1024 - Maggie takes the ribbon off the packet and looks through them--they're letters from Quentin to Angelique, before they were married, she realizes. She puts them down on the table, then goes back and reads one: "Dearest--When I left you last night, I walked to the docks and sat staring at the sea. How incredible it is to have found you, to know that no matter how long I live, I will never want any other woman but you." In despair, Maggie gazes up at Angelique's portrait.
Sitting by the fire, working her spell, Angelique says, "You see how much he loved me, Maggie, adored me--read them all, Maggie, read them all, and then wonder what kind of a chance your marriage has got--know the truth Maggie, and know it now." Suddenly, Barnabas enters, asking "Miss Stokes", what are you doing there in the dark? You frightened me, she says. He apologizes. He thought he heard her talking to someone, he says. I have been caught, haven't I? she chuckles, turning on the light--you might have found out one of my deepest, darkest secrets--I love the fire, I always have, ever since I was a little girl. Didn't it ever frighten you? asks Barnabas. No, why should it? she asks. It does most children, he points out, at least at some time. I feel a kinship with it, the flames leaping, higher and higher, changing forms and design, like looking at a strange picture that's always changing--my sister Angelique could never understand me, she used to laugh at me--but then Angelique only liked people--people frightened me, I guess I was always very shy--but then when I looked into the flames, I always felt I could show my deepest feelings--I suppose I must seem very odd to you. She grins, touching her forehead self-consciously. No, says Barnabas, sitting beside her near the fire, "I understand."--where's Quentin?--I was hoping I could see him. He's not here, she says evasively. Oh, something wrong? inquires Barnabas. How perceptive you are, says Ang--he and Maggie, they've been quarreling--he has such black moods--she does mean well, but somehow, everything she tries to do goes wrong--it's so easy to see other people's problems. She rises and walks away from him, adding, it's so heartbreaking when two people who need each other so much just keep missing and running into trouble. Barnabas rubs his chin, gazing at her speculatively.
Back in Angelique's shrine, er, room, Maggie's reading a letter in which Quentin talks about how beautiful the baby looks through the hospital window--I understands now why I wanted a girl so desperately, so she could grow up looking exactly like you. (A daughter? What daughter? Don't they only have Daniel?--is this a big blooper?)
Quentin enters the drawing room--it's good there's company, he says--I need it--Barnabas do you feel bright and amusing?--"Entertain me with your adventures, I just spent the evening staring at the ocean, thinking of the past and present, I need cheering up, I thought tonight was going to be one of solitude, as usual, I'm wrong, I wonder where I got the idea than an hour alone would solve all of life's problems." He pours himself a drink. Angelique is smiling. Where's Maggie? asks Quentin. She's gone upstairs, says Ang. Ah, the sleep of the innocent, remarks Quentin. I don't think Maggie is sleeping, says Ang--she was very worried about you. Barnabas holds onto the arm of the sofa in which Angelique is sitting. Perhaps you should reassure her you're all right, suggests Barnabas. Would that be true? asks Quentin. Angelique rises from the sofa--what is wrong? she asks. Oh, you don't know what tonight is, says Quentin--but then no one does. I guess I'll go get the bride and tell her the spouse has returned. He leaves. Barnabas and Angelique look at each other, concerned.
Maggie is still reading the letters--this is Quentin's last before leaving Boston--My dearest, I know now that I will never be able to love another woman, ever, if something should happen to you, I would be haunted by my memories all of my life. From the doorway, an angry Quentin says, "Does that interest you, Maggie?" She turns, caught. Quentin is looking at her with fury etched on his face.
Quentin takes the letters from the table--I've been completely wrong about you, too, he says--I was just talking about your innocence downstairs. Quentin, no! she cries, please listen to me. Obviously that innocence was something my deranged mind invented, he says. Innocence isn't the subject, says Maggie. What about trust or love? he asks. Love is something we should talk about, she agrees. Obviously, we have different ideas about it, he says, holding up the letters, then dropping them to the table--now go to your room! Quentin, it's our room, too, she protests (that's all she has to say)? MAGGIE, GO! he commands, as if ordering a dog. Not until you listen to me, she insists. Maggie, he says, you couldn't bear it, you came here and pried. That isn't true, she says, I had a dream! He turns away with a bitter chuckle. I did, I know it sounds crazy, but I did, she insists. Yes, even to me, he says--tell another story! Believe me! she begs--how did I know there was a secret drawer in this table? You saw it in your dream, he says sarcastically. Yes, she says, I didn't know what I would find in there. But you knew how to open the drawer, he accuses. But that was in the dream, she says. Quite a talent you have going for you there, he says. Please believe me, she cries. Do you think that what has gone on in this house has made me so deranged I'll accept your outrageous lies? he demands. She presses--how do you think I knew about this drawer? Curiosity, he says. How do you think I knew how to open it? she asks again. Obviously, you looked in her diary, accuses Quentin. I did not! she bleats. I'm positive you looked through every drawer and shelf in this room, he says. I didn't, she insists. Quentin reminds her--I hate you being in here. I'm sorry, she says. Then why are you here? he demands. I want to understand you, she says softly.
I thought you did understand me, before we came to this house, he says, perplexed, before we got married--obviously, I was wrong. Holding one of the letters, Maggie says, please... Get out of here, he orders. I did it for you, she says. Get out, he says again. She does. Quentin stares sorrowfully at the letters on the table.
Barnabas and Angelique are playing chess in the drawing room. I understand you're a sculptress, he says. I am, she says--call me Alexis, please. Alexis, he repeats, making a move--did you bring any of your work?--I'd be fascinated to see it. No, I left it all in my studio in Italy, she says. Have you done any work since you've been here? he asks. No, she says. Isn't that unusual? he asks.
She makes another move, ousting one of his pieces from the board--I thought I needed a vacation, she says. Do you plan to start again? he asks. I suppose I will, eventually, she says. He makes another move and asks, have you had a showing at any gallery in New York? No, I haven't, she says, then adds, "Check", smiling at him with triumph. Liz enters, complaining. I should never, ever try to give a party--Alexis, help me--14 people haven't RSVP'd, something must have happened to their invitations. Barnabas rises from his chair, showing respect for Liz, who says, I'm not good at arranging things--Angelique always did it so brilliantly. I'll be happy to go through the list with her again, Angelique promises. I so want this to be a success for Maggie's sake, says Liz. As the ladies huddle on the sofa, Barnabas sits back down at the chessboard, picks up a piece, and appears deep in thought.
Maggie is lying in the dark on her bed when the lights come on. She blinks at the blinding assault. Quentin enters. I'm trying to think of something to say that will enable us to be together, she says. Then I think we had better forget about what happened earlier, he advises, sitting on the bed. Can you? she asks--I don't think I can. If you don't, we'll simply go on quarreling, Maggie, he says. I don't want that, either, she agrees--I think we'll have to begin by being more open with each other. Are you talking about yourself or me? he asks (ouch!) You, she says. You still haven't admitted to me that you lied about the dream, he reminds her. But I didn't! she cries. He looks away from her. We're back to where they started, says Maggie--I don't want that--I know you've been upset today. With reason, he says. I know today is the anniversary of your marriage to Angelique, she says. I don't want to discuss that! he says angrily. I also know, she says, that tomorrow's party started out as an anniversary party... He stands--we aren't going to talk about it, that's all! He insists--and stomps from the room, slamming the door behind him. Quentin! she pleads, don't leave me!
Quentin enters the drawing room and announces to Liz, Angelique and Barnabas, I want this party canceled! Liz looks at him--I can't, she says, it's tomorrow. You must, insists Quentin. What can I say? asks Liz. It's too late, chimes in Angelique. I won't have it, says Quentin. Liz appeals to Barnabas for help. I won't have it, Elizabeth, says Quentin, and stalks out. Go after him, Barnabas, urges Liz--see what's wrong. I'm not sure I'm the one, says Barnabas, as the front door opens and closes. He'll be rational with you, says Liz. Barnabas dutifully goes to the front door, which is left open--but we hear Quentin's car take off. Barnabas closes the door. Maggie comes downstairs, moaning, "He's gone?" Yes, responds Barnabas sadly. Maggie clings to the banister. Let me help you, says Barnabas I don't think anyone can, the young woman says helplessly, no one.
Collinwood - the next day - Maggie opens the window and looks out, her eyes sad. Hoffman, carrying a bouquet of flowers in a vase, enters the drawing room and sets it down on a table. She goes to Maggie and asks, have you chosen your costume yet? No, not yet, says Maggie. I suggest you think about it, says Hoffman--Miss Stokes has gotten a trunk from the attic, there are some very elegant gowns there, I'm sure you can find something. The ball has always been a costume party, says Maggie--do you know why? Hoffman smiles and relates, the first Mrs. Collins loved costumes (Maggie sighs in annoyance); it became a tradition. Everything she did seems to have survived, says Maggie sourly. Hoffman goes on, grinning, and says, Angelique looked forward to this so much. Quentin returns home and asks Hoffman, how are things going for tonight? Maggie looks hopefully at him. Very well, says Hoffman--Mrs. Stoddard is trying to calm Cook's nerves. Quentin chuckles. He meets Maggie in the drawing room and says "hello." Did you have a busy day? she asks. Oh, so-so, he responds. They are very awkward with each other. Quentin pours himself a drink. I guess I was asleep when you came home last night, she says--you must have gotten up very early. Yes, says Quentin. Elizabeth says you wanted to cancel the party, she notes. Maggie...he says warningly--I decided I'd just try and live with it. Really, she says, I think we should discuss... He stops her again--we are going to try and have a nice evening, he says, forget about what happened--it never happened at all. All right, she agrees. Liz enters brandishing a bottle of sherry. How are Cook's nerves are holding up? asks Quentin. Very well, with the help of the sherry, says Liz, laughing. The clock chimes. I must get dressed, says Quentin--you should, too, Maggie. He leaves. I understand, Maggie, says Liz, you haven't decided what you're going to wear--really, Maggie! I suppose Angelique always knew weeks in advance, says Maggie resignedly. Go to Alexis and check what she brought down from the attic, advises Liz--I'm sure you'll find something that suits you. Maggie, smiling finally, thanks her and leaves..
In her room, Angelique holds what looks like a wedding gown against herself, admiring her reflection in the mirror as Hoffman stands by. "I remember coming down the stairs in this," she says, "and Bruno began to applaud--how melodramatic he is, Bruno should have been a character in an opera." I was watching Quentin, muses Hoffman--how beautiful he thought you looked--only a year ago. It suited me then, says Ang. It suits you now, says Hoffman. No, not now, says Angelique, putting the dress down, tonight, I will wear this--and holds a lavender gown against herself. Angelique looks at Hoffman's watch--it's getting late, she observes--are you sure Maggie is going to come? Positive, says Hoffman. I hate leaving things to chance, complains Angelique. Mrs. Stoddard told her to, points out Hoffman. Chance and Mrs. Stoddard are identical twins, remarks Ang. There's a knock at the door. Come in! calls Angelique. When Maggie enters, Angelique is holding the lavender gown against herself, asking Hoffman--do you think I should wear this one?--do you think the color suits me?--what do you think, Maggie? I think it's very pretty, says Maggie. Then I'll wear it, says Ang, handing it to Hoffman. You have so many dresses here, observes Maggie. Have you chosen one yet? asks Angelique. Not yet, says Maggie. Please help yourself, there are some beautiful things, encourages Angelique. Hoffman smiles--may I be excused?--I have things to attend to downstairs. Yes, and thanks so much, says Ang.
After Hoffman leaves, Angelique tells Maggie, Hoffman really is invaluable--she ironed everything in the trunk, so you can wear what you like. I don't really care that much, says Maggie. But you must, protests Angelique, you'll be meeting some of these people for the very first time tonight. I think I'd rather wear my own clothes, says Maggie. Darling, you can't, it's always been a costume party, Ang reminds her. Yes, I know, says Maggie with irony. Ang hands Maggie an orange gown--how do you like this? she asks. Maggie holds it against herself and looks in the mirror. It's all wrong, insists Ang. Do you think so?--I think it's rather pretty, comments Maggie. I'll find something better, says Ang. Were you ever in the states after Quentin married Angelique? asks Maggie. Of course, says Ang. Did you ever attend one of these parties? Maggie asks. No, says "Alexis"--Angelique would never have asked me. Why not? asks Maggie. Actually, says Ang, we didn't get on, and she didn't like having other women around, especially one that looked exactly like her. She picks up the gown she intended for Maggie. It's pretty, says the latter. I'm not sure it's right for you, says Ang--perhaps it is. Maggie holds that gown against herself--I like it, she says. You should wear it, says Angelique. I wonder how many beautiful women wore this dress? Muses Maggie. You will wear it as they did, flatters Angelique. Maggie thanks her, a huge grin on her face. Angelique is smiling, too, a nasty grin.
We see Barnabas' portrait, then, standing in front of it, the man himself, dressed in his own 18th century clothes. How handsome you look, praises Liz--this period really suits you--I don't realize why men don't see how much more dashing they look in these clothes--would you recognize him? asks Liz, pointing to Quentin. Of course he would, jokes Quentin--the face conquers the period--he shakes Barnabas' hand and says, I'm glad you could come--have a glass of champagne, I'm determined this evening be successful. Angelique starts down the stairs. What a perfect choice! opines Liz. Isn't it? agrees Barnabas, meeting her at the foot of the stairs--the period becomes you, too. Thank you, says Angelique, but wait until you see Maggie. When is she coming down? asks Quentin. You're becoming difficult, says Liz--you promised you'd be easy with her. Quentin denies being difficult--I just want her down here--this is her party. I'll go see if she needs some help, volunteers Liz. Quentin helps himself to a drink. Here she is now, announces Angelique. Maggie, you look lovely, compliments Barnabas--the dress is perfect on you--stay where you are. Barnabas goes into the drawing room and leads Quentin out to the foyer--"come see your lovely wife." (Maggie, in a sparkling tiara and diamonds around her throat, does look stunning.) Quentin takes one look at his wife. "Maggie!" he barks sharply "Do you like it?" she asks hopefully. "That dress," he says, horrified, "you can't wear it
--you can never wear it, now get it off--GET IT OFF!!" Furious, he tosses his drink to the floor and exits the house. Maggie cries out, not understanding what she did wrong. Angelique, turned away from Maggie, is grinning; Barnabas looks up at the distraught young woman and doesn't know what to think.
NOTES: Angelique is such a bitch, and she and Hoffman led Maggie to that gown like a lamb to the slaughter! Of course, we know she's campaigning to do away with her rival, permanently, but she's just playing such nasty head games with both Quentin and Maggie. Too bad neither is on the ball enough to realize it--but one senses Barnabas has a suspicion.
Loved the chess game in the drawing room between Barnabas and Angelique. It's fun to watch our DS characters doing something as mundane as this, but we know when she calls "Check," she thinks she's putting something over on him. This battle gets very interesting.
One thing that always annoyed me about this storyline was that Quentin never TALKED to Maggie, or explained anything, he just ordered her around, threw drinks all over the place and behaved like a total boor. Why not take her aside and TELL her, calmly, why he didn't want her wearing that gown? He wasn't anything like the fully-fleshed, three-dimensional character in 1897, and this pale reflection of that man was a travesty. Quentin here was not likable at all, and woefully underdeveloped.
Also, if this doesn't expose Angelique as herself, I don't know what will. She set a trap for Maggie, and unless the latter is totally clueless, she will at least realize "Alexis" isn't the pal she seems to be--unless she totally blames Hoffman for this one, a good possibility.
Were those love letters from Quentin to Angelique real, I wonder? I guess he loved Angelique when they were first married, but that's ancient history, and why Maggie can't sense that he no longer feels that way, I just don't know; she apparently has self-esteem issues.
Always loved Barnabas in his 18th century period costume, too--he was hot!
1025 - Maggie leans wearily against the wall near the drawing room window, still in her party finery. The event has already taken place--glasses, napkins and other debris are scattered all over. I assume Curtis was too cheap to show us any of the party or spring for extras for party guests. Hall's intro tells us that Quentin never came back for the party, forcing Maggie to bear up alone.
Roger enters the drawing room and asks Maggie, are you waiting up for Quentin?--"I wouldn't if I were you. Frankly," he says nastily, "pouring himself a drink, "the party would have been a disaster even if the host had been here--not like last year, ahh, last year there was laughter in the house, and in the room, genuine laughter, not the forced, uncomfortable sounds we heard tonight." Annoyed, Maggie starts to quietly trail out of the room. Take that dress off, advises Roger--it doesn't suit you--but then you know that, don't you?--you must have learned a lesson, no one can take Angelique's place, you know that--no one. He cruelly laughs at the departing Maggie.
Maggie goes to her room and falls onto her unmade bed, then turns on the light and gazes at Quentin's picture (actually a nice black and white shot of Selby in 1897 Quentin sideburns). She rises from the bed, miserable, and removes the tiara from her hair, with difficulty. Angelique knocks at her door. I'm changing! calls Maggie, behind the screen now. Angelique, wearing red velvet, enters. I'm so sorry, Maggie, she says--I had no idea when I showed you that dress that it was the one Angelique wore to the party last year--what an awful mistake--I blame myself completely. You had no way of knowing, says Maggie, clad now in a nightgown, removing her glittering necklace. I'm so glad you understand, says Angelique, when Hoffman brought that trunk down, it was filled with all those old clothes, I simply chose mine. Hoffman did know what Angelique wore last year, says Maggie. That's right, she did, didn't she? asks Angelique. It isn't the first time she's hurt me, says Maggie. She wasn't in the room when I showed you the dress, remember? asks Angelique. Yes, says Maggie, that's true. You can't blame her, insists Ang, I don't think she'd put that dress in there deliberately, if Hoffman had wanted to engineer a plot, she wouldn't have left so much to chance--I know you want to blame somebody, I would, too, but I really believe it was just one of those unfortunate accidents. Yes, says Maggie. I intend to tell Quentin about the whole thing as soon as I see him, says Ang. No, insists Maggie. But I want to! says Ang, I can't have him angry at you about something I did--he's much too difficult a person anyway! Maggie walks to the French doors and heads outside. Angelique pursues her--I didn't mean to sound disloyal, she says, I'm very fond of Quentin--genuinely fond!--he really didn't have any right to run from the house like that. Alexis, please, says Maggie. I'm sorry for you, says Ang, going on with that party, trying to be nice to everyone, pretending nothing had happened. It's probably well that I did do that, says Maggie--if I'd stopped to think, I might not have been able to go through with it. I'm sure no one had any idea anything was wrong, says Ang--it was very clever of you to say Quentin had suddenly taken ill. What else could I say? asks Maggie despairingly. All I mean is, if I'd been in your position, says Ang, I'd never have been able to carry it off. Roger says I didn't, says Maggie. "Roger!" says Angelique, her voice filled with disgust. Maggie continues--Roger said the whole evening was a fiasco and SHE, Angelique, wouldn't have carried it off so badly--what hold did she have over these people? I don't know, replies Angelique. You must, you're her sister! insists Maggie. She never had any hold over me, the other woman says--we were too different--she enchanted everyone, I resented that; besides, there's no reason to talk about Angelique. Yes there is, says Maggie, because wherever Quentin is, that's what he's thinking about--where could he go, dressed in that costume? Probably down on the beach, staring into the waves, says Ang, almost without thinking. How do you know that? asks Maggie sharply. What? Angelique asks? I'm sure you're right, that's where he is, says Maggie--I found a letter Quentin wrote to Angelique, and in it, he spoke of staring at the sea for hours, listening to the waves--why doesn't he come back? He will, Ang assures her. What will I do when he does come back? asks Maggie. You'll know what to do, says Angelique--because you love him--and because you want to make his life happier and simpler than it is now. I'm not sure I can do that anymore, says Maggie, walking toward the photo on the night table--I'm just not sure of it at all.
Back in Angelique's room, Hoffman, folding Maggie's gown, is chortling to Angelique, how clever you are, and how typical that Maggie would try to blame me for the dress--if you hadn't talked to her, she probably would have gone to Mr. Collins, and there would have been another scene--when he comes back, everything... Angelique interrupts--you will play the martyr again, Hoffman, says Ang--hurt, trying not to show it. They smile together. I almost felt sorry for her, says Hoffman. Well, don't, says Ang cruelly--if Maggie thinks this night was hell for her, then you can imagine what it was like for me--a guest in my own home, forced to witness that fiasco of a party. When you had done it so brilliantly, agrees Hoffman. Angelique goes on, complaining of "the agony of seeing all my friends doing their best to make Maggie at ease." But next year, says Hoffman... "Next year, I shall be hostess again, and it shall be MY party again!" gloats Angelique. (I thought she planned to make Quentin as she is.) They hear footsteps. Quentin, guesses Hoffman--your old room--whoever it is has gone into your old room! They look at each other and smile.
The ladies are wrong--Roger, dressed as Joshua, has brought up a bottle of champagne and a glass to Angelique's room. He holds up his glass to the portrait in a toast--"I feel your presence here so strongly it almost frightens me--how different it is from last year--we met in this room after the party, sharing the last of the champagne, laughing over the idiocies we'd seen, the conversations we'd heard--tonight I kept looking for you, waiting for you to come down those stairs--why do I feel this way? If you were here, that you made Maggie wear that dress--you would have done that, I know--I know you so well--is your spirit still here, and if it is, what else are you going to do? What else? What else?
Standing in the doorway, grinning, is Angelique herself, smiling at Roger, who turns and sees her.
Alexis, says Roger, you're the reason I think Angelique is in this house--"You--watching you tonight, it's as if the last six months have not happened--for an instant, I thought that she was not dead." But you know she is, says Ang. How well I know, laments Roger, even if I didn't have the current Mrs. Collins to remind me. They sit together on the window seat. You've done so many favors for Angelique, she says--will you do one for me now?--find Quentin. Roger laughs derisively. No, I'm serious, she says. If Angelique had been here, says Roger, Quentin would not have left; if he had by some chance, he'd have returned by now, begging her forgiveness. She smiles at him--Maggie needs him so much, she says. I'm not interested in her needs, sneers Roger--perhaps she's learned something, I hope--that she can't go on staying here. She'll never leave, says Angelique. Quentin doesn't want her here! insists Roger. Ang asks, eagerly, "Did he tell you that?" He didn't need to, says Roger, you could tell it in his face whenever he looked at her, comparing her with Angelique--like a mouse as opposed to a sable (Angelique smiles); Maggie's presence embarrasses him--he wouldn't admit it at first, but I know he'd be relieved if she left. Surely he'd grieve, says Ang. Only in front of those who expected him to, says Roger. Oh, Roger, you are cruel, even where Quentin is concerned, she says. I'm just realistic, insists Roger, as you would be if you'd known me as long as he has--I saw him grow up, saw him with Angelique; I know him better than anyone alive--and so, my dear Alexis, I'm not going to ask Quentin to come back, I'm going to wait for him to come back, which is what you should do--if you have any sense. She grins as Roger leaves the room, then goes to the window and looks out.
Maggie sits in the drawing room, wondering, why hasn't Quentin come back?--he must realize how terrible this is for me...is he so obsessed with Angelique that I don't matter at all? The front door opens; we see only legs--it's Roger, and Maggie is disappointed. Still waiting up? he asks, the champagne glass still in his hand--"That's bad form, you know. Most husbands don't like their wives sitting up waiting for them, especially..." Good night, she says angrily. Roger goes on--"Especially in a marriage like this!" You don't know anything about my marriage, she says.
Don't forget, he says, I lived through the last one in this house, so I know--by comparison. You're drunk, she accuses distastefully. I'm usually a little more perceptive when I am, he says. You've been against me ever since I came to this house, Roger, she says, and Quentin doesn't listen to you, and neither will I. He may not listen, but he thinks as I do, says Roger--how little you know him--how very little you know him! he shouts after the departing Maggie.
Study - "You can't do that, now don't even think of it," insists Hoffman to Angelique. I want to take the chance, says Angelique. It is insane, states Hoffman--your first plan is working, Quentin and Maggie have separated, keep on with that plan--he will begin to be finished with her. Roger thinks he already is, says Angelique. Roger is a fool, opines Hoffman. No he isn't, not always, says Ang, I know him better than you do. It's a mistake, persists Hoffman. No, says Ang, you're wrong, it's the perfect time, there will never be a situation like this again--Maggie is ready, she has all her reasons--Quentin is disenchanted with her. I'll have nothing to do with it, sayws Hoffman firmly. You think after all this time you can walk out on me? asks Ang--"You'll do as I tell you to, Julia!" Angelique picks up the phone and dials...
Maggie answers the phone, sure it's Quentin, but all she hears is a woman's laughter. Who is this? demands Maggie, Alexis?. . .no! She hands up, wondering what that meant--who would do that? You know very well who--someone who was at the party--why did it sound like Alexis? The phone rings again and she again answers, thinking it's Quentin. But it's Angelique's laughter. Who is this? demands Maggie--stop it! She finally puts the phone down, leaving it off the hook, but the cruel laughter goes on...
Maggie goes to Alexis' room, but finds her in bed, her phone on the hook. Maggie stares at the phone. Angelique gets out of bed and asks, are you all right? Yes, answers Maggie. Angelique touches her hand, noting, you're trembling--something's wrong, tell me what it is. The telephone...begins Maggie. Quentin called! guesses Angelique. No, says Maggie, I thought it was Quentin, but when I answered, it was a woman, and she was laughing and laughing! Maggie, no! protests Ang. Then she called again, explains Maggie. You don't have any idea who it was? asks Angelique. Maggie stares at her. Who was it? Ang asks again--"Darling, you can tell me, I'm your friend." I know it wasn't you, says Maggie, but... "The voice sounded like mine?" asks Angelique. Yes, says Maggie--I know that sounds ridiculous, but it wasn't my imagination! Upset, Angelique says, my sister and I had exactly the same voice--if you were in another room, you could never tell our voices apart. Angelique is dead! protests Maggie. But I've heard of voices from the dead, says Ang. I don't believe that! Maggie insists. It's the telephone, the telephone, says Ang, that's what's so curious--Maggie, I'm going back to your room with you. No, says Maggie. I don't want you to be alone, says Ang. Maggie backs away from her and says, I want to be alone when Quentin gets back--she runs from the room. Angelique grins with satisfaction.
Midnight - Hoffman comes downstairs at Collinwood, locks the front doors, turns out the light. She enters the party-strewn living room and begins cleaning up. Roger comes out from between the drapes, touches her arm and asks, what's the secret? Secret? repeats Hoffman. Something has happened in this house, says Roger, since you returned from your vacation, something has happened to you. Nothing has happened, she says. You can lie to others, but not to me, Hoffman, he says. You're imagining things, she says. No I'm not, he insists
--something has happened in this house, to you--I don't like secrets, unless I'm included in them--and I will be--I will be! She again says, I don't know what you're talking about. Fear, says Roger, I think--fear! You must excuse me, she says, I have a busy day tomorrow. She leaves.
Maggie returns to her room and hangs up the buzzing telephone. Her door bangs open; she hears Angelique's theme music playing. She leaves her room and follows the sound, finding herself outside Angelique's room. She opens the door. The piano is silent, no one playing it. Maggie looks at it, perplexed. The music stops. Maggie, says Angelique's voice. "YOU!" cries Maggie, looking at the portrait. Maggie... says Angelique, laughing. It was you! accuses Maggie. Yes, says Angelique--I watch you, watch you all the time... Maggie starts to flee the room. Angelique says, you can't run away from me. "I'll stay--and I'll fight you!" swears Maggie. Fight me?--why, I've already won, says Angelique. You haven't! wails Maggie. Yes I have, says the voice--Quentin loves me, not you. No, that's not true! yells Maggie It is, says Ang, look in the mirror, look at what you are. Maggie gazes at her reflection, with Angelique's portrait visible, too; look, says Angelique--a poor substitute! Maggie covers her face and begins to cry. Angelique's voice goes inexorably on, calling her a gauche, awkward little girl who no one wants around here, especially Quentin! No, no! moans Maggie. Now, look at me, bids Angelique. Maggie does so, turning back to the portrait--"You saw the disgust on Quentin's face when you came down the stairs in MY dress--he doesn't love you anymore, he can't bear the sight of you!" Maggie covers her ears, begging, "STOP IT! STOP IT!" Angelique doesn't let up, adding, that's why he wants you out of the house--now he knows the mistake he made! Maggie tries to leave, but the doors close, barring he exit; she continues to scream, as Angelique says, without Quentin's love, there is nothing for you to live for anymore, is there?--the window, Maggie, go to the window.
The window opens by itself. Look down, says Angelique. Maggie does. It would be so easy, says Ang, to end everything--all the suffering--go on, Maggie, let go, let go and fall, there's nothing for you to live for without Quentin's love, nothing to live for when he has shut you out of his heart--let go, Maggie, let go! Maggie, standing in the window, her nightgown billowing in the wind, prepares to do just that...
NOTES: I thought all Angelique wanted to do was split up Quentin and Maggie, but it looks like she wants to kill his new bride instead. What a bitch. On the other hand, it's hard to believe someone who lived abroad, as Maggie did, someone who should have some sophistication, is acting like the terrified ingenue. She so reminds me of Vicki here, and not in a good way. I realize that it's all built up for the poor woman, but I was pleased when, at first, she appeared ready to fight back against Angelique's ghost, to keep Quentin as her husband. Now, the witch-in-training has reduced her to a hypnotized, quivering mass of suicidal misery.
I love Louis Edmonds' performance in this episode, he's so nasty and unrelenting. There's just enough difference between this Roger and RT Roger that you have to admire the nuances. Edmonds is excellent.
Hoffman actually played no part in this telephone scheme of Angelique's, why did she even say she wouldn't help her? Angelique is such a bully, one wonders why Hoffman listens to her at all, but one assumes it's love as well as fear that's holding this twosome together. Brrrr.
If I were Maggie, I'd cut Quentin loose, or at least insist on marital counseling and consult a divorce lawyer. He's way too moody, unpredictable, and that marriage is no fun. Hell, if you can't expect fun in the early years of your marriage, what have you got?
Love, Robin
