805 - Barnabas ushers Jamison into a cell in the Old House. The boy plaintively asks "Cousin Barnabas" why are you doing this to me--take me back to Collinwood--I'm going to be afraid all alone. No, Magda will be with you, promises Barnabas. Jamison, playing little boy to the hilt, begs, please let me go! I will, says Barn, as soon as HE leaves you alone and is gone. He locks him in. "If that's what you intend to do, Mr. Collins, I'm afraid that you're stupid and incompetent. If you choose to wait until I've left, the boy will simply grow old and die in this cell--or just simply die!"
Charity, back in Pansy mode once more, admires her reflection in the foyer mirror, singing her song, twirling her red shawl. Trask comes in and demands to know what's going on. He grabs her arm and demands, what's the meaning of this? What's it look like, luv? she asks--I'm a girl trying to get along in the world...
He forbids her to sing that song--or to continue playing this sinful game. What game is that?, she asks. He points out her piled-up hair, the shocking (very made up) condition of her face. She grins. Oh, I think I look pretty good, she says, admiring herself in the mirror--I was thinking of going on the stage, might change my name--to Pansy Faye. "Pretty, ain't it?" (The color goes to black and white here for some reason.) Trask asks, do you know who you are? I know, she sneers, I'm Charity Trask, but that doesn't mean I have to like it, not with a old crow like you for a dad. Furious, Trask smacks her across the face and orders, honor your father and mother. She holds her stinging cheek and says, "Mama is dead,"--I was just going out to her grave. "Like this?" asks Trask. She gazes down at herself, back in Charity mode, and is horrified--madness is going through this house; she says, while you were away, Quentin and I had to lock Edward in the tower room--he's lost his reason, and so has Jamison. This interests Trask--go get the boy, he says--whatever this madness, it hasn't touched you, and will not, you aren't a Collins, and this madness obviously lies in them--first my poor Judith, then Edward, now Jamison--soon there won't be any Collinses left, he says, apparently thrilled. Except Quentin, Charity reminds him. Trask grins--of course, except Quentin--I want to see how Jamison is. She promises to go get him, but doesn't move--there's something about the boy now that frightens me, she confesses. There's nothing about Jamison that frightens ME, says Trask, I'm up to the task, which is now to care for this poor, afflicted family. (oh, Jeez!)
Evan appears to be playing with a Scrabble set, the letters on the table before him. He hears something; the doors blow open. He asks the demon or spirit--leave me in peace--I've had enough of it all! When Barnabas appears to him, he's surprised. No demon or spirit, Barnabas assures him--what's the matter--you seems disenchanted with your former delights. When a man has been under the evil hand of Oshden, says Evan, he'd be a fool to continue to find black arts fascinating. The hand is the reason for my visit, says Barn. I don't wish to discuss it, says Evan.
I do, insists Barnabas. Talk to Tim Shaw, if he's still alive, advises Evan. I know Tim has it, says Barn--where is he? I don't know or care, says Evan, except to hope he's as far away from ME as possible. I can't believe you'd let him walk out the door with such a powerful instrument, says Barn, unless you knew where he was going and when he was coming back. I know nothing, maintains Evan, or his plans. "Are you sure they don't include you?" presses Barnabas. How many times must I tell you, says Evan, they don't! Until I can be sure that a man as greedy as you wouldn't close the door on power and wealth, says Barnabas. Evan laughs--I had the hand for a while, and all it brought me was a face so grotesque, it scared me to look in the mirror--now I can look at myself. But I cannot, says Barnabas--remember that, so listen-- "You are not going to lie to me," says Barnabas. "It would be very hard for you if you don't tell me the truth..."
Trask sits at the desk in the drawing room. Charity reports that Jamison isn't in the house--I want to ask a servant to look for him; in the state he's in, he might wander off and get hurt. Trask doesn't seem to care--I'm running this house, you must remember that!
Believe me, says Evan, I know nothing--I've found nothing in my books to protect me from your gaze--I hate these books and all that's in them, I HATE them! Someone knocks at the door. I'm expecting no one, says Evan. It's Trask. Wait a minute, says Evan. Barnabas disappears as Trask explains--my business is urgent. Evan opens the door on a grinning Trask.
Trask tells Evan, I went to see Judith, who is "no better than can be expected, poor lady."--she'll be at the sanitarium for quite a while. Then what's his urgent business? asks Evan. Poor Judith's madness seems to have afflicted both Edward and Jamison, says Trask--Edward sits in the tower room, convinced he is the perfect servant; I went to see him, and Edward insisted on dusting my coat. How horrible, says Evan. And, adds Trask, Charity tells me that Jamison has been touched by madness, too--I only know that through Charity, because I haven't seen Jamison myself--the boy has run away, and I dosn't know where--I'm not in any hurry to find him. Evan doesn't understand. Are you stupid tonight? asks Trasks--it means that once Quentin is taken care of, I will be master of Collinwood, not just until Judith's brain heals, but for all time! Things are working out well for you, remarks Evan. Brilliantly, boasts Trask, not just well--I want you to draw up the necessary papers declaring father and son mentally incompetent. I can do it, I suppose, says Evan, but I'm not sure I want to--I don't like what is happening at Collinwood and prefer to have nothing more to do with it.
Not a matter of preference, says Trask, when it's a matter of doing the right thing. Evan bursts into bitter laughter. Trask continues--you can't have a man who has no idea who he is and a boy who thinks he is some foreign count running around loose--"He thinks he's a Count Petofi," says Trask. "WHAT?" asks Evan--Petofi didn't go, he's still here, watching, mutters Evan--it's worse than I thought--now I am convinced! To do as I asked? queries Trask. "To have nothing more to do with the whole matter!" blares Evan. Trask rises to his feet and reminds Evan, you aren't dealing with some nobody who runs a small school (is that how Trask viewed himself?) "You're dealing with the master of Collinwood!" Retorts Evan, eyes blazing, "And you are dealing with Count Petofi, you have no chance against him, neither do I, neither do any of us--the difference is, I know it--you don't--good night." Trask, angry, says, you are my lawyer--I came to you for advice. Then I'll give it to you, says Evan--do nothing to Edward or Jamison, particularly Jamison, not now. You're a fool! says Trask. Evan gets in his face and says YOU'RE the fool, pitting yourself against Petofi--do you know what evil he carries with him?--do you know what strength he has? I have strength and powers, too! shouts Trask--I have the higher forces of heaven fighting on my side. I didn't think the higher forces of heaven fought on the side of the cruel and the greedy (get him, Evan!) Trask turns away, snarling, and says, "Taking over Collinwood is the kindest thing I can do--can I leave the lunatics to run the asylum?--the animals to run the zoo?--I will expect you to bring me the papers I need.
Jamison, standing in the cell, continues to check over his black book--"Gregory Trask, Magda Rakosi, Evan Hanley..." Evan is next, he decides, a big smile on his face. He closes his eyes, calling to him in his mind. "Evan Hanley!" he repeats over and over. Who is calling me? asks Evan--"Who are you? Why can't I see you?" Jamison appears before him. Evan asks, what are you doing here this time of night? I'm afraid to go home, says the boy, then sets up letters spelling TRASK on the table. (Was Scrabble invented yet?) He won't hurt you, Evan assures him. "But he's been telling so many lies about me," says Jamison, sounding like the boy, rather than the man. Are they lies? asks Evan. Yes, you know me, I'm Jamison Collins, and now it's dark and I'm afraid to go home--take me home? Evan eagerly agrees. Jamison thanks him profusely and gives him the kiss on the cheek that signals...what?
"Yes," says Evan, "I will take you right to Collinwood and we will speak to Mr. Trask about this whole matter!" Jamison disappears, leaving Evan searching for him--didn't you want me to take you home? "You will know what I want you to know," says Jamison's voice--"Do you understand me?" Evan dips his head in agreement.
Back in the cell, Jamison flips through his black book and says, "Yes, he'll know what to do!" Evan seems to awaken from sleeping in his chair. He takes a piece of paper and pen, and as Jamison dictates, writes, "To whom it may concern..."
Trask gazes out the drawing room window, describing to Charity how Edward babbled on about serving the Earl of Hampshire and wanted nothing more now than to serve the Collinses--that's what he said when you locked him in there, wasn't it? "Who?" asks Charity, looking over what appears to be a flute. "Edward!" says Trask, grinning--I wish I could give him a place as a domestic on the staff--I could do it and still be master of Collinwood--it would serve him right. I found a recorder in the study, says Charity, and want to learn to play it. She smiles. I disapprove of frivolous music, he says. I love music, and singing, it's so cheerful, she says, and begins to hum Pansy's theme again. Stop singing at once! He orders. She turns and, once again in Cockney Pansy mode, asks, "Don't you like music?" She moves her body flirtatiously. "Carl did, all the way back to Atlantic City, I sang and told him stories, some of them bawdy, but he laughed anyway, particularly after we drank some brandy." She giggles. "Do you know the story about the vicar's daughter, named Alice?" she asks, bursting into laughter. Trask grabs her, forces her to her knees--where you belong, so you can pray! She rises, laughing, hits him gently with the recorder and tells him, I don't remember how to pray. He grabs her arm again and says, you're going to, because it's a part of you, of your life, like the blood in your veins! She continues laughing. He repeats, "It's your life blood--now pray, Charity, pray!" She comes back to herself and obediently says, "Yes, Father." She falls to her knees, in praying posture. Keep praying, he orders--this madness must not touch you again. He kneels beside her, says, "Never again," and puts his hands together in prayer, too. "My plans are too close to completion," he says intensely. The door opens. It's Evan, who asks, am I interrupting something? "Morning devotional," says Trask, we are just about finished. Good, says Evan, I want to get down to business. Trask agrees--go to your room, Charity, he says, and read a chapter or two. She complies. I'm glad to see you carrying a paper, says Trask--I assume your reservations have been removed and you found yourself able to do what must be done. Yes, says Evan, it's the only thing to do. He places it on the desk and says, sign it--let's get it over with. Trask signs--I saw Edward again, he says, and if ever a man cries out to be committed, it's he--he's completely insane. Trask reads over what he signed and, horrified, proclaims Evan insane. Why? asks the lawyer. Why? cries Trask--no sane man would put on paper what you put on this! It's the truth, isn't it? asks Evan. "And I signed it!" says Trask. "I signed it too," says Evan, "after all, we both murdered Minerva." Be quiet! orders Trask. It would do no good to be quiet, says Evan, they'll find us! Tim Shaw murdered Minerva, says Trask. No, we did, protests Evan, "You know that." No one else knows that, says Trask, and no one else will, because I'm going to destroy the paper, right now! He tosses it into the fire. You can't burn murder, Evan reminds him, nor drown it, or even poison it-- you can't kill murder. Get out and stay out! Orders Trask--and don't say anything to anyone about this paper I burned, because if you do, I swear you'll hang for worse than murder! He pushes Evan toward the door. The paper burns in the fireplace. On the empty desk, however, it reappears, signed, sealed, delivered!
NOTES: Once again, Nancy Barrett delivers a loopy, wonderful performance, dancing back and forth between Charity and Pansy. Trask's reaction to his daughter's own form if madness is quite humorous. And Pansy's musical interests seem to be "bleeding over" into her alter ego, Charity.
I just loved it when Trask read over what he'd signed! He was so sure Evan was on his side, what a shocker to learn the opposite. Petofi, acting through Jamison, is moving the everyone affiliated with the Collinses, as well as the family itself, to his own amusement. How he expects this to get him back the hand, I don't know, but it's great fun to watch it all unfold. Will Trask and Evan get punished for their role in Minserva's murder?
806 - Roger Davis gives pretty good intro. The hand of Count Petofi comes at us against the background of Collinwood, as if beckoning us inside.
The damning confession Evan wrote reappears on he table in the drawing room. Charity comes downstairs and enters, looking around. She sits down on the sofa, then stands, goes to the desk, and picks up the confession. Her eyes grow wide as she reads how her father and Evan killed her mother. Trask comes into the drawing room. He smiles at his daughter, wishing her good morning. He sees the horror on he face, spots the signed confession in her hand. She tells him what it is--it says you and Mr. Hanley murdered my mother!
Now Trask's eyes bulge with dismay.
Trask darts forward, demanding to know--what do you have there? He snatches the paper away from her--where did you find it? I found it on the desk, she says. How? he wonders. I burned it! Then you knew about it? she asks. Yes, I read every word, he says. It isn't true, is it? she tearfully asks. I see you're ready to believe it IS true, he accuses, scanning the paper. I don't know, she says, I feel so shocked. Trask shouts--how dare you give credence to this foul and libelous attack! I didn't say I believed it, she protests. For the deliverance of your soul, he says, I can fight the evil forces against me, for I am the only one who can secure salvation against them all...
Magda looks into the cell at the sleeping Jamison (pretty pillow, definitely more 1960's than 1897). She calls his name, awakening him. He sits up, smiling at her--such a creepy smile. Have you been assigned to guard my cell? he asks. Barnabas has good reasons for keeping you, she says. Would you be good enough to tell me what they are? he asks. I will let Barnabas himself explain when he comes down this evening, she says. I'm afraid of what's happening at Collinwood, says Jamison. How can I know? asks Magda. He explains--the truth can be very destructive--Beth found that out, and Edward, and Charity, and now Mr. Trask--they're all suffering after learning what they are really like inside. I can't believe this is happening, she says--you are Jamison. . . And yet I'm not, finishes the possessed boy--does that frighten you? She turns away from him, saying no, it doesn't but it clearly does. You know your own time will come, he says, eventually. She walks away--my own time? she asks--I don't understand. Very soon, you'll begin to see yourself, and not like what you see, he says. I don't believe you--nothing will happen, asserts Magda. That's what Trask said, but it's happening to him anyway, says Jamison. What's happening to him? asks Magda.
He's at Collinwood now, says Jamison, but not the Collinwood he dreamed of mastering--it's like a prison to him, and he is trapped alone in it, with his conscience, tortured by the truth he can't erase from his mind.
At Collinwood, Trask is all set to again toss the confession into the fireplace. This time, he chooses to tear it into pieces. The room darkens, wind blows, thunder rolls. Trask turns on a single lamp, then tosses the balled up paper into the trash can. The window blows open; the room is filled with eerie, outer-space sounds. Scared, he closes the window, looks around himself, and seems to be trying to escape something. He covers his ears against the awful noise, then runs into the foyer. Minerva! he cries--I know you're here, and why--leave this house!--do you hear me?--Minerva, stop doing this to me! He begs her to stop, sinks to his knees, covers his ears, screaming, "Stop it!" over and over.
The lights in the drawing room come on; all sounds subside. Trask asks Minerva, listen to me--I'm innocent! The wind howls and the supernatural sound returns, as if disputing his claim. He rises to his feet--Minerva, an evil force has roused your spirit against me, you must believe that! He covers his ears again. Silence once more, lights returning. Charles Delaware Tate asks him, are you all right? He's dressed all in black, with a weird hat on his head. Tate tells Trask, I knew who you were because of how you were dressed--your servants called you a man of the cloth--who were you talking to? asks Tate--I heard you addressing someone named Minerva. Trask says, there's no one else in the room aside from us, I was meditating when the sudden storm came up, it frightened me. Tate says, I just came from outside--there was no wind all day long. Trask is nonplussed. What is your business? he asks Tate. The latter says, I'm an artist, commissioned to do a portrait of Quentin Collins. Do I know you? asks Trask. We haven't met, I'm sure, says Tate, admiring the portraits on the walls. I've heard your name, says Trask--are you THE Charles Tate? Yes, says Tate. I know your work is famous all over the country, says Trask, I imagine you command a rather large fee. I do, says Tate. Are you aware Quentin has practically no money? asks Trask--did he commission you? No, it was his late grandmother, Edith Collins, explains Tate, I just wasn't able to get around to doing the portrait until now. Trask says it's a pleasure to welcome a man of your fame and talent to Collinwood. I've taken a studio in the village, says Tate. There are any number of rooms here you could have used at Collinwood, says Trask. Quentin doesn't want me to do his portrait, says Tate--as a matter of fact, he said I'm not welcome here at all. That's outrageous, says Trask, apologizing for Quentin's behavior--*I*, Trask, am master of Collinwood. Tate explains, I'm doing the portrait from a photograph, and was hoping you knew where some other pictures of him might be. Trask rummages in the desk for another, and to his dismay, the blasted confession is there! It falls on the floor, to be picked up by Tate. "Give me that!" shouts Trask, yanking it from his hand. Tate gives him a weird look. Trask apologizes for his outburst, explaining, it was an important letter I was sending to a friend. He looks again for the photograph and finds one. He hands it to Tate and says, keep it as long as you need it--how long will you be staying in Collinsport? About two weeks, says Tate. Perhaps you'd consider painting my daughter, Charity--money is no object, says Trask. Tate puts an arm around Trask's shoulder and laughs--I'd be delighted to discuss it as soon as I finish Quentin's portrait--it will be a pleasure.
Quentin sits in his room, dejected, listening to his music. Charity comes to visit him. He invites her in, with great reluctance. I heard your music playing, she says, and knew you were here--would you like to take a walk along the beach with me? Some other time, says Q, closing his eyes. A walk would be good for you, she says. I don't like walks, he says. (bedroom exercises are more his speed.) We could sit down somewhere and talk to each other, she suggests, watching as he pours himself a drink and seats himself at his desk. "Charity, you've simply picked the wrong day," he says. Are you sad about something? she asks. No, he says. I think you are, she says, caressing his face--"Why don't you come with me, Quentin?"--maybe I can help you forget your problems. He pushes her away and firmly says, I'm going to stay right here. He turns off the music and says, you had better leave--I don't think your father would understand finding you in my room. I don't think that would upset him so much as knowing who you were with last night, she says--when I passed by your room, I heard you talking to Barnabas. You were imagining it, he says.
No, I wasn't, says Charity--I know his voice when I hear it (she sure should). What are you going to do, asks Quentin, tell your father? I should, she says, but I'm not going to. She puts her hands on his shoulders in another caress, adding, "You might remember that the next time I invite you somewhere." (Is this blackmail?) She turns to leave, and does, giving him a significant look. Magda is at the door as she opens it. Charity and the gypsy exchange glances, and Charity leaves. Quentin asks Magda, how long have you been out there, listening? I just arrived as she opened the door, says Magda--come to the Old House, Jamison insists on seeing you. Is he still possessed? asks Q. Yes, she answers. Then it's not Jamison who wants to see me, is it, it's Petofi, says Q.
Quentin, at the cell, asks Jamison, did you ask me here to remind me the moon will be full tonight? No, says Jamison, for an opportunity to avoid your fate--I know much more about your problem than you do--how it begins, manifests itself, and how it can be ended--I'm anxious to leave this place, so I make this offer--I'll cure you in exchange for my freedom from the cell.
You offered to cure me once before, and nothing happened, Q reminds him. I'll make good on that promise, says Jamison, cure you if you let me out of here--I must have your answer. How do you know you can really do it? demands Q. You have my word--and my word is good, says Jamison--the keys are on the wall. Magda comes in, calling to Quentin. I told you to wait upstairs, says Q. I knew something like this might happen, says Magda, so I came down to listen--you are a fool if you do what Jamison wants! Don't listen to her! insists Jamison. You had better listen, because I know what I'm talking about, says Magda, leading him away from the cell. Why shouldn't I do it? asks Quentin. You aren't thinking, she says--you're so desperate because of tonight's full moon, you aren't thinking!--the hand, he can't cure you without it, and he doesn't have it! She's right, says Q, Julianka told me before she died that the hand was needed to cure the curse. Quentin turns to the boy--"You tried to trick me!" Jamison turns a baleful gaze on Magda and says, I warned you once before that your time would come--perhaps it shall come a little sooner than you or I expected.
Tate studio, once the Evans house - Tate is painting Quentin's portrait while talking to Charity--your father said he wanted a portrait of his daughter, but didn't say what she looked like--it's come as a pleasant surprise. Charity thanks him--I hope having visitors in the studio while you work doesn't disturb you, she says. No, I don't mind at all, says Tate--I'm almost finished for the day, anyway. Your studio is charming, she says--how did you find it? A friend of mine rented it last summer and told me about it, answers Tate--I'm done for the day--excuses me while I Clean my hands. Left alone, Charity stares at Quentin's painting. He isn't smiling in it. The face in the portrait turns into that of a wolf. Charity screams.
NOTES: Amazing scene between Trask and his daughter, as he literally bullies her into not believing what she had read--that he helped kill her mother. You can see how he manipulated all the ladies in his life--Judith, Rachel, Charity and God knows how many others. I assume Evan's "gift" from Petofi is the need to tell the truth, something that will surely undermine his career as a lawyer (think LIAR, LIAR and Jim Carrey).
Why has Quentin's face in the portrait turned into that of a wolf? What does this mean? Is it possible that Count Petofi CAN cure Quentin without the missing hand?
Love, Robin
