02x01 - The Copper Beeches

[bunniefuu]

Something wrong?

To the man who loves art for its own sake, it is frequently in its least important and lowliest manifestations that the keenest pleasure is to be derived.

Oh, if you say so, Holmes.

It is pleasant to me to observe, Watson, that you have so far grasped this truth that in these little records of our cases which you have been good enough to draw up, and I am bound to say, occasionally embellish, that you have given prominence not so much to the many cause Celebes and sensational trials in which I have figured, but rather to those incidents which have given room for those faculties of deduction and logical synthesis which I have made my special province.

Kind of you to say so, Holmes.

You have erred, perhaps- you have erred...

in attempting to put color and life into each of your statements.

Instead of confining yourself to placing upon record that severe reasoning from cause to effect which is really the only notable feature about the thing.

You are always in a disputatious mood when you choose that pipe.

It seems to me that I have done you full justice in the matter.

No, no, no, no, no, no, it is not selfishness or even conceit.

If I claim full justice for my art, it is because crime is common, logic is rare.

Therefore, it is upon logic rather than upon crime that you should dwell.

You have degraded what should have been a course of lectures into a series of tales.

Really, Holmes, I hardly think my poor scribblings deserve that.

They have, after all, made your name a household word.

Oh, pshaw, my dear fellow, what do the public, the great unobservant public, who can hardly tell a weaver by his tooth or a compositor by his left thumb, care about the finer shades of analysis and deduction?

But, indeed, if you are trivial, I cannot blame you, the days of the great cases are past.

Man, or at least criminal man, has lost all enterprise and originality.

Oh, surely not.

I fear so.

As to my little practice, it seems to be degenerating into an agency for recovering lost lead pencils and giving advice to young ladies from boarding schools.

My dear, dear friend, how can you say such a thing?

I think I have touched bottom, finally.

However, this note I had this morning marks my zero-point, I fancy.

Well, goodness, who is it from?

Read it "Dear Mr.

Holmes: I am very anxious to consult you" "as to whether I should or should not accept a situation" "which has been offered to me as a governess." "I shall call at half-past ten tomorrow if I do not inconvenience you." "Yours faithfully, Violet Hunter." I must confess to being somewhat puzzled by the contents of your letter, Miss, uh, Hunter, since the matter on which you seek advice is somewhat outside my usual field of expertise.

Yes, I am aware of that.

But you will excuse my troubling you, I am sure, since I have recently had a very strange experience.

Indeed?

As I have no parents or relations of any sort from whom I could ask advice, I thought perhaps you would be kind enough to tell me what I should do.

I shall be happy to serve you in any way I can pray.

Proceed.

There is a well-known agency for governesses in the West End, called Westaway's, and I have lately been calling there about once a week in order to see whether anything has turned up which might suit me.

It is managed by Miss Stoper.

She sits alone in her own office.

And the ladies who are seeking employment wait in the anteroom, and are then shown in one by one, when she consults her ledgers and sees whether she has anything which might suit them.

Miss Green has been on our books for some years and has excellent references.

In fact, were it not for the swift return to Kuala Lampur of her present employer, who finds her most satisfactory, she would not be available today for your consideration.

Thank you, Miss Green.

Oh, that will do.

I could not ask for anything better.

Oh, capital, capital.

Splendid.

Please be seated, Miss Hunter.

Now, then, you are looking for a situation, miss?

Yes, sir.

As a governess?

Yes, sir.

And what salary do you ask?

I had four pounds a month in my last place with Colonel Spence Munro.

He has given her an excellent reference, Mr. Rucastle.

Oh, doubtless, doubtless, but four pounds a month?

If that seems too much...

Too much?

oh, tut, tut, that's sweating, sweating.

How could anyone offer so pitiful a sum to a lady with such attraction and accomplishments?

My accomplishments, sir, may be less than you imagine.

A little French, a little German, music, drawing...

Oh, tut, tut, that is quite beside the question.

The point is, have you or have you not the bearing and deportment of a lady?

I mean, that is it in a nutshell.

I would hope to have ladylike qualities, sir.

If you have not, then you are not fitted for the rearing of a child whose background and qualities point to a brilliant future.

And if you have, why, how can any gentleman ask you to condescend to accept anything under three figures?

Three figures, sir?

Your salary with me, madam would commence at a hundred pounds a year.

I hardly know what to say.

It has also been my custom to advance my young ladies a small portion of their salary beforehand so that they might meet any little expenses of their journey and their wardrobe.

Thank you, sir.

May I ask where you live?

Oh, Hampshire, charming rural place.

The Copper Beeches, five miles on the further side of Winchester.

Oh, it is the most lovely country, my dear young lady, and the dearest old country house.

And my duties, sir?

I should be glad to know what they would be.

One child, one clear little romper just six years old.

How charming.

Oh, Miss Stoper, if you could only see him k*lling cockroaches with a slipper, three of them gone before you could wink.

Very clever.

My sole duties, then, are to take charge of a single child?

Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, not sole, my dear young lady.

Oh, what else, then?

Well, your duty would be, as I am sure your good sense would suggest, to obey any little commands that my wife might give.

You said commands?

Provided, of course, that they were such commands as any young lady might with propriety obey.

You see no difficulty?

None, whatsoever.

I should be happy to make myself useful.

Quite so.

In dress, for example, we are faddy people, you know, Miss Hunter, faddy, but kind-hearted.

And if you were asked to wear any dress that we might give you, you would not object to our little whims, huh?

Why, um, no.

Or to sit here, or to sit there, and that would not be offensive to you?

No.

Or to cut your hair quite short before you come to us?

Cut my hair?

Quite short.

Well, I am afraid that's quite impossible.

And I am afraid it is quite essential.

It's a little fancy of my wife's.

And ladies' fancies, my dear madam, ladies' fancies must be consulted.

So you won't cut your hair?

No, sir, I'm afraid I could not.

Ah, Well, it is a pity, because in other respects you might have done very nicely.

In that case, Miss Stoper, I had best inspect some more of your ladies.

Miss Hunter, do you desire your name to be kept upon our books?

If you please, Miss Stoper.

Well, really, it seems rather useless.

Since you refused the most excellent offer in this fashion you could hardly expect us to exert ourselves to find another such opening for you.

I'm sorry, Miss Stoper, but my hair...

Good day, Miss Hunter.

Now, why on earth should he want you to cut your hair?

I don't know.

A very strange fact.

As you may observe, Mr.

Holmes, my hair is somewhat luxuriant and a rather peculiar tint of chestnut.

And most artistic, if I may so observe.

It has been considered so.

I simply couldn't think of sacrificing it in such an offhand manner.

Well, I should think not, indeed.

Oh, such was my feeling at the time.

The next day I was inclined to think that I had made a mistake, and the day after I was sure of it, when I received a letter from the gentleman himself.

I have it here, and I will read it to you.

"Dear Miss Hunter: Miss Stoper has kindly given me your address," "and I write from here to ask whether you have reconsidered your decision." "We are willing to give 30 pounds a quarter," "or 120 pounds a year," "so as to recompense you for any little inconvenience" "which our fads may cause you." And your hair?

He is insistent.

"As regards your hair, it is no doubt a pity," "especially as I could not help remarking its beauty" "during our short interview." "But I am afraid I must remain firm upon this point," "and I only hope that the increased salary" "may recompense you for the loss." Will it?

My mind is made up that I will accept the offer.

I thought, however, that before taking the final step.

I should like to submit the whole matter for your consideration.

My dear Miss Hunter.

As your mind is already made up, the matter is settled.

But, if at any time you should find yourself in any doubt or danger...

Danger?

What danger do you foresee?

There seems to be a danger, if we could define it.

But at any time, day or night, a telegram will bring me down to your help.

Then that is enough.

I shall write to Mr. Rucastle at once, and go down to Hampshire quite easy in my mind now.

Thank you.

Well, Holmes?

I should allow no sister of mine to accept such a situation.

That's my man, Toiler, he likes to keep it secure.

But you look apprehensive, Miss Hunter.

Not at all, Mr. Rucastle.

Good, good.

You must be Edward, I have looked forward to meeting you.

Master Edward this is your new governess, Miss Hunter.

Oh, I see you have a present for Miss Hunter.

Oh, well done, good sh*t.

Copper Beeches, Mr. Rucastle?

All dead, Miss Hunter, mostly dead.

Here we are, then, come in, come in.

Oh, Mrs. Toiler, this is Miss Violet Hunter.

Who is taking up the position of governess to Master Edward.

How do you do, Miss Hunter?

Your room is all ready for you.

Thank you.

Come along now, Toiler, fetch the trunk.

Oh, Miss Hunter, after you are refreshed from your journey, I'll take you on a tour of The Copper Beeches.

The premises is certainly extensive, Mr. Rucastle.

Oh, yes, and the extensive premises need protection.

Look in here, isn't he a beauty?

Don't be frightened Miss Hunter, it's only Carlo, my mastiff.

I call him mine, but in fact, Toiler is the only man that can do anything with him.

He lets him loose at night, and God help any trespasser he lays his fangs upon.

We feed him once a day, and not too much then, so that he is always keen as mustard.

Oh, for goodness sakes, Miss Hunter, under no pretext set foot across this threshold at night.

It's as much as your life is worth.

Come along, now.

Mrs. Rucastle will be here shortly, and she will tell you herself how delighted she is.

You are able to accept this situation.

Your offer was a most generous one, sir.

Though, well, I am still curious about the conditions.

My little fads and fancies, you mean?

Yes.

But they're nothing at all.

My wife is very fond of a particular shade of electric blue, and she would like you to wear such a dress indoors in the morning.

But I do not have such a dress.

But we have one.

As to sitting here or there or amusing yourself in any matter indicated, well, that need cause you no inconvenience, need it?

No.

How do you do, Miss Hunter?

I'm sorry I was not here to greet you, a slight indisposition I trust you are feeling better now?

Much better, thank you.

I was just telling Miss Hunter about the blue dress.

Yes, I think it would fit you very well.

I wonder what desperate circumstances could occasion such an appeal?

I have devised seven separate explanations, each of which would cover the facts as far as we know them.

And which one do you favor, Holmes?

At the moment, I have no favorites.

Data, data, data, I cannot make bricks without clay.

Well, it's nice to get away from the fogs of Baker Street now and again.

What delightful little farms these are, don't you agree, aren't they fresh and beautiful?

You know, Watson, it is one of the curses of having a mind with a turn like mine that I must look at everything with reference to my own special subject.

Well, it doesn't make the scenery any less admirable, does it?

You look at these scattered houses, and you are impressed by their beauty.

I look at them, and the only thought which comes to me is a feeling of their isolation and of the impunity with which crime may be committed there.

Good heavens, who would associate crime with these dear old homesteads?

They always filled me with a certain horror.

It is my belief, Watson, founded upon my experience, that the lowest and vilest alleys in London do not present a more dreadful record of sin than does the smiling and beautiful countryside.

Had this young lady who appeals to us for help gone to live in Winchester, I should never have had a fear for her.

It is the five miles of country which makes the danger.

What can it mean, Mr. Holmes?

We cannot theorize without data, I'm afraid.

Please, continue, Miss Hunter.

In the first place, I may say that I have met, on the whole, with no actual ill-treatment from Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle.

But I am not easy in my mind about them and I cannot understand them.

What can't you understand?

The reasons for their conduct.

For two days after my arrival at the Copper Beeches, my life was very quiet.

On the third, I went downstairs after breakfast to find Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle in the drawing room.

Mr. Rucastle informed me that a dress, an electric blue dress, had been laid out for me in my bedroom, and asked me to put it on.

I did as he requested.

Oh, superb, Miss Hunter, oh, quite superb.

Do you not agree?

It could not be a better fit, not if you had been measured for it.

Please, be so good as to sit down, Miss Hunter.

Oh, perfect, I mean, it's quite, quite perfect.

Over here, if you don't mind, Miss Hunter.

There, there, there now, excellent.

Are you quite comfortable?

Yes, thank you.

How long do you wish me to remain here, sir?

Oh, an hour, perhaps, perhaps longer.

An hour?

Oh, but not, I assure you, an hour of tedium.

Let us see how we can best entertain and divert you.

Do you enjoy funny stories, Miss Hunter?

Why, yes.

Well, then, I shall tell you some, and all of them, I assure you, absolutely true.

Let me tell you about George.

He is the most extraordinary character.

Well, it seems, somebody wanted to find his way to Winchester, and George, he really is such an eccentric, you might mistake him for a scarecrow, I mean, his legs are all astray, his arms always thrust out like this.

His head shaved like a turnip, and on his head he wore the most extraordinary hat...

Then Mr. Rucastle, walking up and down on the other side of the room, began to tell me a series of the funniest stories I've ever listened to.

You cannot imagine how comical he was.

I laughed till I was quite weary.

Two days later this same performance was gone through again.

This is the peace of God, that passes all understanding.

Oh, bless my soul, is that the hour already?

Time has passed very quickly, and most amusingly, sir.

Well, I'm glad to hear you say so.

But now, it is time for you to attend to your duties, so go and change your dress, and then look to little Edward in the nursery.

You can easily imagine, Mr. Holmes.

How curious I became as to what the meaning of this extraordinary performance could be.

Since my face was always turned away from the window, I became consumed with the desire to see what was going on behind my back.

On the very next occasion I managed to conceal a small piece of mirror in my hand.

Oh, George, I can't tell you...

In the midst of my laughter, I raised my handkerchief to my eyes, and was able with a little management to see all there was behind me.

There was nothing, at least that was my first impression.

At second glance, however, I perceived that there was a bearded man leaning against the railings which bordered our field, and was looking up earnestly at the house.

I lowered my handkerchief and glanced at Mrs. Rucastle, to find her eyes fixed upon me in a most searching gaze.

She said nothing but I'm convinced she divined I had a mirror in my hand.

Jephro, there is an impertinent fellow who stares up at Miss Hunter.

Oh, does he indeed?

No friend of yours, Miss Hunter?

No, I know no one in these parts.

Oh, dear me, how very impertinent.

Quite intolerable.

Kindly turn around Miss Hunter, and motion him to go away.

Surely it would be better if we took no notice.

What, and have him loitering here always?

No, turn around, Miss Hunter, and wave him away like this.

That was a week ago, and from that time I have not sat in the window, nor have I worn the blue dress, nor seen the man with the beard.

But something else occurred, an event which caused you to summon me with such urgency?

Yes.

Yes.

Oh, Mr. Holmes, I've never been so frightened.

Do not distress yourself, Miss Hunter, compose yourself, and then tell us what it was.

There is a turret to the house which appears not to be inhabited at all.

A door which faces that which leads into the quarters of the Toilers opens into the turret, but it is invariably locked.

It was only yesterday that the chance came for me to pass beyond the door.

Toiler?

Yes.

So it was you, then.

I thought it must be when I saw the door open.

I'm so frightened.

Oh, my dear young lady.

Oh, my dear young lady, what has frightened you, my dear young lady?

I- I was foolish enough to go up into the shuttered turret.

You noticed it was shuttered then?

Yes.

Photography is one of my hobbies.

I have made my dark room up there.

What an observant young lady one has come upon.

It was so lonely and eerie in this dim light that I was frightened and ran out again.

It's so dreadfully still in there.

Only that?

Why, yes, what do you think, what other reason?

Why do you think I keep that door locked?

I'm sure I don't know.

It is to keep people out who have no business there, do you see?

I'm sure if I had known...

Well, you know now.

And if you ever set foot across that threshold again, I'll throw you to the mastiff.

I was so terrified that I didn't know what to do.

Then I thought of you, Mr. Holmes.

I had no difficulty in getting leave to come to Winchester this morning, but I must be back by 3:00 o'clock, for Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle are going on a visit and will be away all evening, so that I must look after the child.

Now I've told you all of my adventures, Mr. Holmes.

What does it mean, and what should I do?

Does the unspeakable child Edward have a friend?

Yes, uh, an equally unpleasant child at one of the farm cottages.

Splendid.

Dr. Watson and I will arrive at the Copper Beeches at 4:30 precisely.

But before then, there are one or two things I should like you to do.

I would not ask this of you, Miss Hunter, if I did not think you were quite an exceptional woman.

Done what you should've?

Mrs. Toiler?

Mrs. Toiler.

Mrs. Toiler, I think Edward has locked himself in the cellar.

The cellar?

Well, I can't find him anywhere, and it is past his tea time.

Well, just the same, I don't see why Master Edward would have locked himself in the cellar.

Well, the door was open earlier.

I saw Toiler come out with a bottle.

Perhaps he went down to look for cockroaches.

It's locked.

There you are, miss.

After you.

Our destination.

Holmes, can we be quite sure the mastiff isn't loose?

We can be sure of nothing until we reach the house.

Good God, what was that?

Come quickly.

To the left, Mr. Holmes.

There has been some villainy here.

It looks as though someone has gone across the roof.

Alice.

Alice, Alice, Alice.

Alice?

Where is my daughter?

That is for me to ask you that.

His daughter?

Thieves, you spies, thieves and spies.

I have caught you, have I?

I have you in my power, just serve you.

What does he mean?

He's gone for the dog.

Watson.

Someone has loosed the dog.

It's not been fed for two days.

Quick, before it's too late.

Still unconscious.

I've done what I can for him, now he needs a surgeon as soon as possible.

I've dispatched Toiler to Mrs. Rucastle to summon such assistance.

Oh, miss, it's a pity you didn't let me know what you were planning.

I could have told you your pains were wasted.

It's clear Mrs. Toiler knows more of this matter than anyone else.

Well, yes, sir, I do, and I'm...

I'm ready enough to tell you what I know.

But if there's police court business over this, you will remember I was Miss Alice's friend.

Miss Alice?

Mr. Rucastle's daughter by his first marriage.

Ah, the mystery of the shuttered turret.

Mrs. Toiler, please sit down.

Now, tell me all you know.

Well, she was never happy at home, Miss Alice wasn't, from the time that her father married again.

She... she was slighted like, and had no say in anything.

But... but it didn't became bad for her until after she met Mr. Fowler.

And pray, who is Mr. Fowler?

Well, he was Miss Alice's young man.

You... you might have seen him hanging about.

Out in the road by the field.

Yes.

And how did Mr. Fowler's involvement bring Miss Alice to her distressing circumstances?

Well, as far as I could learn, Miss Alice had rights of her own under her late mother's will, but she was so quiet and patient, she was, she never said a word about them but just left everything in Mr. Rucastle's hands.

Well, he knew he was safe with her, but when there was a chance of a husband coming forward, who would ask for all the law will give him, well, then, her father thought it time to put a stop on it.

He wanted her to sign a paper so that whether she married or not, he could use her money.

Well, when she wouldn't do it, he kept worrying her, worrying her, till she got brain-fever for six weeks she was at death's door.

When she got better at last, all worn to a shadow, and with her beautiful hair cut off, he moved her to the turret room, where she was kept prisoner.

But that didn't make no change in her young man and he stuck to her true as a man could be.

And then Mr. Rucastle brought Miss Hunter down from London in order to impersonate his daughter and get rid of the young man.

Well, that was it, sir.

But Mr. Fowler being a- a persevering gentleman as a good sailor should be, blockaded the house.

And having met you succeeded by certain arguments, metallic and otherwise.

In convincing you that your interests were the same as his?

Mr. Fowler was a very kind-spoken free-handed, gentleman.

And in this way he managed that your husband should not want for drink, the gates unlocked, thus insuring that the mastiff should remain chained, and that a ladder should be ready to assist him in the rescue of Miss Alice?

You have it, sir, just as it happened.

And thus was solved the mystery of the sinister house called The Copper Beeches.

Mr. Rucastle survived, but was always a broken man, kept solely alive through the care of his devoted wife.

They still live with their servants who probably know so much of Rucastle's past that he finds it difficult to part from them.

Mr. Fowler and Miss Rucastle were married by special license, and he now holds a government position on the island of Mauritius.

Miss Hunter is now head of a private school in Walsall where I gather she has met with considerable success.

There, Holmes, your verdict?

An admirable account, Watson.

Oh, you don't think I've put too much colour and life into it?

Oh, my dear friend, I humbly defer such considerations to your excellent literary judgement.

Good.