Quentin tries to figure out what's going on with Edward, the "gentleman's gentleman." He invites him to have a drink. I don't drink during working hours, Edward replies primly. According to my notes, Quentin does a double take, then replies, Of course you don't--sit down. Edward perches on the very edge of a chair. J/P arrives to see the results of his handiwork, but goes off to bed. Charity arrives, wearing a green dress with strange panels. She wonders if they should call a doctor for Edward. Having begun to learn some compassion, Quentin replies, No, we must keep him safe until he finds himself again.
Later, J/P opens the door to admit a man whose shadow resembles a famous photo of Oscar Wilde, with his hat at an angle and a cape over one shoulder. (The Wilde reference is no coincidence.) It's Roger Davis is in yet another role. J/P gives us a thumbnail biography: Charles Delaware Tate, the noted painter, pursued by rich women and beautiful girls, all hoping to be captured on one of your _immortal_ canvases, he finishes with a chortle. Apparently Charles recognizes the adult Petofi in Jamison's body. J/P gives him what is supposed to be a photo of Quentin (actually it’s Nancy Barrett) and tells him, This is the subject of your next painting. He doesn’t know you’re painting his portrait, but he will, J/P says with a grin.
Charity and Quentin take Edward to the tower room, despite Edward's protests that he can't work while he's there. Really, I couldn't help feeling sorry for Edward, all his pomposity deflated.
Quentin tries to get Charity to help him fight Petofi, but she thinks he's insulting her. She offers to go to the drawing room and have a brandy with him, but he gently says he has to go out. Who are you going to see? she asks, humiliated. I know--you're going into town to see some _slut_! And I even know why--because I am too much of a lady for Quentin Collins! She slaps him across the face; to his credit, he actually looks ashamed.
Quentin finds Barnabas already in his room, where they both waht for J/P to arrive. Barnabas (who has a reflection in the mirror above the fireplace, though it’s not very noticeable) spots a picture of a lovely, fashionably dressed young woman on the mantel. Who is she? he asks. Don't you recognize her? asks Quentin. She looks familiar, Barnabas replies, puzzled. It's Jenny, Quentin says, just before we were married. She was very beautiful, Barnabas says gently. Yes, Quentin agrees, then continues, I went to my son's grave today. It’s in the woods, near Sandor’s. Startled but anticipating the answer he knows will come, Barnabas asks, Was he buried with a pentagram? [This is the child whose grave, with its tiny coffin, he and Chris Jennings found just before Barnabas went back in time.] Yes, Quentin answers sadly, for all the good it will do him now. I came home and found this photo. My little girl looks like her mother.
J/P arrives, and Barn tries unsuccessfully to hypnotize Petofi out of Jamison's body. J/P smugly goes off to bed, but not before Charity overhears Barnabas and flees. But Barnabas has another plan--one that J/P won't find so amusing.
Charity is on the phone, trying to reach the Rushmore Sanitarium, when J/P finds her. He kisses her cheek. As her face takes on a strange, faraway look, he smiles. The phone rings. Her demeanor completely changed, Charity saunters over to answer it as Pansy Faye's music begins to tinkle in the background. Charity starts to swivel her hips in time to the music. She picks up the phone and says in a Cockney accent, ’oo? Where?… Sorry, luv, there must be a mistake--I don't know a soul in Portland! J/P grins with satisfaction.
Sometime later, Quentin finds Charles sketching away in the drawing room. Charles politely introduces himself and says that someone commissioned him to paint Quentin's portrait. He hands Quentin a letter from Edith. Quentin explains that Edith is dead. I’m sorry to hear that, Charles says politely. When did it happen? Quite a while ago, Quentin replies. To think the good lady is dead and I'm just now getting around to doing what she wanted, Charles says, undeterred. You have a very interesting face--I'll enjoy doing your portrait. I don't want a portrait done, Quentin says crossly. Perhaps Grandmother did, but she's dead, so there's no reason to do it. I accepted money, Charles says, so I-- There are quite a few people who would enjoy having me do their portrait, he huffs. Paint them, not me, Quentin advises him. You'll change your mind when you see the portrait, Charles predicts. I'll be staying-- I'm not going to change my mind, Quentin snaps. Move on your way--right now! He takes the photo from Charles and ushers him out to the foyer. Almost shoving Charles out the door, Quentin assures him sarcastically, I do appreciate the honor.
Let's hear it for Charity/Pansy! Charity saunters down the stairs, humming "I Wanna Dance for You." She wears her hair piled up loosely on top of her head, a pink feather boa of Pansy’s draped around her neck and bright red rouge on her lips. Quentin stares at her in amazement as she struts down the stairs with a laugh, then does the notorious “I’m Gonna Dance for You,” complete with wiggles and a bump on “ta ra ra boom dee-ay.” Quentin watches in disbelief, even looking away in embarrassment before he stops her by asking, What’s wrong with you? With a laugh, she asks in her broad Cockney accent, If you liked me before, do you now? I might not be a lady, but I've got other _virtues_! She swings her hips provocatively on "virtues.” Come into the drawing room, Quentin tells her. She follows, still humming. I want you to sit down, Quentin insists. _You_ should sit down, Charity tells him. I will entertain you. Mind reading, clairvoyance, spiritual miracles--those are my talents! She puts a hand to her forehead. I’m looking into your mind, Quentin Collins, she tells him, and what do I see? What? What? Oh, what I see is Carl! Carl Collins is dead because of you! You helped kill your own brother! He stares at her in horror.
J/P wanders in (as always, anxious to see results) and applauds, breaking the spell. Charity looks down at herself, shocked and humiliated even more than before. What happened? she murmurs, rubbing her face as if just waking up. What am I doing here, like this? She starts unpinning her hair and says without looking at anyone, I want to go to my room. Having learned pity at last--though even more painful lessons are yet to come--Quentin gently offers to take her up to her room. You! she says indignantly, then recollects herself and quietly agrees. And she does need help, because she stumbles on the way to the staircase.
Alone at last, J/P takes out a little black notebook and pencil to take inventory: Some have had their moment of truth, he says to himself as he turns the pages. For others the ordeal is yet to come. Edward Collins, servant; Beth Chávez, in bondage to the vampire, waiting for him to call her; Gregory Trask, Magda Rakosi, Evan Hanley; Charity Trask, slattern who wants to sing and dance and show a painted face to the world. A fine lot, all of them! he laughs. He turns to find Barnabas standing there, and the count learns the major disadvantage of possessing a small child: You will come with me, Barnabas says, grabbing him roughly by the arm: No noise, no protests. J/P starts to speak, but Barnabas says sharply, I said no noise! He covers J/P’s mouth with his hand, opens the door to the secret passage and shoves in the struggling J/P ahead of him....
