06x03 - The Eligible Bachelor

[bunniefuu]

No, no, no, no.

The asylum at Barnet.

The misery there must be behind those walls.

There's no escape from the terrors of the mind.

Indeed.

Well, another case concluded.

Pah!

I needn't have left Baker Street.

An observant child could have solved it.

Good luck with the seminar and thank you.

It was a privilege, my dear fellow.

It was a successful case after all.

Holmes, don't be bored.

Glaven Castle, I love it.

It's so beautiful, Robert.

I never expected it to be so beautiful.

And it's always belonged to your family?

For about four or five hundred years or so.

- I wanna see it.

- No, Hettie!

Why can't I see it?

My darling girl, you don't understand.

I can't just drop in at Glaven.

Neither can you.

You may be utterly divine and impossibly rich, but you can't.

But why can't I?

You own it.

You're Lord St Simon.

It's your house.

It's an ancestral home, not just mine.

You see, it's the servants who really live there.

Practically every one of them has spent more of their life at Glaven than I have.

I won't have them put out.

I see.

So, even when we're married, if I want to visit, I have to send on ahead.

Yes, preferably a day or two ahead.

I didn't realise.

Like royalty.

Yes.

- Will it be all right, Robert?

- What, my darling?

Will they mind about me, what I am and where I come from?

The servants, I mean, and your family.

They already think of you as one of the exotic.

But I'm a miner's daughter from a mining camp.

Pa might have been digging gold but I'm still a miner's daughter.

It doesn't matter.

Perfect education for country life.

You'll have the whole county at your feet, as you have me.

My, will you look at that.

What's it doing here?

There's always been a zoo at Glaven.

I let a fellow who's interested keep it going.

I have a fancy that cat's from the Americas, like you.

- Perhaps he's come to welcome you.

- You wild and beautiful thing.

Not half as wild and beautiful as you.

Water.

Water into dust.

Come along.

Come on.

Amelia, why don't you give the dog to me?

No, no, she stays with me.

She might get under the horses.

It's a wonder we got here at all.

It's arrived.

And so have they.

- Paris, did you say?

- What did you say?

They sent the child to Paris.

- What for?

- To school.

Yes.

Americans do send their daughters to Paris.

- That's what I was given to understand.

- They've heard of it?

I doubt it.

Do you know, in my experience, Paris breeds frivolity or philosophy.

Neither a helpful companion in life.

Mm.

No, I suppose not.

Well, at least the child is not an actress.

- Florence.

- Perhaps she can cook.

Alice, Alice, Alice!

Now, Hettie, they're your future family.

They want to like you.

They want to like Lord Robert's future bride.

Stop being so silly.

But Alice, have you seen those women?

I'd like to remind you of an incident which occurred in Tomkin's Gulch not two years ago.

The bear?

Alice, I was scared to death.

You faced that bear down, you did.

- I couldn't move, I tell you.

- You faced him down.

You believed in yourself and you did it.

Now, you get down those stairs.

My dear Henrietta, you cannot live at Glaven.

Why not?

Because Glaven isn't fit for habitation.

But it's just perfect.

We'll soon get it round.

I say it's the most beautiful place I've ever seen.

Don't you remember how lovely it was when all the men came with their scythes to mow the hay in the park?

And the summer parties.

Every lamp in the house was lit.

And outside, the smell of the hay in the moonlight.

Do you remember?

Yes, yes.

I remember.

"Dear Mr Sherlock Holmes, my father has run away.

"Please will you help me find him? Timothy."

"My cat Boswell is missing. Money no object."

Will I tell you what I actually think?

- No.

- I think she's extraordinarily pretty.

That's what I think.

And I think Robert is head over heels in love.

- I agree.

- That's what I think.

And Bella thinks so, too.

Don't you, my angel?

Bella says Miss Doran is very nearly as pretty as she is.

Very nearly.

Dear Henrietta, you mustn't take what Amelia says too seriously.

I didn't hear a word of all that.

Robert so deserves you, my dear.

He's been unlucky in love and his business...

Hush.

Mary, remember?

Why can't I finish what I was going to say?

- When do we dine?

- Exquisite.

Exquisite.

- Get off me!

- Come here, you dirty trollop!

Get off me!

Bitch!

Get off me!

Ow!

Get off me!

Get off!

Get of me!

'You've merely imagined all these dreadful things, Oswald.

'It was your imagination.

This agony's been too much...'

- Hello, Mr Holmes.

- May I?

Yes, but they're rehearsing.

At home, with your own mother, my blessed boy.

Everything is yours for the asking.

Just like when you were a little child.

- The fit is over now.

- Mother, give me the sun.

Oswald, what is the matter?

Look at me!

Oh!

Do you not know me?

The sun.

The sun.

No.

No.

No!

We're being watched.

I will not rehearse in front of strangers!

Get out of there!

Go on, on your way!

Go on!

Go on!

Hop it!

- What are you looking for?

- Mind your own business.

- It's not Lord Roberts.

- It's our damned anniversary!

- Seven years.

- Your damned anniversary, not his.

You know it, he knows it and the cat knows it.

What's the matter with you?

Get out!

Go and get me another bottle.

Go on.

I'm not his whore to be paid off.

He trusted me.

I'm not your whore, my Lord.

No.

Come and use your whore, my Lord.

You'll never have anyone who'll do what you want like me.

Water, madam?

Thank you.

You'll pardon me, if I don't join you in drinking that French château wine.

I guess it's too refined for my taste.

Some would say too civilised.

I'll drink your health but it'll be in Samuel Marcoolyn's Rye.

A smoky kind of whiskey.

I travel it with me all over.

How very wise, Mr Dolan.

Very wise.

If one has an established taste, why then...

Just so.

Just so.

The wine, sir, is magnificent.

Bless you.

You know, don't you, I've settled a considerable amount on Hettie for when she's married.

She's very conscious of your generosity, sir.

- She's mentioned it more than once.

- Sure.

Now, tell me about this house of yours.

Great house.

Sad looking, they tell me.

Mm.

I'll accept that.

But I'm not prepared to lay out more for the time I spend there.

Hettie's told me how beautiful it is.

I think she'd like it to be one of her homes.

I would want to please Hettie in any way I can...

but I'm not sure that living at Glaven is possible.

Why not?

You've always been very frank with me, so I'll admit something to you.

When I was much younger and barely had a grasp of affairs, I was very badly advised.

Financially, I mean.

In what way?

I was persuaded to sell off outlying parts of Glaven until there wasn't enough income from the estate to sustain the house.

Then mortgages were taken out to repair things which left even less income.

And nobody warned you of the consequences?

I trusted my advisers.

They were my father's advisers.

When you grow up in a place like Glaven...

it seems eternal.

Sure.

I see that.

I'll be off then, Miss Miller, and I hope you'll do the same, cos there's no point in you doing otherwise.

Who will rid me of this troublesome woman?

- Oh, you may say.

- I do say.

Get out.

Here.

This should kick things off for you to make a start at Glaven.

Very generous.

You look after my girl, I'll look after your house.

The Park Club.

The Park Club.

Vincent.

Giddy up!

Thank you, Ewart.

Go!

Go!

- Neuf.

- Neuf à la banque.

Remember our agreement, my Lord?

This quarter's payment or I foreclose the mortgages.

I am to be married later this morning, Gallagher.

The bride's father is the richest man on the Pacific slope.

Anything she wants, he'll give her, as long as I keep her happy.

Well, yes, keep her very happy, my Lord.

My partners and I have no wish to own Glaven.

Please don't force us to take it.

Rest assured it will never come to that.

If you'll excuse me, gentlemen.

Oh!

Thank you, Mrs Hudson.

Is that a look of reproach?

No.

No, I'm often up at this hour.

Oh.

I don't really sleep these days.

Scale.

Scale of the chair and the sense of the scale of the chair.

God bless you, me Lord!

- And you.

- All the best for you.

- Oh, yeah.

- Good luck!

Oh, leave the g*dd*mn thing alone!

Thank you for coming, Doctor.

- Why didn't you call me earlier?

- Well, I didn't know what to...

Oh, dear, oh, dear.

He won't admit it, of course, but he's not well.

- I'm worried about him.

- You should have called me earlier.

But he wouldn't have it and you know how masterful he is.

I didn't dare disobey him.

Oh, dear.

- Holmes?

- Holmes?

What do you know about dreams?

- Why do you ask?

- Why?!

I'm walking through infernal territory and you ask why!

I only meant...

I don't know what I meant.

Well, there's a group in Vienna led by a young doctor called Freud.

Psychologische Mittwoch-Gesellschaft.

Please don't look at them!

They're merely scribbles...for reference.

Does he seek to explain dreams?

To interpret them, their relationship to the life of the dreamer.

They aim to be scientific, I gather.

A science of dreams.

Well, well, well.

My dream is horrible.

I am...fighting with Moriarty at the falls.

Then suddenly I'm overwhelmed with a sense of loss.

Fear.

Yes, fear.

Empty rooms.

I have no sense of scale.

A huge chair which diminishes.

Its upholstery torn to shreds.

I'm struggling to escape from a marsh, a mire, a quagmire.

The Grimpen mire.

And then appears...

an androgynous creature.

Witch-like, hag-like.

With claws, talons, which reach out to me.

Through me.

And I'm trapped.

In a mesh of cobwebs.

And I wake.

Hm.

Are you eating?

You sleep badly.

You have bad dreams, you sleep even worse.

I don't have bad dreams.

I have one dream more than once.

- Let's see how you really are.

- Please don't start that!

And I'll tell you something else.

I regret Moriarty's death.

Tell me, how would you describe Moriarty?

Evil.

A giant of evil.

A giant!

Yes, quite so.

Without him I have to deal with... distressed children and cat owners' pygmies, pygmies of triviality!

You see, Moriarty combined science with evil.

Organisation with precision.

Vision with perception.

I know of only one person that he misjudged.

Me.

Put away your medicines.

How was your seminar?

Lively.

Here, what are you doing?

There's something wrong with the child.

She's as nervous as a cat.

Hat?

Yes, Amelia does look curious in a hat.

I never thought of it before.

Even you were nervous as a bride.

It's not that.

There's something wrong.

I was about about to announce.

- Give it two minutes.

- Very well, my Lady.

Get that girl for me.

Get her!

- The bride seemed nervous.

- Get her!

Very odd for an American.

Argh!

Where is your dignity, Miss Miller?

In the cold gutter of your heart, Lord Robert.

Trampled in the gutter.

Remember who I am.

I wish the child joy of you.

Look, Bella, there's the famous Flora Miller.

She used to be a friend of Robert's, but I don't she likes him any more.

I can explain everything.

It was, erm...

It was a long time ago.

Who are you?

She's not upstairs.

Go away.

The house has been searched now, top to bottom.

- Not a sign of Hettie anywhere.

Nothing.

- Alice?

- One of Miss Doran's cloaks is missing.

- Nothing else?

- No, sir.

Not even a purse.

- Thank you, Alice.

- Sir.

- We must call the police.

- What about this woman of yours?

This actress.

Could she have anything to do with it?

I don't know.

- I don't know.

- I'll get the police.

Do you have any objection?

No.

Where are you?

My darling.

Missing bride, no clue!

Missing bride, no clue!

Missing bride, no clue!

Missing bride, no clue!

Oi!

Missing bride, no clue!

Well, well, well.

Hm.

I've told you what you should be doing is eating properly.

- Come in!

This has come.

It is marked "Most urgent".

Mrs Hudson, I can still see.

Are you all right, Mr Holmes?

Do you know, I wish I'd never unlocked the door.

No.

Oh, it's got a crest and a monogram.

That's an improvement.

This morning's mail was from a fishmonger and a tidewaiter.

Oh.

It's a fashionable epistle, indeed.

"My dear Sherlock Holmes, Lord Blackwater tells me I may place "implicit reliance upon your judgment and discretion.

"Scotland Yard is already acting in this matter and there is no objection to..."

- It's about that Lord St Simon wedding.

- Yes, dull, dull, dull.

"Azure. Three caltrops in chief over a fess sable."

That's him all right.

It's Lord St Simon.

He's early.

Oh, Watson, I'm trying to sleep.

You know my methods.

Leave the door open, will you?

Where is Holmes?

Mr Holmes is indisposed, my Lord.

He has entrusted the preliminaries to me.

- I know his methods.

- Very well.

Very well.

Apart from the...distress this has caused me, you understand the...delicacy.

- Indeed.

- Indeed.

Lord Blackwater said that Mr Holmes has handled cases of this sort before.

Though hardly, I imagine, from the same class of society.

- He would, in fact, be descending.

- Sir?

Mr Holmes' last client of the sort was a king.

Bravo, Watson.

Oh, I had no idea.

Which king?

Well, you can understand, my Lord, that he extends to the affairs of other clients the same secrecy which is promised you in yours.

Of course.

How are we to find her, sir?

How can she have disappeared?

Where is she?

I must have her back.

A woman obscured.

It was after the ceremony outside the church that I first noticed that something was wrong.

As you came out and not before?

- No.

- And as she came in?

She appeared a little apprehensive.

But she...looked quite lovely.

And very happy.

If I remember rightly, the newspapers implied that Miss Miller was drunk when she made the scene at your front door.

As far as I could judge, yes.

It was likely.

Would it be in order to ask the nature of your relationship with Miss Miller?

Yes.

If somewhat naive, she was my mistress.

We parted some months ago.

I was, I believe, generous.

- And that is when you met Miss Doran.

- Before, in fact.

Miss Miller's drinking had already led to some scenes.

She was becoming very unreliable.

- Do you think...

Do you think Miss Miller the sort of person to seek revenge on you?

Beyond embarrassing you, I mean.

Drink affects people unpredictably.

The chap at Scotland Yard also believes Miss Miller to be implicated in Hettie's disappearance.

Hadn't you better answer the door, sir?

- What?

- I know, I know, Mr Holmes.

But the circumstances are odd.

I felt you should see this.

The woman was a lady, no doubt about it.

And there was something about her.

Compelling, I'd call it.

- Most compelling.

- Thank you, Mrs Hudson.

Never mind her clothes and her veil, it was her voice.

She was a lady.

Did you say she wore a veil?

Yes, sir.

Mrs Hudson...

a faint cold fear runs through my veins.

- Oh, sir.

- Would you put a match to the fire?

Of course.

Thank you, Mrs Hudson.

Now, Lord Robert, if I were to mention the names Maud and Helena to you, would they mean anything?

Certainly, they would.

They are the names of the women to whom Lord Robert was previously married.

Married?

- You were married?

- Forgive my friend's surprise, my Lord.

- Why didn't you tell me?

- You said you wanted to sleep.

Well, I'm wide awake now.

But you are known, even celebrated, as one of the eligible bachelors in the country.

I never chose to be celebrated, Mr Holmes.

I have always been very contented that my marriages be kept from the public gaze, Mr Holmes.

Why?

They were not comfortable experiences.

- Comfortable?

- Painful, indeed.

Painful.

That is what I said, Mr Holmes.

They have no bearing on the matter in hand.

Would you oblige me by telling me how your marriages ended?

The first ended in my wife's death.

The second by annulment.

I see.

- I was only singing.

- Come on, out you go.

I see.

And the grounds of the annulment?

It was annulled, Mr Holmes.

Watson, will you fetch Mrs Hudson?

- Mrs Hudson.

- Yes.

I want you to describe to me the lady who delivered the note.

- Thank you.

- Well, I'll try, sir.

No, you must do more than try, Mrs Hudson.

You must succeed.

Well, erm, she...

Look.

Look, sir.

On the other side of the street.

That's her.

Come, Watson!

Drive on.

Oh.

Oh.

Stop!

Stop!

- Stop!

- Holmes!

Stop!

Argh!

Damn!

I despair.

- What is it?

- A tram ticket and an accounts book.

It's just figures.

No address.

Lady Hettie gone.

"What of Maud and Helena?" - Out of the way, Mrs Hudson!

- Oh, Doctor!

That phrase from Oscar Wilde's latest play!

Something about losing a relative.

Yes.

"To lose one parent may be considered unfortunate..."

I think that's what the veiled lady was trying to imply.

"To lose one wife may be considered unfortunate, but to lose three..."

- "..begins to look like carelessness."

- Rank carelessness, Watson!

Quickly!

Who is this woman?

I must read your notes on Lord Robert.

- Oh, be reasonable, Watson.

I will eat.

- We aren't leaving this room.

- You need rest.

- Rest?

Well, then, you'll have to interview Doran tomorrow morning.

Very well.

A science of dreams.

What if they're an undiscovered language, like our ancestors thought of them?

Prophetic.

Yes, you may look.

Precognisance.

This little book, we must wait until it dries.

The woman with the veil.

She must be found.

I'm sorry to disturb you, sir.

Inspector Montgomery.

I wonder if you could identify this.

I understand the young lady was wearing her wedding dress when she left the house.

Yes, that's Hettie's wedding dress.

- I'm grateful to you for your time.

- Not at all.

I'm told a visit to Mr Holmes is always entertaining if nothing else.

Leamington Spa?

What's Lestrade doing in Leamington Spa?

Taking the waters.

I'm sorry to see you laid up, Mr Holmes.

It must cramp your style no end.

Never mind.

We've not been idle.

I've arrested Miss Flora Miller for questioning.

But Miss Miller's playing a leading role in the West End.

Why?

Flora Miller was seen at the wedding.

Then she came looking for the victim.

She att*cked Lord Robert.

Then she was seen with Miss Doran shortly after she left her house.

But she'll tell us nothing about it.

Nothing.

And there's this, Mr Holmes.

And it's signed, "FM".

- Erm...

- Fairly conclusive, wouldn't you say?

- Where'd you find this?

- In the pocket of the wedding dress.

- You're looking at the wrong side.

- I know!

What is your name?

- Montgomery.

- Inspector.

Oh.

An inspector.

This is torn from a hotel bill.

"Rooms eight shillings, breakfast / , cocktails a shilling, luncheon / .

- "A glass of sherry, eight pence."

- I looked at that.

Nothing in it.

I know of very few hotels that would dare to charge eight pence for a glass of sherry.

However, Inspector...

I would like to interview, please, Miss Miller.

You're welcome to.

- Good day, Mr Holmes.

Dr Watson.

- Inspector.

- Oh and good luck.

- Good luck to you.

The thought of Lestrade loose in Leamington Spa.

And with his wife with him.

I need your hip flask and a small bottle of gin.

Gin?

That hotel bill, the message, it must have been passed somehow to Miss Doran in the church.

Question one, how?

Question two, by whom?

Clearly by the person she went to meet.

- And the initials FM?

- Flora Miller.

Hm.

I wonder.

- Mr Holmes, the evidence looks good.

- Against Miss Miller.

I now have this gentleman's evidence.

May I introduce Mr George Tidy?

- How do you do, sir.

- He's the senior porter at the Park Club.

He's prepared to testify Miss Miller took a sh*t with a p*stol at Lord St Simon on the night before his wedding.

If true, it's most intriguing.

Oh, it's true, all right.

'It's true, all right.

Mr Tidy has the proof.'

- The b*llet.

- There?

A pocket g*n, wouldn't you say?

But not Miss Miller's.

Not Miss Miller's?

No, certainly not.

The g*n has yet to be invented that can sh**t round corners.

- Someone took a sh*t at him.

- Of course.

Mr Tidy.

Who do you think attempted this m*rder?

I've no idea, sir, but there were several other people about.

But I noticed that the door of his Lordship's carriage banged...

at the same time as the g*n went off.

But what really alerted me was the chips coming out of the stone.

Well, naturally, after that I had to turn and there she was, Miss Miller, I mean, staring at me, furious.

So you thought she had fired the sh*t.

Very natural.

However, it was not.

Person or persons unknown.

And who the devil are you?

Miss Miller.

I am acutely aware that you should not be here.

- I'm glad to hear it.

- I am Sherlock Holmes, at your service.

The only service you could do me is to be carrying a bottle.

Watson.

Well, well.

What an extraordinarily civilised citizen you turn out to be, then.

I am here to investigate the disappearance of Lady St Simon.

The child had the common sense to see what she was letting herself in for.

What was she letting herself in for?

A life with Lord Robert St Simon.

Can you describe what that might entail?

I told the child all about it.

I can't remember!

It had been a long day.

I was very tired.

God knows what I said to her.

I don't remember.

"Dear Mr Holmes, "I, Agnes Northcote, "being of sound mind and body..."

You observed Miss Hettie Doran leave the house.

You introduced yourself to her.

You walked together in the park.

- You warned her against Lord St Simon.

- Yes.

Did she try to defend St Simon to you?

- No.

- Not at all?

All she said was, "Thank you. That has decided me."

Ah.

Go on.

You took her back to the theatre and sent out for some clothes.

- Yes.

- Had she money with her?

No.

I bought the clothes and I gave her a couple of sovereigns.

- That was very good of you.

- Not at all.

She told me her father would reimburse it.

She wrote a note to him for me.

Oh, a note.

Now, do you know anything about Lord St Simon's previous marriages?

- Nothing.

- Nothing?

Nothing.

I live for the present.

Anything else is a waste of time!

Do you know nothing about his first wife's death?

Nothing.

The second marriage was annulled, do you know why?

No.

Annulment usually takes place when there is unfitness in one of the partners.

Do you know what that might be?

No.

No?

Nothing?

You're not prepared to discuss anything?

- No.

- May I ask why?

No.

That any man should be worthy of such love?

Is it passion?

Fear?

Oh, I see, Miller, it's both.

I promise you, I shall do my best to see that you are released from this nonsensical confinement!

Miss Miller.

I'll do it!

This is nearly ready.

You know, the disappearance of Doran's daughter ought to be a simple matter.

It should solve itself without further assistance.

What about Lord Robert?

What has he done to warrant three avenging angels?

- Witches.

- Witches?

Well, a woman obscured.

Perhaps time is shaped.

We cannot dream the future.

Well, maybe the future is all around us.

I'm ready.

Coming.

It's a pity there so little in this.

- Just a few figures and initials.

- Please.

No doubt you'll find more.

Ah.

Oh, look.

It's like the delicate membranes of a butterfly.

The poor woman's destitute.

Destitute.

Ah, there's rage on this page.

Look how she's torn the paper with a nib.

What have we here?

A thread.

A seamstress?

Lace maker?

Web maker?

Ah.

Ah, she reads.

"Bronte, Jane Austen and Sophocles."

Come in.

The woman with the veil, she's back.

- Mr Sherlock Holmes?

- Yes, I am here.

We've met before.

I am Agnes Northcote.

Miss Northcote, what have you to say to me?

Before I can tell you that I must know your connection with Lord St Simon.

None.

Watson.

We are investigating his wife's disappearance.

He must not find her.

Such an edict requires justification, ma'am.

No woman with a fortune is safe from him, believe me.

Believe me.

Really?

Well, I'm afraid I am burdened with a rational turn of mind.

I need proofs.

Miss Northcote, I need proofs.

I have no proofs.

Only my conviction and experiences, not just my own.

Conviction?

Well, that's a luxury that I have almost forgotten.

You clearly have much to tell us, Miss Northcote, please.

Please sit down.

I have about my sister.

Shall I tell you what happened to her?

That is why I came.

Helena was more alive than anyone I've ever met.

She had her fortune, she was in charge of her fate, as few women are, until she met Lord Robert St Simon.

He destroyed her.

He took her fortune.

He married her.

And he destroyed her!

How?

'He had her committed to a madhouse.

'It required only the signature of two doctors and the deed was done.'

When was this?

It could not happen today.

We have the Lunacy Act.

Oh, could it not?

Well, that's as may be.

But the Act came too late for my sister.

And when the Lunacy Act became enforced...

he still had her put away.

People can't just be put away.

They can if your uncle is a duke.

If you're handsome and plausible.

Under the terms of your precious Act, I demanded the conditions of her confinement were inspected.

'So they were. A small but learned committee went to Glaven eventually.'

- Robert!

- Helen!

'Knowing what they wanted to find and they found it.

'Charmed by the compassionate Lord Robert, 'who had kept his wife a profoundly depressed person, 'once beautiful, now sadly distracted, 'in conditions that can only be wondered at for their cleanliness, 'their orderliness, their quality of nursing and so on.

'Only one thing was amiss.

It was not my sister.'

'Helena was not mad.

It was not her.

'He'd hired someone.'

Flora Miller.

Robert!

It was not my sister.

It was not her.

Where is she now?

I went to Glaven myself.

I had to find the truth.

My reward was this.

Miss Northcote.

Did you discover the truth?

No.

I didn't know how to.

I was blind with anger and grief.

I have no recollection of even how I got there.

'I only know that I found myself one day...

'walking through the gates of that accursed place.'

'I was left in a part of the wood where the animals are kept, 'so it might look as though I'd been att*cked by one of them 'after ignoring notices not to.

'I was found by some cottagers and kept alive.'

I would have begged you to find out whether my sister was alive or not.

I live only a half life...

of not knowing.

Nothing seems to break the grey circle I live in.

Nothing I do.

Nothing?

I walk the streets at night.

Am I looking for danger?

Sometimes...I think I'm asking the world to hurt me.

So I can feel alive.

Oh, good God.

What else may I have dreamt?

The laundry.

Oh.

Miss Northcote, will you satisfy me upon one point?

If I can.

Your meanderings, nocturnal meanderings, do they ever take you past the Park Club?

Lord St Simon was sh*t at on the night before his wedding.

That was you.

Could you bare to see another life destroyed?

Lord Robert's wife, first wife, was m*rder*d.

m*rder*d?

She also had a fortune.

She was robbed and k*lled shortly after their honeymoon in France.

- By whom?

- A man called Thomas Floutier.

- Was he convicted?

- Yes, but he escaped.

And where is he now?

Where do you think he is?

- Any idea?

- Glaven.

Ah.

No, I don't know.

I don't know.

I have no proof.

- Just the strength of your conviction?

- Yes.

Miss Northcote, I'm afraid the sound of your sh*t never reached the ears of our noble bachelor.

The thrice-married Lord St Simon.

I cannot expect you to understand how much I envy you.

The delight it must be to face an opponent of some worth.

Excuse me.

Mrs Hudson!

Is he really going to help?

Oh, yes.

He already is.

Oh, yes.

I was in the church.

Weren't we, my sweetness?

I smuggled Bella in.

She was as good as gold.

Did anything occur?

Oh.

Nothing occurred out of the ordinary.

I assure you.

- Please, try to remember.

- Oh, yes.

'Sweet little Hettie dropped her bouquet, you know.

- 'And had it picked up for her.'

- 'Dropped her bouquet?'

'He was quite an oddity, the one that picked it up, I mean.

'One of the Dorans, I suppose.'

- He looked American, at any rate.

- Thank you.

Ewart!

You don't, I suppose, have another heiress up your sleeve?

Damn you, Gallagher.

The newspapers reported a vulgar scene on your father-in-law's doorsteps.

I wonder how do you explain that to him.

Doran doesn't think me an innocent.

He accepted my story.

It was clear to everyone that Miss Miller was drunk.

I managed to obtain from my partners a temporary stay of execution.

That's all.

A day or two.

We must have proof.

Proof of what, for God's sake?

Proof that the Californian goose remains willing to lay its golden eggs at Glaven.

- That's all.

Nothing was jeopardised?

- No.

- Nothing?

- No, of course not.

What about Miss Miller?

If she's capable of a scene like that, what else is she capable of?

I hope she's nothing else to reveal.

Trust me.

Not an inch, my Lord.

I've just discovered that a certain Mr Francis Hay Moulton is in room , an American gentlemen whose wife only joined him yesterday.

- His initials are...

- FHM...

FM!

- Excuse me.

- One moment, please, sir.

How can I assist you, sir?

- How much is a glass of sherry?

- That would be eight pence.

Ha!

Thank you.

I promise, Mr Moulton, that you will both be free to return to California.

It will be as if your wife had never entered that church.

- How did you find us?

- That is unimportant.

If I may give you my opinion, there's been too much secrecy already.

May I speak to Mrs Moulton?

Not before you tell me who the devil you are.

We were engaged by Lord St Simon to find his wife.

Her father will take it very hard that she did not communicate with him.

- But she did, damn it.

She did.

- Yes, the note for Flora Miller.

- He will have received that by now.

- Good.

- Her father never approved of me.

- Oh, really?

- You see, up in the gold fields...

- These are explanations for her father...

You made criticism of Henrietta's duties towards her father, you hear me out.

I promised old man Doran I'd go away and not trouble Henrietta until I'd made my way.

But we got married in secret before I went.

Then I was reported dead up in the high northwest.

So Henrietta told him then about our secret marriage.

He sent someone out to check I was dead, like they said.

That man never found me.

So Henrietta gave me up for dead.

And so, Mr Francis Hay Moulton, presumably you have made your way.

I'm in hotels, sir.

Hotels?

Really?

Really?

How much do you charge for a glass of sherry?

The same as this hotel, eight pence.

Robert?

Robert?

Flora.

My darling.

It's too late, Robert.

I told the child everything!

Anyway, Lord St Simon may as well have saved his money from employing you.

- Why do you say that?

- Because Henrietta has gone to see him.

I wish she had not done that!

Come on.

Giddy up.

Hello, Hettie, my darling.

Where've you been?

Where'd you disappear to?

Where is she?

Where's your wife?

You're my wife.

I don't know what I am any more.

- What are you saying?

- Robert, why didn't you tell me?

- Tell you what?

- Everything.

Everything about your wives.

That's the past.

Unimportant.

I don't want to relive the past.

The past is dead.

- You, you're the future.

- Where is she?

- Who?

- Your wife.

I have only you.

My darling, the marriage was annulled.

Have you been talking to Flora Miller?

I know you have.

My darling, I beg you not to listen to that woman.

She is a drunk.

She has no sense of decency or truth left.

- Where is Lady Helena now?

- How should I know?

Being cared for.

Do you care for her, Robert?

What?

I pay for her care.

Seeing her is too painful.

The poor creature is afflicted with self-persecution and delusions

- every time I appear.

The authorities have asked me not to go any more.

The authorities?

Is she alive, Robert?

What are you saying?

I don't believe you.

I believe Flora Miller.

I believe what she told me and it makes me ill to think it.

I thought she was a drunk, just another drunk and it didn't mean anything.

- Listen to me.

- You took her away from a hospital.

- Where is she, Robert?

- The place was no good, damn it!

Oh, God.

What does it matter?

Why did the m*rder*r of your first wife escape, Robert?

Why did the m*rder*r of your first wife escape?

Where to?

Do you have a servant here, Robert?

- Is his name Thomas Floutier?

- Stop it!

Stop it, damn you.

What are you making me do?

Don't...

Don't, for God's sake.

- No!

- When...

When I let you go...

Hettie, Hettie, what I did, I did for you.

With you, the world's changed.

Hettie, you must believe me.

Say you believe me.

Never!

Not this side of hell!

Very well.

That's it.

It's over.

Yes.

Yes.

Thomas Floutier is the man who works for me here.

Amongst other things, he looks after the needs of Lady Helena.

It may give you some satisfaction to know that your stubbornness will be the inevitable cause of her death now.

Yours, too, of course.

Floutier will arrange an accident for you.

Your money'll revert to me.

And after a suitable period of mourning...

I'll leave.

And you think Pa would let you just walk off with my money.

He can't argue with the law.

You're my wife.

No, I'm not.

What do you think happened to me in the church, Robert?

When I dropped my bouquet.

I saw the man I married.

A ghost.

I thought he was dead.

But that's where I've been.

With my husband.

No.

Ah!

Empty rooms.

Her scent.

Thomas Floutier.

Watson, take care of her.

Oh!

How I've waited.

How I've cried again and again in the darkness for this for this moment.

I know.

I know.

Who are you?

Emissaries of your sister Agnes.

Tell me...

how did you do it?

I spent seven long years ensuring the chapel's utter instability.

Any attempt I made at escape was thwarted.

So...I recreated the entrance brick by brick, timber by timber.

I made a science of instability.

And I succeeded.

Seven years.

It is unique in my experience...

to have served the sentence before committing the crime.

Nurse.

"And so it was that we discovered the true mistress of Glaven.

"A woman so far from madness who had survived so..." No.

Ah. "..who had so triumphantly- triumphantly- "survived seven years of captivity that Holmes was pleased to call her "one of the finest minds he had ever encountered.

"With meeting her, I believe Holmes solved the riddle of his dream.

"It only troubles him now, in so far as he cannot deny the possibility, "that it was prophetic.

"The new owner of Glaven was none other than Lady Helena St Simon.

"Lady Helena wisely decided to sell it and redeem the mortgages upon it.

"I cannot conceive of a happier prospect than to imagine Glaven "restored for the enjoyment of the Moultons and their future family." How dare you!

How dare you make a record of this case!

Oh, record...

No, no, no, no.

I'm merely answering an invitation to another seminar.

Really?

- Well, be quick.

We leave in an hour.

- What for?

For heaven's sake, Watson, the performance.