II

von Wilkie Collins

My role is clear, and my intentions are understood. Now, I’ll share the stories of Marian and Laura.

I’ll tell both tales not through the often chaotic and confusing words of those involved, but through the straightforward summary I wrote for my own reference and for my legal advisor. This way, the tangled narrative will unfold quickly and clearly.

Marian’s story picks up right where the housekeeper’s account at Blackwater Park left off.

When Lady Glyde left her husband’s home, the housekeeper informed Miss Halcombe about her departure and the circumstances surrounding it. A few days later—exactly how many, Mrs. Michelson couldn’t recall without a written note—a letter arrived from Madame Fosco announcing Lady Glyde’s sudden death at Count Fosco’s residence. The letter didn’t specify dates and left it to Mrs. Michelson to decide whether to tell Miss Halcombe immediately or wait until her health was more stable.

After consulting with Mr. Dawson, who had been delayed in returning to Blackwater Park due to illness, Mrs. Michelson, following the doctor’s advice and in his presence, shared the news either the day the letter arrived or the day after. It’s not necessary to dwell on how this news affected Lady Glyde’s sister, but it’s important to note that she was unable to travel for over three weeks. When she finally did make the journey to London, she was accompanied by the housekeeper. They parted ways there, with Mrs. Michelson providing Miss Halcombe her address in case they needed to communicate later.

Once she was alone, Miss Halcombe went straight to the office of Messrs. Gilmore & Kyrle to speak with Mr. Kyrle in Mr. Gilmore’s absence. She confided in Mr. Kyrle about her suspicions regarding the circumstances of Lady Glyde’s death—something she hadn’t shared with anyone else, including Mrs. Michelson. Mr. Kyrle, who had previously shown a genuine desire to help Miss Halcombe, agreed to investigate the matter, despite its sensitive and potentially dangerous nature.

To wrap up this part of the story before moving on, it’s worth noting that Count Fosco offered Mr. Kyrle every assistance when he learned that Mr. Kyrle was sent by Miss Halcombe to gather information about Lady Glyde’s passing. Mr. Kyrle connected with the doctor, Mr. Goodricke, and the two servants. Without any way to determine the exact date of Lady Glyde’s departure from Blackwater Park, Mr. Kyrle concluded that the evidence from the doctor and the servants, along with the statements from Count Fosco and his wife, was convincing. He believed that Miss Halcombe’s deep grief over her sister’s loss had clouded her judgment, and he wrote to her, stating that the troubling suspicion she had mentioned was, in his view, completely unfounded. Thus, Mr. Gilmore’s partner’s investigation began and ended.

Meanwhile, Miss Halcombe returned to Limmeridge House, gathering any additional information she could find.

Mr. Fairlie first learned of his niece’s death from his sister, Madame Fosco, in a letter that also lacked specific dates. He agreed to her suggestion that Lady Glyde be buried in her mother’s grave at Limmeridge churchyard. Count Fosco accompanied the body to Cumberland and attended the funeral at Limmeridge on July 30th, which was honored by the presence of the entire village and surrounding community. The following day, the inscription—reportedly drafted by the deceased lady’s aunt and approved by her brother, Mr. Fairlie—was engraved on one side of the monument over the grave.

On the day of the funeral and for a day afterward, Count Fosco was welcomed as a guest at Limmeridge House. However, Mr. Fairlie, at his own request, did not meet with him. Instead, they communicated through letters. In his correspondence, Count Fosco informed Mr. Fairlie about the details surrounding his niece’s final illness and death. While the letter didn’t reveal anything new, there was one striking paragraph in the postscript that caught Mr. Fairlie’s attention.

This paragraph conveyed some important news: Anne Catherick, about whom Mr. Fairlie could learn more from Miss Halcombe upon her arrival at Limmeridge, had been located near Blackwater Park and was once again under the care of the doctor from whom she had previously escaped.

The second part of the postscript warned Mr. Fairlie that Anne’s mental condition had worsened due to her prolonged lack of supervision. Her deep-seated hatred and distrust of Sir Percival Glyde, which had been a significant part of her delusions in the past, had resurfaced in a new form. The unfortunate woman’s latest fixation involved tormenting Sir Percival and, in her distorted perception, elevating herself in the eyes of the staff by pretending to be his deceased wife. This idea had likely come to her after a secret meeting with Lady Glyde, during which she noticed their uncanny resemblance. While it seemed highly unlikely that she would manage to escape from the asylum again, there was a chance she might find a way to disturb Lady Glyde’s relatives with letters. Mr. Fairlie was forewarned on how to handle any correspondence he might receive from her.

When Miss Halcombe arrived at Limmeridge, she was shown the postscript and given the clothes Lady Glyde had worn, along with other belongings she had brought to her aunt’s house. These items had been carefully gathered and sent to Cumberland by Madame Fosco.

This was the situation when Miss Halcombe reached Limmeridge in early September.

Not long after her arrival, she was confined to her room due to a relapse, her physical strength faltering under the weight of her mental anguish. After a month, as she began to recover, her suspicions about the circumstances surrounding her sister’s death remained intact. During her recovery, she received no news about Sir Percival Glyde, but letters from Madame Fosco arrived, filled with warm inquiries from both her and her husband. Instead of responding, Miss Halcombe arranged for the house in St. John’s Wood and its occupants to be watched discreetly.

The investigation yielded no suspicious findings. Subsequent inquiries into Mrs. Rubelle also turned up nothing alarming. She and her husband had moved to London about six months earlier from Lyons, renting a house near Leicester Square to turn it into a boarding house for foreigners expected to visit for the 1851 Exhibition. The couple had no known issues in the neighborhood; they were quiet and had paid their bills without trouble. The final inquiries focused on Sir Percival Glyde, who was now settled in Paris, living quietly among a small circle of English and French friends.

Frustrated but restless, Miss Halcombe decided to visit the asylum where she believed Anne Catherick was confined for the second time. She had been curious about Anne in the past, and now her interest was heightened. She wanted to confirm whether the reports of Anne’s impersonation of Lady Glyde were true, and if so, to understand the poor woman’s real motives behind the deception.

Count Fosco’s letter to Mr. Fairlie didn’t include the address of the Asylum, but that didn’t pose a problem for Miss Halcombe. When Mr. Hartright had encountered Anne Catherick at Limmeridge, she had shared the location of the house with him, and Miss Halcombe had carefully noted the details of their conversation in her diary. So, she flipped back to that entry, found the address, grabbed the Count’s letter to Mr. Fairlie as a sort of identification, and set off for the Asylum on October 11th.

She spent the night in London. Initially, she planned to stay with Lady Glyde’s former governess, but Mrs. Vesey’s emotional reaction to seeing her lost pupil’s closest friend was so distressing that Miss Halcombe decided it would be kinder to leave. Instead, she moved to a respectable boarding house nearby, recommended by Mrs. Vesey’s sister. The following day, she made her way to the Asylum, located not far from London on the northern side of the city.

Upon her arrival, she was quickly granted an audience with the proprietor.

At first, he seemed reluctant to allow her to see his patient. However, when she showed him the postscript of Count Fosco’s letter and reminded him that she was the “Miss Halcombe” mentioned, a close relative of the late Lady Glyde, his attitude shifted. He realized that her family connection naturally made her interested in assessing Anne Catherick’s delusion regarding her sister. With this understanding, he withdrew his objections, likely aware that continuing to refuse her would not only be rude but might also suggest that the operations within his establishment were questionable.

Miss Halcombe sensed that the owner of the Asylum hadn’t been fully informed by Sir Percival and the Count. His agreement to let her visit his patient seemed to confirm this, as did his willingness to share details that an accomplice would likely have kept secret.

During their conversation, he mentioned that Anne Catherick had been returned to him with the necessary orders and certificates from Count Fosco on July 27th, along with a letter of instructions signed by Sir Percival Glyde. Upon receiving her back, the proprietor noted some strange personal changes in her. Such changes weren’t uncommon in his experience with mentally ill individuals; those suffering from madness often appeared different at various times, both inside and out. He acknowledged these changes, as well as the evolution of Anne Catherick’s delusion, which was evident in her demeanor and expressions. Yet, he remained puzzled by subtle differences between the Anne he had before her escape and the one who had returned. These differences were too slight to pinpoint—he couldn’t claim she had changed in height, shape, complexion, or even the color of her hair and eyes. The change was more of a feeling than a visual one. In short, the case had been a mystery from the start, and now it had grown even more complicated.

This conversation didn’t prepare Miss Halcombe for what lay ahead, but it did have a profound impact on her. She felt so shaken that it took her a while to regain her composure before she could follow the proprietor to the section of the house where the patients were kept.

When she inquired, she learned that the woman believed to be Anne Catherick was currently exercising in the grounds. One of the nurses kindly offered to lead Miss Halcombe to the area while the proprietor stayed behind to attend to a case that needed his attention, promising to join her shortly in the gardens.

The nurse guided Miss Halcombe to a secluded area of the property, beautifully landscaped and serene. After a brief look around, they turned onto a grassy path flanked by lush shrubs. About halfway down, two women were slowly making their way toward them. The nurse pointed them out, saying, “That’s Anne Catherick, ma’am, with her attendant. She can answer any questions you might have.” With that, the nurse excused herself to return to her duties.

Miss Halcombe continued forward, while the two women approached from the opposite direction. When they were just a few paces apart, one of the women paused, her eyes lighting up as she took in the sight of the unfamiliar lady. She shook off the attendant’s grip and, in an instant, rushed into Miss Halcombe’s arms. In that moment, Miss Halcombe recognized her sister—recognized the ghost of the woman she once knew.

Fortunately, the only witness to this emotional reunion was the nurse, who was young and momentarily stunned, unable to intervene. When she finally regained her composure, Miss Halcombe was overwhelmed, struggling to maintain her own senses in the wake of the shocking discovery. After a few moments in the fresh air and cool shade, her natural strength and determination began to return. She knew she needed to gather herself for her sister’s sake.

She asked for a moment alone with the patient, agreeing to stay within the nurse’s sight. There was no time for lengthy questions—only the urgent need to urge her sister to stay calm and to promise her that help was on the way if she could manage it. The idea of escaping the asylum by following her sister’s guidance seemed to soothe Lady Glyde, making her understand what was needed.

Miss Halcombe then returned to the nurse, placing all the money she had on her—three sovereigns—into the woman’s hands. She asked when and where they could speak privately.

Initially, the nurse was taken aback and suspicious. But after Miss Halcombe assured her that she only wanted to ask some questions she was too shaken to voice at that moment, and that she had no intention of leading the nurse into any wrongdoing, the woman accepted the money. She suggested meeting at three o’clock the next day, when she could slip away for half an hour after the patients had dined. They would meet in a secluded spot outside the high north wall that enclosed the grounds. Miss Halcombe quickly agreed and whispered to her sister that she would be in touch the following day, just as the asylum’s proprietor joined them. He noticed her agitation, which Miss Halcombe attributed to her initial shock from the encounter with Anne Catherick. She took her leave as soon as she could muster the courage to step away from her sister.

Once she was alone, a moment of reflection made it clear that any attempt to legally identify Lady Glyde and secure her release would likely take too long, risking her sister’s already fragile state of mind. By the time Miss Halcombe returned to London, she had resolved to orchestrate Lady Glyde’s escape quietly, with the help of the nurse.

The next day, she went to her stockbroker and liquidated all her investments, totaling just under seven hundred pounds. Determined to pay any price for her sister’s freedom, she gathered the entire amount in banknotes and headed to her meeting outside the asylum wall.

The nurse was waiting for her. Miss Halcombe approached the conversation carefully, starting with a series of preliminary questions. She learned that the nurse who had previously cared for the real Anne Catherick had been blamed for the patient’s escape, losing her job as a result, even though she wasn’t at fault. The same fate would befall the current nurse if the supposed Anne Catherick went missing again. Moreover, this nurse had a personal stake in keeping her position; she was engaged and saving with her fiancé to start a new life together, hoping to gather between two and three hundred pounds to launch a business. With good wages, she believed she could contribute her share through careful budgeting in the next couple of years.

Miss Halcombe spoke up, her voice steady and clear. She explained that the woman they believed to be Anne Catherick was actually her close relative. Anne had been placed in the asylum due to a tragic misunderstanding, and the nurse would be doing a noble thing by helping them reunite. Before anyone could voice any objections, Miss Halcombe pulled out four banknotes, each worth a hundred pounds, from her wallet and offered them to the nurse as compensation for the risk she was about to take and the job she would lose.

The nurse hesitated, caught off guard by the sheer improbability of it all. Miss Halcombe pressed on, her tone firm.

“You’ll be doing something good,” she insisted. “You’ll be helping the most wronged and miserable woman alive. Think of it as your reward for bringing her safely to me. I’ll hand you these four banknotes before I even claim her.”

“Can you give me a letter stating that? I need something to show my sweetheart when he asks how I got the money,” the nurse replied.

“I’ll have the letter ready for you, signed and everything,” Miss Halcombe assured her.

“Then I’ll take the chance,” the nurse said, her resolve firming.

“When will you do it?”

“Tomorrow.”

They quickly agreed that Miss Halcombe would return early the next morning and wait out of sight among the trees, close to the quiet spot under the north wall. The nurse couldn’t set a specific time for her appearance, needing to be cautious and guided by the situation. With that understanding, they parted ways.

Miss Halcombe arrived at her designated spot, letter and banknotes in hand, before ten the next morning. She waited for over an hour and a half. Finally, the nurse appeared, quickly rounding the corner of the wall with Lady Glyde by her side. The moment they met, Miss Halcombe handed over the banknotes and the letter, and the sisters were reunited.

The nurse had dressed Lady Glyde thoughtfully, providing her with a bonnet, veil, and shawl of her own. Miss Halcombe held her back for a moment to suggest a way to mislead anyone who might pursue them once the escape was discovered. The nurse was to return to the house and casually mention to the other nurses that Anne Catherick had recently been asking about the distance from London to Hampshire. She was to wait until the last possible moment before raising the alarm that Anne was missing. This fabricated inquiry about Hampshire would lead the owner of the asylum to believe that his patient had returned to Blackwater Park, under the delusion that she was Lady Glyde, thus diverting the initial search in that direction.

The nurse agreed to follow this plan, relieved that it would help her avoid worse consequences than losing her job by staying at the asylum and maintaining an appearance of innocence. She returned to the house, and Miss Halcombe wasted no time in taking her sister back to London. They caught the afternoon train to Carlisle and arrived at Limmeridge that night without any issues.

During the latter part of their journey, they were alone in their carriage, allowing Miss Halcombe to gather whatever memories her sister could recall, despite her confusion and weakened state. The fragmented story of the conspiracy emerged, disjointed and incomplete, yet it needed to be recorded before this narrative wrapped up with the events of the following day at Limmeridge House.

Lady Glyde’s memories of what happened after she left Blackwater Park began with her arrival at the London terminus of the South Western Railway. She hadn’t noted down the date of her journey, and any hope of determining that crucial detail from her own or Mrs. Michelson’s accounts was lost.

When the train arrived at the platform, Lady Glyde found Count Fosco waiting for her. He was at the carriage door as soon as the porter opened it. The train was unusually crowded, and there was chaos as people scrambled to collect their luggage. Someone Count Fosco had brought with him retrieved Lady Glyde’s bags, clearly marked with her name. She left the station alone with the Count in a carriage that she didn’t pay much attention to at the time.

Her first question after leaving the terminus was about Miss Halcombe. The Count informed her that Miss Halcombe hadn’t yet traveled to Cumberland, having reconsidered the wisdom of her taking such a long journey without a few days of rest beforehand.

Lady Glyde then asked if her sister was staying at the Count’s house. Her memory of the answer was hazy, but she distinctly remembered the Count saying he was taking her to see Miss Halcombe. Lady Glyde’s experience of London was so limited that she couldn’t tell which streets they were driving through. They seemed to be in a bustling area, surrounded by shops and public buildings, but there were no gardens or trees in sight. When the carriage finally stopped, it was in a narrow street behind a square.

They entered the house and climbed the stairs to a back room, either on the first or second floor. Their luggage was brought in with care. A female servant opened the door, and a man with a dark beard, who looked like a foreigner, greeted them in the hall and politely led them upstairs. When Lady Glyde asked about her sister, the Count assured her that Miss Halcombe was in the house and would be informed of her arrival right away. He and the foreign man then left her alone in the room, which was sparsely furnished and overlooked the backs of other houses.

The place was eerily quiet—no footsteps echoed in the stairwell. The only sound was a dull rumble of men’s voices coming from below. After a short time, the Count returned to explain that Miss Halcombe was resting and couldn’t be disturbed just yet. He was accompanied by a gentleman, an Englishman, whom he introduced as a friend.

After this unusual introduction, during which no names were mentioned, Lady Glyde found herself alone with the stranger. He was polite, but his odd questions about her startled and confused her, especially as he looked at her in a peculiar way while asking them. After a brief visit, he left, and shortly afterward, another man—also English—entered. He introduced himself as another friend of Count Fosco’s and, like the first, looked at her strangely and asked curious questions without ever addressing her by name. He left soon after, leaving Lady Glyde feeling increasingly anxious about her sister and frightened for herself. She considered going downstairs to seek the help of the only woman she had seen in the house—the servant who had answered the door.

Just as she stood up from her chair, the Count reentered the room.

Immediately, she asked how much longer she would have to wait to see her sister. At first, he gave her a vague answer, but when pressed, he reluctantly admitted that Miss Halcombe wasn’t as well as he had previously claimed. His tone and demeanor alarmed Lady Glyde, intensifying the unease she felt after her encounters with the two strangers. A wave of faintness washed over her, and she had to ask for a glass of water. The Count called for water and a bottle of smelling salts, both of which were brought in by the bearded man. When Lady Glyde tried to drink the water, it had such a strange taste that it only made her feel worse. She quickly grabbed the bottle of salts from Count Fosco and inhaled it, but it made her head spin. The Count caught the bottle as it slipped from her fingers, and the last thing she remembered was him holding it to her nose again.

After that, her memories became jumbled and hard to piece together.

She believed she regained her senses later that evening, left the house, and went to Mrs. Vesey’s, just as she had planned at Blackwater Park. She recalled having tea there and spending the night under Mrs. Vesey’s roof. However, she couldn’t remember how or when she left the Count’s house or who she was with. Yet, she insisted she had been at Mrs. Vesey’s and, even more strangely, that Mrs. Rubelle had helped her undress and get to bed. The details of her time at Mrs. Vesey’s were a blur; she couldn’t recall the conversations or anyone else who might have been there, nor could she understand why Mrs. Rubelle would have been present to assist her.

Her memories of the following morning were even more vague and unreliable.

She had a vague memory of going out with Count Fosco and Mrs. Rubelle, who was there to accompany her. But the details were hazy—she couldn’t recall what time it was, why she had left Mrs. Vesey, or even where the carriage had taken her. Everything about that outing was a blur. She had no sense of whether it lasted a day or more, until she suddenly found herself in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by women she didn’t know.

This was the Asylum. It was here that she first heard her name—Anne Catherick. And in a shocking twist, she realized she was wearing Anne Catherick’s clothes. On her first night there, the nurse had pointed out the labels on her undergarments as they were removed, saying gently, “Look at your own name on your clothes. Stop worrying us about being Lady Glyde. She’s gone, and you’re alive and well. Just look! It’s all marked clearly, and we have kept your old things—Anne Catherick, just like it says!” Miss Halcombe had seen the same name on the linen her sister wore when they arrived at Limmeridge House.

These were the only memories—uncertain and sometimes conflicting—that Miss Halcombe could draw out of Lady Glyde during their journey to Cumberland. She chose not to press her about the events in the Asylum, knowing her sister’s mind was too fragile to handle that burden. The owner of the asylum had confirmed that Lady Glyde was admitted on July 27th. From that day until October 15th, the day she was rescued, she had been confined, her identity as Anne Catherick consistently enforced, and her sanity constantly questioned. Anyone less resilient would have crumbled under such pressure. No one could endure that experience and emerge unchanged.

They arrived at Limmeridge late on the evening of the fifteenth, and Miss Halcombe wisely decided to wait until the next day to assert Lady Glyde’s identity.

The following morning, she went to Mr. Fairlie’s room. After careful preparation, she finally told him what had happened. Once his initial shock and alarm faded, he angrily accused Miss Halcombe of being fooled by Anne Catherick. He pointed to Count Fosco’s letter and reminded her of what she had said about the resemblance between Anne and his late niece. He flatly refused to acknowledge the presence of a madwoman in his home, insisting it was an insult to have brought her there at all.

Miss Halcombe left the room, allowing her indignation to cool before deciding that Mr. Fairlie should see his niece out of basic humanity before he shut her out completely. Without any prior warning, she took Lady Glyde to his room. A servant stood at the door to block their entrance, but Miss Halcombe insisted on getting through, leading her sister by the hand.

What happened next was too painful to recount, even for Miss Halcombe. It lasted only a few minutes, but the memory of it was unbearable. Mr. Fairlie firmly stated that he did not recognize the woman before him. He saw nothing in her face or demeanor that made him doubt that his niece was buried in Limmeridge churchyard. He threatened to call the authorities if she wasn’t removed from his house by the end of the day.

Taking the worst view of Mr. Fairlie’s selfishness, laziness, and lack of empathy, it was clear that he could never stoop to the disgrace of secretly acknowledging his brother’s child while publicly denying her existence. Miss Halcombe, with her usual compassion and practicality, recognized the strong influence of bias and fear that clouded his judgment and explained his behavior that way. However, when she tested the servants and found them all uncertain—at best—about whether the woman presented to them was their young mistress or Anne Catherick, whose resemblance to her they all knew about, it became painfully clear that the changes in Lady Glyde’s appearance and demeanor due to her time in the Asylum were far more serious than Miss Halcombe had initially thought. The cruel deception that had claimed her life was so effective that it could withstand exposure even in the home where she was born and among those who had known her.

In a less desperate situation, there might still have been hope.

For instance, the maid, Fanny, who was currently away from Limmeridge, was expected back in two days. She might recognize Lady Glyde right away, having been in much closer contact with her and having cared for her more deeply than the other servants. Additionally, Lady Glyde could have been kept hidden in the house or the village until she regained her health and steadied her mind. Once her memory was reliable again, she would naturally refer to people and events from her past with a certainty and familiarity that no impostor could fake. The truth of her identity, which her appearance had failed to confirm, could eventually be established through her own words, given enough time.

But the circumstances surrounding her release made such options impossible. The pursuit from the Asylum, temporarily diverted to Hampshire, would inevitably turn toward Cumberland next. The people sent to find her could arrive at Limmeridge House with little notice, and given Mr. Fairlie’s current state of mind, they could count on his immediate use of local influence and authority to assist them. The most basic concern for Lady Glyde’s safety forced Miss Halcombe to abandon the struggle to prove her identity and to move her away from the one place that was now the most dangerous for her—her own home.

The quickest and most sensible course of action was to return to London. In the bustling city, they could erase all traces of themselves swiftly and effectively. There were no preparations to make—no goodbyes to exchange with anyone. On the afternoon of that fateful sixteenth day, Miss Halcombe urged her sister to muster one last bit of courage, and without a single soul to wish them well, the two set out into the world alone, leaving Limmeridge House behind for good.

They had just passed the hill above the churchyard when Lady Glyde insisted on turning back for one last look at her mother’s grave. Miss Halcombe tried to change her mind, but this time her efforts were in vain. Lady Glyde was resolute. Her dim eyes suddenly sparked with determination, cutting through the fog that had clouded them—her frail fingers tightened around the supportive arm that had held her so loosely until now. I truly believe that in that moment, the hand of God was guiding them back, and that the most innocent and afflicted of His creations was chosen to see it.

They retraced their steps to the burial ground, and in doing so, sealed the fate of all three of our lives.