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Faith Moore
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. Thank you so much for being here with me. I'm so excited. It's so hard to wait, even for me. I know how this book ends. I've read it like lots and lots of times. But it's so hard for me to wait for these episodes to come out so that I know what you're thinking about them. That's my favorite part of this, is that you guys are experiencing this book for the first time and I get to experience that through you. So thank you. Thank you for writing in. Thank you for posting on social media. Thank you for being a part of the drawing room. Those of you who are, thank you for being a part of this show in all the ways that you are, because it is bringing me such joy. And I hope that some of that joy is finding its way to you as well. Speaking of the drawing room tonight, Thursday, March 27th is our tea time for March. It is at 8pm Eastern and you need to be a member of the Landed Gentry membership tier in order to participate. What it is, is it's like a kind of group phone call. It's a chat that we have together for about an hour or so. We talk about the book, we talk about other things and we have a lovely time. It's really great. We're all kind of getting to know each other there. There's room for more. So if you would like to join us, just scroll down into the show notes, into the description of this episode, wherever you're listening, and there is a link there. It says to become a Storytime for Grown Ups member and gain access to our online community and monthly voice chats. Click here and the here is a little link. So you press that and that will take you to a page that tells you more about this, about our membership levels. There's a couple of levels. You can be just a house guest and that gains you access to the drawing room. Remember, the drawing room is the withdrawing room in an old Victorian house. When they were having a house party and all of their guests were over after dinner, everyone would withdraw to the withdrawing room and its drawing Room for short. And they would chat, they would drink tea, they would talk about music and books and life. And that's what we do over there. It's our drawing room. This podcast is the main room of the house, but sometimes we withdraw and talk more off air. And if you'd like to join us, you can. So being a house guest gets you access to the drawing room itself. That's like a chat. You. You can type in there. There's different channels for the various books that we've read. There aren't spoilers unless you want there to be spoilers. There's rules about that. You'll find out when you get there. And you can do these monthly tea times and you have to be landed gentry for that. But anyway, click the link if this sounds at all interesting to you. You can also become landed gentry just to join the TE time and see how you like it and cancel it if you don't. I don't care. Do what you want. So hopefully I will see many of you there tonight, 8pm Eastern in the drawing room for tea time. So I'm looking forward to that. I hope you'll be there. One other quick thing to mention before we get into this, because it has to do with this chapter and some of the chapters that follow, is that for the next three episodes, I've made some creative decisions about when, where to cut the chapters, so what to include in each episode. This is the first and only time I'm going to do this. But Mickelson's narrative Chapter two, which is what we're starting today, was incredibly long. It was way too long to include as one episode. We would have been here forever. So I cut it in half. And it's the only chapter I'm going to cut in half. I try to keep things together the way that Wilkie Collins put them, but this one, as I say, was just too long. And also I wanted to play with some cliffhangers. You know, we've been talking about cliffhangers and waiting and how it's so hard to wait, but it actually makes us think and it makes us kind of sit with these characters and these experiences. And in doing that, we commune with this other mind, with Wilkie Collins, this long dead guy who gave us this story. And so I thought this was an opportunity since I had to cut this chapter anyway, this was an opportunity to play a little bit with some cliffhangers. So today we're going to get Mickelson's narrative Chapter two, Part one, and then next time we're going to get part two and a little bit of something else, and then the episode after that is going to be a little bit different. But it's all for a reason. I'm not just doing this randomly. I try to cut things in ways that make sense narratively. And so that's what I've done. I will explain as we go along what I've chosen and why I've chosen it. Today is not that weird. It's just gonna cut in the middle of the chapter. But I chose a place that makes sense to end it and a place that makes sense to pick up again next time so we're not missing anything and nothing is gonna be confusing. But I did want to let you know, I know some of you are following along in the book and some of you are keeping track of where we are. So we're gonna be getting half a chapter today. And I will talk more about what I'm giving you next. But after these three episodes, we're going to go back and we're not going to have this problem anymore. But I just wanted to let you know about that. And for those of you who are like, no, no more cliffhangers, just lean into it, guys. Lean into it. It's fun. Have fun. Okay, so today we will be reading Mickelson's narrative, Chapter two, Part one. Last time we read Mickelson's narrative, Chapter one. And I've got some great questions. We're going to do a recap. So don't forget, write in to me, please. Subs. Please leave a positive review. If you have a minute, please tap those five stars and tell all your friends. Get everyone involved. Let's all read classic books together. All right, here is the recap. Okay, so where we left off, Mrs. Mickelson is now our narrator. She's the housekeeper at Blackwater park, and she explains that she's going to tell us about the time of Marian's illness. So directly after Marian's journal cuts off is when she is going to pick up again. So she tells us that one morning, Marian didn't come down to breakfast, and they went up and found her pacing around with a pen in her hand and feeling very feverish. So they called for a doctor, Mr. Dawson. When he arrived, Count Fosco wanted to consult with him about Marian's health, but the doctor was very disparaging and said that he would only consult with another medical professional. Mrs. Mickelson really likes Count Fosco, and she feels that he treats her with respect. And he seems to Understand that she used to be a clergyman's wife and is only a housekeeper now because she needs the money. He even asked her about Fanny and what had happened to her, which Mrs. Mickelson took as kindness and concern for the servants. So then days pass and Marian isn't getting better. And one day Mrs. Mickelson overhears sir Percival asking Count Fosco if he found her, whoever she is. And Fosco seems very pleased. Mrs. Mickelson doesn't know who this person is, but she wishes that she did. Count Fosco tells Mrs. Mickelson that he's going to send for a nurse from London to help care for Marian, because at the moment Madame Fosco and Mrs. Mickelson are taking on all the duties of a nurse. Laura refuses to leave Marian's side, but she's too distraught to be actually helpful in the sick room. So Madame Fosco goes to London and returns with the nurse who is a foreign woman named Mrs. Rubell. So Mrs. Rebel is a quiet and kind of self assured person and Mrs. Mickelson likes her in spite of the fact that she's foreign. She feels like she's capable and is going to do a good job. Laura seems very upset by the idea of Mrs. Rubell tending to Marian and Dr. Dawson asks Mrs. Mickelson to make sure that Mrs. Rubell doesn't give Marian any medicines that he the doctor didn't prescribe. But Mrs. Mickelson sees nothing amiss about Mrs. Rubell's conduct. And so then Count Fosco goes away for a week and in that time Marian gets worse. When Fosco gets back, he's horrified by how sick Marian is and he examines her to discover that her fever has become typhus, which is like a very serious kind of contagious infection. And Fosco is furious with Dr. Dawson and he calls in a doctor from London who confirms that it is typhus and says that he's going to return in five days to see how Marion is doing. So finally, 10 days later, Marian is proclaimed to be out of danger. And on that same day, Fosco and Dr. Dawson have a huge fight and the doctor leaves the house. Sir Percival refuses to hire another doctor and says that Marian is improving and everything is going to be fine. Later, Sir Percival tells Mrs. Mickelson that he's going to be leaving Blackwater park and he wants to dismiss all the servants except for the stupid and unhelpful servant, Margaret Porcher. He's doing this, he says, because he's Trying to save money. And as soon as Marian is well enough to travel, everyone will be leaving the house. Mrs. Mickelson is upset by this, but she agrees to comply with his orders. Alright, I've got two very quick comments today. The first one comes from Megan Blake. Megan writes, I think the scariest thing to happen all book is to leave sick and exhausted Marian and Laura in the care of Margaret Porcher. And the second one is from Pam Shroud. Pam writes, what a turn of events. Looking very forward to hearing more. Find myself wondering what has happened to the woman in white. After all, the story is named for her. Okay, so the sort of brilliant but incredibly maddening thing that is happening right now is that we are kind of watching the story play out like third hand. I don't know about you, but to me, this section, like ever since we left Marian's diary, it feels like we are kind of super far away from the action, watching it all play out at a distance or hearing about it after the fact or something like that. We had been so intimate with Marian. I mean, reading someone's diary is about as intimate as you can get in writing, I think. So we'd been so intimate with Marian and through her, with Laura, and we were right there on the ground, so to speak. And now, just at the moment when an actual crisis has happened, right, Marian's illness, we're thrown out into the darkness, having to like hunt for scraps of information and try to piece things together from narrators who really have no skin in the game. So now we've got Mrs. Mickelson who seems like a sort of upstanding person, right? She's, she's quite sanctimonious, you know, all this stuff about her husband being a clergyman and therefore her being only a housekeeper out of necessity. And all her R references to her husband's book of sermons and even to biblical precepts and things like that. All of that is her way of telling us that she's not really a servant, she's a clergyman's wife, right? Which if you remember from Pride and Prejudice, is a very respectable and upstanding place in society and kind of allowed you to interact with and be a part of the landed gentry, even though you weren't actually landed gentry yourself. So she's got heirs, essentially. She's not a lower class person. She only took this job because she needed the money, not because she actually belongs to the servant class or anything. And we're meant to feel that all of this is sort of amusing, you know, she's not mentioning her husband's job as a clergyman and his book of sermons or even the Bible because she's so devout. She's mentioning all of this because she wants us, the reader, to know that she is more upper class than she looks. And also that she's ostentatiously good and Christian. Right? Remember, she's been asked by Walter Hartright to write this narrative. So she knows it's an official document. So she's going out of her way to appear very upstanding and more upper class. If you notice, like the Bible passages she quotes are like the most popular Bible passages, the ones you hear over and over and over again. I'm not saying she's not a devout Christian or an upstanding person. I think actually she is. But more than that, I think she's concerned with coming across as an upstanding Christian woman devoted to truth and decorum. So I think we are allowed to find her a little silly, you know, a little fussy, a little sanctimonious, a little much. But I also think she means it when she says that she's got principles and she believes in telling the truth and doing the right thing. So in that sense, she seems like a fairly reliable narrator. The only problem is she knows nothing about what the Count and Sir Percival have been up to. And in fact, Count Fosco seems to have performed his kind of magic personality act on her. And she believes that he's a great guy. And of course, Fosco has done this in the way he always does it, by finding out what makes her tick. Right? He appeals at all times to her sense of herself as this sort of higher up kind of person. Here's what Mrs. Mickelson says, says about Count Fosco. She says, the only person in the house, indeed who treated me at that time or at any other, on the footing of a lady in distressed circumstances, was the Count. Okay, so she likes and respects the Count because he goes out of his way to treat her like a clergyman's wife instead of a servant, which he's doing, we assume, because he sees that that's the way to earn her respect and trust. And in fact, Mrs. Mickelson reveals the Count's duplicitousness to us inadvertently. Right? Here's what she says. He had the manners of a true nobleman. He was considerate towards everyone. Even the young person, Fanny by name, who attended on Lady Glyde, was not beneath his notice when she was sent away by Sir Percival. His Lordship showing me his sweet Little birds at the time was most kindly anxious to know what had become of her, where she was to go the day she left Blackwater park, and so on. So she thinks she's telling us all the wonderful things that Count did, but really she's telling us that the Count got her to tell him where Fanny was staying and distracted her with the birds while Madame Fosco is sneaking around. And she also inadvertently reveals to us that the Count is in fact considered to be the villain by Walter and whoever else is asking her to write this narrative, right? She mentions a couple times that she knows people think the Count is a bad guy, but she thinks he's innocent. Here's one of those times she says, I make no apology for introducing these particulars. They are brought forward in justice to His Lordship, whose character, I have reason to know, is viewed rather harshly in certain quarters. So again, it's like we're watching this all play out from very, very far away. We are picking up clues and trying to piece things together way out here in the cold, when we used to be right there at the center of the action. And even when we were in the center of the action, things were super strange and mysterious. So now things are way worse for us, right? So we can trust our narrator in the sense that she doesn't seem to wish Marian or Laura ill, but we can't trust her in the sense that she doesn't see the danger. And because she actually is just a servant and doesn't really have any power to help them if she could. But we are picking up on a few things, right? First, that Fosco is considered to be the villain by Walter and whoever he's working with to compile this narrative. But also, and this goes back to Pam's letter, we at least suspect that Fosco has found Anne Catherick. First, we're told that every day he goes out into the grounds by himself and stays out all day. And then one day he comes back and looks all happy and Percival asks if he's found her. Mrs. Mikkelsen doesn't know who this her is, but she sees that Fosco is all smiles about it, even though he won't actually answer whether he has or he hasn't. So we're not sure. We're too far away from the action to really know. But that evidence seems to point to the fact that Fosco has found Anne. Right? We can also see, even at this distance. And this goes back to Megan's comment that Percival and Fosco Are closing the net even tighter around Laura and Marian. They're taking away even more people who might help them. It hardly seems like anyone has left. But actually, now Percival is getting rid of every single servant except for the horrible Margaret Porcher, right? The doctor, Mr. Dawson, has refused to come back because of Fosco's meddling. And Fosco is bringing in this nurse for Marian that he chose himself, which feels kind of ominous, right? And the nurse herself is a strange sort of person who Mrs. Mickelson feels is a proper and upstanding person. But there's something sort of off about her. This is actually a good example of Mrs. Mickelson's kind of ostentatious clergyman's wife act like. Here's what she says about the nurse, Mrs. Rubell. She says, on both these accounts, I will not say that Mrs. Rubell struck me as being a small, wiry, sly person of 50 or thereabouts. With a dark brown or creole complexion and watchful light grey eyes. Nor will I mention, for the reasons just alleged, that I thought her dress, though it was of the plainest black silk, Inappropriately costly in texture and unnecessarily refined in trimming and finished for a person in her position in life, right? So she's like. I will not say this negative thing about Mrs. Rubell. And then she says it. It's meant to be funny, okay? But also it tells us that there's something not quite right about Mrs. Rubell. She doesn't seem to have the kind of deference or humility that Mrs. Mickelson feels she ought to have. But Mr. Dawson asked Mrs. Mickelson to watch her, and she has watched her. And she's not doing anything bad. So we don't really know what is up with Mrs. Rubell. And then, of course, at the center of all of this is Marian and Laura. And we just get these glimpses of them, right? Marian is first very, very ill, but seems to be out of the woods. Laura won't leave her side, but is too upset to actually be very useful. In the sick room, we see that Marian is aware enough to be terrified of Fosco. But since no one else knows what she discovered on the roof of the veranda, no one understands why she's looking at Fosco with such terror. And she's not well enough to get out of bed or even talk to anyone, really. And we also see both Laura's secret inner strength and her weakness, right? Laura is clearly brave. She has an inner courage that you wouldn't Know just from looking at her, you know, she refuses to leave Marian's side. Here's what she said. She says, my place is by Marian's bedside. Whether I am ill or well, nothing will induce me to lose sight of her, right? And Mrs. Mickelson says. Here's a quote from her. She says she showed a firmness and determination for which I should myself never have given her credit. Okay? So like we said a while ago, right? Laura has an inner strength. She's got some inner core of grit and determination. But she's alone now, essentially alone in this kind of nest of vipers and people who have no idea that there are vipers. And Laura doesn't know what Marian learned on the veranda roof. So she's never liked Fosco, but she doesn't know that he's actually out to get her. So she's being brave and she's standing strong. But also she's not very strong physically, right? She keeps fainting or having to go lie down and all of this. And we're watching her try to figure out how to manage this situation without Marian. And she's Even turning to Mrs. Mickelson, right? She's looking around for a friendly face, a person in authority. Here's what she says. She says, oh, Mrs. Mickelson, I'm heartbroken about my sister, and I have no friend to advise me. Do you think Mr. Dawson is wrong? He told me himself this morning that there was no fear and no need to send for another doctor, right? This is when they're not sure if Marian has typhus or not. So the people we care about, Laura and Marian, they're alive. They're okay for now. But they're completely and utterly alone. We thought they were alone before. Well, they're even more alone now. And as Megan points out, the whole place has been cleared out at this point. And we're left with this. Here's what Mrs. Mickelson. With the house left in this strange and lonely condition, with the mistress of it ill in her room, with Ms. Halcombe still as helpless as a child, and with the doctor's attendance withdrawn from us in enmity, it was surely not unnatural that my spirit should sink and my customary composure be very hard to maintain. Okay, so, right. Things are not looking good. Marian and Laura are unprotected, alone, and in Marian's case, incapacitated. Is it time for the Count and Sir Percival to strike? Right. It kind of looks like it. But what will they do? And how will it all play out? We just don't know, so we're gonna have to keep reading to find out. Don't forget to Write to me faithkmore.com Click on Contact or just scroll down. There's a link in the show notes. Write to me and let's see what's going to happen. All right, let's get started with Mickelson's narrative. Chapter 2 Part 1 of the Woman in White by Wilkie Collins It's Story Time 2 the next event that occurred was of so singular a nature that it might have caused me a feeling of superstitious surprise if my mind had not been fortified by principle against pagan weakness of that sort, meaning what happened next might have seemed supernatural. Except that she doesn't believe in that sort of thing. The uneasy sense of something wrong in the family which had made me wish myself away from Blackwater park was actually followed, strange to say, by my departure from the house. It is true that my absence was for a temporary period only, but the coincidence was, in my opinion, not the less remarkable on that account. My departure took place under the following A day or two after the servants all left, I was again sent for to see Sir Percival. The undeserved slur which he had cast on my management of the household did not, I am happy to say, prevent me from returning good for evil to the best of my ability by complying with his request as readily and respectfully as ever. It cost me a struggle with that fallen nature which we all share in common. Before I could suppress my feelings, being accustomed to self discipline, I accomplished the sacrifice. So remember, Sir Percival implied that the reason that the household was running out of funds was that the servants were eating too much, and that offended Mrs. Mickelson because she's in charge of rationing out the food and the other necessities for the servants. I found Sir Percival and Count Fosco sitting together again. On this occasion His Lordship remained present at the interview and assisted in the development of Sir Percival's views. The subject to which they now requested my attention related to the healthy change of air by which we all hoped that Ms. Halcombe and Lady Glyde might soon be enabled to profit. Sir Percival mentioned that both the ladies would probably pass the autumn by invitation of Frederick Fairlie, Esq. At Limmeridge House, Cumberland. But before they went there, it was his opinion, confirmed by Count Fosco, who here took up the conversation and continued it to the end, that they would benefit by a short residence first in the genial climate of Torquay. So Torquay is a Town in Devon, England. The great object, therefore, was to engage lodgings at that place, affording all the comforts and advantages of which they stood in need. And the great difficulty was to find an experienced person capable of choosing the sort of residence which they wanted. In this emergency, the count begged to inquire on Sir Percival's behalf whether I would object to give the ladies the benefit of my assistance by proceeding myself to Torquay in their interests. So they want Mrs. Mickelson to go to Torquay and find a nice place for Marian and Laura to stay. It was impossible for a person in my situation to meet any proposal made in these terms with a positive objection. I could only venture to represent the serious inconvenience of my leaving Blackwater park in the extraordinary absence of all the indoor servants, with the one exception of Margaret Porcher. But Sir Percival and his Lordship declared that they were both willing to put up with inconvenience for the sake of the invalids. I next respectfully suggested writing to an agent at Torquay, but I was met here by being reminded of the imprudence of taking lodgings without first sight seeing them. I was also informed that the Countess, who would otherwise have gone to Devonshire herself, could not, in Lady Glyde's present condition, leave her niece, and that Sir Percival and the Count had business to transact together which would oblige them to remain at Blackwater Park. In short, it was clearly shown me that if I did not undertake the errand, no one else could be trusted with it. Under these circumstances, I could only inform Sir Percival that my services were at the disposal of Miss Halcombe and Lady Glyde. It was thereupon arranged that I should leave the next morning, that I should occupy one or two days in examining all the most convenient houses in Torquay, and that I should return with my report as soon as I conveniently could. A memorandum was written for me by his Lordship stating the requisites which the place I was sent to take must be found to possess. And a note of the pecuniary limit assigned to me was added by Sir Percival. So she's got a description of what kind of a place she's looking for and how much she's authorized to spend on it. My own idea on reading over these instructions was that no such residence as I saw described could be found at any watering place in England, and that even if it could by chance be discovered, it would certainly not be parted with for any period on such terms as I was permitted to offer. I hinted at These difficulties to both the gentlemen, but Sir Percival, who undertook to answer me, did not appear to feel them. It was not for me to dispute the question. I said no more. But I felt a very strong conviction that the business on which I was sent away was so beset by difficulties that my errand was almost hopeless at starting. Before I left, I took care to satisfy myself that Miss Halcombe was going on favourably. There was a painful expression of anxiety in her face which made me fear that her mind, on first recovering itself, was not at ease. But she was certainly strengthening more rapidly than I could have ventured to anticipate. And she was able to send kind messages to Lady Glyde, saying that she was fast getting well and entreating her Ladyship not to exert herself again too soon. I left her in charge of Mrs. Rubell, who was still as quietly independent of everyone else in the house as ever. When I knocked at Lady Glyde's door before going away, I was told that she was still sadly weak and depressed, my informant being the Countess who was then keeping her company in her room. Sir Percival and the Count were walking on the road to the lodge as I was driven by in the chaise. I bowed to them and quitted the house with not a living soul left in the servants offices but Margaret Porcher. Everyone must feel what I have felt myself since that time. That these circumstances were more than unusual. They were almost suspicious. Let me, however, say again that it was impossible for me in my dependent position to act otherwise than I did. The result of my errand at Torquay was exactly what I had foreseen. No such lodgings as I was instructed to take could be found in the whole place. And the terms I was permitted to give were much too low for the purpose, even if I had been able to discover what I wanted. I accordingly returned to Blackwater park and informed Sir Percival, who met me at the door, that my journey had been taken in vain. He seemed too much occupied with some other subject to care about the failure of my errand. And his first words informed me that even in the short time of my absence, another remarkable change had taken place in the house. The Count and Countess Fosco had left Blackwater park for their new residence in St. John's Wood. So St. John's Wood is a part of London. I was not made aware of the motive for this sudden departure. I was only told that the Count had been very particular in leaving his kind compliments to me when I ventured on asking Sir Percival whether Lady Glyde had anyone to attend her conference in the absence of the Countess. He replied that she had Margaret Porcher to wait on her, and he added that a woman from the village had been sent for to do the work downstairs. The answer really shocked me. There was such a glaring impropriety in permitting an under housemaid to fill the place of confidential attendant on Lady Glyde. I went upstairs at once and met Margaret on the bedroom landing. Her services had not been required, naturally enough, her mistress having sufficiently recovered that morning to be able to leave her bed. I asked next after Miss Halcombe, but I was answered in a slouching, sulky way, which left me no wiser than I was before. I did not choose to repeat the question and perhaps provoke an impertinent reply. It was in every respect more becoming to a person in my position to present myself immediately in Lady Glyde's room. So servants had a hierarchy, just like the upper classes did. And Mrs. Mickelson is scandalized that the lady of the house would have only an under servant to wait on her. I found that her ladyship had certainly gained in health during the last few days. Although still sadly weak and nervous, she was able to get up without assistance and to walk slowly about her room, feeling no worse effect from the exertion than a slight sensation of fatigue. She had been made a little anxious that morning about Miss Halcombe, through having received no news of her from any one. I thought this seemed to imply a blamable want of attention on the part of Mrs. Rubelle. But I said nothing, and remained with Lady Glyde to assist her to dress. When she was ready, we both left the room together to go to Miss Halcombe. We were stopped in the passage by the appearance of Sir Percival. He looked as if he had been purposely waiting there to see us. Where are you going? He said to Lady Glyde. To Marian's room, she answered. It may spare you a disappointment, remarked Sir Percival, if I tell you at once that you will not find her there. Not find her there? No. She left the house yesterday morning with Fosco and his wife. Lady Glyde was not strong enough to bear the surprise of this extraordinary statement. She turned fearfully pale and leaned back against the wall, looking at her husband in dead silence. I was so astonished myself that I hardly knew what to say. I asked Sir Percival if he really meant that Miss Halcombe had left Blackwater Park. I certainly mean it, he answered, in her state, Sir Percival, without mentioning her intentions to Lady Glyde. Before he could Reply. Her ladyship recovered herself a little and spoke. Impossible. She cried out in a loud, frightened manner, taking a step or two forward from the wall. Where was the doctor? Where was Mr. Dawson when Marian went away? Mr. Dawson wasn't wanted and wasn't here, said Sir Percival. He left of his own accord, which is enough of itself to show that she was strong enough to travel. How you stare. If you don't believe she has gone, look for yourself. Open her room door and all the other room doors if you like. She took him at his word, and I followed her. There was no one in Miss Halcombe's room but Margaret Porcher, who was busy setting it to rights. There was no one in the spare rooms or the dressing rooms. When we looked into them afterwards, Sir Percival still waited for us in the passage. As we were leaving the last room that we examined, Lady Glyde whispered, Don't go, Mrs. Mickleson. Don't leave me, for God's sake. Before I could say anything in return, she was out again in the passage, speaking to her husband. What does it mean, Sir Percival? I insist, I beg and pray you will tell me what it means. It means, he answered, that Miss Halcombe was strong enough yesterday morning to sit up and be dressed, and that she insisted on taking advantage of Fosco's going to London to go there too. To London? Yes. On her way to Limmeridge, Lady Glyde turned and appealed to me. You saw Miss Halcombe last, she said. Tell me plainly, Mrs. Mickelson, did you think she looked fit to travel? Not in my opinion, your ladyship. Sir Percival on his side instantly turned and appealed to me also. Before you went away, he said, did you or did you not tell the nurse that Miss Halcombe looked much stronger and better? I certainly made the remark, Sir Percival. He addressed her ladyship again the moment I offered that reply. Set one of Mrs. Mickelson's opinion fairly against the other, he said, and try to be reasonable about a perfectly plain matter. If she had not been well enough to be moved, do you think we should any of us have risked letting her go? She has got three competent people to look after her. Fosco and your aunt and Mrs. Rubell, who went away with them expressly for that purpose. They took a whole carriage yesterday and made a bed for her on the seat in case she felt tired. Today Fosco and Mrs. Rubell go on with her themselves to Cumberland. Why does Marian go to Limmeridge and leave me here by myself? Said her ladyship, interrupting Sir Percival. Because Your uncle won't receive you till he has seen your sister first, he replied. Have you forgotten the letter he wrote to her at the beginning of her illness? It was shown to you. You read it yourself and you ought to remember it. I do remember it. If you do, why should you be so surprised at her leaving you? You want to be back at Limmeridge and she has gone there to get your uncle's leave for you on his own terms. Poor Lady Glyde's eyes filled with tears. Marion never left me before, she said, without bidding me good bye. She would have bid you good bye this time, returned Sir Percival, if she had not been afraid of herself and of you. She knew you would try to stop her. She knew you would distress her by crying. Do you want to make any more objections? If you do, you must come downstairs and ask questions in the dining room. These worries upset me. I want a glass of wine. He left us suddenly. His manner all through this strange conversation had been very unlike what it usually was. He seemed to be almost as nervous and fluttered every now and then as his lady herself. I should never have supposed that his health had been so delicate or his composure so easy to upset. I tried to prevail on Lady Glyde to go back to her room, but it was useless. She stopped in the passage with the look of a woman whose mind was panic stricken. Something has happened to my sister, she said. Remember, my lady, what surprising energy there is in Miss Halcombe. I suggested she might well make an effort which other ladies in her situation would be unfit for. I hope and believe there is nothing wrong. I do indeed. I must follow Marian, said her ladyship with the same panic stricken look. I must go where she has gone. I must see that she is alive and well with my own eyes. Come, come down with me to Sir Percival. I hesitated, fearing that my presence might be considered an intrusion. I attempted to represent this to her Ladyship, but she was deaf to me. She held my arm fast enough to force me to go downstairs with her, and she still clung to me with all the little strength she had at the moment. When I opened the dining room door, Sir Percival was sitting at the table with a decanter of wine before him. He raised the glass to his lips as we went in and drained it at a draught. Seeing that he looked at me angrily when he put it down again, I attempted to make some apology for my accidental presence in the room. Do you suppose there are any secrets going on here? He broke out suddenly. There are none. There is nothing underhand nothing kept from you or from anyone. After speaking those strange words loudly and sternly, he filled himself another glass of wine and asked Lady Glyde what she wanted of him. Him if my sister is fit to travel. I am fit to travel, said her ladyship with more firmness than she had yet shown. I come to beg you will make allowances for my anxiety about Marian, and let me follow her at once by the afternoon train. You must wait till to morrow, replied Sir Percival, and then if you don't hear to the contrary, you can go. I don't suppose you are at all likely to hear to the contrary, so I shall write to Fosco by to night's post. He sent those last words, holding his glass up to the light and looking at the wine in it instead of at Lady Glyde. Indeed, he never once looked at her throughout the conversation. Such a singular want of good breeding in a gentleman of his rank impressed me, I own, very painfully. Why should you write to Count Fosco? She asked in extreme surprise. To tell him to expect you by the midday train, said Sir Percival. He will meet you at the station when you get to London and take you on to sleep at your aunt's in St. John's Wood. Lady Glyde's hand began to tremble violently around my arm. Why, I could not imagine. There is no necessity for Count Fosco to meet me, she said. I would rather not stay in London to sleep. You must. You can't take the whole journey to Cumberland in one day. You must rest to night in London, and I don't choose you to go by yourself to a hotel. Fosco made the offer to your uncle to give you house room on the way down, and your uncle has accepted it. Here. Here is a letter from him addressed to yourself. I ought to have sent it up this morning, but I forgot. Read it and see what Mr. Fairlie himself says to you. Lady Glyde looked at the letter for a moment, then placed it in my hands. Read it, she said faintly. I don't know what is the matter with me. I can't read it myself. It was a note of only four lines so short and so careless that it quite struck me. If I remember correctly, it contained no more than these. Dearest Laura, please come whenever you like. Break the journey by sleeping at your aunt's house. Grieve to hear of dear Marian's illness. Affectionately yours, Frederick Fairlie. I would rather not go there. I would rather not stay a night in London, said her ladyship, breaking out eagerly with those words before I had quite done reading the note, short as it was. Don't write to Fosco. Pray, pray don't write to him. Sir Percival filled another glass from the decanter so awkwardly that he upset it and spilt all the wine over the table. My sight seems to be failing me, he muttered to himself in an odd muffled voice. He slowly set the glass up again, refilled it, and drained it once more at a draught. I began to fear from his look and manner that the wine was getting into his head. Pray don't write to Count Fosco, persisted Lady Glyde, more earnestly than ever. Why not, I should like to know. Cried Sir Percival with a sudden burst of anger that startled us both. Where can you stay more properly in London than at the place your uncle himself chooses for you? Your aunt's house? Ask Mrs. Mickelson. The arrangement proposed was so unquestionably the right and the proper one that I could make no possible objection to it. Much as I sympathized with Lady Glyde in other respects, I could not sympathize with her in her unjust prejudices against Count Fosco. I never before met with any lady of her rank and station who was so lamentably narrow minded on the subject of foreigners. Neither her uncle's note nor Sir Percival's increasing impatience seemed to have the least effect on her. She still objected to staying a night in London. She still implored her husband not to write to the Count. Drop it, said Sir Percival, rudely, turning his back on us. If you haven't sense enough to know what is best for yourself, other people must know it for you. The arrangement is made and there is an end of it. You are only wanted to do what Ms. Halcombe has done before you. Marian. Repeated her ladyship in a bewildered manner. Marian sleeping in Count Fosco's house? Yes, in Count Fosco's house. She slept there last night to break the journey, and you are to follow her example and do what your uncle tells you. You are to sleep at Fosco's to morrow night, as your sister did to break the journey. Don't throw too many obstacles in my way. Don't make me repent of letting you go at all. He started to his feet and suddenly walked out into the veranda through the open glass doors. Will your ladyship excuse me, I whispered, if I suggest that we had better not wait here till Sir Percival comes back? I am very much afraid he is over excited with wine. She consented to leave the room in a weary, absent manner as soon as we were safe upstairs again. I did all I could to compose her ladyship's spirits. I reminded her that Mr. Fairlie's letter to Miss Halcombe and to herself did certainly sanction and even render necessary, sooner or later, the course that had been taken. She agreed to this, and even admitted of her own accord that both letters were strictly in character with her uncle's peculiar disposition. But her fears about Miss Halcombe and her unaccountable dread of sleeping at the count's house in London still remained unshaken. In spite of every consideration that I could urge. I thought it my duty to protest against Lady Glyde's unfavourable opinion of his lordship, and I did so with becoming forbearance and respect. Your ladyship will pardon my freedom, I remarked in conclusion. But it is said, by their fruits ye shall know them. I am sure the count's constant kindness and constant attention from the very beginning of Miss Halcombe's illness merit our best confidence and esteem. Even his lordship's serious misunderstanding with Mr. Dawson was entirely attributable to his anxiety on Miss halcombe's account. So Mrs. Mickelson believes Fosco to be a true gentleman and so she's trying to convince Laura of that too. What misunderstanding? Inquired her ladyship with a look of sudden interest. I related the unhappy circumstances under which Mr. Dawson had withdrawn his attendance, mentioning them all the more readily because I disapproved of Sir Percival's continuing to conceal what had happened, as he had done in my presence, from the knowledge of Lady Glyde. Her ladyship started up with every appearance of being additionally agitated and alarmed by what I told her. Worse. Worse than I thought, she said, walking about the room in a bewildered manner. The Count knew Mr. Dawson would never consent to Marian's taking a journey. He purposely insulted the doctor to get him out of the house. Oh, my lady. My lady. I remonstrated Mrs. Mickleson, she went on vehemently. No words that ever were spoken will persuade me that my sister is in that man's power and in that man's house with her own consent. My horror of him is such that nothing Sir Percival could say, and no letters my uncle could write would induce me, if I had only my own feelings, to consult, to eat, drink, or sleep under his roof. But my misery of suspense about Marian gives me the courage to follow her anywhere, to follow her even into Count Fosco's house. So Laura feels she has to go to Fosco's house now because she has to find Marian. And this is the only way. I thought it right at this point to mention that Miss Halcombe had already gone on to Cumberland, according to Sir Percival's account of the matter. I am afraid to believe it answered her Ladyship. I am afraid she is still in that man's house if I am wrong. If she has really gone on to Limmeridge, I am resolved I will not sleep to morrow night under Count Fosco's roof. My dearest friend in the world, next to my sister, lives near London. You have heard me. You have heard Miss halcombe speak of Mrs. Veycy. I mean to write and propose to sleep at her house. I don't know how I shall get there. I don't know how I shall avoid the Count. But to that refuge I will escape in some way. If my sister has gone to Cumberland. All I ask of you to do is to see yourself that my letter to Mrs. Vesey goes to London to night. As certainly as Sir Percival's letter goes to Count Fosco. I have reasons for not trusting the postback downstairs. Will you keep my secret and help me in this? It is the last favor, perhaps, that I shall ever ask of you. So Laura is asking Mrs. Mickelson to secretly get a letter to Mrs. Vasey. Asking if Laura can stay with her. Her rather than with the Count. Then if Laura gets to Count Fosco's and Marian isn't there, she'll get away and spend the night with Mrs. Vesey before traveling on to Cumberland to try to find Marian there. I hesitated. I thought it all very strange. I almost feared that her Ladyship's mind had been a little affected by recent anxiety and suffering. At my own risk, however, I ended by giving my consent. If the letter had been addressed to a stranger, or to any one but a lady so well known to me by report as Mrs. Vesey, I might have refused. I thank God. Looking to what happened afterwards, I thank God I never thwarted that wish or any other which Lady Glyde expressed to me on the last day of her residence at Blackwater Park. The letter was written and given into my hands. I myself put it into the post box in the village that evening. We saw nothing more of Sir Percival for the rest of the day. I slept by Lady Glyde's own desire in the next room to hers, with a door open between us. There was something so strange and dreadful in the loneliness and emptiness of the house that I was Glad on my side to have a companion near me, Her Ladyship sat up late reading letters and burning them, and emptying her drawers and cabinets of little things she prized, as if she never expected to return to Blackwater Park. Her sleep was sadly disturbed. When she at last went to bed, she cried out in it several times, once so loud that she woke herself. Whatever her dreams were, she did not think fit to communicate them to me. Perhaps in my situation, I had no right to expect that she should do so. It matters little now. I was sorry for her. I was indeed heartily sorry for her all the same. The next day was fine and sunny. Sir Percival came up after breakfast to tell us that the chaise would be at the door at a quarter to 12, the train to London stopping at our station at 20 minutes after. He informed Lady Glyde that he was obliged to go out, but added that he hoped to be back before she left if any unforeseen accident delayed him. I was to accompany her to the station and to take special care that she was in time for the train. Sir Percival communicated these directions very hastily, walking here and there about the room. All the time. Her Ladyship looked attentively after him wherever he went. He never once looked at her in return. She only spoke when he had done, and then she stopped him as he approached the door by holding out her hand. I shall see you no more, she said in a very marked manner. This is our parting, our parting. It may be forever. Will you try to forgive me, Percival? As heartily as I forgive you? His face turned of an awful whiteness all over, and great beads of perspiration broke out on his bald forehead. I shall come back, he said, and made for the door as hastily as if his wife's farewell words had frightened him out of the room. I had never liked Sir Percival, but the manner in which he left Lady Glyde made me feel ashamed of having eaten his bread and lived in his service. I thought of saying a few comforting and Christian words to the poor lady, but there was something in her face as she looked after her husband when the door closed on him that made me alter my mind and keep silence. At the time named, the chaise drew up at the gates. Her Ladyship was right. Sir Percival never came back. I waited for him till the last moment, and waited in vain. No positive responsibility lay on my shoulders, and yet I did not feel easy in my mind. It is of your own free will, I said as the chaise drove through the lodge gates, that your ladyship goes To London? I will go anywhere, she answered, to end the dreadful suspense that I am suffering at this moment. She had made me feel almost as anxious and as uncertain about Miss Halcombe as she felt herself. I presumed to ask her to write me a line if all went well in London. She answered most willingly, Mrs. Mickelson. We all have our crosses to bear, my lady, I said, seeing her silent and thoughtful. After she had promised to write, she made no reply. She seemed to be too much wrapped up in her own thoughts to attend to me. I fear your ladyship rested badly last night, I remarked after waiting a little. Yes, she said. I was terribly disturbed by dreams. Indeed, my lady. I thought she was going to tell me her dreams, but no. When she spoke next, it was only to ask a question. You posted the letter to Mrs. Veyey with your own hands? Yes, my lady. Did Sir Percival say yesterday that Count Fosco was to meet me at the terminus in London? He did, my lady. She sighed heavily when I answered that last question and said no more. We arrived at the station with hardly two minutes to spare. The gardener who had driven us managed about the luggage while I took the ticket. The whistle of the train was sounding when I joined her ladyship on the platform. She looked very strangely and pressed her hand over her heart, as if some sudden pain or fright had overcome her at that moment. I wish you were going with me, she said, catching eagerly at my arm when I gave her the ticket. If there had been time, if I had felt the day before as I felt then, I would have made my arrangements to accompany her, even though the doing so had obliged me to give Sir Percival warning on the spot. As it was, her wishes expressed at the last moment only were expressed too late for me to comply with them. She seemed to understand this herself before I could explain it, and did not repeat her desire to have me for a travelling companion. The train drew up at the platform. She gave the gardener a present for his children and took my hand in her simple, hearty manner before she got into the carriage. You have been very kind to me and to my sister, she said. Kind when we were both friendless. I shall remember you gratefully as long as I live to remember anyone. Good bye and God bless you. She spoke those words with a tone and a look which brought the tears into my eyes. She spoke them as if she was bidding me farewell forever. Good bye, my lady, I said, putting her into the carriage and trying to cheer her. Good bye for the present only. Good bye, with my best and kindest wishes. For happier times. She shook her head and shuddered as she settled herself into the carriage. The guard closed the door. Do you believe in dreams? She whispered to me at the window. My dreams last night were dreams I have never had before. The terror of them is hanging over me still. The whistle sounded before I could answer, and the train moved. Her pale, quiet face looked at me for the last time, looking sorrowfully and solemnly from the window. She waved her hand and I saw her no more. Towards 5 o'clock on the afternoon of that same day, having a little time to myself in the midst of the household duties which now pressed upon me, I sat down alone in my own room to try and compose my mind with the volume of my husband's sermons. For the first time in my life, I found my attention wandering over those pious and cheering words. Concluding that Lady Glyde's departure must have disturbed me far more seriously than I had myself supposed, I put the book aside and went out to take a turn in the garden. Sir Percival had not yet returned to my knowledge, so I could feel no hesitation about showing myself in the grounds. On turning the corner of the house and gaining a view of the garden, I was startled by seeing a stranger walking in it. The stranger was a woman. She was lounging along the path with her back to me and was gathering the flowers. As I approached, she heard me and turned round. My blood curdled in my veins. The strange woman in the garden was Mrs. Rubell. Remember, Mrs. Rubell was supposed to have gone with Marion to London and then to Cumberland. I could neither move nor speak. She came up to me as composedly as ever with her flowers in her hand. What is the matter, ma'am? She said quietly. You here? I gasped out. Not gone to London. Not gone to Cumberland. Mrs. Rubell smelt at her flowers with a smile of malicious pity. Certainly not, she said. I have never left Blackwater Park. I summoned breath enough and courage enough for another question. Where is Ms. Halcombe? Mrs. Rubell fairly laughed at me this time and replied in these Ms. Halcombe, ma'am, has not left Blackwater park either. 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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