1201 - A fire crackles in the study fireplace. Quentin sits staring into the flames. Gabriel bursts in, insisting, I must talk to you. He finds another canister of booze hidden inside a clock on a table. You've got the stuff hidden all over the place, haven't you? asks Quentin wryly. Gabriel gratefully drinks and asks, is there a way to stop big brother?--there must be a way--he's insisting the lottery be tonight--we can't do that! It's all right, Quentin reassures him--you're simply postponing the inevitable--if it's not tonight, it will be tomorrow, or the day after--we might as well get it all over with. That's what big brother wants, frets Gabriel, to push one of us into that room and have it over with. There is the possibility, says Quentin, of something we never discussed--whoever goes into that room just might survive this time (yeah, this is Collinwood, so I doubt it). You don't really believe that, says Gabriel, then adds, hopefully--do you? I said it was a possibility, says Quentin. Don't be a fool, says Gabriel--six people have spent the night in that room, and have either been killed or went insane--he drinks. I wonder what really happens in that room? asks Quentin--do you ever wonder about it? I'm SICK of wondering what happens in that room! says Gabriel desperately--listen to me, I'm going to be chosen to go in, I know it, I feel it. Just your nerves, says Quentin. Listen to me, please, begs Gabriel--if I go into that room, I'd rather die than end up like Father did--so just do one thing for me, if I go into that room and come out--I want you to kill me. Quentin laughs--kill you? Yes, I don't care how you do it, just do it! says Gabriel. Listen to me, orders Quentin--we don't even know if you will be the one chosen, and I don't want to discuss it until we know.
You're insufferable, you know that? says Gabriel angrily--you stand there pretending not to be afraid--but you're just as frightened as both of us. That's right, agrees Quentin, sitting down, I am afraid--but I'm not going to give in to it--I'll take my chance in the lottery and do whatever I have to do--buck up, old boy--I'd be willing to bet money you won't even be the chosen one. Do you think so? asks Gabriel anxiously, moving in close--do you know something I don't know? Not at all, says Quentin, it's just a feeling I have, that's all.
A little past eight o'clock - Morgan answers a knock at the door--Catherine. I didn't expect you until tomorrow, he says. She enters--I'm sorry about your father, she says. We're all sorry, of course, he says, but it was bound to happen. If there's anything I can do, she offers. I'm glad you stopped by, he says, I wanted to talk to you. He ushers her into the drawing room with Justin's coffin in full view. Realizing he's troubled, she asks what is it? Sit down, says Morgan--I must warn you. About what? she asks. You will feel impelled to ask questions, and I must ask you to refrain from doing so, at least until tomorrow, he says. I'll do whatever you ask me to do, she says. As the oldest son, I've inherited certain responsibilities, he says, one of these is most serious, and must be carried out this evening--I want you to promise that if anything happens to me... Happens to you?--what? she asks, concerned. I didn't mean to put it that way, he says, what I'm trying to say is, if I act any different tomorrow, you must not marry me.
She regards him with shock.
Not marry you? she asks--why should you be any different tomorrow than you are tonight? You promised not to ask any questions, he reminds her. Are you in some sort of trouble? she asks. Of course not, he says. But you're so distressed--I want to help you, she says. There's nothing you can do to help, he says, if there were, you know I'd let you know. But you can't keep me in the dark like this, it's not fair! she protests. Catherine! he says, you must not ask anymore questions. You're going to tell me what's wrong before I leave here tonight, she insists. You're a very strong-willed young woman, he says, very well--he sits her down--you're going to know sooner or later, I might as well tell you now. Tell me what? she asks. He sits beside her and tells her about the legendary locked room and the family lottery. Do you mean that the stories and rumors in the village are true? she asks. Yes, I'm afraid they are, he says--there is such a room, and once during each generation, someone is chosen by lottery to spend the night in that room. What's in the room? she asks. I don't know, he says, no one has ever known. What about the people who've spent the night there? she asks. No one has ever lived to talk about it, he explains--those who spent the night there have either died or gone mad. Do you mean what happened to Joshua Collins (blooper, should be Justin) was not the result of an accident? she asks. That's right, he says--something happened in that room to my father that was so terrifying he was unable to think of it for the rest of his life. You must not hold this lottery, she insists. We must go through with it, he says. I tell you, I will not lose you this way! she says--it's primitive, I don't even see how you can take it seriously. Of course you would think it strange, he says, I can understand that--and I can also understand if you have second thoughts about marrying into this family. Second thoughts? she asks--I am more determined than ever to marry you now--tell me, who participates in this lottery? The men in the family, he says. Including Bramwell? she asks. (Hmm, look who her first concern is for.) By rights it should include him, says Morgan, but he is a coward, and has refused to live up to his obligations! Catherine's face shows that she realizes Bramwell agrees with her--whatever Bramwell's reason is for refusing, she says, it's not cowardice--Bramwell has many faults, but he's certainly not a coward. I refuse to talk about this any further, says Morgan, or to have you defend him. Very well, I won't mention it again, she says. He apologizes--I didn't mean to be so harsh--I think it best if you go on home. No, I told you, she says, taking his hand, I'm going to stay here tonight and see this through--she smiles at him. You really do love me, don't you, Catherine?--you give me great stamina and courage. Quentin enters--we're waiting on you, Morgan, he says. I'm sorry, answers Morgan, Catherine arrived unexpectedly--where's Gabriel? On his way, says Quentin--a bit unsteady on his feet, but he's all ready to meet his destiny. Gabriel enters--what is Catherine doing here? he asks immediately--there aren't any outsiders allowed, you know that. She is not an outsider, says Morgan, I told Catherine everything--are you ready, Gabriel? Are you at least going to let me have my firewater? asks Gabriel--as a last gesture before one of us meets certain death? Give him a drink, says Morgan. Quentin tosses the key playfully into the air, making a gesture of warning to Gabriel, who tries to catch it, then unlocks the cabinet himself. Just give me my drink, says Gabriel. Quentin does. Morgan holds up a vase--the lottery slips are inside, he says--two are blank, one is marked with an X--who would like to draw first? He looks from Gabriel to Quentin.
Clutching his drink, Gabriel moves closer to Morgan. No volunteers? asks Morgan. Why don't we go in order of age? asks Gabriel, gulping. That would put you last, wouldn't it? asks Morgan. Boys, says Flora sternly from the doorway, no one is going in any order at all. What are you doing here, Mother? asks Quentin. Morgan, she says, prepare two more lottery slips. For whom? asks Morgan. Julia and me, insists Flora. What's the matter with you? asks Quentin, you know what we've decided. Only the men in the family, says Morgan. Women were included in the past, she says, Julia and I insist on being included now. (Modern women, I love it!) If we include you, we'd have to include Melanie, too, says Gabriel. No! asserts Flora, inasmuch as Melanie went into that room one time, to get Justin, we feel she should be excluded--she spots Catherine and says her name, surprised. I've taken the liberty of telling Catherine everything, Mother, says Morgan--she knows what's happening. Make out those additional lottery slips or I'll make them out myself! warns Flora. Morgan refuses--I won't allow it--I don't care about what's happened in the past--there is no good reason for you to be subjected to this. I'm willing to take my chances, she says, in fact, I might also say I'm eager. You don't know what you're saying, says Quentin. Indeed I do, she says, Justin is gone now--my reason for living is gone. If you don't mind my saying so, says Quentin, that's rather a selfish attitude--because you know we love you and need you very much in this house. You're young, she says, you all have something to live for--at least you should have--she shoots Gabriel a disgusted glance, causing him to feel shame and take another slug of his drink. We have no less to live for than you and Aunt Julia, insists Morgan--now that decision was entrusted to me, as the oldest son, and I have decided only the men will participate. Flora turns and notices that Catherine has removed the slips from the vase. "Catherine, what are you doing?" asks Flora, shocked. Catherine determinedly tosses the slips into the fire. Morgan darts forward--what is the meaning of this? he demands. Why do you all look so frightened? she asks incredulously--I simply burned three meaningless pieces of paper--and nothing happened--you see, because nothing is going to--because this is all a lot of superstitious nonsense! For your information, says Quentin, the history of that room is not nonsense--the facts are very well documented. And I'm sure there are logical, rational explanations for what happened in that room, says Catherine
--I'm surprised that a lot of intelligent people should take a legend so seriously! Gabriel raises his glass--Bravo, Miss Harridge, he applauds, I agree with you 100 percent, and I don't think we should--I think we should just ignore the whole thing. You would, says Quentin sarcastically. I'll make up new slips, says Morgan. Catherine restrains him--please don't go on with this, she pleads. I told you, there is no way out! he insists--there is no other choice. All right, she says, if you insist, allow me one request. What is that? asks Flora. Postpone it, suggests Catherine. The lottery is always held within one or two days after the death of the master of the house, says Flora. Hold it tomorrow, asks Catherine, so Morgan and I may marry tonight. Marry, tonight? asks Flora. Morgan's forehead creases--are you sure about this? he asks. More sure than I have ever been, she says. Catherine, says Flora, why do you insist on tonight?--you can just as well wait until after the lottery is held. Holding Morgan's hands, Catherine points out, Morgan may be chosen in the lottery, and because that might happen, I want time alone with him--stand by his side and be his wife. She stares into Morgan's eyes. Morgan? asks Flora. If that's what Catherine wants, says Morgan--I couldn't be happier. Very well, says Flora, I'll arrange to have the marriage here, tonight. Catherine is pleased.
Morgan holds Catherine's hands while they gaze into each other's eyes. Quentin, go into the village and get the minister, instructs Flora. All right, says Quentin, who turns to Catherine and says, you're a very brave woman--congratulations. Thank you, says Catherine. Morgan kisses Catherine's hand. Flora tells a grinning Gabriel, I think the two lovers would like to be alone. The entire family exits the room. Morgan, says Catherine, I have to go get my sister, Daphne. Are you sure you want to go through with it? he asks. Yes, she says. If you change your mind, I'll understand, he assures her. I won't change my mind, she promises, I'm very sure--nothing can stop me now. They hug and kiss.
Study - Quentin is putting on his waistcoat when Gabriel, very drunk, staggers in and says, "Let's all hear it for Catherine Harridge!" You feel relived? asks Quentin. Ecstatic, Gabriel asks, "Don't you?" No, replies Quentin. Why not? asks Gabriel--she gave us all a little bit more life, didn't she? As long as you live, you'll never be a realist, will you? asks Quentin--all we've done is postpone the inevitable--and there's just about as much consolation in that as not paying gambling debts--the debts are still there and have to be paid--the room is still there, and so is the fear--that's why I'd just as soon get it all over with. What do you think would happen if we just never played that lottery at all? asks Gabriel. I don't know, says Quentin, and I'm not so sure I'd want to find out. I'd want to find out, says Gabriel, because I take risks--because whatever happens wouldn't be as bad as spending the night in that room. You know something? asks Quentin--if they ever give rewards for cowardice, I'm going to shudder at how rich you are. Quentin leaves. Gabriel begins to search the room for more booze. He finds another stash and quaffs deeply. (How is he still standing?)
Flora comes downstairs and meets Catherine in the foyer--I'm going home to get Daphne, says Catherine--my sister would never forgive me if I got married without her. I understand, says Flora, escorting Catherine to the door. They go outside. Do you have your carriage? asks Flora. It's down by the gate, replies Catherine. Bramwell walks up and greets both women, offering his condolences to Flora. Thank you, she says, you're very kind. I was very fond of Justin, says Bramwell--if there's anything I can do... There's really nothing, says Flora--the funeral is tomorrow, and the services will be simple, as he wished--you'd better be on your way, Catherine--the Minster will be here soon, I expect. Catherine glances sideways at Bramwell, uncomfortable--Flora, she says, I'd rather tell Bramwell myself. She had a change of plans, explains Flora. Bramwell, I've decided to marry Morgan tonight, says Catherine. Bramwell turns away; we can see he's rapidly thinking what course of action he should take. We'll be waiting for you, says Flora--please hurry. She goes into the house. When was this decided? Bramwell asks quietly, his eyes glittering. Only a short time ago, says Catherine. Come with me, please, says Bramwell. I must get home--get my sister Daphne, she insists. Can't Daphne wait? asks Bramwell urgently--please, do me this one last favor--come with me. Catherine goes with him.
Old House - Somewhere along the way, we sense Bramwell has had to force Catherine to stay with him; when they arrive, he propels her roughly into a small room with a brass bed and locks them both in. Have you lost your mind? she cries. I could ask you the same question, he says gruffly. Realizing he has locked the door, she asks, what are you doing? I'm not letting you out of here until you gain your senses! he insists. You can't keep me prisoner! she protests.
I can and I will, he says passionately--I'll never let you go--I'll never let you marry Morgan Collins! He comes at her, kissing her wildly--face, lips, throat--while she protests and fights him off.
NOTES: How romantic is that? A guy loves you so much, he's willing to kidnap you in order to prevent your wedding and talk sense into you. I know, it's obsessive and insane, a total reversal of Barnabas/Angelique, where she was always after him, but I love it!
Gabriel is a to-feel-sorry-for character here, too, but a real weakling, and his habit of secreting booze everywhere is almost funny. You know he's the blackguard of the family, even if Quentin was the one who went to prison for manslaughter.
The entire family frets about being chosen in the lottery, while practical Catherine tosses the slips of paper into the fireplace. She has no idea how far-reaching the curse might be, but she, like Bramwell, is practical and refuses to give in to superstitious nonsense. She will learn the hard way.
1202 -
Bramwell, says Catherine, you must release me! I will never let you marry Morgan, he insists--you will leave when you agree to marry ME. I have chosen the man I'm going to marry--can't you accept that? she cries. No! he shoots back. Be sensible, she says--Morgan will come and look for me--and kill you when he learns of this. I just might kill Morgan.suggests Bramwell. I don't understand how you can claim to love me! says Catherine, yet do everything you can to make me so miserable--why, why? You will always be miserable, counters Bramwell --until the two of us are together. She turns away from him, sobbing, covering her face with her hand.
Parlor - Melanie is scandalized when Quentin tells her the minister agreed to come here tonight--wasn't he a bit surprised when you told him? she asks. Catherine and Morgan wanted to be married tonight--I suppose he was, says Quentin. Well so am I, wails Melanie--they could have at least waited until after Papa's funeral! They couldn't because of the lottery, says Quentin. I don't want to think about that, says Melanie. We can't avoid thinking about it, says Quentin--Catherine felt she and Morgan deserve some happiness before the lottery drawing, and Flora agrees to their being married before Justin's funeral. It just seems such a lack of respect, says Melanie. You'd better get used to the fact that this family doesn't do anything in a conventional way, says Quentin. How long is the lottery to be put off? asks Melanie. Until Catherine and Morgan are married, replies Quentin. Morgan enter--Quentin, he asks, did you bring the minister? Yes, he's downstairs in the drawing room, says Quentin. I can't understand what's happened to Catherine, says Morgan--she should have been back by now. This is an important night for Catherine, Quentin reminds him--she's probably just had a bad case of nerves. Morgan pours himself a drink--Catherine's not like that, he says--I have a terrible feeling something has happened to her. Nonsense, says Quentin. I'm going to her house and get her, insists Morgan. Quentin stops him--relax, he urges--everything is going to be all right. I know something is wrong, says Morgan, and leaves. Quentin shakes his head and looks at his brother's abandoned, almost-full booze glass.
We see feet walking, then darting backward as Morgan leaves the house (and leaves the doors open). A man enters Collinwood, closing the door behind him. It's Kendrick Young, who sneaks into the house and runs to hide when he hears Melanie and Quentin on the landing. It's possible Catherine had a change of heart, suggests Melanie. Whatever gives you that idea? asks Quentin. Kendrick hides in the kitchen doorway.
I only said it was possible, Quentin, says Melanie as they walk downstairs--there is Bramwell--he meant a great deal to Catherine before he went away. They head into the drawing room. Catherine and Bramwell have been through for a long time, you know that as well as I do, says Quentin. Kendrick exits his hiding place and goes upstairs.
Old House - Catherine gazes out a window. Well? Catherine asks Bramwell, who is sitting on a clothing trunk at the foot of the bed. You needn't ask me, he says firmly--my answer is still the same. Morgan will come to look for me, he's sure to come here! Catherine reminds him. When he does, I'll deal with him, vows Bramwell confidently. How long do you think you can keep me here? she demands, furious. I would like to keep you with me forever, he says. Fire in her eyes, she looks at him. Oh, you are the most stubborn man alive! she accuses, seeming to relent a bit. How familiar that sounds, he says--do you remember the first time you told me that?--it was exactly a week after the first time I saw you--I tried to see you everyday--but you made it very difficult for me--told me I was brash and forward, and the fact that I was a Collins might impress other people, but it wouldn't impress you, and I loved you all the more for that--do you remember, Catherine? She turns to him. I do remember, she admits softly. I followed you all along the old road, he continues, warming up to the reminiscence--it was a Sunday, and the sun was shining--you were wearing lavender, and I told you you were the fairest thing I ever saw. She's caught up in his scenes of their youthful meeting. I was on my way to church, she remembers. You missed the church that day, he reminds her (bad boys make you do stuff like that). Because of you--yes, she says. And you weren't angry with me, he says, grinning. No, I wasn't angry, she agrees. From that day on, we knew, he says, smiling--didn't we? Yes we knew, she says. We walked all day, he says, and when it was almost dark, we found ourselves back at the church--we stood there and looked up at it and I told you someday there would be another service, and we would be part of that church and each other for all time--I don't think two people were ever happier than we were at that moment. He gives her a gentle kiss, to which she responds, but then stops it. Catherine, moved, her memories seductively stirred, asks, "Bramwell, why have you done this?" "That day by the church will never die, he says--it was a day of commitment, and I knew then as I know now that nothing can ever change between us--I love you, Catherine, only you--tell me the past means nothing, and that you don't love me and I will unlock that door and let you go." Catherine faces him--"I can't tell you that--I do love you, Bramwell," she confesses--"I do love you." She falls into his arms, laughing, and he laughs with him, and they embrace like two teenagers caught up in uncontrollable passion. The brass bed awaits them.
Melanie catches Kendrick searching through a desk in the study.
Who are you? she demands-- what are you doing here? Don't be frightened, he says, I'm not what you think. Quentin! she screams. Kendrick hastily closes the doors--please, he begs--I'm not here to steal anything or hurt anyone--I'm Kendrick Young. I've heard the name before, she says--you're Stella's brother--but what are you doing here? I'm looking for something, anything that can give me a clue as to where my sister is, he says. Why are you here? she asks--Stella left Collinwood two weeks ago. That's what people say, but I don't believe it, he says--you're a member of the Collins family?--you're certainly more friendly than the rest of them I've met. Don't take me too much for granted, she warns, just because I haven't turned you in doesn't mean I'm not going to--you could be taken to the police. I know, but I'm hoping you won't do that, he says, looking into her eyes. Why don't you believe what they told you about your sister? asks Melanie. It makes no sense, insists Kendrick, Stella was a practical, dependable girl--she wouldn't leave without leaving a forwarding address, I never believed she could or would. Where do you think she may be? asks Melanie. It's possible she may still be here, he says. That's impossible, insists Melanie--if Stella was still at Collinwood, everyone would know it. Would you? he asks--I've heard weird stories in the village about this place. Outraged, Melanie says, you shouldn't listen to village gossip--they have nothing better to do than invent stories about us! Kendrick smiles--I wouldn't believe anything bad they said about you, he assures her. You're not going to get around me by flattery, she says. I'm being sincere, he says, and I am grateful--you've at least listened to me--your Aunt Julia was impossible. Julia doesn't get along well with outsiders, says Melanie. That was obvious, says Kendrick--can you tell me the last time you saw my sister? The day before the left Collinwood, says Melanie--and I do believe she left Collinwood, Mr. Young. Can you tell me anything else, or is that all you're willing to tell me? he asks. I've told you everything I know, she says--if I knew something more, I wouldn't withhold it. I don't believe you would, he says, and I appreciate that--I'm glad we met. I advise you to leave, she says, before someone else hears you. I knew you wouldn't report me, he says, I'm staying at the Inn in the village and would like to meet with you again. I rarely go into the village, she says-- follow me--I'll show you a way out of the house.
1:20 - Quentin exits the kitchen and checks the clock. Morgan, frantic, enters--I'm right, he says--something has happened to Catherine--she hasn't returned home yet, and her carriage is still parked out by the gate!
If the carriage is still there, Catherine must still be on the estate, says Quentin. That's right, agrees Morgan. Oh no, says Quentin--Mother said they ran into Bramwell outside--she told him about the wedding tonight, and he was very upset. Morgan races away, Quentin calling after him. Morgan returns with a pistol. Waving it around, he promises, Bramwell is as good as dead! Quentin grabs his brother's shoulders--in your present state, if you go after him, you'll be as good as dead, too. Get out of my way! orders Morgan, pushing past Quentin. I'm not going to let you go, says Quentin, grabbing his sleeve--this thing can be handled peacefully, and I'm going to handle it. This is my fight, insists Morgan--you stay out of it! There's not going to be a fight, insists Quentin--if she's at the Old House, I'll go get her and bring her back here--you can handle Bramwell after the marriage--now give me the gun. He holds out his hand. Morgan gives him the pistol and Quentin heads out.
Catherine lies on the brass bed, watching her own hand wandering lazily, happily, between the bars... She is sated, a woman who has just been made love to and enjoyed every second of it. Bramwell sits on the trunk at the foot of the bed, putting on his clothes. Are you angry with me? he asks, subdued. (for what?--the lovemaking or kidnappingr?) She reaches out and slips her hand into his. I have no reason to be angry with you, she says languidly--you wanted to prove something to me, and you have proven it--but it doesn't make any difference
--she rises from the bed--how can I make you understand?--I've revealed my feelings for you, but you must also accept the fact that I also love Morgan. He rises--that isn't possible, he insists, and you know it. It is possible, I do love him, she says--and I still plan to marry Morgan for all the reasons I outlined to you before--I know the kind of life I want, and know I can never find it with you--yet I will find it with him--it's as simple as that and you must accept it! Bramwell, devastated, confused, just looks at her.
Quentin enters the Old house after knocking a few times and getting no answer. Yes, says Bramwell, coming downstairs. May I come in? asks Quentin. But you already are, points out Bramwell humorously. Where is Catherine? Demands Quentin. I don't know, replies Bramwell. You were the last person she was seen with, says Quentin. What is that supposed to mean? asks Bramwell. That you brought her here, says Quentin. I suggest you go back to Collinwood and stay there, advises Bramwell, an edge in his voice. I'm going to search this house, says Quentin. Get out! orders Bramwell. I'm going to do this peacefully, if I can, says Quentin--now I've never given you any trouble, like my brothers--you can't force a wedding to stop, you can only postpone it--be sensible--if she's here, let me take her. No! says Bramwell, taking a step closer to Quentin. All right, says the latter, I'll have to do it my own way, won't I? He tries to go upstairs, but Bramwell blocks him--you aren't going up there? Quentin pulls the gun on him and says, we both know there isn't a doubt in this world that I'll use the gun if I have to--right? Chastened, Bramwell moves away, and sits down, a stormy look in his face. Quentin goes upstairs.
When he brings Catherine down, she and Bramwell, lovers now, exchange glances before Quentin leads her outside. Bramwell, raging, helpless and furious, sends a table toppling over.
Collinwood - parlor - I want to make Bramwell pay for what he's done, insists Morgan--I'll never forget it. I insist the incident be forgotten and that there be no reprisals, says Catherine. You mean I'm going to let Bramwell get away with this? asks Morgan. It was an emotional thing, explains Catherine--he's always been headstrong, you know that, and you also know Bramwell would never do anything to hurt me--please, for my sake, just let the whole matter be forgotten.
I agree to do nothing, says Morgan reluctantly. We can send for the minister again tomorrow, she says. Stay the night at Collinwood, insists Morgan--it's been a very terrifying evening, and the weather is so bad I want you to stay there, so I know where you are. She holds his hands and agrees to stay. I'll have the housekeeper prepare your room, he says.
Down in the foyer, Melanie is snuffing out candles. Quentin joins her--it's late, he reminds her--you should be in bed by now. I'm going to put out all the candles in the house first, she says--"So many candles, so many rooms," she whispers, sounding a tad insane. Concerned, Quentin asks, are you feeling all right?
Yes, she says with a weird smile, I feel quite well, thank you. I'll take you to your room, he offers. That won't be necessary, she laughs, I know the way--good night, my dear. Quentin thinks this definitely odd.
Catherine is sound asleep. Her door opens and a shadow falls across her bed. Melanie, a gleeful smile on her face, raises a knife over Catherine's body.
NOTES: Damn, it's just not safe to spend the night at Collinwood; too many people running around with knives! What's happened to darling Melanie, anyway? She was so sweet with Kendrick, who already seems sweet on her. Did taking her father out of the lottery room affect her mind, too?
To me, Catherine and Bramwell's love story is what fans of Barnabas and Angelique (if both had been mortal) would have loved to see. It is timeless, romantic, beautiful--and at this point, rife with problems. Bramwell's gesture--kidnapping Catherine to prevent her marriage to Morgan--is something I would have loved to see happen to ME. Their consummated passion is the kind of love that makes women like me sigh--and made the 16 year old me sigh (and fantasize) in 1971. I think Catherine is a fool for what she chooses to do here, but then again, it sure makes for very soapy drama--high-quality, too, in this beautifully-wrought period piece. I always pictured Catherine and Bramwell in a fierce, half-naked embrace on the cover of a bodice ripper novel back then, tempestuous lovers with the whole world against them, but none more damaging than their own folly.
I did so love the Catherine/Bramwell scene. Listening to the two of them talking about their past, their love, and realizing they were childhood sweethearts is just so touching. Frid and Parker really did a fabulous job here, and this scene lingered in my mind for many years after I saw it. So very romantic and lovely! Another question for you all--was this their first time? I always wonder. I find it hard to believe two people as passionate as this never made love before, but it is 1841, and perhaps they were never given the opportunity. I can't understand how Catherine could make love with Bramwell and casually tell him she will marry another man--and by definition, make love to HIM, too! You just don't see Catherine as being that loose. Is she just money-hungry, or is there more here than meets the eye?
Lovemaking note: IMHO, I think Bramwell tossed Catherine on the bed, threw her dress over her head, and took her, wham bam thank you ma'am. How many women are fully dressed after lovemaking before the man, especially in these times, with all those clothes they wore? Also, I wish they had shown a little more before the commercial. They had Gerard lying all over Daphne in bed in 1840, and that would have been wonderful to see here. On the other hand, the lovemaking left a lot more to my imagination).
(Dylan's "Lay, Lady Lay" was popular around this time, and I always associate that song with Catherine, Bramwell, and that narrow brass bed.)
Another comment: Catherine was wrong to make love to Bramwell. From a moral standpoint, we assume that men and women in 1841 didn't indulge in casual sex (well, not in remote areas of Maine, anyway), and Catherine going to bed with Bramwell was, in his eyes at least, a commitment. For her to get up and tell him, in essence, "Yes, I screwed you, but it was just this once and I'm going to marry your cousin in a few hours" was unfair to Bramwell--and Morgan, too. A nice girl wouldn't do this. You can just imagine how Morgan would react if he knew what had happened between Catherine and Bramwell during her "incarceration." I doubt he'd want to marry spoiled goods, especially get sloppy seconds on his hated cousin.
Love, Robin
