brought by the suffering and the terror of the past had fearfully almost hopelessly strengthened the fatal resemblance between Anne Catherick and herself in my narrative of events at the time of my residence in Limmeridge House. I have recorded from my own observation of the two, how the likeness, striking as it was when viewed, generally failed in many important points of similarity when tested in detail in those former days. If they had both been seen together side by side, no person could for a moment have mistaken them one for the other, as has happened often in the instances of twins. I could not say this now. The sorrow and suffering which I had once blamed myself for associating even by a passing thought with the future of Laura Fairlie had set their profaning marks on the youth and beauty of her face. And the fatal resemblance which I had once seen and shuddered at seeing in idea only, was now a real and living resemblance which asserted itself before my own eyes. Strangers, acquaintances, friends even, who could not look at her as we looked, if she had been shown to them in the first days of her rescue from the asylum, might have doubted if she were the Laura Fairley they had once seen and doubted without blame. So Laura is so changed by what has happened to her that she now looks identical to how Ann looked. So there's no way to prove that she's Laura based on her looks. The one remaining chance which I had at first thought might be trusted to serve us, the chance of appealing to her recollection of persons and events with which no impostor could be familiar, was proved by the sad test of our later experience to be hopeless. Every little caution that Marian and I practised towards her, every little remedy we tried to strengthen and steady slowly the weakened, shaken faculties, was a fresh protest in its itself against the risk of turning her mind back on the troubled and the terrible past. So Laura's mental state is now too precarious for her to be able to help them prove her identity. The only events of former days which we ventured on encouraging her to recall, were the little trivial domestic events of the happy time at Limmeridge, when I first went there and taught her to draw the day when I roused those remembrances by showing her the sketch of the summer house which she had given me on the morning of our farewell, and which had never been separated from me since, was the birthday of our first hope. Tenderly and gradually, the memory of the old walks and drives dawned upon her, and the poor, weary, pining eyes looked at Marian and at me with a new interest, with a faltering thoughtfulness in them, which from that moment we cherished and Kept alive. I bought her a little box of colours and a sketch book like the old sketchbook which I had seen in her hands on the morning that we first met Once again. Oh, me, once again. At spare hours saved from my work in the dull London light in the poor London room I sat by her side to guide the faltering touch, to help the feeble hand. Day by day I raised and raised the new interest till its place in the blank of her existence was at last assured, till she could think of her drawing and talk of it and patiently practice it by herself with some faint reflection of the innocent pleasure in my encouragement, the growing enjoyment in her own progress which belong to the lost life and the lost happiness of past days. We helped her mind slowly by this simple means. We took her out between us to walk on fine days in a quiet old city square near at hand where there was nothing to confuse or alarm her. We spared a few pounds from the fund at the banker's to get her wine and the delicate strengthening food that she required. We amused her in the evenings with children's games at cards, with scrap books full of prints which I borrowed from the engraver who employed me by these and other trifling attentions. Like them, we composed her and steadied her and hoped all things as cheerfully as we could from time and care and love that never neglected and never despaired of her. But to take her mercilessly from seclusion and repose, to confront her with strangers or with acquaintances who were little better than strangers, to rouse the painful impressions of their past life which we had so carefully hushed to rest this even in her own interests we dared not do, whatever sacrifices it cost, whatever long, weary, heartbreaking delays it involved. The wrong that had been inflicted on her. If mortal means could grapple, it must be redressed without her knowledge and without her help. This resolution settled, it was next necessary to decide how the first risk should be ventured and what the first proceedings should be. So, now that they know that Laura isn't going to be able to help them, they have to figure out where to start. After consulting with Marion, I resolved to begin by gathering together as many facts as could be collected. Then to ask the advice of Mr. Curll, whom we knew we could trust, and to ascertain from him in the first instance if the legal remedy lay fairly within our reach. I owed it to Laura's interests not to stake her whole future on my own unaided exertions, so long as there was the faintest prospect of strengthening our position by obtaining reliable Assistance of any kind. The first source of information to which I applied was the journal kept at Blackwater park by Marian Halcombe. There were passages in this diary relating to myself which she thought it best that I should not see. Accordingly, she read to me from the manuscript and I took the notes I wanted. As she went on, we could only find time to pursue this occupation by sitting up late at night. Three nights were devoted to the purpose and were enough to put me in possession of all that Marian could tell. My next proceeding was to gain as much additional evidence as I could procure from other people without exciting suspicion. I went myself to Mrs. Vasey to ascertain if Laura's impression of having slept there was correct or not. In this case, from consideration of Mrs. Vey's age and infirmity, and in all subsequent cases of the same kind, from considerations of caution, I kept our real position a secret and was always careful to speak of Laura as the late Lady Glyde. Mrs. Vesey's answer to my inquiries only confirmed the apprehensions which I had previously felt. Laura had certainly written to say she would pass the night under the roof of her old friend, but she had never been near the house. House. Her mind in this instance, and as I feared, in other instances besides, confusedly presented to her something which she had only intended to do in the false light of something which she had really done. The unconscious contradiction of herself was easy to account for in this way, but it was likely to lead to serious results. It was a stumble on the threshold at starting. It was a flaw in the evidence which told fatally against us. So the fact that Laura's memory can't be trusted is a real problem for them because they don't actually know what happened to her. When I next asked for the letter which Laura had written to Mrs. Vasey from Blackwater park, it was given to me without the envelope which had been thrown into the waste paper basket and long since destroyed. In the letter itself no date was mentioned, not even the day of the week. It only contained these. Dearest Mrs. Vacy, I am in sad distress and anxiety and I may come to your house to morrow night and ask for a bed. I can't tell you what is the matter in this letter. I write it in such fear of being found out that I can fix my mind on nothing. Pray be at home to see me. I will give you a thousand kisses and tell you everything. Your affectionate Laura. What help was there in those lines? None. On returning from Mrs. Vesey's, I instructed Marian to Write, observing the same caution which I practiced myself, meaning not revealing that Laura is really alive. To Mrs. Mickelson she was to express, if she pleased, some general suspicion of Count Fosco's conduct, and she was to ask the housekeeper to supply us with a plain statement of events in the interests of truth. While we were waiting for the answer which reached us in a week's time, I went to the doctor in St John's Wood, introducing myself as sent by Miss Halcombe to collect, if possible, more particulars of her sister's last illness than Mr. Curll had found the time to procure. By Mr. Goodrick's assistance, I obtained a copy of the certificate of death and an interview with the woman, Jane Gould, who had been employed to prepare the body for the grave. Through this person I also discovered a means of communicating with the servant Hester Pinhorn. She had recently left her place in consequence of a disagreement with her mistress, and she was lodging with some people in the neighborhood whom Mrs. Gould knew. In the manner here indicated, I obtained the narratives of the housekeeper of the doctor, of Jane Gould and of Hester Pinhorn exactly as they are presented in these pages, furnished with such additional evidence as these documents afforded. I considered myself to be sufficiently prepared for a consultation with Mr. Curll, and Marian wrote accordingly to mention my name to him and to specify the day and hour at which I requested trusted to see him on private business. There was time enough in the morning for me to take Laura out for her walk as usual and to see her quietly settled at her drawing. Afterwards. She looked up at me with a new anxiety in her face as I rose to leave the room, and her fingers began to toy doubtfully in the old way with the brushes and pencils on the table. You are not tired of me yet, she said. You are not going away because you are tired of me. I will try to do better. I will try to get well. Are you as fond of me, Walter, as you used to be? Now I am so pale and thin and so slow in learning to draw. She spoke as a child might have spoken. She showed me her thoughts as a child might have shown them. I waited a few minutes longer, waited to tell her that she was dearer to me now than she had ever been in the past times. Try to get well again, I said, encouraging the new hope in the future which I saw dawning in her mind. Try to get well again for Marion's sake and for mine. Yes, she said to herself, returning to her drawing, I must try, because they are both so fond of me. She suddenly looked up again. Don't be gone long. I can't get on with my drawing, Walter, when you're not here to help me. I shall be back soon, my darling, soon back to see how you are getting on. My voice faltered a little in spite of me, I forced myself from the room. It was no time then for parting with the self control which might yet serve me in my need before the day was out. As I opened the door, I beckoned to Marion to follow me to the stairs. It was necessary to prepare her for a result which I felt might sooner or later follow my showing myself openly in the streets. I shall in all probability be back in a few hours, I said, and you will take care, as usual, to let no one inside the doors in my absence. But if anything happenswhat can happen? She interposed quickly. Tell me plainly, Walter, if there is any danger, and I shall know how to meet it. The only danger, I replied, is that Sir Percival Glyde may have been recalled to London by the news of Laura's escape. You are aware that he had me watched before I left England, and that he probably knows me by sight, although I don't know him. She laid her hand on my shoulder and looked at me in anxious silence. I saw she understood the serious risk that threatened us, the risk being that Sir Percival might have Walter watched again, and he might detain him because he might suspect he knows where Laura is. It is not likely, I said, that I shall be seen in London again so soon, either by Sir Percival himself or by the persons in his employ. But it is barely possible that an accident may happen. In that case, you will not be alarmed if I fail to return to night, and you will satisfy any inquiry of Laura's with the best excuse that you can make for me. If I find the least reason to suspect that I am watched, I will take good care that no spy follows me back to this house. So if he suspects he's being watched, he won't come back to the house until he's lost the person following him, because the most important thing is to not reveal Laura's hiding place. Don't doubt my return, Marion, however it may be delayed, and fear nothing. Nothing, she answered firmly. You shall not regret, Walter, that you have only a woman to help you. She paused and detained me for a moment longer. Take care, she said, pressing my hand anxiously. Take care. I left her and set forth to pave the way for discovery the dark and doubtful way which began at the lawyer's door. 4 no circumstance of the slightest importance happened on my way to the offices of Messrs. Gilmour and Curll in Chancery Lane. While my card was being taken in to Mr. Curle a consideration occurred to me which I deeply regretted not having thought of before. The information derived from Marian's diary made it a matter of certainty that Count Fosco had opened her first letter from Blackwater park to Mr. Curll and had, by means of his wife, intercepted the second. He was therefore well aware of the address of the office and he would naturally infer that if Marian wanted advice and assistance after Laura's escape from the asylum she would apply once more to the experience of Mr. Curl. In this case, the office in Chancery Lane was the very first place which he and Sir Percival would cause to be watched. And if the same persons were chosen for the purpose who had been employed to follow me before my departure from England, the fact of my return would in all probability be ascertained on that very day. I had thought generally of the chances of my being recognized in the streets but the special risk connected with the office had never occurred to me until the present moment. It was too late now to repair this unfortunate error in judgment. Too late to wish that I had made arrangements for meeting the lawyer in some place privately appointed beforehand. I could only resolve to be cautious on leaving Chancery Lane and not to go straight home again under any circumstances whatever. After waiting a few minutes I was shown into Mr. Curl's private room. He was a pale, thin, quiet, self possessed man with a very attentive eye, a very low voice and a very undemonstrative manner. Not as I judged, ready with his sympathy where strangers were concerned and not at all easy to disturb in his professional composure. A better man for my purpose could hardly have been found if he committed himself to a decision at all. And if the decision was favourable, the strength of our case was as good as proved from that moment. Before I enter on the business which brings me here, I said, I ought to warn you, Mr. Curll, that the shortest statement I can make of it may occupy some little time. My time is at Ms. Halcombe's disposal, he replied. Where any interests of hers are concerned I represent my partner personally as well as professionally. It was his request that I should do so when he ceased to take an active part in business. May I inquire whether Mr. Gilmour is in England? He is not. He is living with his relatives in Germany. His health has improved but the period of his return is still uncertain. While we were exchanging these few preliminary Words he had been searching among the papers before him and he now produced from them a sealed letter. I thought he was about to hand the letter to me, but apparently changing his mind, he placed it by itself on the table, settled himself in his chair and silently waited to hear what I had to say. Without wasting a moment in prefatory words of any sort, I entered on my narrative and put him in full possession of the events which have already been related in these pages. Lawyer as he was to the very marrow of his bones, I startled him out of his professional composure. Expressions of incredulity and surprise which he could not repress, interrupted me several times before I had done. I persevered, however, to the end and as soon as I reached it, boldly asked the one important question. What is your opinion, Mr. Curl? He was too cautious to commit himself to an answer without taking time to recover his self possession first. Before I give my opinion, he said, I must beg permission to clear the ground by a few questions. He put the questions sharp, suspicious, unbelieving questions, which clearly showed me as they proceeded, that he thought I was the victim of a delusion and that he might even have doubted, but for my introduction to him by Miss Halcombe, whether I was not attempting the perpetration of a cunningly designed fraud. So the fact that Marian has vouched for Laura with Mr. Curl is the only thing stopping Mr. Curl from thinking that Walter is trying to profit from this situation somehow. Do you believe that I have spoken the truth, Mr. Curl? I asked when he had done examining me. So far as your own convictions are concerned, I am certain you have spoken the truth, he replied. Meaning he believes that Walter believes that what he's saying is true. I have the highest esteem for Ms. Halcombe and I have therefore every reason to respect a gentleman whose mediation she trusts in a matter of this kind. I will go even farther, if you like, and admit, for courtesy's sake and for argument's sake, that the identity of Lady Glyde as a living person is a proved fact to Ms. Halcombe and yourself. But you come to me for a legal opinion as a lawyer and as a lawyer only. It is my duty to tell you, Mr. Hartright, that you have not the shadow of a case. You Put it strongly, Mr. Curll. I will try to put it plainly as well. The evidence of Lady Glyde's death is, on the face of it, clear and satisfactory. There is her aunt's testimony to prove that she came to Count Fosco's house, that she fell ill and that she died. There is the testimony of the medical certificate to prove the death and to show that it took place under natural circumstances. There is the fact of the funeral at Limmeridge and there is the assertion of the inscription on the tomb. That is the case you want to overthrow. What evidence have you to support the declaration on your side that the person who died and was buried was not Lady Glyde? Let us run through the main points of your statement and see what they are worth. Miss Halcombe goes to a certain private asylum and there sees a certain female patient. It is known that a woman named Anne Catherick and bearing an extraordinary personal resemblance to Lady Glyde escaped from the asylum. It is known that the person received there last July was received as Anne Catherick brought back. It is known that the gentleman who brought her back warned Mr. Fairlie that it was part of her insanity to be bent on personating his dead niece. And it is known that she did repeatedly declare herself in the asylum where no one believed her to be Lady Glyde. These are all facts. What have you to set against them? Miss Halcombe's recognition of the woman, which recognition, after events, invalidate or contradict. Does Miss Halcombe assert her supposed sister's identity to the owner of the asylum and take legal means of rescuing her? No. She secretly bribes a nurse to let her escape. When the patient has been released in this doubtful manner and is taken to Mr. Fairlie, does he recognize her? Is he staggered for one instant in his belief of his niece's death? No. Do the servants recognize her? No. Is she kept in the neighborhood to assert her own identity and to stand the test of further proceedings? No. She is privately taken to London. In the meantime, you have recognized her also. But you are not a relative. You are not even an old friend of the family. The servants contradict you, and Mr. Fairlie contradicts Ms. Halcombe. And the supposed Lady Glyde contradicts herself. She declares she passed the night in London at a certain house. Your own evidence shows that she has never been near that house. And your own admission is that her condition of mind prevents you from producing her anywhere. To submit to investigation and to speak for herself. I pass over minor points of evidence on both sides to save time. And I ask you, if this case were to go now into a court of law, to go before a jury bound to take facts as they reasonably appear. Where are your proofs? I was obliged to wait and collect myself before I could answer him. It was the first time the story of Laura and the story of Marian had been presented to me from a stranger's point of view the first time the terrible obstacles that lay across our path had been made to show themselves in their true character. There can be no doubt, I said, that the facts as you have stated them appear to tell against us. But. But you think those facts can be explained away interposed, Mr. Curl, let me tell you the result of my experience on that point. When an English jury has to choose between a plain fact on the surface and a long explanation under the surface, it always takes the fact in preference to the explanation. For example, Lady Glyde, I call the lady you represent by that name for argument's sake, declares she has slept at a certain house and it is proved that she has not slept at that house. You explain this circumstance by entering into the state of her mind and deducing from it a metaphysical conclusion. I don't say the conclusion is wrong. I only say that the jury will take the fact of her contradicting herself in preference to any reason for the contradiction that you can offer. So he's saying that a jury is never going to believe Walter's story, so there's no point in bringing a case. But is it not possible, I urged by dint of patience and exertion to discover additional evidence, Ms. Halcomb, and I have a few hundred pounds. He looked at me with a half suppressed pity and shook his head. Consider the subject, Mr. Hartright, from your own point of view, he said. If you are right about Sir Percival Glyde and Count Fosco, which I don't admit mind, every imaginable difficulty would be thrown in the way of your getting fresh evidence. Every obstacle of litigation would be raised, every point in the case would be systematically contested. And by the time we had spent our thousands instead of our hundreds, the final result would in all probability be against us. Questions of identity where instances of personal resemblance are concerned are in themselves the hardest of all questions to settle. The hardest even when they are free from the complications which beset the case we are now discussing. I really see no prospect of throwing any light whatever on this extraordinary affair. Even if the person buried in Limmeridge churchyard be not Lady Glyde, she was in life on your own, showing so like her that we should gain nothing if we applied for the necessary authority to have the body exhumed. In short, there is no case, Mr. Hartright. There is really no case. I was determined to believe that there was a case and in that determination shifted my ground and appealed to him once more. Are there not other proofs that we might produce besides the proof of identity? I asked. Not as you are situated, he replied. The simplest and surest of all proofs. The proof by comparison of dates is, as I understand, altogether out of your reach. If you could show a discrepancy between the date of the doctor's certificate and the date of Lady Glyde's journey to London, the matter would wear a totally different aspect. And I should be the first to say. Let us go on. That date may yet be recovered, Mr. Curll. On the day when it is recovered, Mr. Hartright, you will have a case. If you have any prospect at this moment of getting at it, tell me and we shall see if I can advise you. I considered the housekeeper could not help us. Laura could not help us. Marion could not help us. In all probability, the only persons in existence who knew the date were Sir Percival and the Count. So if they can prove that Laura was still at Blackwater park on the date when she supposedly died in London, then that would be evidence for their case. I can think of no means of ascertaining the date at present, I said, because I can think of no persons who are sure to know it but Count Fosco and sir percival glyde. Mr. Curll's calmly attentive face relaxed for the first time into a smile. With your opinion of the conduct of those two gentlemen, he said. You don't expect help in that quarter, I presume. If they have combined to gain large sums of money by a conspiracy, they are not likely to confess it. At any rate, they may be forced to confess it, Mr. Curl. By whom? By me. We both rose. He looked me attentively in the face with more appearance of interest than he had shown. Yet I could see that I had perplexed him a little. You are very determined, he said. You have no doubt a personal motive for proceeding into which it is not my business to inquire if a case can be produced in the future. I can only say my best assistance is at your service. At the same time, I must warn you, as the money question always enters into the law question, that I see little hope. Even if you ultimately establish the fact of Lady Glyde's being alive, of recovering her fortune, the foreigner would probably leave the country before proceedings were commenced. And Sir Percival's embarrassments are numerous enough and pressing enough to transfer almost any sum of money he may possess for himself to his creditors. You are of course aware I stopped him at that point. Let me beg that we may not discuss Lady Glyde's affairs, I said. I have never known anything about them in former times and I know nothing of them now, except that her fortune is lost. So Mr. Crull was implying that perhaps Walter wanted some of the money that might be recovered if they proved that Laura was alive. But Walter is telling him that he's not in it for the money. You are right in assuming that I have personal motives for stirring in this matter. I wish those motives to be always as disinterested as they are at the present moment. He tried to interpose and explain. I was a little heated, I suppose, by feeling that he had doubted me. And I went on bluntly, without waiting to hear him. There shall be no money motive, I said, no idea of personal advantage in the service I mean to render to Lady Glyde. She has been cast out as a stranger from the house in which she was born. A lie which records her death has been written on her mother's tomb. And there are two men, alive and unpunished, who are responsible for it. That house shall open again to receive her in the presence of every soul who followed the false funeral to the grave. That lie shall be publicly erased from the tombstone by the authority of the head of the family. And those two men shall answer for their crime to me, though the justice that sits in tribunals is powerless to pursue them. I have given my life to that purpose, and alone as I stand. If God spares me, I will accomplish it. He drew back towards his table and said nothing. His face showed plainly that he thought my delusion had got the better of my reason. Reason. And that he considered it totally useless to give me any more advice. We each Keep our opinion, Mr. Curl, I said, and we must wait till the events of the future decide between us. In the meantime, I am much obliged to you for the attention you have given to my statement. You have shown me that the legal remedy lies in every sense of the word, beyond our means. We cannot produce the law proof and we are not rich enough to pay the law expenses. It is something gained to know that. I bowed and walked to the door. He called me back and gave me the letter which I had seen him place on the table by itself at the beginning of our interview. This came by post a few days ago, he said. Perhaps you will not mind delivering it. Pray tell, Miss Halcombe, at the same time that I sincerely regret being thus far unable to help her except by advice which will not be more welcome. I am afraid to her than to you. I Looked at the letter while he was speaking. It was addressed to Ms. Halcombe, care of Messrs. Gilmour and Curll. Chancery Lane. The handwriting was quite unknown to me. On leaving the room, I asked one last question. Do you happen to know, I said, if Sir Percival is still in Paris? He has returned to London, replied Mr. Curll. At least I heard so from his solicitor, whom I met yesterday. After that answer, I went out. On leaving the office, the first precaution to be observed was to abstain from attracting attention by stopping to look about me. I walked towards one of the quietest of the large squares on the north of Holborn, Then suddenly stopped and turned round at a place where a long stretch of pavement was left behind me. There were two men at the corner of the square who had stopped also and who were standing talking together. After a moment's reflection, I turned back so as to pass them. One moved as I came near and turned the corner leading from the square into the street. The other remained stationary. I looked at him as I passed and instantly recognized one of the men who had watched me before I left England. If I had been free to follow my own instincts, I should probably have begun by speaking to the man and have ended by knocking him down. But I was bound to consider consequences if I once placed myself publicly in the wrong. I put the weapons at once into Sir Percival's hands. There was no choice but to oppose cunning by cunning. I turned into the street down which the second man had disappeared and passed him waiting in a doorway. He was a stranger to me and I was glad to make sure of his personal appearance in case of future annoyance. Having done this, I again walked northward till I reached the new road. There I turned aside to the west, having the men behind me all the time, and waited at a point where I knew myself to be at some distance from a cab stand until a fast two wheeled cab, empty, should happen to pass me. One passed. In a few minutes I jumped in and told the man to drive rapidly towards Hyde Park. There was no second fast cab for the spies behind me. I saw them dart across to the other side of the road to follow me by running until a cab or a cab stand came in their way. But I had the start of them and when I stopped the driver and got out, they were nowhere in sight. I crossed Hyde park and made sure on the open ground that I was free. When I at last turned my steps homeward, it was not till many hours later, not until after dark, I found Marion waiting for me alone in the little sitting room. She had persuaded Laura to go to rest after first promising to show me her drawing the moment I came in. The poor little, dim, faint sketch, so trifling in itself, so touching in its associations, was propped up carefully on the table with two books and was placed where the faint light of the one candle we allowed ourselves might fall on it to the best advantage. I sat down to look at the drawing and to tell Marian in whispers what had happened. The partition which divided us from the next room was so thin that we could almost hear Laura's breathing, and we might have disturbed her if we had spoken aloud. Marian preserved her composure while I described my interview with Mr. Curll. But her face became troubled when I spoke next of the men who had followed me from the lawyer's office and when I told her of the discovery of Sir Percival's return. Bad news, Walter, she said. The worst news you could bring. Have you nothing more to tell me? I have something to give you, I replied, handing her the note which Mr. Curll had confided to my care. She looked at the address and recognized the handwriting instantly. You know your correspondent, I said. Too well, she answered. My correspondent is Count Fosco. With that reply she opened the note. Her face flushed deeply while she read it. Her eyes brightened with anger as she handed it to me to read in my turn. The note contained these. Impelled by honourable admiration, honorable to myself, honourable to you, I write, magnificent Marian, in the interests of your tranquillity, to say two consoling Fear nothing. Exercise your fine natural sense and remain in retirement. Dear and admirable woman. Invite no dangerous publicity. Resignation is sublime, adopt it. The modest repose of home is eternally fresh. Enjoy it. The storms of life pass harmless over the valley of seclusion. Dwell, dear lady, in the valley. Do this, and I authorize you to fear nothing. No new calamity shall lacerate your sensibilities. Sensibilities precious to me as my own. You shall not be molested. The fair companion of your retreat shall not be pursued. She has found a new asylum in your heart. Priceless asylum. I envy her and leave her there. So Count Fosco is saying he knows that Marian has found and freed Laura and that if they just stay hidden, he won't bother them. One last word of affectionate warning, of paternal caution, and I tear myself from the charm of addressing you. I close these fervent advance no farther than you have gone already. Compromise no serious interests. Threaten nobody. Do not, I implore you, force me into action. Me, the man of action, when it is the cherished object of my ambition to be passive, to restrict the vast reach of my energies and my combination for your sake. If you have rash friends, moderate their deplorable ardor. If Mr. Hartright returns to England, hold no communication with him. I walk on a path of my own and Percival follows at my heels. On the day when Mr. Hartright crosses that path he is a lost man. The only signature to these lines was the initial letter F surrounded by a circle of intricate flourishes. I threw the letter on the table with all the contempt that I felt for it. He's trying to frighten you. A sure sign that he has frightened himself. I said she was too genuine a woman to treat the letter as I did. The insolent familiarity of the language was too much for her self control. As she looked at me across the table, her hands clenched themselves in her lap and the old quick, fiery temper flamed out again brightly in her cheeks and her eyes. Walter, she said, if ever those two men are at your mercy and if you are obliged to spare one of them, don't let it be the count. I will keep this letter, Marian, to help my memory when the time comes. She looked at me attentively as I put the letter away in my pocketbook. When the time comes, she repeated. Can you speak of the future as if you were certain of it? Certain? After what you have heard in Mr. Curl's office? After what has happened to you today? I don't count the time from today, Marion. All I have done today is to ask another man to act for me. I count from tomorrow. Why from tomorrow? Because tomorrow I mean to act for myself. How? I shall go to Blackwater park by the first train and return, I hope, at night. To Blackwater? Yes. I have had time to think since I left Mr. Curll. His opinion on one point confirms my own. We must persist the last in hunting down the date of Laura's journey, the one weak point in the conspiracy and probably the one chance of proving that she is a living woman. Centre in the discovery of that date, you mean, said Marian, the discovery that Laura did not leave Blackwater park till after the date of her death on the doctor's certificate? Certainly. What makes you think it might have been after? Laura can tell us nothing of the time she was in London. But the owner of the asylum told you that she was received there on the 27th of July. I doubt count Fosco's ability to keep her in London and to keep her insensible to all that was passing around her more than one night. In that case, she must have started on the 26th and must have come to London one day after the date of her own death on the doctor's certificate. If we can prove that date, we prove our case against Sir Percival and the Count. Yes, yes, I see. But how is the proof to be obtained? Mrs. Mickelson's narrative has suggested to me two ways of trying to obtain it. One of them is to question the doctor, Mr. Dawson, who must know when he resumed his attendance at Blackwater park after Laura left the house. House? The other is to make inquiries at the inn to which Sir Percival drove away by himself at night. We know that his departure followed Laura's after the lapse of a few hours, and we may get at the date. In that way the attempt is at least worth making. And to morrow I am determined it shall be made. And suppose it fails? I look at the worst now, Walter, but I will look at the best if disappointments come to try us. Suppose no one can help you at Blackwater? There are two men who can help me and shall help me in London. Sir Percival and the Count. Innocent people may well forget the date, but they are guilty and they know it. If I fail everywhere else, I mean to force a confession out of one or both of them on my own terms. All the woman flushed up in Marion's face as I spoke. Begin with the Count, she whispered eagerly. For my sake. Begin with the Count. We must begin for Laura's sake where there is the best chance of success, I replied. The color faded from her face again and she shook her head sadly. Yes, she said. You were right. It was mean and miserable of me to say that. I try to be patient, Walter, and succeed better now than I did in happier times. But I have a little of my old temper still left and it will get the better of me when I think of the Count. His turn will come, I said. But remember there is no weak place in his life that we know of yet. I waited a little to let her recover her self possession and then spoke the decisive words. Marian, there is a weak place we both know of in Sir Percival's life. You mean the secret? Yes, the secret. It is our only sure hold on him. I can force him from his position of security. I can drag him and his villainy into the face of day by no other means whatever the Count may have done. Sir Percival has consented to the conspiracy against Laura from another motive besides the motive of gain. You heard him tell the Count that he believed his wife knew enough to ruin him. You heard him say that he was a lost man if the secret of Anne Catherick was known. Yes, yes, I did. Well, Marian, when our other resources have failed us, I mean to know the secret. My old superstition clings to me even yet I say again, the Woman in White is a living influence in our three lives. The end is appointed. The end is drawing us on. And Anne Catherick, dead in her grave, points the way to it still. 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, faithkmoor.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. 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