VII

von Wilkie Collins

June 19th. The events of yesterday had made it clear that I needed to be prepared for the worst. Today isn’t over yet, and the worst has arrived.

After careful consideration, Laura and I figured that Anne Catherick must have shown up at the boathouse around two-thirty yesterday afternoon. I decided that Laura should make a brief appearance at the lunch table today and then slip away at the first chance she got. I would stay behind to maintain appearances and follow her as soon as it was safe. If everything went according to plan, she would reach the boathouse before two-thirty, and I would be hidden in the trees by three.

The weather changed as we had anticipated, thanks to the wind that blew in last night. It was pouring when I woke up, and it continued to rain until noon. Then the clouds cleared, revealing a bright blue sky and the sun shining down, promising a lovely afternoon.

I was still anxious about how Sir Percival and the Count would spend the early part of the day. Sir Percival left us right after breakfast, heading out alone despite the rain. He didn’t say where he was going or when he would be back. I only caught a glimpse of him rushing past the breakfast room window, dressed in high boots and a waterproof coat, and that was it.

The Count spent the morning quietly indoors, moving between the library and the drawing room, playing bits of music on the piano and humming to himself. He seemed to be in a sentimental mood, ready to sigh and languish dramatically at the slightest provocation—something only a heavyset man could manage.

When lunchtime arrived, Sir Percival still hadn’t returned. The Count took his place at the table, mournfully devouring most of a fruit tart drenched in cream, and then he felt the need to explain his indulgence. “A taste for sweets,” he said in his softest voice and gentlest manner, “is the innocent preference of women and children. I love to share it with you—it’s another bond, dear ladies, between us.”

Laura left the table ten minutes later. I was tempted to go with her, but if we both left together, it would raise suspicion. Worse still, if Anne Catherick saw Laura with someone she didn’t recognize, we might lose her trust forever.

So, I waited as patiently as I could until the servant came in to clear the table. When I finally left the room, there was still no sign of Sir Percival’s return. I left the Count with a piece of sugar between his lips, while his mischievous cockatoo climbed up his waistcoat to get at it. Madame Fosco sat across from him, watching the antics of her husband and his bird as if she had never seen anything like it before.

On my way to the trees, I made sure to stay out of sight of the lunchroom window. No one saw me, and no one followed. My watch read a quarter to three.

Once I was among the trees, I walked quickly until I was more than halfway through the plantation. Then I slowed down and proceeded cautiously, but I saw no one and heard no voices. Gradually, I came into view of the back of the boathouse. I stopped to listen, then moved closer until I was right behind it, where I should have been able to hear anyone talking inside. But the silence was deafening—there was no sign of life anywhere.

After circling around the back of the building, first on one side and then the other, and finding nothing, I finally stepped in front and looked inside. The place was empty.

“Laura!” I called softly at first, then louder. No response came, and no one appeared. For all I could see and hear, I was the only person near the lake and the plantation.

My heart raced, but I steeled myself and searched the boathouse and the ground in front of it for any signs that Laura had been there. Inside the building, there was no evidence of her presence, but outside, I found footprints in the sand.

I heard the footsteps of two people—one set large like a man’s, and the other small, which I recognized immediately as Laura’s by comparing them to my own. The ground was marked with these prints right in front of the boathouse. Close to one side, under the shelter of the overhanging roof, I spotted a small hole in the sand—clearly made by someone. I noted it quickly before turning my attention back to the footprints, eager to see where they might lead.

Following the trail from the left side of the boathouse, I walked along the edge of the trees for about two or three hundred yards, but then the sandy ground showed no further signs of their passage. Realizing that the people I was tracking must have entered the woods at this point, I ventured in as well. At first, I couldn’t find a path, but eventually, I stumbled upon a faint trail winding through the trees. It led me for a while toward the village until I reached a spot where another path intersected it. Thick brambles lined both sides of this second path.

I paused, unsure of which direction to take next. As I stood there, I noticed some torn pieces of fringe caught on a thorny branch. Upon closer inspection, I recognized it as belonging to one of Laura’s shawls, which spurred me to follow the second path. After a while, I was relieved to find it led me to the back of the house. I felt a wave of relief wash over me, believing that Laura must have taken this roundabout route for some reason.

I entered through the courtyard and the service areas. The first person I encountered in the servants’ hall was Mrs. Michelson, the housekeeper.

“Do you know if Lady Glyde has returned from her walk?” I asked.

“My lady came in a little while ago with Sir Percival,” she replied. “I’m afraid something very distressing has happened.”

My heart sank. “You don’t mean an accident?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“No, thank God, no accident. But my lady ran upstairs to her room in tears, and Sir Percival has ordered me to give Fanny notice to leave in an hour.”

Fanny was Laura’s maid—a kind and devoted girl who had been with her for years, the only person in the house we could truly count on.

“Where is Fanny?” I asked.

“In my room, Miss Halcombe. The poor girl is quite overwhelmed, so I told her to sit down and try to compose herself.”

I made my way to Mrs. Michelson’s room and found Fanny in a corner, her box beside her, crying bitterly.

She couldn’t explain the sudden dismissal. Sir Percival had instructed that she receive a month’s wages instead of a month’s notice and leave immediately. No reason was given, and she had been forbidden to speak to Laura or even say goodbye. She was to leave without any explanations or farewells.

After offering her some comforting words, I asked where she planned to stay that night. She mentioned the little inn in the village, run by a respectable woman known to the staff at Blackwater Park. If she left early the next morning, she could return to her friends in Cumberland without having to stop in London, where she didn’t know anyone.

I realized that Fanny’s departure could provide us with a safe way to communicate with London and Limmeridge House, which might be crucial. I assured her that she could expect to hear from either her mistress or me that evening, and that we would do everything we could to support her during this difficult time. After shaking her hand, I went upstairs.

The door to Laura’s room was part of an ante-chamber that opened onto the hallway. When I tried to enter, I found it bolted from the inside.

I knocked, and the door was opened by the same heavy, awkward housemaid who had tested my patience before when I found the injured dog.

Since then, I had learned her name was Margaret Porcher, and she was the most clumsy and stubborn servant in the house.

As she opened the door, she stepped out to the threshold and stood there grinning at me in dull silence.

“Why are you standing there?” I asked. “Can’t you see I want to come in?”

“Oh, but you mustn’t come in,” she replied, her grin widening.

“How dare you speak to me like that? Step aside immediately!”

She stretched out her large, red arms to block the doorway and nodded her head slowly, a look of stubbornness on her face.

“Master’s orders,” she said, nodding again.

I had to summon all my self-control to avoid arguing with her and to remind myself that my next words needed to be directed at her master. I turned my back on her and quickly made my way downstairs to find him. My determination to keep my cool in the face of Sir Percival’s provocations was, to my shame, completely forgotten. It felt good, after all I had endured and held back in that house—it was almost a relief to feel the anger boiling inside me.

The drawing-room and breakfast-room were both empty. I continued on to the library, where I found Sir Percival, the Count, and Madame Fosco. They were standing close together, and Sir Percival held a small piece of paper in his hand. As I opened the door, I heard the Count say, “No—a thousand times, no.”

I walked straight up to him and looked him in the eye.

“Am I to understand, Sir Percival, that your wife’s room is a prison, and that your housemaid is the jailer?” I asked.

“Yes, that’s exactly what you’re to understand,” he replied. “Just be careful that my jailer doesn’t have double duty—make sure your room isn’t a prison too.”

“Take care how you treat your wife and how you threaten me,” I snapped, my anger boiling over. “There are laws in England to protect women from cruelty and abuse. If you harm a hair on Laura’s head, if you dare to interfere with my freedom, I will appeal to those laws, no matter what happens.”

Instead of responding, he turned to the Count.

“What did I tell you?” he asked. “What do you say now?”

“What I said before,” the Count replied—“No.”

Even in my fury, I felt the Count’s calm, cold, grey eyes on me. They shifted away as soon as he finished speaking, looking meaningfully at his wife. Madame Fosco moved closer to me and addressed Sir Percival before either of us could speak again.

“Please give me your attention for a moment,” she said, her voice cool and controlled. “I want to thank you, Sir Percival, for your hospitality, but I must decline to take advantage of it any longer. I will not stay in a house where ladies are treated as your wife and Miss Halcombe have been treated today!”

Sir Percival stepped back, staring at her in stunned silence. The declaration she had just made—a declaration that both he and I knew she wouldn’t have dared to make without her husband’s permission—seemed to freeze him in place. The Count stood by, looking at his wife with admiration.

“She is sublime!” he murmured to himself. He moved closer to her, linking her arm with his. “I am at your service, Eleanor,” he continued, with a quiet dignity I had never noticed in him before. “And at Miss Halcombe’s service, if she will honor me by accepting any assistance I can offer.”

“What the hell do you mean?” Sir Percival shouted as the Count calmly led his wife toward the door.

“At other times, I mean what I say, but right now, I mean what my wife says,” the impenetrable Italian replied. “We’ve switched places for once, Percival, and Madame Fosco’s opinion is now mine.”

Sir Percival crumpled the paper in his hand, pushing past the Count with another curse, standing between him and the door.

“Have it your way,” he said, his voice low and filled with rage. “Have it your way—and see what comes of it.” With that, he stormed out of the room.

Madame Fosco looked at her husband, puzzled. “He left very suddenly,” she said. “What does that mean?”

“It means that together, we’ve brought the worst-tempered man in all England to his senses,” the Count replied. “It means, Miss Halcombe, that Lady Glyde is relieved from a terrible indignity, and you are freed from an unforgivable insult. Allow me to express my admiration for your conduct and courage in such a trying moment.”

“Sincere admiration,” Madame Fosco added.

“Sincere admiration,” the Count echoed.

I felt the weight of my anxiety pressing down on me, making it hard to breathe. I was desperate to see Laura, but I had no idea what had happened at the boathouse. I tried to maintain my composure while speaking to the Count and his wife, mirroring their polite tone, but the words caught in my throat. My heart raced, and my eyes kept drifting toward the door.

The Count must have sensed my distress. He opened the door, stepped outside, and closed it behind him. Just then, I heard Sir Percival’s heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. They whispered to each other in the hallway, while Madame Fosco calmly assured me that she was relieved Sir Percival’s behavior hadn’t forced her and her husband to leave Blackwater Park. Before she finished her sentence, the whispering stopped, the door opened, and the Count stepped back inside.

“Miss Halcombe,” he said, “I’m pleased to tell you that Lady Glyde is back in charge of her own house. I thought it would be better for you to hear this good news from me rather than from Sir Percival, so I made a point to come back and tell you myself.”

“Such admirable delicacy!” Madame Fosco replied, mirroring her husband’s praise in his own style. He smiled and bowed as if he had received a compliment from a stranger, then stepped aside to let me pass.

As I rushed into the hall, I spotted Sir Percival waiting impatiently. “What are you doing in there?” he called to the Count. “I need to talk to you.”

“And I need a moment to think,” the Count replied. “Let’s talk later, Percival.”

Neither of them said anything more. I hurried up the stairs and dashed down the corridor. In my haste and anxiety, I left the ante-chamber door open but closed the bedroom door as soon as I stepped inside.

Laura was sitting at the far end of the room, her arms resting on a table, her face hidden in her hands. She jumped up with a cry of joy when she saw me.

“How did you get here?” she asked. “Who let you in? Not Sir Percival?”

I was too overwhelmed with worry to answer her. I could only ask questions. But Laura’s eagerness to know what had happened downstairs was too strong to ignore, and she kept pressing me for answers.

“The Count, of course,” I said, my impatience showing. “His influence in the house—”

She cut me off with a look of disgust. “Don’t talk about him,” she exclaimed. “The Count is the most despicable creature alive! He’s a miserable spy!”

Before we could say anything more, we heard a soft knock at the bedroom door.

I hadn’t even taken a seat yet, so I went to see who it was. When I opened the door, Madame Fosco stood there, holding my handkerchief.

“You dropped this downstairs, Miss Halcombe,” she said. “I thought I’d bring it to you as I was passing by on my way to my room.”

Her face, usually pale, had turned an ashen white that startled me. Her hands, usually steady, trembled violently, and her eyes darted past me to fixate on Laura.

She had been eavesdropping before she knocked! I could see it in her pale face, her shaking hands, and her gaze at Laura.

After a moment, she turned away from me in silence and walked off slowly.

I closed the door again. “Oh, Laura! We’re going to regret the day you called the Count a spy!”

“You would have said the same, Marian, if you knew what I know. Anne Catherick was right. There was a third person watching us in the plantation yesterday, and that third person—”

“Are you sure it was the Count?”

“I’m absolutely certain. He was Sir Percival’s spy—his informer—he had Sir Percival watching and waiting all morning for Anne Catherick and for me.”

“Did you find Anne? Did you see her at the lake?”

“No. She managed to stay away from the area. When I got to the boathouse, no one was there.”

“Really? Go on.”

“I went in and waited for a few minutes, but my restlessness got the better of me, so I decided to walk around a bit. As I stepped outside, I noticed some marks in the sand right in front of the boathouse. I bent down to take a closer look and found a word written in large letters in the sand. The word was—LOOK.”

“And you scraped away the sand and dug a hollow place in it?”

“How did you know that, Marian?”

“I saw the hollow spot myself when I followed you to the boathouse. Keep going—what happened next?”

“Yes, I brushed the sand away, and soon I found a piece of paper hidden underneath. It had writing on it, signed with Anne Catherick’s initials.”

“Where is it now?”

“Sir Percival took it from me.”

“Can you remember what it said? Can you repeat it to me?”

“I can recall the main points, Marian. It was brief. You would have remembered it perfectly.”

“Please, tell me what it said before we go any further.”

She nodded and recited the lines to me, which I wrote down exactly as she spoke them:

“I was seen with you yesterday by a tall, stout old man, and I had to run to save myself. He wasn’t quick enough to follow me, and I lost him among the trees. I can’t risk coming back here today at the same time. I’m writing this and hiding it in the sand at six in the morning to let you know. When we next discuss your wicked husband’s secret, we must do so safely, or not at all. Please be patient. I promise you’ll see me again soon.—A. C.”

The mention of the “tall, stout old man” left no doubt in my mind about who the intruder had been. I remembered telling Sir Percival, in the Count’s presence the day before, that Laura had gone to the boathouse to look for her brooch. He must have followed her there, eager to ease her worries about the signature, right after he had mentioned the change in Sir Percival’s plans to me in the drawing room. He could only have arrived at the boathouse just as Anne Catherick spotted him. The way she hurried away from Laura likely prompted his futile attempt to follow her. He couldn’t have overheard their earlier conversation, given the distance between the house and the lake and the timing of his departure from me in the drawing room compared to when Laura and Anne Catherick had spoken. That much was clear.

Having pieced together some conclusions, my next pressing concern was to find out what Sir Percival had discovered after Count Fosco had shared his information.

“How did you lose the letter?” I asked. “What did you do with it after you found it in the sand?”

“After I read it once,” she replied, “I took it into the boathouse to sit down and read it again. While I was reading, a shadow fell across the paper. I looked up and saw Sir Percival standing in the doorway, watching me.”

“Did you try to hide the letter?”

“I did, but he stopped me. ‘You don’t need to bother hiding that,’ he said. ‘I’ve already read it.’ I could only stare at him, speechless. ‘You understand?’ he continued. ‘I dug it up out of the sand two hours ago, buried it again, and wrote the word above it again, leaving it ready for you. You can’t talk your way out of this now. You met Anne Catherick in secret yesterday, and you have her letter in your hand right now. I haven’t caught her yet, but I’ve caught you. Hand over the letter.’ He stepped closer to me—I was alone with him, Marian—what could I do? I gave him the letter.”

“What did he say when you handed it to him?”

“At first, he didn’t say anything. He took my arm and led me out of the boathouse, looking around as if he was worried we’d be seen or overheard. Then he tightened his grip on my arm and whispered, ‘What did Anne Catherick say to you yesterday? I want to hear every word, from beginning to end.’”

“Did you tell him?”

“I was alone with him, Marian—his cruel hand was squeezing my arm—what could I do?”

“Is the mark on your arm still there? Let me see it.”

“Why do you want to see it?”

“I want to see it, Laura, because our endurance must end, and our resistance must begin today. That mark is a weapon we can use against him. Show it to me now—I might need to testify about it later.”

“Oh, Marian, don’t look like that—don’t talk like that! It doesn’t hurt me anymore!”

“Let me see it!”

She revealed the marks to me. I was past feeling sorrow for them, past crying over them, past shuddering at the sight. They say we are either better than men or worse. If the temptation that has led some women astray had come my way at that moment—thank God!—my face showed nothing that his wife could interpret. The gentle, innocent, affectionate creature thought I was merely worried for her and felt sorry for her, and she thought no more of it.

“Don’t take it too seriously, Marian,” she said simply, pulling her sleeve back down. “It doesn’t hurt me now.”

“I’ll try to stay calm about it, my love, for your sake. Well! Well! And you told him everything Anne Catherick said to you—all that you told me?”

“Yes, everything. He insisted on it—I was alone with him—I couldn’t hide anything.”

“What did he say after you finished?”

“He looked at me and laughed bitterly to himself. ‘I’m going to get the rest out of you,’ he said, ‘do you hear?—the rest.’ I swore to him that I had told him everything I knew. ‘Not you,’ he replied, ‘you know more than you’re willing to share. Won’t you tell me? You will! I’ll get it out of you at home if I can’t get it out of you here.’ He led me away along a strange path through the woods—a path where there was no chance of us running into you—and he didn’t say another word until we reached the house. Then he stopped again and asked, ‘Will you take a second chance if I give it to you? Will you reconsider and tell me the rest?’ I could only repeat what I had said before. He cursed my stubbornness and continued on, dragging me with him into the house. ‘You can’t fool me,’ he said, ‘you know more than you’re letting on. I’ll get your secret out of you, and I’ll get it out of your sister too. There will be no more plotting and whispering between you two. Neither of you will see each other again until you confess the truth. I’ll have you watched day and night until you confess.’ He wouldn’t listen to anything I said. He took me straight upstairs to my room. Fanny was there, working on something for me, and he immediately ordered her out. ‘I’ll make sure YOU’RE not involved in this conspiracy,’ he said. ‘You’re leaving this house today. If your mistress needs a maid, she’ll have one of my choosing.’ He pushed me into the room and locked the door behind me. He left that clueless woman to guard me outside, Marian! He looked and acted like a madman. You can hardly understand it—he truly did.”

“I do understand, Laura. He’s mad—mad with the fears of a guilty conscience. Everything you’ve said makes me absolutely certain that when Anne Catherick left you yesterday, you were on the verge of uncovering a secret that could ruin your vile husband, and he thinks you’ve already discovered it. Nothing you say or do will calm that guilty suspicion and convince his deceitful nature of your honesty. I’m not saying this to frighten you, my love. I’m saying it to make you aware of your situation and to show you how urgent it is for me to act, as best I can, for your protection while we still have the chance. Count Fosco’s interference has allowed me to see you today, but he could withdraw that interference tomorrow. Sir Percival has already dismissed Fanny because she’s clever and devoted to you, and he’s chosen a woman to replace her who cares nothing for your interests and whose dull mind makes her no better than a guard dog. It’s impossible to predict what extreme measures he might take next unless we seize our opportunities while we can.”

“What can we do, Marian? Oh, if only we could leave this house and never see it again!”

“Listen to me, my love, and try to remember that you’re not completely helpless as long as I’m here with you.”

“I will think so—I do think so. But don’t forget about poor Fanny while you’re thinking of me. She needs help and comfort too.”

“I won’t forget her. I saw her before I came up here, and I’ve arranged to communicate with her tonight. Letters aren’t safe in the post at Blackwater Park, and I have two to write today, in your interest, which must only pass through Fanny’s hands.”

“What letters?”

“I plan to write first, Laura, to Mr. Gilmore’s partner, who has offered to help us in any new emergency. Little as I know about the law, I’m certain it can protect a woman from the treatment that brute has inflicted on you today. I won’t go into details about Anne Catherick, because I don’t have any solid information to give. But the lawyer will know about those bruises on your arm and the violence you faced in this room—he will, before I rest tonight!”

“But think of the exposure, Marian!”

“I’m counting on the exposure. Sir Percival has more to fear from it than you do. The threat of exposure might force him to negotiate when nothing else will.”

I stood up as I spoke, but Laura begged me not to leave her. “You’ll drive him to desperation,” she said, “and increase our dangers tenfold.”

I felt the truth—the disheartening truth—of her words. But I couldn’t bring myself to admit it plainly to her. In our dreadful situation, there was no help and no hope for us except in risking the worst. I said so in careful terms. She sighed bitterly but didn’t argue. She only asked about the second letter I had mentioned writing. To whom was it addressed?

“To Mr. Fairlie,” I replied. “Your uncle is your closest male relative and the head of the family. He must and shall intervene.”

Laura shook her head sadly.

“Yes, yes,” I continued, “I know your uncle is weak, selfish, and focused on his own comfort, but he’s not Sir Percival Glyde, and he doesn’t have someone like Count Fosco around him. I don’t expect any kindness or compassion from him toward you or me, but he will do anything to avoid trouble and maintain his peace. If I can convince him that stepping in now will save him from future headaches and misery, he’ll take action for his own sake. I know how to handle him, Laura—I’ve had some practice.”

“If you could just persuade him to let me go back to Limmeridge for a little while and stay there quietly with you, Marian, I could almost feel as happy as I did before I got married!”

Her words sparked a new idea in me. Could I put Sir Percival in a position where he had to choose between facing the scandal of legal intervention on his wife’s behalf or letting her have a peaceful separation under the guise of a visit to her uncle? Would he actually consider the second option? It was uncertain—more than uncertain. But even if it seemed like a long shot, it was worth a try. I decided to go for it, driven by the desperation of not knowing what else to do.

“I’ll make sure your uncle knows about your wish,” I said, “and I’ll consult the lawyer about it too. Something good might come of this—and I hope it will.”

With that, I stood up again, and once more Laura urged me to sit back down.

“Don’t leave me,” she said anxiously. “My desk is over there. You can write here.”

It pained me to refuse her, even for her own good. But we had already spent too much time alone together. Our chances of seeing each other again could depend on not raising any new suspicions. It was time for me to blend in with the people downstairs who might be discussing us right now. I explained this unfortunate necessity to Laura, and I managed to convince her to accept it.

“I’ll be back in an hour or less, love,” I assured her. “The worst is over for today. Stay calm and don’t worry.”

“Is the key in the door, Marian? Can I lock it from the inside?”

“Yes, here’s the key. Lock the door and don’t open it for anyone until I come back upstairs.”

I kissed her and left. It felt like a relief as I walked away, hearing the key turn in the lock and knowing that she had control over the door.